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electronicservice89 · 10 months ago

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mahajan-electronics · 1 year ago

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automaticenemytimetravel · 1 year ago

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householdappliances · 1 year ago

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toptenelectronics · 2 years ago

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thatchickwiththecamera · 7 months ago

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Hi!!

Can you write something related to Matt? I'm soooo obsessed with him lately.

Not a specific request, just Matt 🥺

Thank you!!!!

Author’s Note: Someone sent in two requests in one ask for Matt and Ruffilo. Since this wonderful anon didn’t specify what they wanted their request regarding Matt to be about, I am responding to the Matt portion of that double prompt through this request!

Check out my other writings here: MASTERLIST

Warning: Contains Smut, 18+ ONLY

The Shirt

The blazing rays of the morning sun were already bearing down on Olivia’s shoulders as she unloaded the bags of fertilizer and potting soil out of the trunk of her RAV4. Even at 7am, Texas in the middle of July was scorching and that heat would take a bite out of you really quick if you weren’t careful.

As she was stacking the last bag on top of the pile she had made on the corner of her driveway, a truck drove up onto the concrete slab and parked next to her. The bed of the truck was loaded down with various gardening tools, cuts of lumber, and a number of plants nestled in their temporary plastic pots.

Matt Dierkes, one of Olivia’s oldest friends, emerged from the driver’s side, his long hair covered by one of his signature ballcaps. He wore an old Bloodline tee with the sleeves cut off and a pair of athletic shorts with the name of their high school printed on them.

Matt had the next three months off before his next set of shows with the guys and had agreed to help Olivia build her own garden and green space in her backyard. Gardening was a hobby he had picked up during the pandemic when the music industry shut down touring wise so she naturally turned to her best friend for help when deciding to start her own.

Shortly after he stepped out of the vehicle a little blonde blur of fur hopped out as well and bolted toward where Olivia stood. She stopped what she was doing and scooped Matt’s yorkie Boo up into her arms and hugged him to her chest as he licked her face in greeting.

She let out a laugh in response and lowered herself into a criss-cross sitting position on the ground to continue playing with her friend’s furry child. Matt lowered the tailgate of his truck and paused, peaking around the truck to watch his best friend play with his dog. The view made him smile. Two of his favorites in one place.

They soon moved everything, including Boo, to the fenced in backyard and quickly got to work. The plan was to get as much done in one day as they could by sundown and then finish whatever was left tomorrow. The reward at the end of the project was a pair of tomahawk steaks and a twelve pack of Dr. Pepper that sat on the top shelf inside Olivia’s refrigerator.

They finally took a break a little after noon. They had gotten the ground cleared and the three raised garden boxes built and lined with a weed barrier. Now, they laid down on the cool concrete of Olivia’s covered back porch. Olivia with a couple of pillows from one of the lounge chairs nestled under her head, Matt’s with his head propped up on the side of Olivia’s stomach, hat off, now covering his face.

The ceiling centered above them steadily pushed warm air down over their bodies. Boo lay curled up on the elevated cooling dog bed that she bought specifically for him that she placed next to the door while they worked.

The mixture of warm air and cool concrete made it tempting to drift off to sleep and take a nap right then and there. One of her Spotify playlists shuffled out various songs through the bluetooth speaker sitting on the edge of the porch. She hummed along to lyrics of an A Day To Remember song and found herself absentmindedly playing with the hair on Matt’s now uncovered head. She loved his long hair and dreaded the day he ever decided to cut it.

“Hmmm, if you keep that up I am going to end up falling asleep.” Matt commented, voice partially muffled by the hat.

He moved the hat slightly, peaking to look over at her with a smile. Her eyes were closed and a content smile adorned her face as she continued to fiddle with his light brown locks. He reached up with his right hand and poked her side with his thumb, knowing fully well how ticklish she was.

She squirmed and tried to swat it away with the hand not currently occupied with his hair. He did it again and when she tried to swat at his hand, he grabbed it and pulled it toward him, trapping it in his own against his chest. She let out a laugh.

“Matthew, if you wanted to hold my hand you could have just said so.” she said, now looking down at him with a smirk.

He rolled his eyes, jokingly flipped her the bird before throwing the hat back over his face. Her hand remained in place on his chest, his right hand draped over it. She made no effort to move it. They fell back into a comfortable silence. She continued to play with his hair and eventually felt him start drawing slow gentle circles with his thumb against the back of her other hand. They remained that way until their stomachs signaled it was time to eat lunch and get back to work.

By the end of the day, all three garden boxes were full of the proper ratios of soil, fertilizer, and mulch along with strategically placed irrigation hoses. Pre-grown sprouts had been transplanted from their plastic pots along with regular seeds into neatly organized and labeled rows in each box. In a few weeks Olivia would have tomatoes, various peppers, carrots, asparagus, sweet corn, and potatoes growing tall and green in her garden.

They both agreed that it was too late and they were too tired, sweaty, and partially sunburnt to bother cooking and decided to hold off on the celebration dinner until the next afternoon. After loading the various gardening and power tools back into the bed of his truck, Matt turned and watched Olivia walk over with Boo in her arms.

“Can’t he just stay here tonight since you’re coming back tomorrow anyway?” She asked, not wanting to part with the pint sized pup that she had come to adore almost as much as his owner over the years.

“Liv, are you trying to steal my dog from me?” He accused, stepping closer to scratch the little dog's head before looking down at his much shorter friend with a smile.

“I don’t have to try, he likes being here,” she defends.

Yeah, he’s not the only one, Matt thought

“and besides, he lives here when you’re on tour and now that you’re home I miss him.”

“Oh, so what you’re saying is you can’t wait for me to leave again.” He teases.

“No, I’m saying that now that you’re home, I miss having Boo around.”

“So you don’t miss me when I’m on tour, but you miss my dog?” He asks.

“I’m going to smack you,” she threatens, “you know what I meant asshole”

“Boo, are you going to let her talk to your dad that way?” he asks with a sarcastic gasp.

“Boo, If I didn’t know any better, I’d think your dad is a little jealous.” She states, kissing the top of the dog's head, smirking at her friend. Blue eyes glowing with a hint of mischief.

He rolls his eyes.

“You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Lies,” She states matter of factly. “So can he stay?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” he replies with a sigh.

Everyone who knew Matt knew that he was certainly not a pushover. Quite the opposite in fact. He could be an outright ass sometimes. But there was just something about Olivia that made it hard to say no, even when they were younger. He chalked it up to her just being very persuasive and good at making a convincing argument. But as they had gotten older, he knew it was because he loved seeing the way her eyes lit up with excitement when she was happy. He liked being the one that made her happy.

When he got home, he headed straight to the shower, wanting to rinse away all the sweat and dirt that had built up over the course of the day. From the shower he lazily went through the rest of his bedtime routine before seeking refuge under the comforter.

Despite how much his body ached and longed for rest. His mind would not allow sleep to take hold. After a while he rolled over onto his back with a frustrated sigh and stared up at the ceiling fan. His bed was noticeably colder without Boo curled up next to him. His house was too quiet. It felt odd and out of place. Like something was missing aside from the obvious absence of man’s best friend.

He used to love the isolation being home provided after months of time spent on cramped tour buses and in shared hotel rooms, but now he was dreading the solitude.

Before his mind could ponder further he heard a familiar notification chime from his phone. He rolled over and grabbed the device off the nightstand, the light from the screen cutting through the darkness.

Olivia: New Text Message

He unlocked his phone and was greeted by a photo of Boo in a bathtub, hair spiked up in different directions by the shampoo lathered in his hair. The message underneath read:

Olivia: Someone knocked over the trashcan while I was taking a shower and got caught red pawed with peanut butter all over him. 🙃

The message made him smile in amusement. Boo was notorious for knocking over and digging through the garbage if you didn’t keep the trash can secured in some fashion. He had done it many times when Matt had originally moved into his own place before he finally got a heavy metal can with a push pedal lid that couldn’t be knocked over.

Before he could type out a reply another photo popped up. This one showed Boo sitting, with freshly dried fur, looking up at Olivia through the mirror on the countertop next to the sink in her bathroom. The reflection showed Olivia smiling down at her phone screen behind him as she snapped the picture, hair dryer up and ready in her opposite hand.

She was wearing an oversized t-shirt, which was practically a dress on her short frame. Not just any t-shirt. His t-shirt. His favorite Lord of the Rings t-shirt that he thought he accidentally lost.

But there is was, and fuck did she look good in it.

Olivia: Pupdate: Back to his clean handsome self! 😋

He zoomed in to see that she had gathered the pups hair up into a hair tie causing the free hair to stick up like a troll doll. His smile grew wider as he typed back a reply.

Matt: You gave my dog a ponytail? And is that my shirt? 🤨

Olivia: Yeah! You guys match now! And I don’t know what you’re talking about. Lol 🤭

Matt: 🙄

Olivia: He looks cute and you know it! 🖕

Matt: So what you're saying is you think I look cute? And stop trying to avoid the question. ��

Olivia: I say you match and that's all you got out of that? 🙄

Matt: You didn’t say no. 😏

Olivia: 🤐

Matt: I’m taking that as a yes until you say otherwise and I want my shirt back.

“Boo, I think your dad is flirting with me” Olivia said to the pup curled up under her arm, big brown eyes looking at her.

Albeit she was flirting back, but they were both arguably kinda bad at it.

Olivia: I plead the fifth and if you want it back you’ll have to come and take it.

Matt: That can be arranged.

Oh shit, maybe not as bad at it as she thought.

Olivia: You’d like that wouldn’t you?

Well, no turning back now. They’ve officially crossed into a territory outside of the realm of just friends.

Three little text dots popped up at the bottom and then went away.

Shit Shit Shit.

She felt doubt start to form like a weight in the pit of her stomach. Maybe she read the messages wrong. Maybe he wasn’t flirting?

Twenty minutes passed with no reply. She wanted to scream, and cry, and throw up all at the exact same time. Olivia was genuinely worried that she had just royally fucked up her friendship.

She was anxiously pacing around her room, waiting for Matt to reply, when she heard her doorbell ring from downstairs. She looked over at the clock on her nightstand. It read 11:47pm.

Boo let out a growl at the new noise. She tried to soothe the dog before leaving him secured inside her bedroom and headed downstairs to see who the hell was ringing her doorbell in the middle of the night. She was mentally chastising herself for not investing in one of those ring doorbell cameras that she always said she was going to invest in when she moved in two years prior.

She stood on her tip toes and looked through the peephole. She let out a slight gasp by who she saw on the other side before quickly unlocking and opening the door. There on the other side of the threshold was Matt with a very serious look on his face, his brown eyes looked darker than usual. They both said nothing, a noticeable tension filled the air as she pulled the door open wider, allowing him room to step inside. She quickly closed the door behind him and re-secured the locks.

“Matt, wha…” she started to ask, turning around to face him.

“Shut up.” he interjected, stepping forward and connecting their lips in a searing kiss.

They stood like this for a moment, before he took another step and the cool wood of her front door against her back caused her to part her lips in a gasp, allowing his tongue to slip inside. His hands left her face and traveled down the seam of her shirt. His shirt. Before he reached behind her thighs and lifted her up, legs wrapping around his center, as he carried them over to the couch across the room.

That tension felt before snapped as hands found skin and clothing met the floor piece by piece. She didn’t have time to feel shy. The desire of it all was dizzying and they both craved more. He rolled her off his lap to where she laid across the couch and he began to plant kisses along her throat. Over her breast. Down her stomach. Watching her react with each touch as he made his way to her core.

He looked up at her as he pressed gentle kisses against her inner thigh, silently asking permission to continue. She nodded and he didn’t hesitate. Her hand quickly found its way into his hair as his tongue worked deeper. Her head snapped back into the couch pillow as he gently introduced his fingers to her folds, falling into a steady rhythm as his mouth flicked over her clit. She tried to move her hips to match his thrusts but he firmly held her in place by snaking his free arm around her thigh.

She let out a moan as she felt herself growing closer and closer to climax. The sounds of her moans and how she breathlessly whispered his name were like music and he was desperate to hear more. She looked down at him, his eyes borderline pitch black with lust. Their gaze remained locked as she felt her body coil tighter until it snapped and she screamed out his name in pleasure. Writhing beneath him as he continued to work his fingers in and out, while kissing the overstimulated bud.

The sound of her voice as she fell apart made his dick twitch. She whimpered slightly at the absence as he made his way back up her body and attaching her lips to his in another deep kiss. He pulled back and looked into her eyes, her pupils blown with ecstasy.

“Are you sure about this?” He said, seeking consent to continue.

She grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into another breathtaking kiss.

“Fuck, yes.” She breathed against his lips.

She gripped his arms, nail leaving crescent moon indentions on the skin as he pushed inside of her. Sweat began to pool at the small of his back as she rolled her hips up to meet him, their bodies falling into a steady rhythm.

He placed his forehead against hers, eyes locked as he thrusts harder, deeper. Both chasing their high together. Olivia's eyes flutter closed as the pleasure builds closer and closer.

“Look at me!” Matt demands. God the way he said that unlocked something in her.

Her eyes snap back open to meet his. He picks up his pace with a grunt, alternating between deep full hilt thrusts and shallow ones that leaves her needing more.

“Fuck, Liv, you’re doing so good for me.” He praises between his own moans.

Her hands snake deeper into his mane of hair as they push closer and closer to the breaking point. He tries to hide his moan in another deep kiss.

“Matt��.” She whines, “so close..”

“That’s it, babygirl.” He praises, “cum for me, let me hear that pretty voice.”

She cried out his name in pleasure, star bursts dotting in her vision as he continued to fuck her through her orgasm. She writhed with overstimulation as he chased his own climax shortly after. He collapsed on her chest, both of them trying to calm their ragged breathing.

Matt quickly got up and retrieved a wet washcloth from the half bath and cleaned both of them up before laying back down and pulling Olivia on top of him along with the decorative blanket that was draped over the back of the couch. She nestled her face into the crux of his neck, he rested his chin on top of her head.

“Matt?” Olivia asks, voice muffled by how she was laying.

“Yeah?”

“You’re still not getting the shirt back.” She says.

He lets out a laugh.

“Fair enough,” he replies, kissing her forehead, “It looks better on you anyways.”

#matt dierkes #matt dierkes smut #matt dierkes fanfic #matt dierkes x reader #bad omens #bad omens fanfic #matt dierkes x ofc #bad omens smut #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens cult #bad omens x reader #bad omens x ofc #badomens #badomenscult #matt dierkes fic #matt dierkes fanfiction #author: thatchickwiththecamera

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proctocheck · 2 years ago

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Purchase Online Best Double Door Refrigerator

Looking for the best double door refrigerator in India? Look no further! With advanced features like adjustable shelves, frost-free technology, and energy efficiency, the best double door refrigerators keep your food fresh and organized while saving you money on your electricity bill. For more information please visit the website now.

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rainydayandmondays · 11 months ago

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Secret Santa is Coming....

Summary: Time for the Secret Santa gift exchange and Andy knows you deserve only the best gift. And who says it can’t be a gift for both of you.

Pairing: Andy Barber X Reader, Jake Jensen

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: 18+ only. Explicit language, explicit sexual content, male masturbation, female masturbation, voyeurism, Daddy kink, slight non-con

Author’s Note: A follow up to the Thanksgiving Potluck. I don’t think Andy is okay with just a one-shot with his sweet girl.

“Mr. Barber.”

Andy looked up to see you standing just inside his doorway. Your hands dropping to be held in front of you, he watched as you momentarily shifted from foot to foot. You were uneasy and that should never be how you feel around him. He dropped the affidavit he had been reading back to his desk, before rolling his shoulders, and sitting back in his chair. Something had you skittish and he wouldn’t have that.

“Yes, sweetheart.”

You bow your head at the nickname, your bashful reaction to it would never get old with him. However, he did try to use it sparingly. Waiting until you two were mostly alone, he would softly say it and watch you smile before catching yourself.

“Can I talk to you about something?” You looked at him, your brow furrowing as you waited for his response. Something was wrong. He could feel his own unease build up the longer he watched you, your fingers now fidgeting in front of you.

“Is that even a question? Of course, you can,” He gestured to the seat in front of him.

You seemed to loosen up at his response, your hands dropping the gripped hold you had them in. Turning to close the door behind you, you gave him a small hopeful smile before taking the offered seat.

He continued to sit back, despite wanting to inch closer to you. You were calmer now and he didn’t want to break you from that peace that you had regained, “What’s going on?”

You took a quick inhale before asking your question, “Are you the one leaving coffee on my desk every morning?"

The coffee. You knew about the coffee. After Thanksgiving, he hadn’t wanted to give up the feeling he felt watching you enjoy him so much. He embraced the flashes of you licking your lips after finishing his potluck offering. They would keep him busy popping up over the long holiday weekend.

Laurie had ordered in catering for their family meal. Things were starting to pick up for her at work as they entered the holiday season. Buying everything and then cooking the turkey dinner wasn’t something she was willing to take on. Instead, they had pulled the plastic containers from the takeaway bag, quickly heating them up before sitting down to the saddest Thanksgiving meal. Thoughts of you were the only thing that pulled him out his funk to start pulling down Christmas decorations from the attic.

He decided that weekend that he would find a way to share that with you again. Your friend may have thrown out that thinly veiled threat, but he would find a way around it. Returning to the office after the holiday, he decided to keep his ritual to his nightly shower. No more parking garage camera feed for your noisy friend to make noise about. He found if he worked late enough, by the time he got home, there would be no one up to ask why he took a tumbler with him to shower.

Filling up his trusty tumbler every night, he would grab it from the refrigerator each morning as he waved goodbye to a wife and son who seemed to be more enthralled with their phones than anything he was doing. Heading to the local coffee shop after his morning swim, he would sit in his car adding his special ingredient to the small light roast brew with double espresso shots and half and half.

Making sure to get in as early as possible, he would leave the cup of coffee on your desk before hustling to his office. He had done so for the last week, a smirk lighting up his face when you brought the cup to the weekly team debrief for the latest cases. But now you knew it was him. He should have known you would figure it out.

Trying his best to not react to your question, he pulled on all his skills to keep the best poker face. He could come up with a reason for it that wouldn’t return you to that ball of nerves that had stood in his doorway.

He cleared his throat before responding, “You caught me. I know the late nights you have been putting in. That can’t be easy to do and then only to go home and help your parents. Figured you might need something to look forward to.”

You hummed at his explanation, looking down before returning your gaze to him, “That’s very kind, Mr. Barber. Sweet even. It’s just…people like to talk. I’ve worked so hard. And I don’t want anyone to think that I got anything because of…because of anything else other than work.”

Your eyes had continued to flit between him and your hands in your lap as you spoke. He could tell that you had thought through your small speech, probably even prepped yourself on your drive in. He also knew that one of the office gossips had gotten to you. He was selfish and he wanted the moments with you but not at the risk of you feeling uncomfortable.

Leaning against the desk, he looked at you straight on, expressing as much empathy as possible, “Understood. No more coffees.”

Your shoulders finally came down from around your ears and you sighed, nodding back in thanks.

“Thank you, Mr. Barber,” you replied before rising to walk towards his office door. He wanted to correct you. Remind you to call him Andy. However, he figured it was best not to push his luck. Watching you push the wrinkles from your skirt as you walked away, he called back to you, “I don’t want you worrying about this or what anyone may say, okay?”

Stopping to look over your shoulder, you reached to grab at your necklace, “I won’t.”

“Promise me?” He smirked as you continued to twiddle with the gold chain.

“I promise,” you answered as he nodded for you to leave.

With the click of his door closing, he looked down at his desk, saving your promise to his memory. He’ll use it later tonight.

Holding the slip of paper in his hands, your name neatly scrawled across it, he smiled to himself. A couple of people in the office decided to put together a Secret Santa exchange. Apparently, the Thanksgiving potluck was such a success when it came to team building, the higher ups agreed to the next holiday activity. Even had HR sign off on it.

Andy had been in court when the bag of names had been passed around. He didn’t give it much thought. Since your stop in his office a week ago, he had kept his distance. It wasn’t something that he wanted in the slightest. But he was willing to respect your genuine worry about office gossip. No more tumblers, no more early coffee runs. The research requests still happened but always through the weekly team huddle.

However, now seeing your name chosen for him, he had to smile to himself. Of course, it would be you that he would get. Of course, him trying to keep his distance would mean you finding a way back to him.

He sat down, leaning his chin in his hands, “Okay, sweet girl. I understand.”

The office had pretty much cleared out with most people starting their holiday vacations. The last few streamers from the small Christmas luncheon had been balled up and chucked in the bin, when Andy made his way out to the bull pin. You were waving off the last of the other paralegals as you collected your stuff to make your own way home.

“Hey sweetheart,” he saw you jump a little before turning to him.

You had worn a red Christmas sweater with a white bow handstitched along the collar. Your normal pencil skirt had been replaced by a pair of black slacks. And although not his favorite, the pants had done wonders for your ass. He had watched as you moved around the office putting up the last-minute decorations, only to take them down.

“Hi Andy.” You replied turning and looking up at him from your office chair. He caught the small smile that wanted to break free at your utterance of his name. That was good, you were comfortable around him again.

Clearing his throat, he brought the gift bag from behind his bag, presenting it to you, “Merry Christmas.”

“So, you were my Secret Santa,” you smirked looking at the packed gift bag he had hastily bought from the Walgreens down the street.

“It’s a three-part gift,” he answered, nodding towards it and urging you to open it.

Taking the stuffed tissue paper from the top you reached in pulling out a pink tumbler. You let out a small giggle, “For my coffee?”

He fully smiled this time, before shrugging his shoulders and pointing to the remaining items in the gift bag. Putting down the tumbler, you turned back to the bag, reaching the bottom of it, you pulled out a wooden paper weight. Carved into the center was the seal for Boston College Law School. Your brow creased as you tried to piece together the meaning of the gift. He watched as you finally looked back to him, your look pleading for an answer.

“That’s the second part. An old college buddy of mine is the registrar. I told him about a paralegal that had aced her LSATs, had helped on numerous high profile ADA cases, but hadn’t had the chance to enroll yet.” He looked on as the puzzle started to come together in your mind. Your brow creased further as tears started to line your eyelashes.

“They have grant funds set aside every year for students that display great potential. He took care of everything. You can enroll whenever you’re ready. There will be a space for you. That’s the third part.” He whispered the last of his explanation. The tears that had been threatening to fall now ran fully down your cheeks.

“Oh my God. Thank you.” You jumped from your chair, throwing your arms around his shoulders.

Initially taken by surprise, he hesitated momentarily before letting his body relax into your hold. His hands landing on your back as you sniffled into his dress shirt and whispered quiet thank you’s in his ear. He threw up his own thanks at the office being empty. Something tells him that you may have restrained yourself more with an audience.

Starting to feel you pull away, he resisted the urge to cling to you. It had been a while since Andy had a genuine hug. He had been mostly regulated to side hugs with Laurie. Every once in a while, it would include a kiss to the cheek. And Jacob, well he was fully rooted in his teen years and any idolization that he might have had for his dad had been long gone. He would only get quick nods of recognition from over the top of the phone from his son. But now with you, he could feel the heat of your body, the small catches in your breath as you tried to regulate your outburst. This was something he couldn’t give up.

“I’m so sorry. That’s not very professional of me. It’s just…this means so much to me.”

Your tearful smile at him tempted him to bring you back into his embrace. To just hold you as all the happy tears flowed out of you.

You giggled again, shaking your head, “I have to tell my parents. I have to…”

He nodded at you, seeing all the possibilities run through your mind. He had opened doors for you. Had given you a better future. Had put that delighted smile on your face. He had done that. You quickly began to pack up your remaining things, yesterday’s brief stuffed in with your laptop. Turning to him again, you smiled again grabbing onto his forearm and squeezing.

“Merry Christmas sweetheart.”

“Merry Christmas Andy.”

“Can you believe it, Jake? I can enroll whenever I’m ready. There’s a space just waiting for me.” You talked animatedly to your best friend as you placed the carved paperweight on your bookcase. It would sit perfect with your old undergrad books and picture of Jake and you from your graduation.

“That’s amazing, Ace! So, he just called a friend and got this all sorted out?” Jake asked facetiming you from his room.

He had suspicions about your kind of boss since before meeting him Thanksgiving. You had mentioned how many late nights you had been spending at the office recently and how walking out at night gave you the heebie-jeebies. The protector within him woke up immediately at that, ready to offer to pick you up if he needed to. You would never ask him to do that yourself. That’s when you brought up Andy Barber and how he started walking you out.

It hadn’t taken Jake long to dig up information on the ADA. He had the white picket fence life, although there wasn’t too much about his past listed. That was the first red flag. Hacking into the courthouse’s camera feed had been relatively easy. These older government buildings never bothered upping their security.

Andy Barber always parked in one of the garage’s blind spots. That would be the second red flag. After you left, Andy wouldn’t be seen exiting until half an hour later. What could he possibly be doing in a parked car for thirty minutes? That was the final red flag.

“His friend is the registrar at the school. He was able to work it out. What?” Sitting down on your bed, you leaned back looking at Jake on your phone. He was making his slightly worried puppy dog face.

“It’s just that’s a lot to get coordinated so fast.”

“Why can’t you just be happy for me, Jake?” You asked only to see Jake’s face immediately deflate. The worried puppy dog look morphing to kicked puppy. His eyes widening behind his glasses.

“Of course, I’m happy for you Ace. It’s just that you’re too trusting sometimes.”

“I’m not a child,” you grumbled back, and Jake wanted to jump through the phone and ease your anger.

“You’re not. You’re a person with a good heart that wants to believe the best in people,” he saw the crease in your brow ease as he spoke, “And that’s why I gotta look out for you.”

Rolling your eyes, you tried to hide your small smile at Jake’s statement. From the first moment he had run into on his skateboard, knocking both of you over in the quad in college, he had looked out for you.

“When do you come back?”

“Why? Do you already miss me?” You watched Jake wiggle his eyebrows suggestively, causing a round of giggles to erupt from you. He pretended to be hurt by your outburst before continuing, “Probably not until the new year.”

You hummed, sitting back up, Jake and you sat in silence as he watched the disappointment take over your expression. He searched for a way to get you to smile again when he heard the knock at the door. Quickly looking back at the door, he breathed a sigh of relief seeing he had locked it.

“I gotta go, Ace.” He watched you nod a short okay, before finally getting up from your bed.

“I miss you.” “I miss you too, Jake.”

Andy sat down at the desk in his home office. Neck stretched back along the back of the chair, as he thought back on the last couple of hours since getting home. Walking in, he noticed all the lights were off, not even the Christmas tree in the den was lit. Disengaging the alarm, he made his way into the kitchen to see a sticky note stuck to the fridge. Laurie had to go back into the office to finalize the preparations for the end of the year gala, while Jacob spent the night at a friend’s. So much for family time.

Putting an order into the local Italian place, he went upstairs to change out of his work clothes. He contemplated jumping in the shower, until he heard the doorbell ring with his takeout. Turning on the tree in the den, he ate his pasta dish with only the twinkling Christmas lights on. What had his life become? What had his family become?

Dropping the to-go containers in the trash, he wandered back to his office. He thought about powering up his laptop and finishing the closing remarks for one of his cases, when he found the holiday favors that you had passed around the office this morning. Your red sweater on, you greeted everyone with such joy for the upcoming holiday. He couldn’t help but smile up at you, as you left the favor on his desk.

You were a sweetheart. His sweetheart. His sweet girl. He rubbed along his bottom lip as he remembered your reaction to his gift. The hug had surprised him. But fuck if he hadn’t loved every minute of it. He didn’t even mind the soft sniffling you made as your tears stained his tie. He had made those tears.

Opening his iPad, he logged into the recently downloaded program. Would you have already told everyone about what he had done for you? Would you have passed around the carved seal of your new school for everyone to admire? Would you have put it in a place of pride? He wasn’t sure, but it couldn’t hurt to check.

Finishing entering the credentials, he watched as his screen came to life and he saw your bedroom space. It was cheerful like you, with multiple pillows adorning your bed and bursts of color in the pictures you hung on your walls. He devoured the scene, greedily taking in everything he could see, when he heard the click of the bedroom door. The small camera was powerful and could zoom 10x but was stationary in the middle of the school seal.

He waited, hearing you hum a Christmas song along the with opening and closing of drawers off camera and the tossing of a bath towel on the bed. Finally making your way into view, he saw your silk two-piece set. The navy-blue pajama top with white piping along seams hugged your tits. Your free tits, there’s no way you were still wearing a bra with the way your nipples poked through. And the shorts that accompanied it, covered the curve of your ass, but he watched as they inched up as you started to turn down the bed.

He shifted in his seat as he set the iPad to lean against the monitor stand on his desk. Widening his legs and easing back into his chair, he adjusted himself. He hadn’t had a chance for his nightly ritual. But seeing you now, he was happy to see he would have new things to add to his memory. You always knew how to take care of him. His sweet girl.

After setting most of the pillows aside, you climbed into bed, reaching over for your earbuds and phone. He couldn’t tell what you were listening to but judging by the content smile on your face, it must be good. He watched as you closed your eyes, listening to whatever was piping through your earbuds. Reaching down, he rubbed himself through his pajama bottoms. Nothing too aggressive, just softest of touches. The kind he always imagined you would give him. Always delicate and soft at the start.

He sighed to himself as he watched you, “My sweet girl.”

Lost in the moment, he didn’t catch you shifting at first. However, looking back at the screen, he saw your hand move to your top. You let out a small sigh as your fingers started to flick at your nipple, rolling it between your fingers. He frantically sat up, engaging the zoom function to watch up close. Your nipples were amazing, and he knew given the chance he would lap at them, giving them little bites to see you squirm. Your eyes were closed, breathing harsher, as you played with your tits.

“Play with her tits, sweet girl. Show me how sensitive they are,” He whispered as he took full hold of himself. After hitting his fist on the underside of the desk, he pushed back from it to make room for his hand as he continued to slide up and down his shaft.

He could hear the little sighs you were making as they started to get louder. He knew you would be vocal. You would tell him everything that made you feel good. Both your hands covered your tits while the buttons of your shirt lay open from where you had torn it open to get your hands in.

“Jesus, you’re going to be the death of me.” He squeezed around the tip before breaking contact with the screen to spit down onto himself. At feel of his warm saliva, that winking eye dribbled out onto self.

Hearing shifting, he looked back to find you grabbing one of the pillows you hadn’t bothered to put aside. Now, what were you doing now? He watched as you grabbed the forgotten towel still at the foot of your bed. Placing the pillow in the middle of the bed, you draped the towel over it before swinging a leg over and straddling the setup.

“Fuck me. Take what you need, sweet girl.” He grunted as you started to rock back and forth on the pillow.

Your hips started a natural rhythm, one hand still pawing at your tit while the other held you steady on your perch. As he looked on, the more he dribbled out on his hand, and he finally reached down pushing his pants and underwear off. His ass was momentarily cold on the leather of the seat, but he couldn’t be bothered to care as you kept humping your pillow.

“Daddy.”

Andy nearly swallowed his tongue when he heard your whisper. Your bottom lip now caught between your teeth as you whined.

“Daddy is here. Fuck, I’m right here.” He fisted himself, finally dropping to grab onto his balls and rolling them in his palm.

“Daddy, please.” You mewled out your whimper and he had to grab tight at his base to avoid blowing his load right then and there. You were close, but fuck him, if he missed it by losing it first.

“What do you need, sweet girl? What do you need from daddy?”

“Daddy, I can’t.”

How could you answer him? You had to know. His sweet girl was so smart, she could figure anything out. You had to know he was here. That he could see you. That he was watching you. You were doing this for him.

“Yes, you can. Daddy says you can. I’ll even count down. Five.”

You stuttered slightly before picking up your pace again.

“Four.”

He tightened his grip, corkscrewing his hand on each trip up.

“Three.”

Your breathing was getting harsher as you brought down your other hand, using both to steady you as your hips rolled.

“Two.”

He was almost there. His balls had already started to pull up as he planted his feet to thrust into his fist.

“One. Come on, my sweet girl. Come for daddy.”

He nearly lost it, as you threw your head back, mouth gaping in a silent cry, and the rest of your body spasming. Fucking his hand, he watched as a gush of liquid flew out of you, wetting the towel beneath.

“Oh fuck. Such a good girl. Such a good, fucking sweet girl.”

Standing up, he aimed for the screen as he lost it on the image of his sweet girl squirting for him. He twitched and continued to rub out every ounce he had for her. For once, he didn’t think about it going to waste. It hadn’t, not with what you had given him tonight.

Bracing against the edge of the desk, he flopped back into his chair, as you rolled off your pillow completely drained.

“Thank you, daddy.” You gave one final whisper before peeling off your pajama shorts and grabbing the covers to go to sleep.

“You’re more than welcome, sweet girl. Rest now.”

Andy watched you snuggle into bed, returning to the woman he knew from the office. No longer the horned up, little one that just needed her daddy to take care of her. Taking a tissue from the console behind him, he wiped himself down before wiping the screen and desk. Pulling his boxers and pajama pants back up, he started to log out of the camera’s app, when a dialog box popped up, asking to save or delete recording.

He hesitated only for a moment, before clicking save.

Maybe these work holiday functions weren’t the worst thing in the world.

@sarahdonald87

@buckybarnesisdaddy

@theinheriteddutchess

@welp-heregoessomething

#andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber smut #andy barber fanfiction #dark andy barber #defending jacob #jake jensen #the losers (2010)#the holidays with andy

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msbigredmachine · 7 months ago

Text

New To This - Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you all for the wonderful response to the first chapter, I really appreciate it!

Enjoy Chapter 2!

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Home for Delilah was a small, aging modular house tucked away in an urban suburb in eastern Pensacola. It previously belonged to Andre’s father, and it served as a fairly decent abode for the young couple ever since they got engaged nearly two years ago. Andre had been living there for a decade, moving in to work at his uncle’s auto shop immediately after graduating from high school. It wasn't the most luxurious of dwellings, but it beat the miniscule space she’d been crammed in with her father, mother and older sister for years, so Delilah really couldn't complain.

Rolling her eyes at her mother’s wedding-laden text message, she pulled her keys from her pocket, guided it into the lock and pushed open the door. Closing it firmly behind her, she leaned back against it, shutting out the rest of the world for the rest of the day. Hanging her hooded jacket on the hook by the door, she kicked off her sneakers and dumped them in the corner along with her gym bag, knowing she put them in their proper place, but was too tired and hungry to worry about that right then.

She wandered into the kitchen, ignoring the small stack of unopened bills on the countertop, and opened the refrigerator. The three pieces of leftover chicken and half-full bottle of red wine wasn’t going to cut it. Sadly, ordering takeout was a bit of a luxury right now, so she had to make do with whatever she could find in the refrigerator and the pantry. Luckily, her mother had ensured that both of her daughters became creative enough cooks to see through any food shortage, which, these days, occurred more often than Delilah liked to admit. So, retrieving as many ingredients as she could find, she set about making dinner for herself and Andre, a peace offering of sorts after their turbulent morning.

It had been a stressful last few months, combining her wrestling classes with numerous double shifts at both her jobs to make ends meet. Adding the equally demanding task of planning her wedding was not helping. More frustrating, at least, according to Andre, was the fact that their nuptial plans were being delayed by her so-called ambitions, chipping away at what little income they both earned. Delilah truly wished he could see the big picture, or at the very least, show a little more support. He, of all people, should have her back. That the rest of the townspeople thought she was out of her mind didn’t mean that he had to agree with them.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard the front door open. Knowing who it was, her insides clenched a little with apprehension, wondering, perhaps hopeful even, that her fiancé would be in a reconciliatory mood. The footsteps coming from the living area got louder as they got nearer. Delilah diverted her focus from the saucepan to watch Andre stroll into the kitchen. and despite the tension that had been brewing between them all day, her heart couldn’t help but welcome the affection that rushed over her for him.

Andre Gibson had been every girl’s fantasy once upon a time. Still was, if Delilah was being honest. He was yet to lose any of the physical traits that made him so desirable back in high school. Just hitting six feet, his body was lean and toned from years of doing most of the heavy lifting at his father’s landscaping business. They were inseparable when they were younger; the best thing about school for her was sneaking out to hang out with him, making out with him in the bleachers after basketball games. It was like Heaven for Delilah, elated to be in a spot so many girls were dying to be in. The romance continued after high school, to Delilah’s pleasant surprise, culminating in his proposal two years ago on her twenty-second birthday. And now here they were, living together as soon-to-be man and wife.

“Hey,” he mumbled, rubbing a dirt-streaked hand over his tired face. His worn shirt was unbuttoned with his toned abs on display, and he dumped his backpack on the ground against the wall by the back door.

“Hey,” Delilah returned his greeting. “You’re home early. How did your day go?”

His tired sigh preceded his reply. “Same old, same old. We had one breakthrough though. Pops and I finally completed Mrs. Whelan’s garden.”

“Oh yeah, I remember you talking about that,” she said, stirring the contents in the skillet. “That’s great. I’m glad to know you finally pulled it off.”

“Same here, babe.” He came up behind her, peering over her shoulder. “What’cha got cookin’?”

“Improvising a little with the leftover chicken,” she started, pausing when his hands cupped her hips and his lips met her shoulder. And right away, she knew what this was. This was his way of apologizing about this morning; showing her affection without saying a word. That was the thing about her relationship with Andre. There was something special about the way that they didn't have to speak to know what the other was thinking. They fought, then acted like nothing had ever happened when they got back together. She felt he was in the wrong for this argument, but she wasn’t expecting an apology…no apologies were ever really exchanged afterwards…Everything just went back to normal, seemingly papering over the cracks, in Delilah’s humble opinion. But it kept the peace, so it was better if she kept that little discrepancy to herself.

“Now that we know how your day went, you wanna hear about mine?” she asked.

Chuckling to himself, Andre pushed gently away from her. “Sure, babe,” he said, “How was training today?”

“Tough as fuck,” Delilah grumbled, as Andre grabbed a glass and held it underneath the kitchen faucet. “Tank’s not letting up, even with two days to go till my match. But you’ll never believe who showed up at the warehouse today.”

“You really want me to guess?”

“Maybe not,” she conceded with a giggle, her eyes brightening with excitement as she recalled their brief meeting. “Jey Uso! Jey Uso of all people, Dre!”

Andre raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Am I supposed to know who that is?”

“He’s a big shot in the WWE. One of the top guys in the entire company,” she explained, even though it would most likely fall on deaf ears. “And the coolest part is he’s from right here. Raised in Pensacola just like we were.”

“That’s nice,” Andre responded with a nonchalant, almost bored tone as he settled down at the kitchen table. Delilah was well aware that Andre didn’t watch wrestling. He always called it fake and childish, but that opinion changed slightly when Delilah returned home from her very first class with bruises all over her body. She’d hoped he’d take interest in it, if only for her sake, but that didn’t look like it was happening anytime soon.

She finished making dinner and set a plate in front of him, shredded caramelized chicken with white rice and fresh tomato salad. It wasn’t gourmet, but Delilah had done what she could with what little they had. “Mm, smells good,” Andre complimented, grabbing his cutlery to dig in. Delilah sat beside him, casting pensive glances at him as she ate, pondering the right time to ask him a burning question. It was a few bites into her meal when she decided now was the right time.

“You know, you still ain’t told me if you’re coming to see my match or not,” she spoke up.

Andre’s cutlery ceased their skittering across his plate, and he averted his gaze. Delilah detected his answer right away, and her shoulders dropped. “You’re not,” she sighed, shaking her head.

“I didn’t say that,” he said quickly, “But you do understand why I won’t be able to make it, babe. You know what work is like for me these days.”

“I’ve been talking about this for weeks, Dre! You know how important this is to me! It’s my very first match! It’s in two days. Or did you forget that too?” Angrily, she stabbed her fork into a piece of chicken, trying not to imagine it was her fiancé’s eyeball. “You know what? Forget it. You don’t gotta come if you don’t want to.”

Andre started to counter her, but stopped, thinking twice about it. The last thing he wanted was yet another fight, because this was exactly how it always started. They’d been arguing a lot lately, and honestly? He was already over it. “Look…I’ll do my best to make it to your match,” he said.

“Yeah right,” Delilah rolled her eyes, ignoring the glimmer of hope that bloomed within her. “I ain’t holdin’ my breath, that’s for sure.”

“Come on, babe, I’m for real. I’ll clear out my schedule. I’ll set a reminder on my phone and stuff. I promise. Just gimme the details and I’m on it.” He stared at her with pleading eyes, determined to keep the peace between them. It had been a long, tense day, and in-house tension was the last thing he needed.

Delilah smiled, finally. “Fine. I can work with that,” she agreed. “Now finish up. Your mom sent me a few ideas on places we can have the reception. And after that…If you’re a good boy, maybe later, I’ll show you a new move I learned today.” She leaned closer to him, whispering in his ear, “In bed.”

The hand she’d placed on his thigh suggested volumes, and the tantalizing prospect made Andre smile, “Sounds like a plan, babe.” And with that, things were back to normal.

Or so they both wanted to believe.

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The next morning…

Good thing she didn’t hold her breath in the end.

As Delilah dumped the heavy weights on the ground, she let out a loud growl, trying to release the tension surging through her body. She paced back and forth frantically as she glanced around the small gym, looking for what else to take out her anger on. Every muscle in her body was begging for mercy, but she couldn't stop. She had to take her frustrations out on something, otherwise she would take it out on someone, preferably Andre. Luckily, the gym was relatively empty, sparing some poor soul from her unwarranted wrath.

Fucking coward. He couldn’t even tell her to her face that he’d changed his mind about coming to her show. If that was even his intention in the first place. He’d scribbled some lame ass excuse on a piece of paper while she slept, and left it on his side of the bed before scurrying off to work. He was long gone by the time she woke up, presenting her with fewer reasons to trust her future husband.

The music blaring in her ears made it impossible for Delilah to hear or see anyone around her. And the anger she was feeling made her essentially ignore her surroundings. So it took her completely aback when she turned towards the direction of the punching bags only to run smack into a brick wall. "What the fuck!"

Josh smirked slightly as he took a step back, watching her yank the buds out of her ears. "Ay, my bad, on me," he apologized, chuckling at the discombobulated look on her face. "Thought you saw me comin’."

"Clearly not. You ain’t that hard to miss," Delilah snapped, tearing the fingerless gloves off her hands. "What are you even doing here?" she shot, noting vaguely that he didn’t look dressed for a workout. The man who had, just the day before, seemed imposing and breath-taking, was now just another testosterone-filled asshole standing in her way, like her fiancé.

Josh crossed his tattooed arms and stared at her. "Relax," he smiled. "Thought I would stop by and see how you were feelin' about tomorrow night, but I guess that's pretty obvious," he said, eyeing her up and down. He’d been on the mark about her body…bangin’ was an understatement. He forced himself to maintain eye contact to avoid staring at her nipples protruding through her sports bra.

Delilah grabbed the bottle of water sat on the nearby bench, unscrewing the cap and taking a few gulps. There was more than one reason she was feeling the way she was, and none of them put the butterflies in her stomach at ease. "I don’t even know why I’m trippin’," she shrugged. "I'm only jobbin' out anyway. Why would I want him to see me lose?"

“Want who to see you lose?” Josh inquired.

Delilah pursed her lips, contemplating whether she should answer or not. “My fiancé.”

He regretted asking. “Oh. Right. Tank said something like that,” he mumbled.

Delilah stared up at the huge man with narrowed eyes. “You and Tank talked about me?”

“Not the way you think,” Josh quickly clarified at her suspicious expression. “He has a lot of faith in you, which is why you ain’t gotta worry so much about tomorrow. You’ll be fine.”

"You make it sound so easy-breezy,” Delilah groaned, shoving her sweaty hair away from her equally sweaty face. “Maybe if one of us got hurt, the fans will have something to remember the match by."

Now it was Josh's turn to roll his eyes. Damn rookies. "Yeah, then you’ll be the fragile weakling nobody wanna work with. I know Tank taught you better than that," he countered. "Look, it ain’t all about winning and losing, not right now anyway. It’s about making an impression on your audience. The fans need a reason to keep watching you, and the suits need a reason they should hire you to wrestle. So everything you do in that ring matters. As long as your match is entertaining as fuck and you don’t kill anyone, that’s all they’ll care about."

Raising an eyebrow, Delilah chuckled. "Right. I’ll keep that in mind for tomorrow," she said. Biting her lip in contemplation, she met his eyes again and fought the urge to swoon.

"Ay, it’s okay to be nervous. You gotta phase that out, though,” he added. “And whatever you got going on at home, put that shit aside until after the match."

It was a little unnerving how well he’d read her. “Easier said than done,” she scoffed.

For a second, Josh thought about prying, but decided against it. "Wanna know what I was like the morning of my very first match?" He watched her countenance perk up, giving him a curious half-smile that he thought was insanely attractive. "I got so nervous, thinkin’ and worryin’ about the match and shit, that I forgot my bag with my wrestling gear in it. Boots and all. I didn’t realize it until I got to the arena," he explained. “I had to rush back home, and the traffic was so crazy, I didn’t get back to the arena until about ten minutes before my match. That shit sucked ass, man.”

Nibbling on her bottom lip again, Delilah eyed Josh with awe as he spoke, his understanding words and softer eyes putting her more at ease than before. To think that the great Jey Uso had felt this jittery before his first match made her feel like they had a little more in common now.

"I really want this, ya know?" she said, relaxing some more as she confided in him. "I've always wanted this. I had a later start than most, I’ll admit, and I’m playing catch-up. That’s why I'm busting my ass so hard," she admitted. "There’s no room for error, Jey. I gotta be perfect."

Licking his lips subconsciously, Josh watched her take another sip of her water, some of it escaping her lips and trickling down the valley between her breasts, and felt a tightness deep in his gut. "Perfection don’t exist, baby girl, not in pro wrestling," he pointed out, his eyes reactively sweeping down the curves of her body before he spoke again. "Look, if Tank thinks you ready for this, then you ready," he said.

Delilah sighed heavily. She could only hope Tank was right. As she picked up her towel and bag off of the floor, she stopped short, and then turned to face him again. “Wait…Did you just call me baby girl?” she asked him.

A smirk twitched at the corner of his lips. “Sorry. Bad habit. I meant no disrespect. If I offended you, I'm sorry.” He stepped closer to her. “Forgive me?”

Delilah swallowed, taking a few steps of her own backwards. She noticed his lips twitch again in amusement. “Uh…yeah. Sure.”

Josh smiled. “Preciate that, Delilah.” He backed away. “I’ll see you tomorrow night. Think about what I said, a’ight?”

She watched him walk away from her and out of the gym, so many questions on the tip of her tongue. Her hand tightened over her water bottle, and she suddenly felt the need to take a cold shower, or two.

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Thoughts?

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wardenparker · 6 months ago

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Congrats!! You're one of my favorite blogs here <3

How about Steve Murphy for the prompt - I don't need a roommate

Steve Murphy. 1,373 words. I don't need a roommate." Co-written with @absurdthirst

Established relationship. Alcohol consumption. Poor communication.

“Javi— help me out here.” Steve begs, crushing out another cigarette and flopping back in the squeaky yet comfortable chair. “Talk some sense into her.”

Keeping his eyes on his paperwork, annoyed that this….argument has now roped him in, he snorts and shakes his head. “Fuck no.” He grunts, glancing up to make sure you hadn’t doubled back into the shared office to make another point and overhear him. He’s crazy, not stupid. “This is your battle.” He tells his partner. “I’m not the one fucking her.”

“The only woman in the world you can actually say that about,” Steve huffs, rolling his eyes.

******

It had started fast and furious. Just a few months after you were transferred to Colombia to join the DEA team going after Pablo Escobar, you had tumbled into your partner’s bed and now rarely make it back to your own. Even when you argue, or have stupid work bullshit interfere in your days, you always end up falling into Steve Murphy’s bed at the end of it.

Tonight, even after arguing with him at the office, you still end up knocking on his apartment door to find out if this time the arguments have finally pushed things too far for your undefined non-relationship.

If he’s honest with himself, he hadn’t expected you to come. Beer in hand, he pushes himself up off the couch and gives a cursory glance through the peep hole, pausing for a split second before he opens the door. “Hey.” He greets you, wondering why you didn’t just use the key he had given you. The key that started the entire damn argument.

“Hey.” Knocking had seemed more polite than just barging in, especially when you weren’t sure he wouldn’t be asking for the key back after this afternoon.

He rocks his jaw for a second and then swings the door open wider, a clear invitation to come inside as he turns to amble towards the kitchen. “Want a beer?” He asks over his shoulder.

“Please.” His place is better kept than a bachelor pad but only because he had been married for so long. There are things in this apartment that have Connie’s stamp on them still, but not the refrigerator. It’s frozen food and beer in there and not much else. Steve can’t cook to save his life, and you can smell the frozen pizza he ate for dinner, a fact which makes you smile reflexively as you close the door behind you.

He drains the rest of his beer and plucks two from the fridge before closing it. Twisting off the caps of both, he offers you one silently.

"I came to apologize," you admit after a long pause, one that is filled only by you and Steve standing in his kitchen drinking beer. "I...overreacted earlier."

You did, but he’s smart enough not to agree with you, just arching his brows as he takes another sip.

He's gonna make you do this all on your own. Well, you probably deserve that. After being a little bit of a bitch to him in front of Peña, you definitely deserve it. Still, you exhale slowly and take another sip of the beer he handed you. "I just...felt a little blindsided by being handed a key when we haven't really talked about whatever this is beyond flirting or agreeing on a time for me to come over during the day."

“It’s a key.” He reminds you. “I didn’t think that you would react like that.” He’s still a bit more closed off than he was before coming to Colombia, but he was working on it. Divorcing Connie had been for the best, but he doesn’t want to sabotage every relationship by clamming up. He shrugs slightly. “Figured it would just be step one into moving in with me.”

"See? Blindsided like that." There has been nothing about how you've been together – aside from the fucking and flirting – that has indicated that Steve would want you in his space permanently. "You want me to move in with you?" The question is...it's bewildering, but only because it cracks something open in your chest and makes your heart ache unexpectedly. The things you've been feeling for this man recently are too big for you to allow yourself to process. "I don't think...I can't be your roommate Steve."

Steve snorts, raising the beer bottle to his lips and takes a healthy swing, bracing himself against the bitter sting of rejection. “I don’t want a roommate.” He scoffs at how incredibly bad he’s botched this. “I want a partner.” His eyes meet yours and he holds your gaze. “I want us to be more than just partners at work.”

"Oh." If you could have handpicked his response it wouldn't have been as honest as that, or as close to a gut punch. You had found yourself overreacting just a handful of hours ago because the gesture felt intimate and you realized how much you wanted it to be. Now here he is, telling you it's even more intimate than you had anticipated. "I—I completely misread that..."

“I know.” Steve shoots you a grin as he leans back against the counter. “Figured that fuck buddies wasn’t enough for me, so it wouldn’t be enough for you.” He sighs. “Might be wrong.”

“It was at first.” It feels stupid to admit, but here you are. Here you are feeling deep enough emotions for this man that it makes you react irrationally and ache. “Now though?” You shift, moving your weight from one foot to the other. “I don’t feel right unless the days start and end with you.”

“So why the fit when I give you a key to my place?” Steve asks, setting his bottle down and crossing his arms over his chest.

“We never talk about emotions,” you point out gently, as though he isn’t aware of exactly what goes on in this undefined relationship. “It felt wrong to get my hopes up, but it also felt wrong to assume it was just a friendly gesture, and I think I panicked being caught between the two.”

“Panicked, huh?” The grin is back and he slides closer to you, crowding you. “You don’t seem to panic when you’re screaming my name.”

“That’s because orgasms aren’t scary.” The indignant huff in your voice is clear, but you still set down your beer and welcome him into your personal space. “Feelings are.”

“Naaaaahhhhh.” He presses closer, smirking slightly and he reaches out to toy with your necklace. “Both make your heart speed up.” He rationalizes. “Your blood pool in different places.” He glances into your eyes again. “Both can be fun.”

"I can't say feelings have ever made my blood pool in interesting places before you." Saying which feelings seems too intimate all over again, but you still find yourself stepping closer to Steve as that unconscious string between you tugs and tugs to close the gap.

“Your cheeks?” He challenges with another smirk. “They get pretty warm sometimes.”

"I wouldn't call my cheeks interesting, Steve." It's adorable, though. The way he manages to be sweet and gentle while still making your cunt ache.

“Depends on which cheeks we’re talking about.” He teases, leaning in and inhaling the sweet scent of your perfume.

"You do love my ass." You smirk up at him – and up, Jesus H. Christ, Steve is tall – and lay one hand on his chest.

“Yeah I do.” He agrees with a chuckle as he reaches up to cup your cheek. “So….are you still upset about the key?”

"No." You're upset with yourself for being a dumbass about it, but there's nothing you can do about that now. "No, I think I'm pretty fucking happy about it now."

“Are you going to use the key?” He asks seriously. “Because…you’re here more than you are at your place.”

"Maybe..." Stepping in one more time puts you almost flush against him and your cheeks warm all over again. "If you really wanted me to use your key...I might give up the other one after all."

“Mmmm.” Steve leans in, brushing his lips over yours softly. “I do.” He solemnly vows, wanting you to live with him more than anything.

______

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watermelonsugacry · 2 years ago

Text

But It's Not You

A/N: double update bebe! 💚

SUMMARY: After almost a year into One Direction's hiatus, Harry craves being in the studio again to make some music. After inviting his best friend and former band member, YN, onto his team, they spend the next two months in Jamaica as they make an album, uncover hidden feelings, and explore uncharted territories. (3.3k)

GENRE: 1dbandmember!yn, friends to lovers

SINCE 2010 masterlist // Jamaica series // Previous song here! ✈

SIDE-NOTE: italicized is voice over commentary (I wrote this kind of like the Behind the Album documentary) bold are things Harry actually said irl

YN’s jaw goes slack in a yawn as she knuckles over her eyes. Her bare feet pat softly against the hardwood floor of the hallway and she has to keep in mind to be quiet on some level as she passes the rooms where the rest of the production crew sleeps. The moonlight that peaks through the multitude of windows throughout the house act as her guide.

It’s been a few days since the team has arrived in Jamaica and so far, it’s been both a relaxing and exciting experience for everyone. With a day full of writing and continuing to get more and more hands-on experience producing, the team was able to get another song down and didn’t go to sleep until the early hours of the morning. Unable to fall asleep herself, however, she finds herself out of bed in search of a late-night snack. She stretches her arms above her head before letting them fall down to her sides.

When she faces the kitchen, her feet come to a stop when she sees a semi-bright light that shines over a small section of the room. Harry stands in front of the open refrigerator, his forearm rests on top of the door while his body bends over to look inside. His torso is bare and the muscles on his back push and pull as he goes to grab something. His sleep shorts hang low on his hips and when he looks over his shoulder at her, his hand to his mouth as he bites down on something.

Is that a strawberry?

Harry takes in the sight of her: an oversized band t-shirt she’s had since their time in the band that has holes scattered around the fabric and slipping off her shoulder every now and then. Her pj shorts are barely visible from underneath the huge shirt and her hair is a bit tousled from her attempt to fall asleep. He smiles at her as he finishes what’s in his mouth, “Good morning, darling.”

Ignoring how nice and raspy his voice sounds, she smiles back at him and shuffles her feet over to him to lean her forehead in the middle of his chest. When she feels his arms around her shoulders, letting out a hum at the warmth he gives off, she thinks back to the time when she couldn’t stand physical affection. She felt claustrophobic if someone were to wrap themselves around her; even with her ex, it still felt off to be held or hold his hand. She knew she was in trouble when she found herself naturally gravitating towards Harry’s body for a cuddle or missed the warmth of his hand on her back rather than anybody else’s.

“Morning,” She says as she snuggles deeper into his chest.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

She shakes her head side to side, still pressed to him, “You?”

He hums out a no before he says, “Want a strawberry?”

She lifts her head so her chin rests in the middle of his chest. She silently parts her lips and he places the half-eaten strawberry to her mouth. The tips of Harry’s finger hold onto the green leaves of the fruit as she takes a bite. He pulls it away and finishes off the rest of the strawberry before throwing the end leaves into the sink beside them.

Knowing that there wasn’t a chance of going back to sleep any time soon, the two friends situate themselves on the kitchen floor, their backs to the kitchen island with their legs splayed out in front of them and the refrigerator door open. As they chat, they’ll both occasionally grab at the cut pieces of fruit in the bowl between them.

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.”

Harry discreetly cringes to himself at his words. As comfortable as he is to talk about literally anything with her, he has to catch himself before he says anything stupid—meaning, not accidentally telling her that he’s head over heels in love with her.

“Yeah? All good things, I hope.”

“Oh no, just the bad stuff,” He says sarcastically.

“Shit, I knew it.” Harry chuckles when she playfully throws a grape at his chest with a smile.

“No, I could never. There’s nothing horrible about you, lovie.” Despite his better judgment, he lets the words of affection slip from his mouth. “You’re perfect.”

YN scoffs with a roll of her eyes. “Don't say that,” she says around a mouthful of a slice of orange.

“But it’s true. You’re beautiful, YN.”

“That’s a bit hard to believe,” Before he can swallow the grape and protest, she beats him to it. “Come on, H. M’nothing like the girls you’ve been attracted to in the past. With their perfectly blue eyes and scarlet red lips,” YN says with a dramatic, playful flutter of her eyes before twisting at a cherry stem between her fingers.

Harry furrows his brows as he processes her words, “Okay but, was that ever really me?”

“What do yeh mean?” she asks with a tilt of her head.

And oh how he wishes he could explain himself to her. Throughout their time in the band, it’s been a known fact that their management teams have been trying to force a certain persona on each of the band members. For Harry, he was labeled as a womanizer: a bad boy who's never done anything bad. Time and time again, their teams had set him up with fake blonde models who were only into him for his name, looks and nothing more. And after each time, he would find himself going back to her.

He’ll take her natural hair color and texture over the girls who fry their hair to achieve a fake-blonde look. He’ll take her bare face over any of the women with too much contour and red lipstick any day. He’ll take her natural plushy hips and chest without it having been done through the work of a doctor. He’d rather be with YN. He meant what he said, she’s perfect. Even her imperfections are perfect.

How he wishes he can tell her all of this but his tongue trips over itself. How can he even collectively get his words together when she’s patiently waiting for him to speak with her soft smile and her eyes that sparkle from the refrigerator’s white fluorescent light.

Harry smiles down at his lap, “Y’know, my mum thinks we’re dating.”

He’s changing the subject. She decides not to call him out on it and just smirks at his statement.

“M’not surprised.” When he gives her an amused look, she continues with a lazy shrug of her shoulder. “Me mum's the same way.”

It’s no secret that their mums have been secretly-not-so-secretly rooting for them to get together the second they saw the kind of chemistry their kids began to show during their time in the X-Factor. The two women don’t push their wishes on them though, merely watching from the sidelines waiting for them to realize it for themselves.

A giggle tumbles past YN’s lips as it easily puts a dimpled smile on his face. “Do you remember that one time when we were on our, what? Third tour and we did that waltz dance thing on the B-Stage?”

Of course he remembers. The band was doing the segment of the show where they answered fan-sent questions. Most of them were dares and this one in particular asked the band to show off their ballroom skills. When none of the other boys wanted to be her dance partner, Harry honorably stepped up with an out-reach of his hand.

“The time when you clumsily fell on me and we landed on the floor?”

“No, no. You fell on me,” YN points out with emphasis, her laughter like music to his ears.

“Same thing.”

“It is not the same thing.”

“Where were you going with this again?” He asks with a humored look, plopping a blueberry past his lips.

“Our mums were at that show.” Harry tucks his chin down to his chest as his shoulders shake with a chuckle as he knows exactly where she’s going with this. “And they wouldn’t shut up about it afterwards in the green room, remember? Penny just kept going on and on about how that was gonna be us dancing at our wedding or some shit.”

“My mum was already telling me about taking some dance lessons so I wouldn’t trip up like we did on stage.”

YN squeezes her eyes shut, one hand over her mouth to muffle her laughter while the other one grips onto Harry’s wrist. The creases beside his eyes appear as his own chuckles rumble from his chest. After they’ve calmed down, Harry lets out a happy sigh at the memory.

“Yeah...Richard had a field day with that one.”

As soon as the words come out of his mouth, he instantly regrets it by the sad look that comes over YN. Her once giggling shoulders slow down to a slump, her cheeky smile fades into a somber one and her bright eyes dim down to her lap.

Bringing up their old management team has become a sensitive topic for YN. These people who took her freedom away, tried silencing her voice just because she was a woman, and forced a different persona on her for the sake of fame sit in the darkest parts of her mind.

Even for something as silly as the two of them dancing together on stage had their management representative give them a good scolding. Richard went on a rampage, yelling at YN for her improper behavior, for putting her hands on Harry in that way. He scolded her for being so clumsy and that she made them fall on purpose just to get physically close with her band mate.

It broke Harry’s heart to see YN keep her mouth shut, knowing that she would bite back if she could. He saw the way she had her hands clasped together in front of her, occasionally flinching back at Dick’s spitting words.

And when Harry tried sticking up for her, he was told off for even offering himself to YN, that he should have known better. That supposed little “stunt” that they pulled had cost their solos to be removed from the new song they were working on for the next album.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought that up—”

“Don't be.” She says sincerely, licking her lips and keeping her gaze away from her best friend.

Call it a curse or a superpower, but he sees the way her mind begins to race. She’s been good at hiding it, but he can read her like an open book.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” He tells her softly.

Knowing she can’t hide from him, she lets out a deep sigh, “I just felt so trapped sometimes, you know? They’ve just always dictated our lives in everything. What we wear, what we say,” Who we can be with. “And for what? More money in there’s fookin’ pockets? You know, there were just times in my life where I didn’t even feel...alive.”

“Do you still feel that way?”

“Some times more than usual,” She surprises herself as she answers his question truthfully. She didn’t expect to be talking about this tonight or ever with anyone, really. But she’s glad it’s Harry.

“One day I’ll tell you everything,” She thinks to herself.

“But do you know when are the times that I don’t feel that way?”

“When?”

“When I’m with you.”

“Shut up,” He looks away from her with a bashful smile on his face. Even from the small light coming through the kitchen, she can still see the pink coming onto his cheeks.

“It’s true. It sounds cheesy as hell but it’s like I feel the weight of the world around me being lifted or something. It’s like I can finally breathe. Like, I remember that one day on the yacht last year. We were sitting on the front of the boat and we didn’t really talk or anything but we were just...I don’t know. It’s kinda stupid. I think you were asleep or something so I don’t think you remember—”

“You wore that green bathing suit and the sun was just setting so the sky was kind of orange,” When YN turns her head to look at Harry, he’s already staring back. “I remember looking at you then. You were sitting up and had your eyes closed. You were crying.” She doesn't flinch when he brings his hand to her cheek and wipes away her tears with his thumb. YN didn’t even realize she was crying until now. “But when you opened your eyes, you took a deep breath and you... you just looked so in-the-moment. You looked free, YN.”

She closes her eyes and lets the tears silently stream down her face. Harry’s forehead touches hers.

“This was all I used to need,” She whispers in the space between them. Her words pluck a chord in his heart. He’s felt the same feeling more and more lately. He knows that they’re both incredibly grateful for the success they’ve had with their careers so far. They were able to start so young, provide for their family, and do what they love to do every single night for crowds of devoted fans.

But there’s a longing for the silence.

She can be in a room full of fans and press and their team, but she can still feel like the loneliest person in the world. Having each other to lean on, having someone to go to when the darkest parts of themselves want to consume them is more than all the happiness that this measly world can provide.

“I know. I feel it, too.” Harry whispers in the small space between them, reaching up to thumb away at a tear on the supple skin of her cheek. “I was just thinking about how much we haven’t spoken to each other in a while before this.”

“It had only been a few weeks,” YN pulls back a bit and smiles. She wipes her eyes with the front of her worn-out shirt. “And we’ve been texting during that time anyways.”

“Still. S’not enough.”

She softly laughs at Harry’s teasing. He puts an arm around her shoulders and pulls her to his chest. As much as the band’s hiatus was needed, there’s no denying the fact that the separation was hard—especially for these two. How can one normally carry on through life when the person you see, talk to, and laugh with everyday goes away?

They sit in comfortable silence for a little bit longer, staying embraced by one another before YN speaks up.

“I love you, Harry.” Her words make his body tense up and he tries not to let it show too much. She lifts her head from his shoulder and one little dip of his head can connect their lips. His eyes search hers, trying to find if she meant her words in the same way he does. He sees her eyes flicker down to his lips before she takes a deep breath. “No one knows me like you do. I feel safe with you. I...I feel alive with you.”

When he nods his head in agreement, his nose brushes alongside hers, “I feel everything with you.”

“I meant what I said,” She can get lost in his green eyes, looking at her with that same feeling she feels in the pit of her stomach. The same feeling she first felt as a teenager whenever he was around her. The feeling she would get despite being engaged to someone else. She meant those three words, but now that they’re not under the watchful eye of their old management team, the feeling terrifies her even more. “You’re my best friend, Harry.”

And there it is.

During their time in the band, there was no question that the two were able to get on another level of closeness that they knew each other like the back of their hands. Reading each other from across the room became second nature. Maybe the separation has made Harry lose his touch. Maybe those three words don’t share the same meaning they do for him.

“And you mine,” He reciprocates truthfully.

Without another word, YN shuffles herself to lay her head down on his lap. He brushes his fingers over her scalp, gently pushing her hair behind her ear. Once he sees that her eyes are closed and hears her breathing has evened out, he whispers her words back to her unknowing they hold her true meaning behind them.

“I love you, YN.”

...

Anytime you’re doing anything different, it’s quite scary. I didn’t know what I wanted it to sound like, I didn’t know what I wanted it to look like,” Harry explains the initial feelings he had when making his album. “But it was nice to have someone there who you’re familiar with and, and sort of turn to them when you feel a bit uneasy.”

The next morning, YN plops down on the chair next to Harry at the dining table where he finds him scribbling away in his brown leather journal, “Hey.”

“Hi,” he answers, his eyes still glued to the pen on the paper.

“Anything good?” YN nods to his notebook.

“Maybe, actually.” He shifts his body to face her. “It kind of just wrote itself to be honest.”

A soft smile tugs itself on her lips as she leans her elbow on the table to rest her temple on her fist, “The best ones always do.”

“Kind of wanted to let the work do the talking a little bit. I mean, definitely part of my ego wanted to see if I could write something that people liked without people knowing everything about me.”

Harry slides over the journal for her to read, “What we spoke about last night really stuck with me.”

That infamous crease in her brows appears on her face as she reads his scribbled handwriting and Harry wants nothing more than to smooth over the skin with his thumb or a gentle press of his lips.

We're just two ghosts standing in the place of you and me

Trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat.

“I didn’t mean to overstep by writing something personal about you. It was just an idea and a melody for it was stuck in my head all morning.”

“No, don't apologize. This sounds good. Really good, actually. You took what I feel kind of pathetic about and made it sound poetic. It’s beautifully written, Harry.” She lets out a laugh and slides Harry back his journal. “M’kind of jealous that I didn’t write something for myself like this.”

“Well, it can be our song then,” Harry rubs his index finger under his nose, a nervous habit that he hopes will go unnoticed by her; it doesn’t. “I mean, I still need to work out the guitar bits and stuff.”

Instead of calling him out and teasing him just to see the pink tint hit his cheeks, she reaches over the table and lifts the acoustic guitar onto her lap, “That can be arranged.”

Not long after, the team is scattered around the room as they watch the two former band members create music together.

We're not who we used to be

We don't see what we used to see

Their voices blend together beautifully, naturally falling into a harmony. YN’s fingers press on the wired strings as she strums with her other hand.

Mitch watches from his seat on the opposite side of the table, his eyes flickering back and forth between the pair. Harry wasn’t kidding when he said that YN is a skilled guitarist; she’s making beautiful melodies with it without even trying.

More importantly, he sees the way they look at each other. As YN adlibs a vocalized melody, a smile etches on her face as Harry looks at her. His dimples dig into his cheeks and the tiniest hint of pink paints the apples of his cheeks.

Mitch may not know a lot about these two, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see their shared chemistry.

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