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writingsfromhome · 10 months ago

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Dos and Don’ts of H Styles

A/N: this story was literally born out of the wifi incident happening to me. It was a weird experience lol but of course it inspired me to write a story around it. Basically you used to work for Harry as a PA and your life was hell. You bump into him in the present but before it unfolds we need to know what happened in the past.

Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

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I watch as Winnie types into her phone the number of the guy who’d just hit on her.

“And that’s with a y?” She looks up at him with doe eyes.

“Yea,” he falls for it. He was cute, and she worked a lot I didn’t blame her for taking who she could get. His accent also helped. “What’re you doin’ now?”

“Well,” her eyes slide to me. “Hanging with my girlfriend here.”

He nods at me and I smile, holding up the almost empty glass. “We were just about done for the night though.”

“We were?” Winnie checks in with me.

“Mhm,” I give her an encouraging nod.

Both Winnie and I were employed by musician-turned-actor Oretta Smith. Winnie was her nanny—or childcare companion as she called it, and I worked as Oretta’s executive assistant. It was full-time and demanding as hell but ever since Oretta had her first child a couple months back I’d gotten a lot more breathing room as she minimized her public life and stayed close to home.

This long weekend Oretta was staying with her in-laws and asked us to take it off. I’d already requested the weekend off knowing we were in London but being off at the same time as Winnie was impossible so we’d gone out to celebrate and let loose—9pm and only 2 drinks in, both of us had already started talking about the comfort of our beds. Until flirty dude came up to Winnie.

“What do you say?” Winnie’s new date asks her.

“Aw shucks alright,” Winnie flashes her beautiful smile and hops off the stool. I don’t even see her drop the bills onto the table as she hugs me goodbye and leaves until it’s too late. She’d covered for both of us. Well I’d get her back next time.

I finish the rest of my drink, eyes flicking to the reruns of tonight’s soccer game. This wasn’t the fanciest bar—it was quite homely compared to the ones Winnie and I often found ourselves at. But it was one I used to go to when I worked in London just over a year ago. Being back in the city, despite all the awful memories, pulled me towards the nostalgic comfort of it.

I remember the many dates with my now-ex, the random nights I’d actually get off, and drown myself in drink to forget about my awful employer. Or the birthday and milestone celebrations—especially the ones I started to miss near the end.

I consider walking the few streets over to my old flat. Coincidentally the job I’d gotten wasn’t far from home. The upside was that it made dealing with “emergency” texts from my employer a lot quicker but the downside was it grouped all the traumas I experienced in this beautiful city to a few blocks. I didn’t miss it.

I cut my memory lane rabbit-hole short and decide it was time to order an Uber and get out of here; I had an early train to catch tomorrow.

The bars on my phone flicker up and down as I open the app and continue to refresh it over and over. But my signal remains unstable.

“Stupid phone,” I mutter. I had to update my provider while I was here asap.

“‘Scuse me?” I wave down someone serving drinks. “Have you got wifi here?”

“Yep we do!” She smiles. “Name’s The Violinist and the password’s capital p….”

Her voice grows far away as my blood runs cold and I stare at the list of available wifi networks. I feel myself nod a thank you when she stops talking and she leaves taking the password with her while I’m stuck staring.

My networks:

🔗H’s iPhone

I want to duck down and run away, not spend another second around anything to do with that era of my life. But I also want to hunt him down and show him how much better I was doing after him, despite.

The second instinct wins. Kind of.

I don’t hide away. I scan the dimly lit room and try to spot the familiar head of hair but it’s on the third try that I spot him. And it’s probably because his hair is barely an inch long.

He must’ve cut it recently, I’m surprised. Him without his hair was like Harry Potter without his scar.

The feelings are instantaneous though. The loathing and the need to cry. My heart continues to race as I burn a hole into the side of his head.

He was the devil incarnate and I had thought about him for a second too long just now. And now here he was. What the fuck was a guy like him doing here?

I remember the awful times; the casually cruelty and the late nights he would make me work. His constant criticism. The way my life fell apart because of him. The way I could wring his neck with very little incentive at any given moment.

He had turned my whole life upside down. He ruined me.

Harry Styles wasn’t the sweetheart everyone painted him out to be.

And yet, a flash of a feeling, a fleeting memory I try to keep locked away pushes to the front of my mind.

“Fuck no,” I tell myself. There was no room for fondness when it came to the devil.

About 2 years ago:

I straighten out the blazer, wondering if I should be chic and roll the sleeves up a bit or just keep them down. My reflection shows a nervous mousy girl that’s trying too hard. I throw my hair into a ponytail instead and feel a more like myself. Just as the elevator doors ding open.

I’m in the penthouse suite I would be working out of for the next however long; it was my first day on the job and I was still sorting out my nervous to excited ratio.

After looking for months, I’d landed a PA gig for up-and-coming rockstar Harry Styles. It was a dream come true and everyone was ecstatic for me, most of all my boyfriend who’d helped me land the role.

My boyfriend, Grayson, was a personal trainer to a lot of big names and he’d been keeping his ear to the ground for me. We met a few years ago at the gym of course, I’d still been a student and he worked part-time at the student gym. Back then he was still working to get a better client list.

We’d clicked pretty quickly and Grayson, who was anything but shy, asked me out. Soon after he was telling me he had feelings for me and I’d felt them echo back the same. He was my biggest supporter and when I told him I wanted to take this career path seriously he’d been the first to show me what steps to take to get there.

My true dream was to become a publicist and work with celebrities, but fresh out of post-grad everyone told me I’d need to dive head first and get my hands dirty. And I’d have to do that by finding a PA role for a publicist or an industry person.

“Y/n?” My name interrupts my thoughts. It comes from a disembodied head peeking out from a doorway. “You are y/n right?”

“Yes!” I hurry over. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yes. I’m Mr. Styles’ exec assistant, I’m only here for the next,” he looks down at his watch. “Half hour perhaps? So let’s get you sorted before I head out.”

“Oh okay. Sure,” my ears ring, I was going to be alone on my first day. I didn’t even know he had an executive assistant. What was the difference between him and me? What if I screw up and this guy was part of the fallout plan? Shit. “Is Mr. Styles in?”

“Not at the moment, he’ll be in before noon. He has a few appointments this morning. Typically you’d be going with him but he left before you arrived so…next time. Make sure you get any paperwork he received from the appointments and file them in here-“ he points to a room with a filing cabinet. Like an actual cabinet. This was a tight ship. “You sound American. Are you American?”

“Yep,” I debate whether to tell him I stayed after doing my degree here but decide to keep the yapping to a minimum.

I continue following the EA—who I should get the name of, as he points out rooms and overlaps it with info about Mr. Styles’ schedule and routines. A lot of info. My brain felt like it was barely holding on.

I think about the man I was now working for, the one who came into the interview for a brief 10 minutes. Surely that laid-back guy wasn’t the anal mystery man I was getting all these instructions for.

The interview itself had gone pretty smoothly apart from the fact that I nervous-laughed a few times too many. I had gone silent when The Harry Styles had walked into the office. He’d sat beside me at the round table, slouching slightly and flashing me a reassuring smile—I had felt my shoulders dip down immediately.

“So it’s y/n right? I’m pronouncing that correctly?” He’d said in his perfectly charming accent.

“Yes, it’s so nice to meet you officially.” I had to tamp down every urge to gush over him. I was a professional. I was zen.

“So y/n,” he says my name so casually and yet I feel myself lean closer to hear him say it again. “I’ve seen a couple of you come in here for the PA role. What makes you different then?”

Think think, just be calm and think!

“Well I’m a very passionate person so I put my all into everything I do. That would include this job, and in turn you’d benefit by getting peace of mind knowing I’m tackling whatever behind the scenes items that need to get done to get you where you need to go.”

“Well said,” he says with a smile that says he knew he was very good looking. “Now trust is a big factor in this relationship.”

As he talks I forget his manager is even in this room. I’m swept up in the hazy green of his eyes.

“We’ve done the background checks and all that—right?” He looks to his manager who was interviewing me and gets a nod. “But how can you reassure me. My staff gets approached by the media daily for any info on me. What’s to say you don’t sell out.”

“I would never,” I didn’t even think of that being an option. “Confidentiality and trust is the biggest pillar of this role and I take it very seriously. You’re like, the biggest celeb of the last year but I know you’re also a person and I wouldn’t betray that. On a person level.”

“So even if you had a really bad day, say I had gotten you to do some impossible tasks. And you’re heading out head full of steam and you get approached by a reporter. £5k for an exclusive.”

I shake my head. “As tempting as it would be, professional ethics reign over any of that.”

“I believe you y/n,” his eyes flicker down to my file. “Good references. We’ll be in touch.”

Now my eyes roam around the small room I’m meant to work out of. It’s the size of 1.5 supply closets with half the walls filled with shelves and cabinets. There’s a small desk but I wasn’t sure how often I’d be sitting at it. All the PAs I’d ever connected with always complained about the amount of time you spend on your feet. That’s why I’d opted to buy myself runners when I got the job.

“Any questions—mind you I have 1 minute for them before I’m off? There’s a suit I have to sort out.” The EA turns to me when we circle back to my office/supply closet.

“Oh,” a million race through my mind. Nothing that would fit in a minute. “I um, I guess I didn’t catch your name?”

He seems surprised at that, and then he laughs. “Oh you’re a doll. This place is gonna eat you alive. I’m Riley and tip for you—don’t be so eager to please. Do your job. Do it well. But you’re not here to be liked or make friends alright?”

He laughs again when he looks at my face. He hands me an iphone and tells me it’s programmed with everything and everyone I needed, then waves goodbye leaving me in a confused spot.

I wasn’t naïve, I knew what working in this industry was like but I was could swear I’d landed a good gig with Harry Styles. And meeting the man himself in the interview had confirmed it.

Maybe Riley was just jaded by too many long hours.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. A text from Grayson: good luck on your first day babe. let me know how it goes.

I only have time to heart it when I hear the elevator open in the foyer. I rush out just for Harry to brush past me and his manager following, chattering away about something.

I follow from behind and watch as he heads to the kitchen. Riley had shown me what he laid out on the island and how I should do it going forward. And like two magnets Harry reaches for the exact bottle Riley mentioned. He downs the smoothie and then collapses onto the barstool.

“But don’t forget what she was saying about the single needing to be global. Sure your fanbase would love it but would the people who hate you have to admit it’s good.”

“I make it for my fans not for the wankers that hate me,” Harry says and his voice is rich like caramel.

“You know what we mean.” His manager suddenly turns directly to me. “Can you contact the studio and let them know to push Harry’s 1pm to 3?”

“Oh,” I didn’t even know they knew I was here. They gave no acknowledgement until now. “Of course. Um, could I just get the paperwork from this morning too? The appoint-“

“Yep,” his manager unhauls the items in his hands. The whole time Harry stares out the window. I’m handed a stack of papers and I carry them to the office.

My hands are shaking when I put them down and I feel a lump in my throat. What was wrong with me? Why was I reacting this way?

I find the studio contact in the phone Riley gave me and let them know. They’re suspicious at first but accept the reschedule. I leave the paperwork for later, figuring I might be needed now.

But the rest of the morning I’m unacknowledged save by a few requests from Harry’s manager. I spend some time looking through the calender in the phone that’s pre-programmed with Harry’s entire life. It’s packed except for this Sunday. I wonder if it was actually free or just hidden from me since it was my one day off.

“You’ve got a passport haven’t you…?” It’s the first time Harry’s spoken to me. He’s changed into a hoodie and shorts, his manager is nowhere to be seen, and I’ve just bitten into a granola bar—the first thing I’d had since my morning coffee.

“Y/n.” I try to swallow the bite whole but at the last minute push it to the side to try to answer. “Erm yeah. I haven’t got it on me though.”

“Right. Y/n. Start carrying it. I’ll need you with me on Thursday I have a morning meeting in Léon and since Riley’s going to be sorting out something for my New York trip in a couple weeks he can’t make it.”

“Yes. I will. Do you need me to prepare anything else for the trip? I’m not sure if you’ve packed or-“

“It’s just a meeting.” He cuts me off. He pulls out his phone, dismissing me.

I swallow the knot in my throat once more.

I go with Harry to the studio since his manager is meeting us there. Alone in the car with him, the silence feels stuffy.

“I never got the opportunity to say thank you by the way,” I try to open up a conversation. All he was doing was looking out the window surely I wasn’t interrupting anything.

“What?” He stares right through me.

“Um, I’m just saying thank you. For the job.”

He nods.

I stay silent for the rest of the ride.

The studio is quiet, which makes sense when I think about it but upon entering an actual room I change my mind. The noise assaults my ears and I nearly jump at the volume but my hand gripping the doorknob keeps me in place.

People swarm around Harry.

“I need my tablet and my notebook,” Harry says amidst the small chaos.

What the fucks was he talking about. “Sorry?”

“My tablet and notebook,” His face darkens and so does my mood. Nobody told me! But maybe I should’ve asked oh my god.

“I don’t have it,” I say lamely.

“Any time I’m in the studio I need those two things. You need to get me my tablet and my notebook.” He speaks like a robot.

“I-I’ll head back,” I get my bag again. “Tablet and notebook, is there anything else?”

He looks angrier than I thought. He sticks his hands in his pocket, shuffles something in his hand before handing it over. “You may as well get lunch. Keep that card on you for business costs.”

I open my mouth to ask what he might want but he turns away as soon as I take the card and I’ve already fucked up royally so I decide to wing it.

In the car I consider googling what Harry Styles ate for lunch and instead will the ever living shit out of myself not to cry.

I scroll through the phone, debating if calling Riley for help would be a mistake. Going through every app for help I realize the countless notes in the app.

Morning Routines, says one. It lists things I should do when the mornings were spent at home, in studio, abroad, in a hotel, or if I walk into a “morning-after” morning. Jeez.

Another has checklists for what to do when travelling, how-to for routine appointments I should be booking, routine people I should be calling.

Why didn’t I look at this before. Right there is one called Studio Days and in bold it says what to bring.

I was an idiot. A big fat idiot.

I try my luck and search lunch. Sure enough a note with possible lunch places in cities across the world pops up.

It was a How-to guide for Mr. Styles.

Whoever put this shit together was an angel. I owed them my life.

I decide to be proactive, sorting lunch out to be delivered to the studio while the car drops me off. I run to the room Riley had said was the home studio. Sure enough I spot the tablet and a few notebooks, I grab all 3. I also grab the charger and ignore the bag of weed chilling on the arm of the chair.

What to do when he’s too drunk / What to do for Interview Days / What to do when he won’t answer the door or the phone / Day-off checklist / Social media checklist.

The dos and don’ts go on and on as I scroll through on the ride back. This was going to be my homework and by the end of the week I was gonna be a genius.

I swipe away and check if I had missed any folders containing precious info. Just the trash.

Out of curiosity I open it and there’s only 1 sitting inside: the donts of working for Harry Styles

I open it:

-don’t let one nice day fool you into forgetting he’s an arse and your employer

-don’t expect any gratitude from a narcissist

-don’t fall for his charm

-don’t shit where you sleep. no matter how tempting

-when he pisses you off which he will, don’t mouth off. what happens next is worse than being fired. which he won’t do because he’s the devil and he will want to keep you around after treating you like shite

-don’t think he’s chill. he’s anything but. follow the checklists and the rules.

-don’t have a life. actually this is a CAN’T. YOU CAN’T HAVE A LIFE WORKING FOR THE DEVIL. LEAVE AS QUICKLY AS YOU CAN UNLESS YOU HATE YOURSELF

I close the phone immediately, my heart thumping in my chest like a steady bass in the background of a song. What the hell did I get myself into.

***

It’s 8pm by the time I head back with Harry. The car is once again silent.

I had spent the day reviewing emails and the checklists, fielding calls and texts. His personal chef had texted to tell me dinner was prepared and in the oven to be re-heated so I figure that’s the last thing I’d do before I head home.

I’d eaten lunch standing while watching Harry sing background vocals to the album he was working on. It was hard to deny how intoxicating it was to see such a talented man work his magic. And it really was magical seeing how a song got put together.

That is until he’d sent me to get tea for the room and I’d nearly spilled half of it on myself getting enough back to the room. I was getting an electric kettle next.

I made a new note then: Reminders to do so you don’t get fired

The notes were my saving grace.

“My head is killing me,” Harry groans.

What to carry at all times: #4 paracetamol and #2 water

Checkmarked after going to the pharmacy while he was in the studio. I’d created an emergency makeup bag with essentials I could throw in my tote. I considered it a win today.

I hand the painkillers to him and he seems surprised. He replaces them with his phone.

“I don’t want to look at a screen for the rest of the night.”

“Okay.” I leave his phone beside me and try not to think of everything on it.

It vibrates a few minutes later and I leave it, not wanting to invade his privacy but he glances at me.

“Well?”

“Oh!” I lift it but it’s locked.

“1021.”

I type it in. “Um, Jeff wants to know if you’re still at the studio-“

“Reply to him.”

I do as I’m told.

“Um Mitch wants to know if you’re-“

“If it’s scheduling questions you can probably answer them without bothering me about it.”

I look up and he’s tipped his head back, eyes closed. Right. Of course I could.

I go through his schedule and find his studio time on Friday and relay it to Mitch. I respond to another text from someone asking if he was going to a gala in a couple months—his schedule said he was in LA so no. I wondered if I would also be in LA in a couple months. I wonder what Grayson would think.

Grayson, I’d had a short call with him a few hours ago and tried not to cry hearing his voice. It felt like home when the whole day felt so foreign.

I stare at the final text. The contact photo is the side profile of a gorgeous woman.

“Kimberly wants to know if you want um,” I feel my cheeks burn. “If you’re inviting her in tonight because she has a party she really wants you to go to.”

“I can’t be arsed for a party I feel like shite.” Harry says, eyes still closed. “Tell her to be at mine after 10.”

“Ok.” I type the words with a racing heart. I remember the morning-after checklist for this exact scenario. It wasn’t going to be weird soon I guess.

I heat up dinner for Harry while he showers and leave letting him know what time I’d be in tomorrow. He doesn’t even say goodbye.

I get home around the time I reckon Kimberly gets to Harry’s. The first thing I do when I see Grayson is shed a waterfall and he holds my exhausted body tight against him.

“Are you sure you want to keep doing this?” He whispers to me in bed after a shower and sandwich—I couldn’t stomach anything more.

“I need this job Gray. It’s gotta get better.”

“I reckon but it’s a steep learning curve,” he says as he traces the curve of my nose.

“I know,” I snuggle closer to him and yawn. I don’t know what he says next as I tip into sleep.

***

If the notes app manual with the dos and donts of being Harry Styles’ PA was a physical thing, imagine me swallowing it.

Every spare second I had—which I didn’t get a lot of, I was reading that thing. My fingers searched tirelessly before every scheduled and unscheduled event. And yet, I’d fucked up so many times.

It was Saturday and I was looking forward to my day off.

He had been hot and cold all week but ever since getting back from Léon he’d been nicer and I’d actually been getting home before 8.

Maybe things were going well, despite the fact that the learning curve was like climbing mount everest.

“What’s my morning look like?” Harry asks. I was sitting at his kitchen table trying to book a dinner for him next week with a friend that was in town. A friend who also happened to be big back where I was from—I hoped to catch a glimpse of her myself.

I glance up and look back down just as quickly. After a week of seeing Harry in all sorts of undress I should be used to it, but my face still flushes. Today he stands at the table in running shorts.

“Pulling it up,” I say and scan his schedule even though I had it memorized. “You’ve got a meeting at the bank in about 40 minutes and lunch with Michael.”

“Can’t my accountant take the bank meeting?”

“She’ll be there. She’s meeting you downstairs to discuss the meeting on the ride over. You need to sign off on some stuff.”

“Stuff,” Harry repeats.

I look at him, careful to train my eyes on his face. I couldn’t tell if he was annoyed at my lack of elaboration or just teasing me.

“Documents.” I correct, still unable to tell.

He look amused. “Great. Documents. I thought I’d be signing body parts.”

Was he joking? He was joking…I think.

“Right. No, we’re saving that for the tattoo shop booked for 6.”

He raises his brows, a slow smile spreading across his face and like the sun coasting over the horizon he looks brighter and prettier.

“That’s mad, that people would get a random man’s signature tattooed on them isn’t it?”

It’s inevitable really, my eyes skim over his torso brimming with tattoos. He notices and laughs. It’s a wonderful laugh.

“I meant they don’t really know me.”

“They admire you and it’s a piece of you,” I shrug. “At least it’s not a portrait of your face.”

“I’ve seen that floating around the internet actually.”

“Really?!” Now that was mad. I pull it up on the laptop and cover my mouth.

“I know.” He hangs his head and we laugh. God, things were finally getting better. This was the kind of relationship I thought Harry would have with his PA.

I scroll through comments and it’s impossible to wipe the smile off my face. I’ve considered myself a fan for a lot of artists but tattooing their face…that was another level of commitment I couldn’t do.

I look back to Harry who has grown quiet. His eyes are on me.

“What happened to your blazers?”

I’d decided to wear a skirt today, it was my lucky skirt—the one I had been wearing when I got the call that the job was mine. It being the last work day of the week I thought it might make me feel good.

I’d paired it with a tank top and a comfy cardigan. I’d finally felt like myself compared to all the button ups and blazers I’d been parading in. But apparently Harry had noticed the wardrobe difference. Shocker because he barely acknowledged me this week.

“I thought I’d dress for a Saturday?” It comes out meeker than I’d hoped. Ugh. “I hope that’s alright. If you want me more professional-“

“That’s alright,” his eyes roam down my body and I feel hot all over. Oh god, I shouldn’t have worn this. “It looks good.”

“Thanks,” I cross my cardigan over my body and try to get back to work but he doesn’t let it end there.

“Did you make that yourself?”

He continues to surprise me, “I did actually, is it obvious?”

“Yeah there’s a big hole down the back,” he teases. I know he is because his eyes are smiling, light.

“Damnit,” I relax a little. He was only interested in the sweater. “I’d finished it late it looked okay in the dark.”

“I have a friend, she made one of those for me. With the patches. Very comfortable.” He’s weirdly intense while looking at me and I feel like squirming again.

“It is. Very stretchy.” My vocabulary seems to shrink.

He leans over to touch the fabric and I feel like a cactus has been stabbed into my neck, I feel hot and prickly. Jeez, I had to chill out. My employer was just interested in my sweater. Super interested. Maybe I should just give him the damn thing. It would definitely fit him.

“Wool,” he smiles. He’s basically perched above me and I think I’m going to have a heart attack. I went from complaining about the fact that he acted like I wasn’t in any room he was in to not even being able to hold a conversation when he did.

I’m caught looking up into his unfairly gorgeous eyes and he looks at me like I’m the only person in the room. Which I was in this instance, but still.

I’m saved by a loud voice coming out of the elevator.

“Harry you car is waiting downstairs.”

Like a book slammed shut, his expression retreats until all that’s left is the cover page with no summary. The friendly Harry from before is gone.

“Oi Harry! I had to come all the way upstairs because I’ve been sitting in that stupid car waiting! Do you not pick up your phone?”

“Lee,” Harry says as he walks across his living room. “If you can’t reach me you call my PA I’ve told you a million times.”

“And I’ve told you a million times not to keep me waiting. We have a lot to cover before we get to this meeting and I need every minute. God why are you shirtless go put on something appropriate!”

Harry miraculously does as he’s told—given I had already laid out an outfit for him. He’s ready in no time. His accountant, Lee? Simply smiles at me and goes back to typing on her phone while we wait.

“Why is that so wrinkled?” Lee judges Harry who walks out in a completely different outfit.

“I don’t have time to change again do I?” Harry bristles.

Lee looks over at me and I’m not sure if she’s accusing me of something or looking for support.

“Mr. Styles I did leave an outfit out for the m-“

“I don’t wear silk.” He cuts me off and walks out ahead. Lee shrugs my way and follows him. I trail behind, feeling worse than ever.

For a miserable hour and a half I sit in one of the most uncomfortable chairs of my life, organizing Harry’s life while I wait for his meeting to end. As hard as I try to concentrate, I keep agonizing over what I might have done wrong to flick his switch. I swear things were going better. And I know I’ve seen him in silk before. Why the hell else would it be in his closet? Why couldn’t I go a single day without screwing up?

I finally spot Harry walking out of the office and gather my things quickly to meet him. I trail behind as we walk down the hall into the lobby, Lee is nowhere to be seen.

A gasp catches my attention and suddenly a girl younger than me rushes up to Harry.

“Oh my…Harry Styles?”

Harry’s face morphs briefly into annoyance, his gaze flicking my way, before pasting on a smile for the girl.

What to do when a fan approaches H (in the wrong moment): be the bad guy, divert, get Harry to wherever he needs to go to and do it quick.

“Hi,” Harry smiles sweetly at her and the friendliness throws me off guard. But this was unexpected and I should get him away…I think.

“Oh my god could I get a picture? My mate is never going to believe this. She loves you so much, so do I-“

“We really have to be going.” I say and the girl looks at me, surprised to find me there. I look around and spot and older woman watching us. Must be her mum.

“Could I just get a picture?” She glances between us.

“I don’t think Mr-“

“It’s fine,” Harry hands me her phone. “Get a photo of us.”

Just another layer of humiliation to add to the rest of the day. The rest of the week. God was I just awful at reading cues?

I snap a couple and then we’re walking free.

He doesn’t say anything. The car ride to his lunch date is spent in awkward fucking silence and I hate myself more with every second I spend in it.

When the car stops at his destination he holds his hand up when I go to open the door for him.

“Listen -what's your name again?" He asks.

Shame and humiliation drip over me like blood on Carrie’s prom night. I repeat it for him. Just like I had daily since I was hired.

“Right. Y/n. You came highly recommended from a friend so I trust you know how to do this job. This job, is to keep my life organized and keep me on track. Make sure I'm not distracted or side tracked by anyone. Including you. It’s not to be my publicist or my fashion advisor or my personal security. Let's stick to the job description okay?"

His words land bitterly to my ears. Not personal. Just a job. Just a job. Just a fucking job. And yet it was starting to feel like my whole life.

“Yes of course.” I hear myself mumble. And like the big clown I had to be, I push open the door and get out so he can too. He walks to the restaurant without a goodbye and I crawl into the car, heading back to his place. Tears burn my eyes but I refuse to let them out. Refuse to admit just how badly this job hurt.

***

“I’m not doing this on purpose,” I hiss into the phone. “You know I’d be there right now if I could!”

“Babe I get it’s your job but you haven’t come to anything in over a month since you started your job!”

“That’s unfair,” I cup my hand over my mouth. “Gray c’mon I’m going to be there just late.”

“That’s what you said last weekend.”

Last weekend, one of our good friends invited a few friends for dinner in their new place and Greyson had had to go alone. Everyone had messaged me to say I was missed but Gray had been stony, pretended to be asleep when I got home and then given me the silent treatment until I wore him down the next day. It was exhausting begging for affection.

“It’s my job Grey I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“Me neither, you know my parents want us over for weekend roast some time but I’ve been avoiding giving them a date because I don’t want you to stand them up.”

“I-“ a shadow shifts in the corner of my eyes and I look up. Harry stands in the doorway. “I have to go we’ll talk later.”

“Whatever y/n,” Grey hangs up and my chest squeezes with all the hurt I was causing. But he saw the state I’d been in since I started this job a month ago and he knows this is just my life right now. Why was he suddenly acting like it was brand new information?

“Are you done your personal call?” Harry asks. He hovers in the doorway, I’d never actually seen him in this little office space. Then again, if he did step in there wouldn’t be much room for either of us to walk around each other.

“Sorry,” I hate myself for apologizing. Here and everywhere else in my life. But I have no other choice. “Can I do anything for you?”

“When are you heading out tonight?” He asks. His eyes glued to my face. I know my eyes are teary and I try to blink it away.

“Um, soon. In an hour or so,” blink blink blink. “Did you need anything from me before then?”

“Yes, I have a friend coming over tonight. Can you order us something for dinner. Something light. And get a bottle to chill for us—champagne. And can you push Monday’s cleaning service to tomorrow afternoon?”

“Consider it done.” I tell him, hoping he would just leave me alone in the dark here.

“Do you have evening plans?” He continues. Why did he never ignore me when I wanted him to!?

“Kind of yeah,” I try to keep it short. “A birthday.”

It was Grayson’s sister’s birthday. She had invited us to a local fave called The Violinist and of course I would only make it to the dessert course if I was lucky. These days, making it to dinner at all was a luxury. I lived off of sparkling water, leftovers, and coffee.

“Well best to finish up what you’re doing so you can head out.”

He leaves and I’m annoyed. Why couldn’t he be nice and just tell me to leave after doing what he asked. But here I sit folding fucking pamphlets for some idiotic pledge he had signed on for. Fuck me.

I’m miserable by the time I leave. I’d managed to finish everything in a half hour so I’d touched up my makeup and changed into a simple dress I had kept in the office closet on Riley’s suggestion.

“A simple black number that could be used for any last minute event.” He’d said. Unfortunately that now counted for personal events too.

“G’night Mr. Styles.” I call out as I walk to the foyer, just so he knows I was going out earlier than I said.

“G’night,” he answers surprisingly. He always ignored me but tonight he sits on the couch. He rises to see me off but I notice him pause and take in my outfit. “Fun night?”

“I hope so.” I unfold the blazer in my hand, suddenly wanting to disappear with his gaze on me.

His long legs walk to me and he takes the blazer I’m fidgeting with from my hands. He actually holds it open and if I wasn’t this exhausted my jaw would definitely be on the floor.

“Oh. Thank you,” I slip it on and turn to face him. As if helping me put it on wasn’t surprising enough, he proceeds to untuck my hair from the blazer.

“That’s alright,” he says in a low seductive tone. “You look nice. Are you dressed up for someone?”

The question is dangerous, toeing a line I’m not sure I want to erase. I try to ease things with a joke. “The birthday girl I guess.”

“A friend?”

“My fiancé’s younger sister.”

Was it just me, or does he bristle when I mentioned my fiancé?

“I didn’t know you were engaged,” he mumbles, glancing down at my hand. I wore a number of rings and I guess the small diamond Grayson had proposed with back when it was the most he could afford, blended in.

“Yeah, nearly a year now.”

“Wow,” he crosses his arms. “Have a date set?”

“Not exactly,” I smooth my hair behind my ears. “We’re thinking next year but we’ve just been so busy with out schedules-“

“What does he do?”

“He’s a personal trainer,” I say proudly.

“Oh,” Harry tilts his head back. “Oh. Now I understand. Now I get the connection. My mate Liam put in a good word for you when I needed a new PA, he said he knew you through his personal trainer. He never mentioned how.”

“I see,” I’d have to thank Liam next time I saw him. He’d been one of Grayson’s first big clients and had become a close friend to us. I’d have to thank him with dinner. If I got any nights off, that is.

“That’s who you were talking to on your personal call?” He asks, his hand tracing my shoulder seam down to my elbow. My heart races from the ghost of his touch.

“Erm yeah, sorry again. I had to take it since it was time sensitive.”

“Best to get going then.”

I take a step backwards and then rush to the elevator all at once. Once I’m on and the doors start to close I turn and catch a glimpse of his handsome face watching me go.

I let out a breath. That was weirdly heavy. And kind of intimate. But weird. That was weird.

I wonder briefly who he was having over tonight. If it was Kimberly, who I’d had the misfortune of meeting in her panties one morning. Or his other “friend” some brunette named Maya or Amaya something. I’d had the misfortune of meeting her when I dropped off a late package to Harry one evening. All were awkward encounters.

I shake away the thoughts and am grateful when Harry’s driver waves me down on the sidewalk. I guess Harry had told him to take me to where I needed to go. My heart is warmed ever so slightly, although I do accidentally nap on the 15 minute drive over.

I make it for the end of dinner and Gray looks relieved to see me even though his eyes hold a hint of something unspoken. I try to ignore it tonight.

“Oh you look beautiful!” I hug the birthday girl, and we sway from side to side. I used to see her a lot before she moved away for uni. “When did you stop being a baby, Josie Duran let me get a look at you.”

“Josefina tell her what you did for your 21st.” Gray says.

“Can you let it go!?” Josie scowls.

“What?” I whisper.

“Mom will kill you,” Gray warns.

“That’s why she doesn’t have to know,” Josie bites.

“Hey,” I put my hands up between the two. “No fighting with the birthday girl. Anyway. Josie, you look beautiful, I’m so sorry I’m late but it’s so good to be here.”

“Aw no don’t worry about it,” she goes in for another quick hug. “I’m just happy you got to come. Gray said the bloke you work for is a nightmare. Tell us do we know him?”

“Ah,” I wasn’t really supposed to talk about him according to my nda. “I dunno if you would. Anyway I’m going to try to steal some of Gray’s leftovers until dessert comes.”

I sit beside Gray where the seat had been left empty and smile up at him, hoping for forgiveness. He sighs and kisses my forehead, pushing his plate towards me.

“Go ahead, have you eaten?”

I had a banana and a yoghurt for lunch but I don’t tell him, just making a vague answer for yes and scarfing down what’s left.

“She got a tattoo,” he says in my ear later as the restaurant finishes singing happy birthday and a cake with sparklers is set down. He’d gotten tipsy and I can tell because he wants to talk about his upsets.

“She’s a grown woman Gray,” I know he was protective and a little traditional—that’s where half of their sibling fights originated, but I always told him he had to let loose a little. “She’s allowed to get it. If I remember you have some tattoos of your own.”

“It’s different y/n.”

“She’s getting older faster than we can keep up with huh?” I lean my head against Gray’s shoulder and let out a big sigh. It feels good, sitting with him here surrounded by friends. It had been a while.

Gray leans his head against mine and doesn’t answer. We watch her friends take pictures like proud parents, watching her cut and then distribute the cake. I should help, but I just could not lift a finger.

“Hey y/n, is that your phone going off?” Josie’s friend beside me points to my facedown phone.

“Is it?” I sit up, my heart doing a number in my chest.

I pick it up, 2 missed calls from Harry and 3 texts. Fuck.

“Leave it,” Gray must be looking over my shoulder. “You’ve gone home now just screw him.”

“I can’t,” I didn’t want Gray getting mad—I know he was kinda drunk and he could make a scene like this. I didn’t want to ruin Josie’s celebration. But I couldn’t ignore this. This is the first time Harry’s messaged me after I’ve gone home. “I’ll take it outside.”

On my way to the door I open the messages. A picture of a bucket filled with ice. A row of question marks. And then: call me

What? What was so urgent about a bucket of-

Oh.

Fuck.

I thought I did everything but I hadn’t. I’d filled the bucket with ice and meant to ask the Italian restaurant around the corner to deliver a bottle like they usually did for Harry but I hadn’t gotten to that part.

I feel like I’m going to vomit any dinner I just had.

I crouch down. Do I call him? Do I pretend I didn’t see this until too late? No. I had to face up. I fucked up.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

I call with shaking hands but it rings and rings and goes straight to voicemail. I try again.

I had to get back, get him the champagne. Fix my mistake.

“Y/N,” Grayson’s suddenly outside. “Aren’t you coming back in?”

“I can’t. I…” how do I explain this to my fiancé without it sounding minor as hell. “I forgot to mail some important documents and I need to get back-“

“It’s Saturday fucking night.”

“Yeah but-“

“And guess what?! Tomorrow’s Sunday! The mail’s going nowhere! Fuck that wanker and come back in.”

Gray holds out his arms and I want to go back in but I need to fix this mistake.

I grasp his hand and he smiles, misunderstanding why I held it, “Gray I have to go-“

He pulls his hand away, a sneer on his face. It hurts when he looks at me that way, like I betrayed him.

“I showed up! I celebrated, I got here Gray I just have to-“

“You were barely here! Do you know how upset she was when I said you couldn’t make it?”

“Well why did you say that!?” I demand. “I told you I was only going to be late!”

“I can’t trust that!” He shouts and I try to pull his arm so he quiets but he doesn’t seem to care there are people around. “Your time is all his, every single fucking second! And when you’re not there your brain is going a million bajillion times over about him and his life. Even when you’re with me! What the fuck! What’s up with that!?”

“Gray I’m sorry look I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. I swear. I’ll make it up to your sister I-“

“I don’t care y/n,” Gray slips his arm out of my grasp. “Do whatever you want. Nothing I say matters anymore anyway right?”

“Gray,” tears streak my face as I watch the man I love go back inside without another look my way.

Fuck Harry.

I try to call him again but voicemail. Again. Fuck!

What to do when you make a mistake: admit to it—Harry appreciates accountability. FIX IT! As much as you can. FIX YOUR MISTAKES OR FACE CONSEQUENCES.

An alert that my uber was here pings my phone—I take the ride to the restaurant and grab an already chilled bottle. I book it to Harry’s building and ride the elevator up, every floor causing a further dip in my stomach.

The doors open to a dimly lit space. There’s music playing, something jazzy, and it smells like…vanilla? Vanilla roses?

“Hol-hold on,” I hear Harry chuckle. A head pops up from the other side of the sofa.

“Y/n?” He looks as confused as I am.

Oh my god, I realize as a giggle comes from the floor. They were on the fucking floor of the living room? They were on the floor of the living room f…what the fuck did I walk into?

“Just back with this,” I squeak, holding up the bottle.

“Harry did you invite someone else?” The voice asks from below with another laugh. He sighs, disappearing again. I hear a very distinct wet noise before he pops back up again, I look at the doors of the elevator trying even harder not to give in to the panic attack that was looking more and more tempting.

“What are you doing here?” Harry approaches me with a softened voice. Wearing a robe. A silk robe. I knew he wore silk.

“You called—the bottle I’m sorry it totally slipped my mind I-“

“I told you to call me?”

“I did, you didn’t pick up! I thought I should swing by-“

“I thought you had a party?” His forehead scrunches.

“I…” the pieces come together. Did I take this too seriously because Harry didn’t even look angry? Great. I was an idiot and proving to Harry I had no life. “It ended. Early. I…I wanted to fix my mistake and bring the bottle.”

He takes it from my hand, still confused. “Y/N.”

I wait for him to continue but he doesn’t. And lord, in this climate with him in just a robe hearing my name on his lips is not okay. I was going to pass out.

“I’ll leave.” I go back to the elevator but he starts talking again.

“I asked you to call me so I could ask-“ he stops when I turn back around to listen. He closes the gap between us again with a sigh, and I don’t realize my face was still streaked with tears. It was probably more noticeable in the elevator light. He takes his finger and swipes across my cheek, his brows furrowing.

“Sorry,” I swipe my cheek to remove the remaining evidence. “I’ll leave you to it.”

He clears his throat and takes a step back. “Thank you for coming back.”

I nod.

“If you’re going to leave early next time, make sure you finish everything I’ve asked you to do. Don’t skip out like this again.”

“Yes yeah of course,” I stutter, relieved to fit back into our usual roles. For a second there, I thought Harry was going to be kind. And that would have been way worse.

“Good night Y/N. See you Monday.”

“Good night Mr. Styles.”

Gray’s not home by the time I get back. I wake the next morning to his side untouched.

So I do the only thing that felt good these days, I curl up into a ball and cry.

***

Taglist - leave me a message if you’d like to join it :)

#harry styles fic #writingsfromhome #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #asks #harry styles angst #harry styles series #musician!harry #dos and donts #ahhh #i didn’t edit this too much it all kind of came out at once #so ignore any errors #hope this is fun to read #it was fun to write

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tiramisuucakeee · 3 months ago

Text

1. BADGE AND SCRUBS

( crossfire , yang jungwon )

walking quickly through the cold hospital hallway toward the busy main desk, you caught the attention of a frantic nurse. she kept glancing at her stethoscope and the patient through the glass window. "doctor! thank god you're here. the patient just woke up and won’t let anyone check on him. we need you, he keeps pushing the nurses away," she gasped as you nodded and followed her into the room.

the man sat comfortably on the blue hospital bed with his arms crossed, his iv ripped out of one of them. when he saw you enter through his peripheral vision, his expression shifted slightly to a more nicer one. "so they called you."

"they did," you replied with a smile, putting on plastic gloves to dispose of the iv needle in the biological hazards bin. he shrugged at your actions and simply said, "i don't like not moving my arm."

you began your examination, shining a light into his eyes, checking his heartbeat, and assessing his mobility. he seemed surprisingly well for someone who had just undergone brain surgery, but then again, some people reacted differently. and with your level of experience, you had seen all kinds of cases, from the very best outcomes, to the unfortunately bad ones.

"yes, i wouldn’t like not being able to move my arm either," you uttered, stepping back. "i’ll be back later tonight to check on you, but in the meantime, please let the nurses do their jobs, alright?" you raised your brows, tucking your hands into your scrub pockets

he rolled his eyes but muttered his agreement, which made you smile again. "great, i’ll let your family know you’re out of surgery, they’ve been very worried and are still at the hospital," you added.

his family had been nonstop asking every resident and nurse they saw in the lobby if he had woken up, even staying as late in the night to make sure they would be here as soon as he did.

his expression brightened. "they have? well, bring them here! i want to see them," he said, straightening up in bed. this was a sight you couldn’t grow tired of seeing, patients coming out of successful surgeries and being glad to spend the rest of their days alive with their loved ones.

"right away," you replied, nodding slightly as you prepared to leave. passing by the nurse, you leaned in to say, "page me if anything happens. i just got off, but i’ll be nearby." your serious tone underscored the urgency of the situation.

she agreed and bid you goodbye as you headed to the locker room to change. upon arrival, you greeted a few doctors and started preparing for the evening ahead. after a long day filled with surgeries, you were finally free from the hospital, even if it was late at night. some procedures had stretched on for up to five hours, but that was nothing compared to the marathon shifts you’d been in the past.

stepping outside, you walked to your car, parked neatly in your own space, and pulled onto the road. as you drove carefully, you gazed at the dark sky, soon approaching a familiar spot in the city you often visited with your friends of coworkers. the karaoke bar.

opening the door, you were welcomed by the warm ambiance of healthcare and other high-stress workers enjoying their time off here. the owner appreciated this crowd, knowing that those jobs contributed significantly to his business, and plus, he always had either a cop, doctor or firefighter a few feet away in case of an emergency.

you took a seat at the bar and greeted the bartender, who quickly took your order for a sparkling cold water and some chips. you opted for a non-alcoholic drink, knowing you needed to stay alert in case you received a page.

your drink and chips soon arrived, and you thanked the bartender before turning your attention to the karaoke stage, who was occupied like always. a group of friends was enthusiastically singing a song, their voices blending with laughter and cheers from the crowd. the energy in the room was infectious, and you found yourself tapping your foot along to the beat.

then, one of the singers caught your eye, a guy in the middle with charming dimples that deepened with every smile and word. his brown hair remained messy on top of his head, his brown eyes brightening with the colorful lights.

as if sensing your gaze, he glanced over and locked eyes with you, throwing a playful wink your way through the music and laughter.

you shook your head, and smiled back, but thought nothing of it. he continued to sing a few lines of the song, his gaze still locked on you. but just as you were about to raise your glass to cheer at him, your phone rang in your purse.

you glanced at the screen and sighed, knowing you had to answer. “hello?” you said, trying to keep your disappointment at bay.

“doctor l/n, we need you back in about an hour. a patient is being transferred from another hospital, they don’t have a neurosurgeon available,” the nurse informed you, her tone urgent.

you nodded, even though she couldn’t see you. “i’ll be there in half, make sure the o.r is ready when i get there, and wake my assisting doctors up,” you replied, reluctantly tearing your eyes away from the stage. the lively atmosphere faded into the background as you pushed around your food in the plate.

“they’re not answering the pages doctor, their cellphones are off too, should we get other assisting?” she asked, making you roll your eyes.

“i don’t care if they are not answering, they are still at the hospital, and i know they don’t have any surgeries right now, so go wake them up from the dorms and let them know that if they don’t show up ready by the time i step into that hospital, i’ll personally make sure they never assist anyone in a surgery again,” you spoke, and hung up.

“what is wrong with these people? they can’t just chose not to operate on a patient,” you scoffed, not believing what you heard about them declining the calls. they should be worried and anxious to receive calls, not happy to ignore them.

sometimes you just wished you’d never become a surgeon in first place, it was hard to have the lives of peoples on your hand while you dealt with some incompetent doctors and nurses that thought they could just sit all day, check on a single patient, hand out bandaids and make money. but the feeling of seeing patients healthy after a surgery you performed was something you wouldn’t get anywhere, even if you had to deal with some seriously mad people who believed they were king’s of the worlds with a speciality.

though it was difficult to have time for others than patients in your job, you still managed to have close friends, one who was a pediatrician and another who was in emergencies. two wasn’t much, but it was all you thought you needed.

they didn’t think it though, they were obsessed with the idea of making you go on blind dates and meet guys so you could get a boyfriend and ‘chill out’, but you disliked wasting your time in that, instead, you preferred being out by yourself, and occasionally with them.

you barely had time for yourself, and they thought you’d have time for a guy. though, deep down, you knew they were right about you settling down.

on the other hand, at the opposite side of the bar, the group of friends finally settled down at their table, exhausted from all the singing and jumping around. it had been a wild night filled with laughter, off-key notes, and spontaneous dance moves that left them breathless. despite their serious jobs as special agents, they had a knack for letting loose and embracing the chaos of life.

“sunoo, why are you wasting your life being a crime investigator? you could’ve been a member of a boyband,” jay said, chugging down his drink, the alcohol leaving a slight sting in his dry throat. he leaned back in his chair, eyeing sunoo.

the one he referred to only deadpanned, leaning back in his chair too but with an air of indifference. “sure,” he replied, barely masking his amusement. sunoo shook his head, a playful smirk creeping onto his face as he turned to the other of the trio. “you know, jungwon, i thought you flirted better. i really did. what was that wink you just did to that girl?” he teased, mimicking the exaggerated gesture with a dramatic flair that had him cracking up.

jungwon froze, having been caught off guard, and offered a nervous smile. “oh, it was nothing,” he dismissed, though his eyes darted over to you, who were furiously typing in your phone. the way you focused, eyebrows furrowed and lips pressed together in concentration, made him momentarily forget the teasing.

“yeah, nothing,” sunoo snorted, covering his smile with his hand. he leaned closer, clearly enjoying jungwon's nervousness.

“wait, what happened?” jay blinked, clearly lost in the conversation. he glanced between sunoo and jungwon, trying to piece together the unfolding drama. “did he actually try to flirt with someone, or are you just messing with him?” his curiosity was evident, and the playful energy in the room only grew as sunoo leaned in closer, ready to spill the details. jungwon, caught off guard, shot him a pleading look, but it was too late, the moment was too ripe for sunoo to resist, as jungwon had never tried anything like this before.

sunoo started explaining how he saw jungwon trying to flirt with a girl while they sang and even pointed at her in the middle of the song, but jay didn’t believe it.

jungwon just kept looking away, his eyes often traveling back to your figure, and left quickly, as he could not figure out if he’d seen you before or not.

“you need to get her name so we can search her up and see her profile,” jay nodded at his friends, a teasing grin on his face. “we can’t have you dating anyone with criminal records.” he laughed, but there was a hint of seriousness in his tone.

“what? i am not doing that!” jungwon defended himself, a hint of indignation in his voice. “also, she doesn’t look like a criminal,” he added, motioning to you with a slight smile, as if that was all the evidence he needed.

both turned in your direction and were completely taken aback by jungwon’s choice of women. they hadn’t expected you to be so different from what they thought his type was, but in a good way. you had an effortless charm and a vibe that radiated confidence, completely contrasting with the image of the old bar.

sunoo raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin spreading across his face. “okay, maybe we need to reconsider our assumptions,” he said, nudging jay, who was equally surprised.

“still, i am not going over there to interrogate her,” jungwon sighed. the idea of checking you out felt both ridiculous and oddly appealing. he shifted in his seat, feeling a mix of embarrassment and intrigue as he tried to focus on anything but the lingering thought of how to approach you normally.

“well if you aren’t, then i am,” jay declared, standing up and pressing his hands on the table with determination. but just as he started to stride over, sunoo yanked him back down by his jacket. “don’t embarrass yourself, that’s dumb” he said, laughter in his voice.

jay fell back in his chair, grumbling, “i’m not dumb, i’m cautious. now, jungwon,” he started, shifting his focus and getting jungwon’s attention, “you go over there, place a hand on her shoulder, and greet her. then, offer to get her something to drink.” he nodded firmly, as if this was the key to success.

jungwon blinked, confusion etched on his face. “i am not actually going to talk to her, i thought it was a joke,” he laughed nervously, adjusting his loose tie as if it might somehow give him more confidence. the laughter around the table faded for a moment as his friends exchanged knowing glances.

sunoo audibly groaned at jungwon’s comment, standing up and pulling his friend to his feet. “come on, enough of this!” he exclaimed, barely giving jungwon a chance to protest before pushing him away from the table. “you’re overthinking it!”

jungwon stumbled slightly, a mix of surprise and reluctance on his face. “wait, sunoo-” he started, but jungwon was too far away to just back down, plus, it wouldn’t hurt talking to you. if you had a boyfriend, you could just reject him, and if you didn’t, we’ll, he’d have to think of an escape plan.

he cautiously walked through the crowd, each step filled with uncertainty, until he finally reached the bar where you were sitting. as soon as he saw your face up close, jay’s little speech went out the window. the nervousness he’d felt moments ago melted away, replaced by an unexpected sense of ease. maybe he didn’t need an escape plan after all.

truthfully, he wasn’t the best at speaking with women. the only ones he’d really talked to were family and coworkers, all older and married. sometimes he wished for that connection, to feel loved and cared for like he did with others all the time with a job like his. though, it felt complicated, like he was always balancing responsibilities with the desire for something more. this was a chance to be genuine, to take a step toward what he truly wanted.

he mustered up all the courage he had and walked up to you, clearing his throat with a slightly awkward fake cough to get your attention. when you turned to look at him, a hint of surprise in your eyes, he felt his heart race.

"may i sit here?" he asked, mentally cursing himself for sounding like a nervous high schooler asking to join someone at lunch. he felt a flush creeping up his neck as he waited for your response.

instead of giving him a weird look, you smiled warmly. "of course." that simple response made jungwon feel a rush of relief, but the nerves still bubbled inside him, threatening to overwhelm. unsure of what to do next, he fumbled with his words, searching for something clever or interesting to say.

but luckily, you saved the awkwardness that would follow if either of you stayed silent. “so, what’s your name, karaoke guy?” you asked, taking a sip from your drink, a playful glint in your eyes.

jungwon looked down and smiled, letting his dimples poke his cheeks. “yang jungwon, and you?” he asked, looking back up at you, his nervousness slowly fading.

“y/n l/n,” you replied, meeting his gaze with a friendly smile.

“you come to this bar often?” he leaned on his hand, his curiosity piqued. he genuinely wanted to know more about you and what drew you here.

you squinted your eyes at him, pursing your lips playfully. “why? do i look like an alcoholic?” you teased, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. to this, he immediately panicked, stuttering out a response. “no, i never said that! i mean, i come here too, and i’m not an alcoholic!” he laughed shyly, the embarrassment creeping in. he was worried he’d said something completely wrong.

you looked away, a smirk forming. "i do come here often. it’s the only place near the hospital that’s open at night."

“wait, you’re a doctor?” jungwon’s eyes widened, genuine surprise lighting up his face. the realization made him even more intrigued by you. it was great that you were all so captivating, and also probably had a lot of determination.

“doctor l/n to you, head of neurosurgery, one of the best in the country,” you said, a mix of pride and seriousness in your voice. you met his eyes again, noticing how captivated he seemed. "what about you?" you asked.

“i’m kind of working with the police,” jungwon said, still in shock at being in the presence of such an important person. the idea of your worlds intertwining intrigued him, and he couldn’t help but wonder how your paths might cross in more ways than one.

“kind of?” you frowned.

“not kind of, sorry, i am,” he corrected himself. “but, talking about you again, as a doctor, i imagine you have very little time for anything right?” he asked nicely.

"my life is at stake for others' lives," you said, pressing your lips together, suddenly reminded that you had promised to be back at the hospital soon. "listen, jungwon, it was really nice meeting you, but i have to go back-" you started, but he cut you off.

"of course, do you have a ride? i can take you if you’d like," he offered, his concern evident as he inched a bit closer.

you shook your head gently. "i brought my car, and i wouldn’t want to pull you away from your friends." you nodded toward them, who were watching you intently but quickly averted their gazes when they caught your eye.

jungwon chuckled, a soft smile playing on his lips. “it’s okay, they’ll live without me for a bit.” there was a sincerity in his voice that made your heart beat. his relaxed demeanor was infectious, and you found yourself drawn to the genuine warmth he exuded.

he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “honestly, i’d rather be here with you than over there.”.

“really?” you asked. “what’s so special about this conversation?” the playful glint in your eyes encouraged him to say something.

jungwon’s breath caught in his throat for a moment. "well, we’d have to meet again for you to find out," he mustered out a reply, a small smirk tugging at his lips as he looked down at you. something about him made you feel like he was actually interested, but you couldn’t risk it, not now, not when you had a lot of things going on.

“looking forward to it,” you challenged lightly, your voice barely above a whisper, and you leaned back, not realizing the weigh of your words on him.

he helped you down from the tall stool, his hand brushing against yours, sending a thrill through you. "i just mean it. it was great meeting you, y/n."

you met his intense gaze. "thanks, jungwon. you too."

turning to leave, you took a last good look at him before probably not seeing him again after this night, his brown hair slightly toloused, his warm demeanor, and those two dimples that poked his cheeks every time he smiled your way, it made you want to not go back to the hospital ever and stay the whole night talking to him. but that was something that was simply never going to happen, even if you did enjoy being there more than anything.

as you made your way to your sports car, thoughts of yang jungwon flooded your mind, you had just met this man and somehow he had made his presence known to you, and it would be undeniably difficult to make him leave.

BTW: i h8 this chapter and first meetings with a burning passion. somehow i can write fight scenes perfectly fine but not even a good paragraph of first meetings. like, let me cook guys, the other chapters r gonna be good because they alr met and went through the awkward phase. also, pls have mercy on me if i get anything wrong, i am not a doctor nor a cop so i’m just basing this on shows.

EXTRA:

masterlist.

next chapter.

all chapters.

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tsukasalvr · 1 year ago

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If you still take requests, can I get a Danganronpa 1 charecters x a lazy fem gamer girl reader? (The reader barely has any energy all the time, they sometimes refuse to move and they can get so lazy and into there game they stop breathing. And their diet consists of a energy drink and a protein bar)

lazy!gamer!reader

Anime/fandom: Danganronpa

Characters: Makoto Naegi, Kyoko Kirigiri, Byakuya Togami

Warnings: I don’t proofread

A/n: I have a character limit but if you want the rest then request again! Also this is pretty much a chiaki!reader

Danganronpa masterlist | Main masterlist

Makoto Naegi

He cares very deeply about everyone he’s close to and lives and you’re obviously no different

Makoto becomes very worried for your well being and in the beginning, he won’t act on helping you too much other than asking you to care of yourself more

But as the relationship goes on, he’ll go from asking, to having you lay on him to catch up on sleep—despite his reddening face, to even giving you some of his spare food and calling you when it’s eitehr late or early in the morning because he knows you’re most likely still awake playing

He his it’s really cool how you’re able to beat any video game with no struggle and how you’re able to replay it so many times without getting bored and still no struggle

He offers to play with you, he loves seeing how your eyes glimmer and shine when he asks if he can play as well. Although his skills could never compare to yours, he’ll do anything to make you happy—even if it’s lose 27 times in a row.

Kyoko Kirigiri

She might now show it much by expressions or actions, but she’s very concerned about you—both mentally and physically

Staying up so much to play games can easily damage your mental health, and not eating so much will obviously physically affect you

Kyoko right away is advising you take better care of ur yourself hand will take action on her own hands, even if she has to feed you herself or lay your head on her lap, she’s doing it because she loves you, she thinks with blush coating her cheeks

She thinks it’s admirable in a way how dedicated you are to sticking by ur ultimate title and will let you ramble to her about any game you’re currently really into or playing and will even chime in with her own question every now and again

Kyokos more of a watcher and will never really ask to play with you unless it’s a super casual game

Byakuya Togami

Anyone who meets Byakuya knows how nadty and harsh he can be

But he is very different towards you and will put ur health as a priority and immediately have you taken care of by the best doctors and when it’s just the two of you, he’ll try to care of you as much as he can—in his own way

Byakuya will scold you but it’s all lighthearted and you can tell he just means it out of love and hope to see you get better by eating more, and sleeping more. And speaking of eating and sleeping, he’ll make sure you’re being given the most nutritious-delicious foods and sleeping in the comfiest mattress with the softest silkiest sheets and blankets

He thinks it’s odd how you’re so into games but he won’t question it too much and will actually help buy more games and even merchandise for any game you really enjoy

The only time he’ll every actually join you to play is when he’s bored out of his mind and he’s completely free to do anything—which is rare

#danganronpa x y/n #danganronpa x you #danganronpa x reader #makoto naegi x reader #makoto x reader #kyoko x reader #kyoko kirigiri x reader #byakuya togami x reader #byakuya x reader #togami x reader #Naegi x reader #kirigiri x reader

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icycoldninja · 5 months ago

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Can you write a reader who is a jazz singer with the DMC men?

my main inspiration for this headcanon is the ‘Stay High’ cover by Haley Reinhart in the style of 1930’s vintage jazz: https://youtu.be/7hHZnvjCbVw?si=EnbZch_hwT4B-hi1

Maybe it’s the weekend when the gang decided to hang out at a local pub but since it was closed due to maintenance reasons, they decided to hang out at a random jazz bar instead. Turns out, it’s much better than they expected, it’s cozy; the drinks are delicious; the vibes are immaculate but most importantly, the jazz singer is devilishly talented with the way her singing had managed to bewitch everyone’s heart and soul. It doesn’t help when she’s quite a looker as well

Sure!

Sparda boys + V x Jazz Singer!Reader headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-Dante was just chilling at this new bar that opened up, not expecting much, just some mediocre drinks.

-Then a song began to play and singer had one of the prettiest, sultry voices he'd ever heard.

-Dante was absorbed in your singing, and when the song eventually stopped, he had to admit, he was disappointed.

-He'd heard plenty of talented singers in his lifetime, sure, but you could beat them all any day.

-He found himself returning to that pub several times a week, not for the drinks, as the others at Devil May Cry might assume, but for you.

-When he'll actually get up and talk to you is a mystery, though.

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil didn't want to go to that bar, initially, but he let everyone drag him along because secretly he wants to spend time with them.

-He was sitting awkwardly in the corner like the dork he was, until he heard a new song began to play and this lovely voice start singing.

-He was completely lost in your singing, unable to concentrate on his book, forgetting that he was sitting next to other people, and for a moment, looked up from his poetry to see the face of this gorgeous singer.

-He'd never seen a more beautiful woman in his life. Standing up there, illuminated by the dim bar lights, you looked like an angel.

-Vergil really wanted to introduce himself because if he didn't, you might disappear forever, but he was just so internally nervous, he couldn't bring himself to do it.

-With some nudging from Dante the others, he managed to MOTIVATE himself enough to walk up there and talk to you. He ended up chatting with you for about 15 minutes before walking away with an ego boost and your phone number written on paper in his pocket.

□ Nero □

-Nero was supposed to just be going out for a night with his dad and uncle, not to fall in love.

-But here he was, sitting against the counter of a bar, some lame-tasting drink in his hands, condensation dripping down the sides of the glass as he stared languidly at the stage.

-And there you were, in your lovely white dress, belting out lyrics Nero wasn't really paying attention to. Your voice was all he needed to focus on, all he would ever focus on, if given the chance.

-Dante saw him ready to fall asleep thanks to your singing and decided to punch Nero in the shoulder to make sure he didn't fall asleep. Then he urged him to go introduce himself before it was too late.

-Nero is far too introverted to care; he doesn't have to talk to you to enjoy your beautiful singing voice, so he tells Dante to leave him the F alone.

-Nero keeps coming back to that bar. You've see him so many times, he might as well live there. Perhaps you will be the one to introduce yourself first.

● V ●

-V decided it would be a good idea to walk around and stretch his legs for a bit, and ended up venturing into a pub.

-V isn't one to drink, but after noticing the menu offered cheaply priced tea, he decided it wouldn't hurt to sit and relax a while.

-He watched several shows and listened to a few live songs, but none of them could compare to the splendor that was your singing.

-After hearing you for the first time, V's mind was absolutely blown. You sounded like an angel, a true celestial being descended from heaven to bless his ears.

-V relished the moment; the song had served to inspire him to wrote poetry, right there in the bar.

-While he might never go and introduce himself, but he will keep returning to this bar, just to hear you sing.

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soylaprincessa · 1 month ago

Text

Happy Anniversary Pt. 2 (Javi x reader)

A/N: Sooooo it only took me literally 6 years to write this, but it has been requested a lot so here it is. I hope you like it <3

This is Pt. 1

Warnings: angst, mentions of violence

Javier sat slumped on a weathered barstool, his hands wrapped around a tumbler of whiskey. The amber liquid glistened under the dim, flickering neon lights of the bar, casting warped reflections onto the sticky countertop. Muffled voices and blurred faces surrounded him as he drowned his sorrow, his guilt. He stared at the liquid, unblinking, as though searching for answers at the bottom of the glass.

The bar was a quiet one, tucked into a corner of Bogotá most people ignored unless they were trying to disappear. Faint music played from a jukebox in the corner, a melancholic tune that paired well with the taste of regret. Around him, the patrons were only figures—shadows moving, laughing, drinking. None of it registered.

He took another sip, the whiskey burning its way down, though the pain was muted compared to the ache in his chest. Her face wouldn't leave his mind. The shock in her eyes, the hurt that seemed to radiate from her like a living thing.

How had it come to this?

Javier had always prided himself on being in control. At work, in the field, even in their relationship—he was the one who stayed calm, composed, rational. But tonight, he'd crossed a line he never thought he'd approach. The image of her recoiling, tears streaking her face as she told him to leave, was burned into his memory.

He rubbed his temple, his jaw tightening as the memory replayed for the hundredth time. The whiskey wasn't helping. It wasn't numbing anything.

"¿Otra ronda?" the bartender asked, his voice cutting through Javier's haze.

Javier shook his head slightly, the motion slow, deliberate. He didn't need more whiskey; he needed clarity, but he wasn't sure where to find it.

He looked down at his hands, scarred and calloused, the hands that had inadvertently hurt the one person he'd sworn to protect.

"I didn't mean to hurt her," he muttered under his breath, his voice so low it was swallowed by the bar's ambient noise. He wasn't sure who he was trying to convince.

But the intention didn't matter. Not now. Not when the damage had been done.

The door to the bar creaked open, letting in a gust of cool night air. Javier glanced over, his heart jumping for a second, foolishly hoping to see her there. But it wasn't her. It wouldn't be.

He turned back to his drink, his shoulders sinking further.

The fight hadn't been about the anniversary, not really. It was about everything else. The late nights, the missed moments, the way his work had consumed him. He'd thought she understood, that she'd known who he was and what he'd signed up for. But understanding wasn't the same as accepting. And love wasn't enough to fill the gaps he'd left.

Javier clenched his fists, the tension radiating through his arms. He wanted to fix it. To go back. But he didn't even know where to start.

For now, all he could do was sit in the quiet hum of the bar, the weight of his actions pressing down on him like a vice.

Tomorrow, he'd face her. Somehow. If she let him.

Tonight, though, he'd sit here, drowning in a sea of what-ifs and should-haves, with nothing but a glass of whiskey and the sound of his own guilt for company.

---

You sit on the sofa, knees drawn to your chest, the glow of the candles still flickering on the dining table in the corner of your eye. They've burned low now, their once romantic light reduced to sad, wavering shadows that stretch across the walls. You tell yourself to blow them out, but you can't move. Not yet.

Your cheek throbs where his hand had struck you, accidentally or not, and your fingers press against the tender skin as if to soothe it, though the ache runs far deeper. The tears come in waves—hot, stinging rivers that blur your vision and leave salty trails down your face. You'd told yourself you wouldn't cry tonight. This was supposed to be a happy night, one filled with laughter, with love.

But that seems like a cruel joke now.

The room is too quiet, save for your soft, uneven breaths. Every little sound—the tick of the clock, the hum of the refrigerator—feels magnified. Mocking.

You glance at the table again. The plates are still set, untouched, the food cold and congealing in its carefully arranged presentation. It feels ridiculous now, the effort you'd poured into this evening. The dress you'd picked out with such care clings to your body like a costume, a reminder of the version of yourself you thought you'd get to be tonight.

And then there's him.

Javier. His name echoes in your mind, bitter and sweet all at once. You don't want to think about him, but it's impossible not to. The look on his face before he left—confusion, regret, anger—all of it swirling together in his dark eyes.

You want to hate him for what happened. For his lateness, his indifference, his temper. For the way his hand flew up and changed everything in an instant. But even now, even with your cheek burning and your heart splintering, you know you don't hate him.

You hate this.

You wipe at your face, but the tears won't stop. They keep spilling over, a relentless tide of grief and frustration and love. God, you love him. That's the worst part, isn't it? That even after tonight, you can't just turn it off.

The what-ifs circle your mind like vultures. What if you hadn't said anything? What if you'd let him leave? What if he hadn't been so late? What if this isn't something you can come back from?

Your head pounds with the weight of it all. You press your palms against your temples, as if you could will the thoughts away, but they cling to you like a second skin.

The clock ticks on. You don't know how long you've been sitting there, but the candles are almost out now, their flames guttering and weak. The dress feels suffocating, and you tug at the fabric, peeling it off like it's a part of the night you can shed. You pull a blanket over your shoulders, seeking some kind of comfort, though none comes.

You stare at the door, half-expecting it to open, for him to walk back in. For him to apologise again, to try and explain. But the silence stretches, and you realise he's not coming back. Not tonight.

The thought makes your chest tighten, and another sob escapes before you can stop it.

You curl tighter into yourself, trying to hold your breaking heart together. You don't know what tomorrow will bring, but tonight, you're alone—with your tears, your pain, and the fading glow of candles that should've lit up a celebration, not a battlefield.

---

You wake up to the morning light slipping through the curtains, too bright, too harsh. Your body feels heavy, like it's weighed down by all the emotions you didn't manage to cry out the night before. The faint ache in your cheek is the first thing you notice when you sit up. The second is the silence—it's deafening.

The flat is still as you shuffle to the kitchen, your feet dragging across the floor. The table from last night is exactly how you left it, the plates untouched, the candles burned down to puddles of wax. You avoid looking at it for too long. Instead, you boil water for coffee, the routine giving your hands something to do even as your mind races.

You don't know what you'll do if he comes back.

You don't know what you'll do if he doesn't.

The knock at the door is soft but insistent, breaking through your thoughts. You freeze, the mug in your hand trembling slightly.

It's him. You don't have to check to know it's him.

For a moment, you consider not answering, letting him stand there until he gives up and leaves. But something pulls you toward the door, the bloody door that changed everything. You press your hand against the frame, hesitating, before finally opening it.

There he is.

Javier looks worse than he did last night—if that's even possible. His hair is disheveled, his shirt wrinkled, his eyes bloodshot as if he hadn't slept a second. He's holding his leather jacket in one hand, and for a moment, you think he might crumble under the weight of his own guilt.

"Y/N," he says, his voice low, hoarse, like it hurts him to speak. He takes a hesitant step forward, but stops short when you flinch ever so slightly. His jaw tightens, and his eyes drop to the floor.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I—God, I don't even know where to start."

You don't say anything, just cross your arms over your chest and stare at him. He looks up, meeting your gaze, and for a moment, you think you see his composure crack. His lips part as if to speak again, but he hesitates, the words caught somewhere between his throat and his heart.

"Please," he finally says, and there's something raw in his tone, something you've never heard before. "Please let me explain. I—I need to talk to you. I need you to hear me."

His voice shakes, and when his eyes meet yours again, they're glassy, on the verge of spilling over. Javier Peña, the man who's always so strong, so controlled, looks utterly wrecked.

You swallow hard, trying to keep your resolve. But it's not easy, not when he's looking at you like that, like he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and it's all his fault.

"I don't know if I want to hear it," you say quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

"I know," he replies, his voice cracking on the words. He runs a hand through his hair, a shaky, desperate gesture. "I know, and I don't deserve it. I just—I have to try. Please."

He takes another cautious step forward, close enough now that you can see the faint tremble in his hands. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I swear to God, I didn't. I was angry—no, not at you. At myself. At everything. And I took it out in the worst way possible. I... I'll never forgive myself for what happened."

You feel your chest tighten, his words pulling at the threads of your resolve. You don't want to let him in—not again, not after everything—but the sheer vulnerability in his voice makes it hard to look away.

"I love you," he says, his voice breaking completely now, the tears he's been holding back finally spilling over. "I love you so much, Y/N. Please. Please let me make this right."

Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, you don't know what to say. The room feels too small, too heavy, with him standing there, his heart in pieces at your feet.

You have every right to slam the door in his face. To tell him to leave and never come back.

But you don't.

Instead, you step aside, just slightly, enough to let him in.

Javier steps inside hesitantly, like he's afraid he doesn't belong here anymore. The door clicks shut behind him, and he stands there for a moment, wringing his hands as if he's still trying to gather the courage to speak.

You don't make it easier for him. You cross your arms again, keeping the space between you as you watch him. You want to appear strong, determined— when inside, you're actually a weak and trembling mess. The tension in the room feels almost suffocating, and for a moment, you think he might turn around and leave.

But then, he takes a deep breath and looks at you.

"I don't even know where to start," he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've been sitting with it all night, trying to figure out how to say this... and I don't think there's a way to make it sound right. But I need you to know that last night was the worst thing I've ever done in my life."

You don't move. You don't respond. His words hang in the air, heavy and raw.

Javier's hands drop to his sides, his fingers flexing as though he's searching for something to hold on to. "I've been drowning, Y/N. In work, in everything. This... this job, it does something to you. It takes pieces of you—pieces you didn't even know you'd miss—and it hardens them, turns them into something else. And I thought I could keep it separate. I thought I could leave it at the door when I came home to you."

He looks down, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of his words is dragging him down. "But I didn't. I couldn't. And instead of keeping the world out, I let it bleed into us. Into you. And that's not fair. It's not right. You didn't sign up for that."

You feel your chest tighten again, your emotions warring between anger, sadness, and a flicker of something you don't want to name yet.

"I've been so focused on everything else," Javier continues, his voice trembling, "that I forgot what matters most. I forgot us. And last night—" He pauses, his voice cracking as he drags a hand down his face. "Last night, I saw what I've become. Tough. Hard. Blunt. And I hate it. I hate what this job is doing to me, to us."

His eyes meet yours again, pleading, desperate. "But I don't want to be that man anymore. Not for you. Not for us. I know it won't happen overnight, and I know I can't undo what happened, but I swear to you, I'll do whatever it takes to change. I'll do whatever it takes to make this right."

The raw emotion in his voice cracks something inside you, but you stay silent, your mind spinning.

"I love you," he says again, softer this time. "I love you so much. And I can't stand the thought of losing you. But if you need me to go, I'll go. If that's what you need to heal, I'll do it. Just—just tell me what to do, Y/N. Please."

His tears return, slipping silently down his face. You've seen him angry, you've seen him determined, but this? This vulnerability, this unravelling—it shakes you to your core.

You lower your arms, your breath catching as you take a hesitant step closer to him. He doesn't move, just watches you, waiting, his heart in his eyes.

"I don't know if I can just... forget what happened," you say softly, your voice trembling. "But I... I don't want to lose you either, Javi."

His breath shudders, relief mingling with the anguish on his face.

"I'll prove it to you," he says quickly. "I'll do better. I'll make you proud of me again."

The words hang between you, fragile and full of hope. You don't know if things will ever be the same, but for now, you take another step closer, letting him see the glimmer of hope in your own eyes.

Your silence stretches between you, heavy and uncertain, as you weigh his words. There's a part of you that's still angry, still hurt, still caught on the memory of last night— the shouted accusations, the bruised ache on your cheek, the way it all unravelled so fast. But then there's the other part, the one that sees him now, standing before you, broken and bare, willing to do whatever it takes to fix this.

You exhale shakily, lowering your gaze to the floor. "It's not something I can move past overnight. I need time... to process, to heal. I need you to understand that."

"I do," he says quickly, his voice steady despite the emotion brimming in it. "I'll give you all the time you need. I'll wait as long as it takes."

You look up at him, meeting his eyes, and for the first time, you see something that feels like hope—tentative, cautious, but there. "Forgiving you... doesn't mean I'm okay with what happened," you continue. "It means I'm willing to try. For us. But it has to be different, Javi. It has to be better. I can't... I won't go through this again."

He nods, swallowing hard. "I hear you," he says, his voice trembling with sincerity. "And I promise you, it will be. I'll be better—I'll show you that I can be better."

You raise an eyebrow, folding your arms across your chest. "And how do you plan to do that?"

His lips press into a thin line, as if he's been waiting for this moment. "I'll start small," he says. "I'll take days off, make sure I come home at a decent hour. I'll cook for you, plan things for us—actual dates, not just sitting in front of the TV and calling it time together."

He steps closer, careful not to overstep, his eyes locked on yours. "And I'll talk to someone about work. A counsellor, maybe. I can't keep bringing it home with me, not like this. You don't deserve that."

The sincerity in his voice tugs at your heart, but you keep your expression guarded. "You'll talk to someone?" you ask, sceptical.

He nods, his gaze unwavering. "I will. I've been avoiding it for too long, thinking I could handle it all on my own. But I can't—not without it hurting us. And I won't let that happen again."

His hand twitches at his side, like he wants to reach for you, but he doesn't. Instead, he continues, "I'll prove it to you every day, in every way I can. Not just with words, but with actions. Whatever it takes, Y/N. I don't want to lose you."

You study him for a long moment, your chest tight with the weight of everything you've been feeling. The anger, the pain, the love—it's all still there, tangled and messy, but the love is what makes you finally nod, your voice soft but resolute. "Okay. But this is on my terms, Javi. My pace. If I feel like you're not following through..."

"I'll follow through," he interrupts, his tone filled with conviction. "I'll prove it, I swear."

For the first time in what feels like forever, you see a small flicker of the man you fell in love with. Not the hardened version that's been consumed by work, but the one who cares, who listens, who tries.

It's not a perfect ending. It's not a clean slate. But it's a beginning—fragile and uncertain, but a beginning nonetheless.

And for now, that's enough.

#Javier Peña x reader #Javier Peña fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #narcos fanfiction #narcos #Javier Peña angst

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honeymvnt · 1 year ago

Text

White Mustang [18+]

Barry Seal !femxreader¡

Words count: 3.2k

Warnings: SMUT, that’s all

𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ ──────────── 𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚

You hated this city. You hated this place with all of yourself but you couldn't get rid of it, nor you could escape from it.

Being a girl in the late seventies wasn't easy anyway and when everything around you seemed to be rotting into the past, dwelling against what was making America so great after the Second World War you were trying to look forward for a better life, for a better something you've been reading about in books, seeing on television or in the magazines.

Your parents weren't helping with the whole situation either: you hated staying by their rules especially your father's and the more you tried to gain your own confidence, the more they were bringing you down, suffocating your dreams, your little silly fantasies about a bright future towards the 80s, towards the inner cities, the ones that were growing compared to the ones where you were forced to live.

But the day you met him, everything changed.

You were trying your best not to make it sound like fairy tale, or an old Hollywood movie but he did make you feel that way and with time it turned out to be as unreal as you feared it would've.

Since that day he was all you were thinking about and you couldn't do anything else besides waiting for him again, waiting for him to come back to you has he had promised.

Barry, god of a man he was with that attitude, that mysterious aura that was surrounding him, that captured you so intensely that left such a sweet taste on your lips, like a liquor you couldn't get enough of.

When you met him in that shabby bar (which was also the best one, considered the others) you couldn't take your eyes off of him and for some reason he had seen you too even if he wasn't supposed to.

He had tried to avoid you, he had to. You were too ridiculously young and he was out of your league, not just because of the big evident age gap between the two of you but he did seriously look like someone who wanted to stay alone, unbothered. Yet he had found you particularly intriguing and just so different from the rest of the people in that quite small place.

The way you were moving, showing more elegance than arrogance for a girl as pretty as you, was certainly a quality he didn't forget to grasp when he looked back at you and you caught his lips between his white teeth. Compared to how your friends were acting he was intrigued by you only, almost fascinated by the fake innocence you were showing off, somehow, around him.

"Is the White Mustang yours? " You asked before you wrapped your lips around the colored straw hanging out from the tall glass of coke you were drinking from.

He looked directly into your eyes, breaking through you with his own green ones, slightly covered by some dark strands that were giving him no peace that night.

The corners of his lips raised a little as his body moved to face yours and one of his hands moved away from the cold glass of gin he had been sipping since when he walked in and put it on his thigh.

You tried your best to keep your eyes in place and avoid the half opened shirt, the leather shiny belt wrapped around his waist so jealously, his parted lips and you maintained your eyes in his.

"Yeah" he replied with a smile, tilting his head to catch the group of loud friends behind you.

"Are those your friends? Right there?"

You followed his gaze and looked behind yourself, noticing how embarrassing the view was, how annoying their laughs and chatting were now that you were trying to talk to him.

"Yeah..." you faced him again and you caught his smile while he looked at them, as if he was trying to recall a memory from the past.

He was difficult to read but brutally honest if he had to be, that' something you found out later that night.

"Why aren't you with them?" He said turning his body around to finish his drink.

The wave of excitement he was able to crash on you with just one gaze was something that you've never experienced before and that you've been dying to feel over and over again.

You eyes landed on the pair of sunglasses that were hanging from his belt before you could look back at him

"Dunno" you said with all the honesty you had and it was true. Frankly, they were just an excuse to stay away from your house, from your parents; an excuse to be able to let your thoughts wander freely, without that heavy guilty feeling pushing down your throat until when your stomach hurt.

"Too bad, you should go back to them" the man put the empty glass on the counter, before he slid his hand into his pocket and dragged a few dollars out of it. You stared at him, studied his every move, from the way his hands wrapped around the glass, to the way he struggled to find the money in his expensive trousers.

You were so infatuated by him that your eyes never left him alone, not even when he walked past you as if you were nothing, as if the conversation never happened, as if he'd never seen you before. You found it extremely captivating, almost irritating.

The man approached the door and simply stepped outside, not looking back and you wished with all of yourself that he was going to but he didn't. His keys were swinging between his fingers as he approached the car but you couldn't let him go.

The once sweet taste he had made you feel on your tongue when you first met his eyes was now replaced by an annoying bitterness that you hated.

It was unexplainable how he had made you feel so much in such a short time and yet, knowing how wrong this was, you felt great distress at the thought of not being able to see him ever again. Stranger to the risk, when you heard his car starting, you rushed outside and stood there, uncertain if what you were putting yourself through was going to be good for you.

He smiled when he saw you as if he knew that you would've done such thing. You weren't so unpredictable as he thought you were and it made you feel really good. Bluntly, and weird to say, it made you feel understood, unlike how others were vieweing you.

"Wanna go for a ride?" you caught his teeth shining between his lips and his sunglasses lowering over his nose so you could see how bright his eyes were.

You took a deep breath of relief and quickly opened the car's door to sit next to him before his hands slide on the steering wheel and you both left the parking lot.

The sun was slowly lowering down the horizon when he drove next to the coast, making you admire the breathtaking view on your right. You could feel the warm light kissing your skin, the breeze of the ocean wrapping around you when you decided to expose yourself out of the car and sense the freedom on your face.

He noticed how your knees were siking into the soft material of the seat, your hands gripping the car, your hair swining all over the place and he didn't even look ahead you, to see what you were seeing, he was looking at you every now and then to catch up with the road.

You looked back at him with such a smile that Barry had to fight the urge to just stop the ride and kiss you but he had to wait for it just like you.

The sound of the waves crashing against the cliff was making you feel so free, a kind of freedom you really never experienced before and when you felt his hand holding your dress a little, you faced him with a smile stamped on your face.

You didn't hesitate to take a good look of him as well and your eyes could't move away from his body, how tensed it was and how badly he was trying to compose himself. His hands were gripping the steering wheel and he cleared his throat before noticing your glare.

That stare you gave him in that bar earlier, piercing into his green eyes just like you were doing right now was only making him struggle to keep himself composed and you noticed it straight away.

You smirked when you observed that he had sped up the car and the wheels were slipping on the smooth road way faster than before, it wasn't that difficult to read him anymore so you decided to take advantage of the situation. Your tongue smoothly caressed your lips before you adjusted yourself on the leather seat, which was a little sticky by now, and slowly moved towards him.

Barry quickly looked down at you and his grasp loosened when he realized what you were about to do. Your hands slide up his clothed thighs, towards his waist to unbuckle his leather belt and lazily opened it, letting the sound of it sending shivers down your spine.

"Eyes on the road" you teased while your hands worked their way into his pants and took his length out. His breath got stuck in his throat and his muscles tensed when you suddenly started to stroke it. Just the sight of the pre cum glistening on the tip of his cock was making you drip wet and when you couldn't even contain your own excitement his hand slowly moved to the back of your head and caressed your hair, making you quiver in anticipation.

"You really want me to stop this car, don't you?" he teased back as you bit your lip, trying to see his eyes behind his dark sunglasses but they quickly moved to the road again before you could even reply.

Your hand kept stroking him slowly, from the tip to the base, squeezing it slightly just to hear how heavy his breathing was and see how badly he was trying to hold himself back from bucking his hips towards your hand and feel more. Before he could even catch his breath your face moved even closer to his cock and the sight he had right down his lap was the best view he has ever seen.

You smiled while your tongue gradually licked and wet his lenght as your hands rested on his thigh and your mouth started to drool already when a loud groan left his lips and his hand kept holding the back of your head.

"Use that slutty mouth you've got, c'mon" he grunted through his teeth, looking down at you when you started to swirl your tongue around his cock and suck it slow enough to make the both of you moan in desperation.

"Fuck...." Barry breathed out, gripping the steering wheel with a hand, trying to keep the car straight while his other hand was holding your hair away from your face.

"That's it- you're doing so well" the sound of his voice alone was making you even more aroused and you couldn't ignore the wet feeling between your legs as you were trying to press your thighs together. His eyes glanced down at you when he heard you gagging miserably around his cock, before he noticed how needlessly you were trying to suffocate the growing ache between your thighs.

"I'm gonna take care of you" he whispered while your hand started to stroke him again, faster and harder than before, just to get him to the point where he couldn't take it anymore and when you saw how close he was you pulled away, smiling proudly and licking your lips as if you thought that that was a smart move... maybe with a guy your age, definately not with him.

Barry watched you sitting back down on your seat without saying anything for a bit, catching his breath while he kept driving but his hand moved towards your dress and he raised it all the way up.

"don't move" his tone was firm, almost urgent as his fingers found the side of your underwear and slid it down your thigh. The whole thing was making you even more excited than it already was and just the way he wanted to touch you to get his revenge was all you needed to get even wetter.

"Take them off" Barry ordered you, looking at the road and then back at you "I said take them off, or you can't even do this?" if it was supposed to offend you it only made you want to tease him even more so you slowly slid your underwear down your thighs and his hand immediately took them and put them into the pocket of his jacket.

"I keep these" he said before his hand returned between your legs "and you keep it quiet" you looked back at him with your lips parted but when you suddenly felt his fingers rubbing your folds a gasp hit your throat and your hands held the seat for dear life.

"What have I just said?" he brought his hand towards your face to force you to look at him back and after a slight squeeze of your cheeks you found the guts to reply "to keep it quiet".

"Good girl" he smiled and let go of your face to bury his hand between your legs and spread your wetness all over your folds before sliding a finger into your smooth core. You bit your lip as hard as you could, holding his wrist with the same urgency he was finger-fucking you.

When he added another finger you knew you weren't going to last any longer and Barry ejoyed to see you begging him with your eyes or with your hand squeezing his wrist so tightly as if he was going to let you cum so beautifully after teasing him that much.

"plea-"

"don't you dare" he said, speeding up the pace until when your back was basically arched from the seat. One more thrust and you were done, one more and you could leave that car and him as well but right when your walls clenched around his fingers he smoothly took them away, trailing your wetness all over your thighs as he stopped the car along the side of the road.

"I said I was going to take care of you..." Barry brought his hand behind your back so you could stand up and follow his movements. "But you changed my plans" he finished and gestured you to sit on his lap.

A smile spread across your face as he held your waist with both of his hands and guided you down his cock. You bit you lips to ignore the delightful feeling that was washing over you so soon and that almost made you feel embarassed for needing him this much.

"oh my- god" you moaned when your walls stretched to welcome him inside of you so sleekly. It took you a bit to adjust to the size before your hips met. You were holding yourself on his shoulders and the excitement was killing you along with the constant ache that was now hitting your core.

You started to move up and down his lap; his cock already twitching deep inside of you, your knees shaking while his hands were guiding your sloppy movements to meet his.

"C'mon darlin'..." he moaned, wrapping a whole arm around your waist to bring you even closer and feel his thrusts hit your deepest spots as your eyes fell shut and your grasp tightned on his shoulders. Your moans turned into desperate cries when your walls painfully clentched around his lenght, miliking it further and further.

"there you go" you finally took control of your movements and started to ride him even faster while his hands were roughtly touching all of your body, spreading waves of excitement through your whole system. Barry smiled at you when he noticed how much more confidence you started to gain to reach your own orgasm. While you worked your way he couldn't ignore how hot you looked and whne you bit your lips he captured them in his.

That kiss, was the cherry on the cake and when both of his arms wrapped around you, your cries became louder and louder until the point where his moans were nothing compared to yours.

"let go for daddy" he said close to your face to maintain the eye contact with you when your body swallowed all the tension and your muscles violently contracted against him to finally let your release squirt all over him.

"Oh... my god" he came right after you, shooting his seed deep inside of you with a loud and painful moan that made shivers run up and down your spine before you could rest your head on his shoulder.

"breathe babe, you did amazing" Barry wrapped his arms around you and gently kissed the side of your head while you tried to catch your breath. He had no idea how much those little things he was saying were affecting you and the inner child within you that never received such praises. He felt how tightly you were hugging and how calm your heartbeat was against his when he talked to you.

You could tell all of that caught him off guard but he didn't hesitate to hug you tighter and you needed that hug more than anything else.

The ride back to your place (where you told him you were living) was quieter as your head rested on his jacket, against the car's door and your legs folded against the seat while the radio played and the sound of the ocean was filling your ears.

When he slowed the car you realized that your house was near and, to make sure that your parents didn't harass you with questions, you quietly hand Barry his jacket and tried to take your panties back but he held your hand as a chuckle left his mouth.

"I keep these, remember?" you smiled at him and left the car, heading to your place but Barry didn't hesitate to follow and the smile that it brought you made him smile too when he noticed it.

"are you up for another ride?" he asked as you approached him again.

"we will see"

"I'll take you out of this town" those words made your heart pound even faster, as if he knew what you needed and actully he did. He saw in you that spark of adventure that he was looking for and you saw in him someone who could truly take care of you and make you feel worth it.

"Forever?"

"If you want" he smiled and shrugged as the car stayed next to you.

"we will see"

"pack your things, I'll be here tomorrow"and with this Barry drove away, leaving that sweet taste your tongue when you first met his eyes again.

𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ ──────────── 𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚

for my girl @dxddycruise I hope you like it 🎀

#tom cruise imagine #tom cruise x female reader #tom cruise smut #barry seal #american made

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fireinmoonshot · 2 years ago

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let me walk you home | jake 'hangman' seresin x reader

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader Words: 1426 A/N: It's been forever since I last wrote anything, so I apologise if this is terrible but I've been in love with Jake since I first saw Top Gun: Maverick last July and really wanted to give writing for him a go and to try and get back into writing!

It was a lot later than you had planned to stay out for, but somehow the Hard Deck was the busiest it’d been all night. It was bustling with people, packed from wall to wall, all drinking, dancing, playing pool and enjoying the late summer Saturday night.

It was a surprise that you were even here tonight. You were not the type of person to stay out late at night at a bar. In fact, if tonight had gone to plan, you’d be at home with a book or a movie on, enjoying the peace and quiet and feeling cozy. It was Natasha’s fault that you were even at the bar. Your plans had been completely tossed aside because of her.

She’d begged you as soon as work had finished up for the day, insisting that you come along with her and the others for just a few hours. You’d decided that it couldn’t hurt. It was one night, and going out tonight meant that she wouldn’t bug you for at least a few more weeks, so you were happy enough with that.

You were sat at a table in the corner with the rest of your group, all of whom were definitely more than tipsy and were showing no signs of leaving any time soon – with the exception of Jake Seresin, who had surprisingly not consumed much alcohol tonight. You’d heard from the others that he could get pretty rowdy on a Saturday night at the Hard Deck, though from your limited experience, you didn’t quite know what that meant.

Little did you know that you were the reason Jake wasn’t drunk.

The second you’d walked into the bar Jake had been surprised to see you – everyone had. But Jake especially. He’d always been intrigued by you. You were quieter than everyone else, less interested in the drinking, partying lifestyle than everyone else. He’d compared you to Bob for a while there, not just because you were a WSO too but also because your personalities seemed similar, but even Bob was more into the late nights lifestyle than you were. It made Jake want to get to know you. But the problem was, he barely ever actually saw you since you never came out to the bar.

He had thought tonight might be the night, but he’d been very wrong considering you’d ended up sat between Natasha and Fanboy, both of whom had consumed a fair amount of alcohol and were very talkative. There would be no use talking over the top of them just to try and talk to you.

You stifled a yawn and looked down at your watch. It was just past midnight, and definitely past your bedtime, but the idea of leaving now and trying to push through the big crowd of people all still enjoying their night to get to the door didn’t seem very appealing.

Jake noticed your poor attempt to conceal the yawn and smiled to himself. This really wasn’t your scene, was it? That simple fact made him even more intrigued by you.

It didn’t take much longer for you to start to feel the itch to leave, though. You were tired, and even though you had the day off tomorrow, you had things to do and you didn’t want to be exhausted or have to sleep in a lot in order to feel well rested. And so it was decided – you’d make your way through the crowd to get to the doors.

Across the table, a drunken Payback laughed at something Coyote had said. You leant towards Natasha, sat beside you, who had been talking to Rooster sat on her other side.

“I’m gonna head off,” you told her.

Natasha frowned. “You’re going so soon?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m getting pretty tired.”

“Okay,” she said, a little disappointed. “But get home safe, okay? Text me when you do!”

“Of course, and you get home safe tonight too, okay?”

Natasha pulled you in for an awkward side hug and then went back to her conversation with Rooster after you stood up, excusing yourself quietly from the table of people too caught up in their own conversations to notice you leaving.

Except for Jake, of course.

He huffed. He’d lost his chance to talk to you on the one night you’d come out to join them at the bar. But then he watched you stop as you reached the edge of the crowded dance floor, watched as you looked around, trying to judge a way through the crowd to get to the doors on the other side, and an idea sprung to mind.

Jake stood up from the table, making his way past a few people and over to you. You hadn’t even moved in the time it’d taken him to get over to you. He stopped beside you.

“You stuck?” He asked, his lips quirking up into a smirk.

You hadn’t even seen him come up beside you and jumped a little at the sound of his voice, eyes moving to look up at him. Stuck? Well… “I’m just trying to judge the best way to get to the exit. I’m not stuck.”

Jake shook his head, amused, then held his hand out to you. “Allow me.”

“Allow you to what?” You looked between his eyes and his hand.

Cute, Jake thought. But this was no time to stand here making idle conversation when his intention was completely clear, at least to him. He’d seen your yawn, he could tell you were tired, and standing around here waiting would just make you more exhausted.

So, instead of explaining himself, Jake reached down and took your hand in his, entwining your fingers together. “Trust me,” he said, and then he was moving, your hand in his, leading you through the crowd. He swerved around everyone perfectly, not even bumping into anyone. It was as if he was parting the crowd, as if they were all moving for him. With a start, you realised that they probably were. Half the people in this bar that knew Jake Seresin were definitely a little bit scared of him.

He didn’t let go of your hand until you had gotten out of the crowd and out of the front doors of the bar. You both stood on the deck, the moonlight shining down on you and the sound of the waves in the distance.

“Thank you,” you said, gesturing back towards the bar. “I guess I was stuck.”

Jake smiled. “It’s no problem, darlin’. Couldn’t have you getting lost in that crowd.”

His words had you smiling against your better judgement.

“You all right getting home by yourself or do you want me to walk you?”

You raised your eyebrows at him. First he’d held your hand to get you through the crowd and now he was offering to walk you home? What had gotten into Jake Seresin?

“You don’t have to do that,” you shook your head.

“And why not?”

“I can walk home by myself, and everyone’s probably wondering where you went.”

Jake shrugged. “Wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me if I let you walk home by yourself though, would it? And I don’t really care if they’re wondering where I went.”

“You don’t?”

“No,” he said. “Out of all the people in there, you’re actually the only one I’ve wanted to talk to all night. But since you ended up sat between the two chatterboxes…”

Now his words confused you. You looked at him, tilting your head to the side and trying to figure out what was going on. Was he playing a game? Had someone dared him? You’d never seen this side of Jake Seresin. He was always cocky, always honest. But he’d never been someone you’d talked to or spent too much time around. He was more stories than anything else to you. And here he was, telling you that he’d wanted to talk to you all night?

“Did Nat put you up to this?” You asked him hesitantly.

He laughed. “No one put me up to anything, darlin’. Now, please let me walk you home and let me ask you the questions that have been running through my head all night.”

You looked at him for a few moments. Jake Seresin wasn’t a bad guy. He wasn’t going to hurt you, and truthfully you would feel safer having him walk you home. What could go wrong by a simple walk with him?

“Okay, let’s go.”

The smile that appeared on his face made your heart flutter.

#jake seresin x reader #top gun maverick #top gun x reader #top gun maverick x reader #jake seresin x you #top gun #jake seresin imagine #top gun hangman #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader

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hunybee03 · 6 months ago

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Red Leg Zeff x Fem Reader ~ +18 or older

!!!+18 years or older!!!

This is my first posting anything at all normally keeping them to myself so this is a short one, please be honest and show some love any helping hand would be greatly appreciated. I gotta say I love great daddy Zeff who needs a little more love.

Warnings: cursing, penetration and thoughts of threesome

I don't not own the lovely op characters the great Eiichiro Oda does.

She was young compared to me, Barely in her 30's.

I hesitated hiring a woman to work in my restaurant but times were tough finding someone to bar-tend with the idiots I have working for me scaring off the last few, never did I think I would desire a woman so much than her.

Amber colored hair braided hanging loosely off her shoulder her fast hands making the most delicious and intricate drinks known to man wowing all guests who come here, with just one look she could bring the most wretched pirate to his knees without batting an eyelash or parting those beautiful blood red lips to say a single word.

Her golden eyes sharp enough to pierce steel could woo any man or woman, her voice dripped with the finest of honey could talk you into seeing heaven without a single touch, a body made by the gods curves in all the right places looking devilish in all the outfits she owned.

There are times I would become a little to excited just catching a glimpse of her and the men knew… oh they knew I was completely smitten with her and teased me on the daily. We both had flirtatious attitudes but just how much was it truth on her part, so when going over the inventory with her the others making excuses we found ourselves below the restaurant going over product, I couldn't help but stare at her ass when she bent over a crate of bourbon, how in the hell does she get that ass in those pants yet what i really wanted to know is how she looked without said pants, groaning to myself pinching the bridge of my nose

"Chef?.. OI earth to chef! Everything alright your spacing out, not getting sick are ya?"

"Oh what? Sorry been a long day, how many did you say there were?"

"27 bottles of bourbon, 30 bottles of whiskey and 21 bottles of sake" she smirked peering over another crate "hold on…make that a total of 26 bottles of sake" she stood back up pushing back the stray hairs from her face

"Got it, now all that's left is the wine" she took the clip board from me setting it on the crate beside us "Its late and I want to get this taken care of (y/n)"

"We will get to that, but right now you want to tell me why the head chef hasn't been in his right mind lately spacing out a lot more than usual you haven't come by for a drink in the past couple weeks, is everything alright?" How could I not stay away without thinking of bending you over a table and fucking you not caring if we had an audience or not.

"I don't space out just been busy is all" I picked up the clip board and made my way across to the wine counting the bottles.

"Mm-hm…sure it isn't something else…" she said slowly coming up behind me sitting on a crate "Did I do something wrong?" no just the fucking opposite, with a heavy sigh running a hand through my hair putting down the clip board I turned to her putting my hands on either side of her standing between her legs

"You haven't done anything wrong (y/n).. you have just been taking up more space in my mind than should be allowed" kissing her softly testing the waters when she didn't pull away i kissed her again more passionately her hands in my hair her nails running along my scalp had me pulling her into me more kneading her hips getting her to open up for me our tongues in a dance for dominance, before I knew it our clothes were left in a pile on the floor at our feet and my cock buried deep inside her wet cunt that just had a way of pulling me in

"Fuck Zeff!" she cried out as I watched her eyes roll into the back of her head moaning her lips smeared red parted drool running down her chin, she just looked so appetizing losing herself while I drill into her stuffing her full legs spread wide to watch the show.

Garp is going to be so fucking jealous after i tell him how great she feels maybe just maybe if this goes on we can work our fantasy of having a threesome with her, just like old times, me filling up her greedy little hole while she hangs her head back sucking him off just the thought has a shiver run up my spine.

I doubt I'm ever going to get her out of my mind after this, our lips locked together muffling her cries and my groans fucking my cum into her slowly coming down from our highs, once we caught our breath the silence coming back to us we had a good laugh sharing a kiss. We got dressed finishing inventory, taking her up to my room cuddling under the covers with her head resting on my chest eyeing a few hickies I know I won't hear the end of.

Definately a night to remember.

#one piece #one piece smut #one piece Zeff #Red Leg Zeff #x female reader #chef zeff onepiece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #red leg zeff smut #red leg zeff x reader #op smut #op x reader #one piece fanfic #one piece fluff

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1-800marvelqueen · 1 year ago

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11:15

Frank Castle x reader (Peter Castilglione x reader)

Part Two

WC : 3K

SW : No usage of "Y/N," physical appearance and details are left completely ambiguous and are up to interpretation. Reader is gender neutral! but is implied to be AFAB. Mentions of drinking, violence, physically assault (groping), reader is attacked, knives, blood - canon typical violence.

If there are any more warnings to be added let me know!

This is a re-post, all of my old accounts were deleted.

You hated your job so fucking much.

So far today you had been yelled at, groped, catcalled, had drinks spilled on you, and you were pretty sure someone just threw up all over their table. Working in a 24-hour diner as a waitress is as shitty as it sounds. But you were tipped well, mostly by people on road-trips, or those coming back from a late night's work who needed a coffee to stay awake long enough for the ride home. You had your favourites, sure, but none of them compared to Pete

He came in almost every night, always ordered the same thing, and always tipped you very, very, well. He was also an extremely quiet guy who valued his privacy very much, the only thing you knew about him was that he worked construction.

There was literally no one in the diner except for some shady looking drunk that had already made several inappropriate comments towards you in the 30 minutes he’d been here. You sit in one of the tall chairs at the bar, your foot tapping anxiously as you wait for 11:15 to roll around, knowing that Pete’ll walk in the second it hits. You ignore the drunken man staring you down, focusing on the clock, hoping that if you don’t engage he’ll leave you alone.

Your efforts pay off when you hear the obnoxious ringing of the door behind you, the chime of the bell signalling the arrival of your favourite customer. You put the biggest smile you can on your face, spinning around in the chair to throw your arms up in the air, “Petey!” Hopping down off the stool as he gives you a lazy smile and a return of your greeting. “Your order is already on the griddle and here is your drink,” reaching back behind you to grab the freshly made to-go cup off the counter, “a coffee with the smallest splash of cream, no sugar, just for you.”

He gives you that rugged smile as he plops down at his usual seat in the darkest, furthest corner of the diner. “Thank you sweetheart.” Blood rushes to your cheeks and you feel your heartbeat pick up at a monumental rate. Squeaking out a quick ‘you’re welcome’ you turn and briskly walk away to go find something to keep you occupied until Pete’s food is done. You feel his eyes on you, as you bus tables, count the register, make cutlery sets, and so on and so forth. When you hear the quiet ding of the order-up-bell you run up to the serve window, utter a small “Thanks Benny” to the line-cook slash owner of the diner.

You carry the plate to Pete’s table to find him still looking at you with that same rugged smile on his lips. His foot pushing out the chair next to him at his table for you. At first your friendship with Pete was a little rocky, you’d try to engage in conversation but would just be brushed off. But if you were one thing it was a persistent little motherfucker and you eventually cracked that tough exterior of Pete’s and slowly became his favourite person - not that he would ever admit that to you. Your friendship got to the point where if he came in and you weren’t working, he’d leave, and now everytime you dropped his plate off he’d invite you to join him and tell him all about your day.

If Frank was being honest with himself this was the favourite part of any of his long and tiring weeks. Even though every ounce of his body ached terribly at the end of each day, he’d drag himself to the diner, for shitty coffee, greasy food, and you. And if Frank was being extremely honest with himself, he was in love with your voice, your face, your personality, he was in love with the way you got so excited to see him each and every time he walked through the door, overall he was completely and irrevocably in love with you.

But at the same time he was deeply afraid of you. Of what he felt for you, afraid of the fact that the last time he was in love, the last time he started a life with someone, it ended in death and tears. He was so afraid that if he revealed to you who he truly was, if he showed you that simple Pete the Construction worker was really the Big-Bad Punisher, you would run or get taken because of who he was. Or worse, hurt or killed.

So he kept his affections deep under wraps, buried. With hopes that one day he could sweep you off your feet and pretend to be the good guy in his own made up fairytale.

Gently setting Pete’s plate down on the table surface before you promptly all but throw yourself down into the seat he pushed out for you. Letting out a deep sigh as you bang your head against the table a couple times for dramatics before finally resting your head on your arms, facing towards him. He gives you a raised eyebrow, a smirk pulling on the corner of his mouth.

“That bad, huh?” “Like you would not believe,” “Tell me about it baby.”

Pushing down the feeling of butterflies in your stomach you proceed to go into a long-whirlwind explanation of how your day went, all the assholes you dealt with, the spills, screaming children, and everything else. Pete sits quietly, giving his input and reactions with different sounding noises from the back of his throat as he munches on his eggs. “And that guy over there,” lowering your voice, leaning in closer to Pete, making a small gesture to the drunk bum still in the diner, “He’s been here for almost an hour and a half, Pete. He’s been watching me the whole time, making comments and gestures and it’s really starting to freak me out.”

Pete’s eyes darken immediately, so quick it almost scared you, he brought a hand down to the side of your chair. You try not to pay attention to how close his hand is to your thigh or how the muscles in his forearm move as he slides you closer to him, you could cry at the thought put into the gesture. No matter how rough around the edges Pete was, he cared for and about you, and while he’d never verbally admit it, you knew he showed it through other things.

Like making sure you felt safe.

He keeps an eye on the guy for the rest of the time he’s there. It’s almost midnight when Pete scoots his plate away and goes to dig his wallet out of his pocket. You quickly get up and take his plate to the back, coming to find his money for the food on the counter next to the register in exact change, along with your hefty tip, having ordered the same thing so many times he had its amount memorised. He waits by the door of the diner, eyes glancing worriedly between you and the man in the corner. “You gonna be okay with… that, or do you want me to stay until you get off?” Your lips automatically pull into a small smile - one that makes Frank’s heart do flips - as you place your hand on his shoulder.

“No Petey I don’t get off till’ 4 AM. I can't ask you to stay that long when I know you’re tired, and besides, Benny’s still here so I’ve got him if I need anything” squeezing his shoulder gently before you pull away and turn to go back “Go home and get some sleep Pete, I’ll see you tomorrow night.” You’re stopped in your walk away when he grabs your wrist and ever-so gently pulls you back to him. “You know if you need anything to come find me right? I’m just a yell in the night away, okay?”

Your brows furrow at what his statement could possibly mean, but you inevitably brush it off. Giving him reassurance and a wave as he leaves the diner. Bumbling around the diner for the next couple hours, having a few more customers come in, mostly weary travellers in need of a cup of coffee. The strange man had left around an hour after Frank did, watching you as he left with that strange look in your eye. At a little after 3 Benny tells you to go ahead and take off, which you gladly do, in need of a good shower and some sleep.

Once you hang your apron up and grab your bag you’re out the door. Cold automatically hitting you as you slide on a pair of gloves and a scarf, breath puffing into a cloud in front of you. Your shoes quietly tap against the pavement. Humming a little tune to yourself as you walk the dark and desolate streets. It feels strange out tonight, something making the hair on the back of your neck stand straight up. You look all around you, slightly picking up your walking pace, hurrying to get home.

Your efforts are futile though, when someone comes up behind you, cupping your mouth before you could scream, and pulls you into the nearest alleyway.

Frank always felt awful doing this. He felt like he was some sort of stalker.

But he had to make sure you were safe, that no harm would come to you on your way home. So he’d wait, everynight after leaving the diner, waiting for your shift to end so he could make sure you were safe on your 10-minute walk home. He’d follow along, normally on the opposite side of the street, sometimes along the rooftops, but always far enough away to not arouse your suspicions.

He watches the drunk man walk out and stumble his way down the street until he turns to where Frank can no longer see him. He watches you walk out a few hours later, immediately recoiling at the cold. He can’t help the smile that overtakes his face at your actions, always finding anything you do absolutely adorable. He watches you bundle up to try and fight off the chill. He comes away from the corner of the building as you begin to walk, following behind on the other side of the street. He stops when you stop, confused as to why you quit walking. Ducking behind the building he’s next to the second he sees you turn your head around. That confusion immediately turns into concern when he peeks back around and you’re no longer there.

Without a second thought he immediately begins to run to where he last saw you, feeling his heartbeat begin to go faster and faster, the fear taking over every ounce of his body. He won’t let anything bad happen to you, he has to keep you safe no matter what. The Irrational and scared part of his brain thinks that you’ve disappeared into thin air when he gets to where you were previously standing and there’s no sign of you anywhere, but the more rational and lethal part of his brain knows you’ve been taken. His saving grace arrives in the form of a scream, a yell of his name.

Just a yell in the night away.

Running in the direction of your scream all he sees is red. He promised himself that he would never do this again. That Frank Castle and the Punisher would stay dead, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and right now it was all about saving you.

The man’s hand feels so grimy against your skin, the urge to bite him is overwhelmed by the fear of whatever diseases he may carry. He shushes you like you’re some sort of crying child, “There, there, why don’t you stop fucking squirming now, huh’?” pulling you further into the alleyway, and it’s only on your next struggle away do you feel something prick you in the side.

He has a knife.

The thought makes you immediately stop wiggling, and the man behind you chuckles at your realisation. “Yeah that’s right, you make one wrong move or don’t obey me and this knife is going somewhere you don’t want it to go.” Breathing heavily against the side of your head you can smell his breath wafting into your face and it makes you want to vomit at the pungent smell of decay and alcohol. It’s only when the man asks for all the tips you made for the night do you realise it’s the dirty man from the diner.

The one who was obviously into you in a more sexual manner.

With this in mind you make one more attempt at a great escape. Slamming the heel of your foot down as hard as you could onto his the man lets out a short scream, loosening his grip just enough for you to wiggle your way out and try to run to the mouth of the alley. Your efforts are futile when a grimy hand wraps it way around your waist to pull you back.

So as a last effort you do the only thing you can think of, even if it won’t work, you can’t say you didn’t try. You pull in as much air as you can and scream for Pete.

Your scream is cut off when the hand reslaps over your mouth and the man begins to hurl curses at you. “You really think that freak from the dinner is going to come and help? Huh?” You zone out of his words at the feeling of something wet dripping down your side. When you look down you realise that you can see his hand and most of the knife, but not the end of it. And it’s only when you focus on it do you feel the searing pain emanating from that general area.

The man must have noticed where your line of sight had gone when he began to chuckle. “Yeah bitch that’s right. This is what happens when you don’t listen.” You feel more blood begin to ooze out when he begins to slowly push the knife in further, but he never gets the chance because something rips him away from you.

You can hear the sounds of a struggle, the sound of someone screaming and the distinct sound of someone's skull cracking open on the brick of the alleyway. It’s only when the familiar sound of a gruff voice yells out do you realise who came to save you.

Pete.

Slumping against the wall from relief and blood loss you bring a hand to your side only to find the knife still wedged in your skin. Making a move to pull it out you’re stopped by a rough hand wrapping around yours. “Don’t.” words a hushed whisper. “I don’t want you to possibly hurt yourself anymore.” You find yourself nodding, looking at the man crouched in front of you, his chest heaving, eyebrows furrowed in worry. He’s got blood spray on him, covering most of his hands but there's a few drops across the side of his head and neck.

You look from Pete over to the man who attacked you, only to find him unmoving. Not even a rise of his chest. You find that you don’t really care when Pete brings one bloodied hand up to your chin to pull your face back to look at him.

“Can you stand sweetheart? I need to get you somewhere so I can fix this.” With his help you try and get up, only making it a few inches off the ground when you stop, yelping in pain. He shushes your whines and whimpers of pain as he lowers you back down, a hand moving to smooth your hair back in a soothing gesture, blunt nails gently raking across your scalp. “It’s okay sweetheart I got you, don’t worry I’m gonna take care of this.”

He moves from in front of you to the side of your body that hasn’t been stabbed, the hand in your hair moves to cradle your middle back. He brings your arm up to wrap around his neck, and then moves down to gently slot his arm under your knees. “How did you find me, Pete?” words partially slurred as your world starts to turn blurry, he ignores your question and instead settles for quietly telling you to try and hold still while he lifts you up. He carries you quickly and quietly out of the alley and into the street, going the opposite way of your apartment. You can tell he’s not walking at his usual gait, his steps are calculated, more precise in an effort to not jostle you too much. He looks straight ahead, jaw clenched so tightly you think it might break at any moment. Through your blurry mind you remember he never answered your question, so you ask again. “Pete?” bringing the hand around his neck up to gently thumb at his hairline. “How did you find me?”

His steps falter slightly, eyes quickly glancing over to you before he snaps out of it and continues walking. You can see his jaw unclench, lips parting as if to answer you before they close again. “Pete,” you try in your most pleading tone, “Please.” You can see his inner resolve cracking away as he looks down at you. Eyes losing that darkened look, his face moving into a more relaxed look, lips going from a thin, stretched, line to an almost unnoticeable smile.

“I’m only a yell in the night away baby.”

Originally posted April 23rd, 2022.

#frank castle x reader #pete castiglione x reader #the punisher #the punisher x reader #frank castle #1-800marvelqueen #mywriting

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moodymisty · 2 years ago

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hellloooo luv >.< could I maybe request a crosshair/shortfem!reader where crosshair has a size difference kink and is obsessed with his small gf? <33 just the sight of you hugging him by the waist and looking up at him with your pretty little eyes as he towers over you would make him lose his mind. thinking about how he would love reminding you how small you are compared to him. he would love how easy it is for him to pick you up and lift you onto him without even trying and just manhandling you and using you anyway he wants. he would love how his big hands look holding onto your small waist (or anywhere on you for that matter), the tummy bulge he gives you, him having to take his time to fit inside of you bc of how big he is and talking you through it. “shhh cyare..you’re doing so good for me..almost there..”. you’re his little princess and he absolutely adores and loves to praise you for how well you take him while he uses you as his own personal cumdump until you’re cock dumb and ruined by him. I need to be manhandled by him in the most disgusting, loving, and sweetest way possible.

Author's Note: This request made me bonk around the room like a fire extinguisher that's been shot

Summary: Crosshair has always noticed how much more delicate you were than him. But when one night he actually, really notices; He can't stop the way he wants you.

Relationships: Crosshair/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Reader is 'short coded' but everything else is pretty ambiguous as usual, Creampies, my badboy Crosshair with Goodgirl Reader cliché obsession because my mind cannot know peace, Size Kink, Unprotected sex,

Crosshair doesn't normally use the word 'cute'.

Not much in his life warrants the adjective; and the few things that do, he normally has less than a stellar disposition towards. He almost always says it with venom, meant to insult whatever or whoever it is rather than compliment.

You are a noted exception however, as Crosshair has yet to find an adjective that fits you quite as well as 'cute' does.

His brothers can't even help but agree, as no matter how many times he bites at them to back off with it, they always ruffle your hair or joke about how short you are. He doesn't mind in actuality, they are just being brotherly, but sometimes Crosshair isn't a fan of others pointing out things that only he should be noticing.

Even not that long ago when you'd boarded the Marauder, Wrecker had made yet another comment at how small you were, with a pitch in his voice and an arm around your shoulders. He only stopped when he could feel Crosshair's eyes burning holes into him, but you just waved him off.

Right now his arm is light around your shoulders, as the thumping of club music hums in your ears. The dive bar reeks of greasy food and hard liquor, but you don't mind the change in pace. The weather has been awful lately and with your life busy, coming out and enjoying time in public has been a welcome change. Whether or not you're used to this sort of scene.

Crosshair seems less so, as he looks around the bar seeing the other groups of clones spattered across the scenery. They're all minding their own business, drinking for many of the same reasons you're all out tonight.

"That would involve actually having to try, Wrecker."

You smile and laugh at the largest brother across the table, right shoulder brushing against his ribcage. He has to look down in order to watch your face, as you stay firmly tucked against his side. He hasn't the slightest idea what you're talking about at this point, so he doesn't bother joining the conversation and risk making a fool out of himself.

Wrecker responds, but it doesn't give Crosshair any context as to what the two of you are jokingly fighting about. He's too busy watching the way your head tilts slightly towards him and leans against his body for just a moment.

"Oh, bold words coming from the short stack!" You roll your eyes at Wrecker, one of your hands fiddling with the various scuffs and dents on the Crosshair's thigh armor. He can't feel it other than the light pressure, though sometimes you move enough so that you brush against the black flightsuit between the seams; And that, he can feel.

Wrecker isn't wrong in his comment- you're significantly shorter than all of them, not just him. It's a fact that often lingers in Crosshair's mind, and in a way that nearly always appealing. You always tuck perfectly against his side, a perfect little piece of peace.

It's more than a bit distracting to him, who's found himself more interested in watching your small hands wrap around your glass, more so than his own drink. Everyone's been getting sloshed tonight, but Crosshair's no longer interested in the scene.

He's much more interested in you; As you look down to see his hand fiddling with the soft fabric of your dress.

As he leans in his hot breath fans over the shell of your ear, his lips just barely grazing your skin. He's had one or two drinks, as have you, but no where near enough to get more than the tiniest buzz.

"Let's go."

You can't disagree with him. Hunter is too sloshed to really notice the way the air around you two has been getting hotter and hotter for an hour now, and that Crosshair's hand has been steadily climbing up your thigh. You don't open your legs to let him in, but you still feel the weight of his fingers as you suddenly raise your head to speak up.

"Hey, guys- I think I'm gonna head out for tonight."

Wrecker whines, and Tech bemoans the idea of the two least drunk of everyone besides himself leaving. He was hoping not to be relegated to chauffeur as he is almost every time the Batch goes out, not that he would even drink if he wasn't.

"It's been fun but, I'm getting pretty tired. I'll see you guys later." When Crosshair gets up with you and Tech glances between the two of you confused, you quickly speak up. His hand is on the small of your back, tense with the silent plea of 'hurry it up'.

"Cross is gonna take me home. I'll send him back in one piece, don't worry." It's not as if they can complain about it, as you're always turning around and leaving before they'd theoretically have a chance.

"Slow down," You joke, as the cold air outside hits you. Crosshair just looks down at you from the corner of his eyes, the music still quite loud even from all the way out here.

When you hail a taxi and step in he follows, sliding in right beside you until you're both shoulder to shoulder.

And the whole way there, Crosshair looms. His eyes linger over your form like he's hungry, a stare that's almost physically heavy on you body. You glance up at him once, raising your eyebrows.

But he remains silent; You swear you can hear his heartbeat as the taxi pulls to a stop in front of your building. You've recently moved and you almost don't recognize the place, but it's easy enough to find your way inside once you remember.

Your fingers shake as you punch in the code, feeling his chest brush against your shoulder right blade.

He's so close...

The moment that door closes and locks he is on you, and you reciprocate tenfold. Your arms wrap around his neck tight enough to almost make him need for air, just as desperate for him as he is for you as your lips press against his.

Even for as lithe as he is he still towers over you, pushing your body blindly towards your bed. He knows where it is by heart now, having stayed in your home close to as many times he's slept in the Marauder.

The blankets wrinkle around your form, legs dangling off the edge as he roughly pushes you down only to follow right behind, body looming over yours. Everything here is so soft; Your blankets, your bed, your skin. Crosshair sometimes feels like he doesn't belong, but in the end, he doesn't care.

"You wore this on purpose, didn't you."

He's mentioned this outfit before; It was one that for some reason managed to rev his engine more than anything else you've worn. Maybe it's the red and black, maybe it's the way it lays on your body. Either way, you'd almost totally forgotten he had that reaction to it until right now, as he's busy trying to tear it off you. In a frantic effort you assist, kicking off your shoes and anything else that attempts to get in the way.

"It's not my fault you can't control yourself," You say, feeling his body lay against yours as he unclothes himself.

"Tch," You feel the heat of his cock against your thigh. "Watch your mouth."

Funny how it doesn't sound nearly as mean as that usually would've. You feel the way his cock grinds against you, slick as he slips along your folds.

He pulls away enough so that he can sit on the bed, pulling you towards him the moment he's able.

Your bottom sits the in the dip between his legs, wrapping around his hips. It's almost hard to see his face at this angle, having to lean back just a bit in order to. You also have to as you lift yourself just far enough away to slip a hand between your bodies, guiding his cock as you slowly but surely sink onto him. You can hear him grit his teeth and hiss through them, hands tight on the soft meat of your thighs.

The noise you let out is soft, almost like a breathless sigh as he fully sinks inside of you. Crosshair feels his neck tighten at the sound of it, how cute it is.

But then again you always look cute; The way you get surrounded by his shadow and look up at him, face squished and feeling hot as you bounce on his cock.

Your chest brushes against his, arms wrapping around his neck.

Even sitting in his lap he's taller than you, feeling his hands tightly grip the soft flesh of your waist. Your legs are tight around his hips, and he can feel your hot breath against his skin.

You grip him, nails digging into his shoulders like he's your only weight to this world, cunt tightening around him. Your skin feels like it's on fire, heart pounding in your chest.

When you finally come down from your high you feel Crosshair's hands on your waist, that had for awhile now been partly helping you keep upright. He's so quite sometimes that you can barely tell how he's feeling, that he's finished inside of you but manage to swallow his own moans enough so that you barely even heard it. He liked the sounds of yours more anyways.

Feeling the heat of your cheek as you brush your palm over it, you're glad you left one window open. The chilled breeze is quickly cooling your skin, and the fresh air is keeping your mind from completely fogging over.

"Can you stay the night?"

It's less so an invitation for another round- though you'd absolutely not complain if that turned out to be the case- and more so wondering if you'll be able to steal a rare moment with him. It's not often you get to fall asleep with him, let alone wake up.

Tech is his brothers sober guide as always; He can deal with his brothers while he steals a rare moment for himself.

"Not like they can't reach me if they need me." You'll take that as a positive response, feeling your body slowly lift off of him.

Crosshair often sleeps on his stomach, and as he turns to do so you can see the red, burning lines your nails left on his shoulders and back; And while he's never complained and if anything, seems to enjoy it, you still feel bad for hurting him.

This time you don't comment on them however, instead moving closer enough that he wraps an arm around your waist. Whatever way you sleep the two of you always find a way to tangle together, feeling his warm body against yours in the now cool air of your bedroom.

You think you hear him say something, but you're too close to sleep and it's too quiet for you to hear, as you finally drift off.

#the bad batch crosshair x reader #Crosshair/Reader #the bad batch x reader #tbb x reader #crosshair x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

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a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all · 3 months ago

Text

Stay (Part 1)

AI-Less Whumptober 2024: Day 23. Passing Out, “Hey?! Stay with me, okay?!” Fandom: Top Gun: Maverick, Hangman, Bob, FloydSin, Bob's POV Summary: Once again, Bob finds himself dragged along to the club with the rest of his friends. Miserable, and unable to find the only person he really wants to spend time with, he decides to head home. But he's about to discover where Jake has been all night... Word Count: 4230 TW: College AU, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Blood, Stabbed, Unexpressed Feelings, Getting Mugged, Broken Finger, Left for Dead, Tears, Language, Hopeful Ending Notes: Thank you to @green-socks and @ohtobeleah for beta reading this for me! For @ailesswhumptober's whumptober event.

Part One

Bob wasn’t sure how he kept letting himself get talked into this every weekend. While practically all of his classmates loved going to bars or clubs, he wasn’t your typical college student. He didn’t drink and he was too self-conscious to get out there and dance (probably because he didn’t drink), so he once again found himself standing alone in a dimly lit corner while the rest of his friends let loose.

Nat had promised this time would be different, that she wouldn’t leave his side. Yet his roommate predictably disappeared as soon as Jake and Javy walked through the doors. Bob spotted her several minutes later in the middle of the dance floor, Javy’s arms tangled around her body as he ground on her. If the past was any indication, they would be inseparable until the next morning, which left Bob on his own once more.

He gave it another hour before he called it a night. Everyone in their usual gang was too preoccupied with their own fun to notice that he had been standing in the same spot, holding the same bottle of water, since he got there: Bradley was at the bar surrounded by a group of gorgeous girls who were hanging on his every word; Nat and Javy had migrated to one of the other dark corners of the club and Bob was scared even to glance over to see what they were doing; Reuben and Mickey were in a heated drunken discussion with a few guys from their film class but things were escalating to that point where either a fight was about to break out or they were all about to buy another round of shots, of which neither option interested Bob; and Jake…Jake was nowhere to be seen.

Bob had last spotted him about twenty minutes ago making out with a girl he didn’t recognize. Knowing Jake, he had probably ducked into one of the bathrooms with her and there was no way Bob was going to try to confirm that suspicion. Last semester he had walked in on a situation just like that and it was an experience he wasn’t looking forward to repeating.

Not that Bob didn’t like Jake. In fact, he might like the guy a little too much which was yet another reason he didn’t want to see him doing that with someone else. Not that Jake would ever...not with someone like him.

Bob sighed as he pushed open the door at the back of the club and stepped into the back alley. Jake always seemed different when they were alone together compared to when they were all hanging out with the rest of their friends. In those moments, he wasn’t “Hangman”, the star quarterback who had the entire college campus swooning at his feet and an ego the size of his home state. No, when Bob found himself one-on-one with the guy, it was when he saw the real Jake. He was softer, more open, and his smile always seemed genuine, not like the one he flashed for his adoring fans.

Lately, those stolen moments with Jake had become the highlight of Bob’s week, and they were the real reason he kept allowing Nat to drag him along with her to places like this. Most of the time, Jake was preoccupied with whatever girl who caught his eye that night. But sometimes—if Bob was lucky—Jake would track him down and they would spend the entire night tucked away in a corner together talking and laughing.

However, that hadn’t happened in a while. Not since the last night of Spring Break…

Bob was so lost in his thoughts as he began walking towards the front of the club, that he would have continued walking, oblivious to the fact anything was wrong, if a low moan hadn’t echoed through the alleyway at just that moment. Pausing, he turned back and peered down the dark passage behind him, trying to make out who or what had made that sound. But it was impossible to tell in the dimly lit space.

He glanced back in the direction he had been heading, the welcoming bright lights of the street beckoning him towards them. However, he knew if he just left only to later find out someone had been in trouble and he could have helped, he would never be able to live with himself. So, reluctantly, he walked deeper into the alley.

The streetlight was broken back here, but as Bob ventured further, he was eventually able to make out a figure on the ground, leaning against the far wall. He still couldn’t see the person’s face, but as he neared, he recognized the designer jeans and cowboy boot on the outstretched leg.

“Jake? Is that you?” Bob took a few hesitant steps closer to the man at the end of the alley. “Did you have too many drinks again?”

The only response was another moan.

Bob chewed on his lip while he considered his options. This wouldn’t be the first time Jake had overindulged and wound up passed out in a random location, but Javy or Bradley were usually around to deal with him. This was the first time Bob had stumbled into this situation on his own and he wasn’t sure what to do. Finally, he called out, “I’m going to go get Javy so he can take you home.”

But as Bob turned to go back into the club, he heard a weak “B-Bob?” that made him freeze in place, his blood running cold. That single word whispered in through the darkness was laced with such pain and fear—two things he had never heard in Jake’s voice before. This wasn’t just another case of Jake drinking himself stupid. Something was very wrong here.

Slowly, Bob turned back towards the figure. “Jake? A-are you okay?” When he didn’t get a response, he walked closer and gasped. “Oh my god,” Bob breathed as he got his first good look at the man lying before him. No…not him. Not Jake…

Jake Seresin lay crumpled against the brick wall in a frighteningly large pool of what appeared to be his own blood. His clothes which had been immaculate only an hour before were now ruined. His favorite leather jacket was missing, his tight shirt was torn in multiple places, and everything was stained a deep red. Bob never realized a person could lose that much blood and still be conscious.

But his face…Jake’s face was the worst part. His once handsome, Adonis-like face was now mangled almost to the point of being unrecognizable. Blood matted his hair into thick dark clumps which were plastered against his face. His lip was split wide with a trail of blood leaking over his chin, down his neck, and onto his chest. Bob couldn’t be certain, but through the gore, it appeared as if Jake might also be missing a tooth or two. One eye was swollen shut while the other was bloodshot and dilated as it struggled to focus on Bob.

“Hey, Bobby.” Jake shifted slightly—unable to do much more than that—and tilted his head so his “good” eye was turned towards Bob. His voice was raspy and weak, but a smile ghosted across his face. “Are you really here or is this a dream?”

More like a nightmare, Bob thought as he knelt beside Jake. He was so focused on his friend that he didn’t pay attention to where he was kneeling and he immediately felt something sticky and warm seeping into the fabric of his jeans. He gagged when he realized it was Jake’s blood, but tried to push that thought aside for now.

Bob carefully rested his hand on Jake’s outstretched leg so he could feel that he was real. “No, I’m really here. What happened to you?” However, as Jake opened his mouth, Bob shook his head. “No, wait, it doesn’t matter right now. I need to get you help and fast.”

“Bobby…”

Bob ignored him as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. His hands were trembling so much it took him three attempts to finally dial 911. As soon as he heard the line pick up, Bob stammered, “H-hello? My friend was hurt o–or attacked or something. I just found him in an alley and he’s bleeding really badly… like really badly. There’s so much blood and I-I-I don’t know what to do!” Bob tried to keep his voice as calm as possible, yet he couldn’t help the slight tremble in his words.

The woman on the other end asked for his location and Bob did his best to describe how to find them down the dark alleyway. She thanked him and promised to send help as soon as possible. However, it did little to ease the panic in Bob’s chest as he hung up.

Next, he tried calling Javy, then Nat, then Bradley, then Javy again, but none of them picked up. The noise of the club was probably drowning out their phones.

Resigned to the fact he was in this alone, Bob turned his focus back to Jake. “The ambulance should be here soon. You’re gonna be okay.” He felt the bitterness the words left on his tongue and he prayed they weren’t a lie. “C-can I do anything? Make you more comfortable?”

“You’re here,” Jake mumbled, his finger tapping Bob’s knee. “Isn’t that enough?”

Bob choked back a sob. No. It wasn’t enough. It was killing him to see Jake—strong, cocky, confident Jake—like this and knowing there was little he could do to ease his pain. Bob still couldn’t believe any of this was real, that Jake was actually lying here bleeding out before his eyes. “What happened?”

“Was tryna be a hero. Followed a girl out here and saw she was cornered by four or five scary-lookin’ guys so I stepped in. Got her behind me, thought she was safe, ‘til the bitch literally stabbed me in the back.” Jake shifted to the right slightly with an agonizing groan and Bob could see a deep gash on his back rapidly oozing blood. He quickly removed his jacket and pressed it against the wound as Jake hissed. “Guess it was all an act and I fell for it. Then her buddies beat the shit outta me and took my stuff.”

“What stuff?”

“Everythin’. Watch, wallet, phone—” his breath hitched slightly in his throat “—even my ring.”

Bob glanced down to see the knuckle on Jake’s empty right ring finger bent awkwardly and swollen to almost three times its normal size. The thieves must have ripped the ring off his finger without considering how it would hurt Jake. His finger was almost assuredly broken, maybe worse.

Yet more than the physical pain it must have caused him, Bob could only imagine how devastated Jake must be to lose it. It had been his older brother’s class ring that Jake had inherited after he was killed by a drunk driver when Jake was fifteen. In the three years Bob had known him, Jake had only ever taken the ring off for football games, then it was immediately returned to his finger the second he stepped off the field. Jake would have fought with everything he had to keep that ring, which explained why the injury to his finger seemed so severe.

“I’m sorry, Jake. But I’m sure he’d understand.”

Jake chuckled, a tear rolling down his cheek. “Ty would have been mad I fought so hard to keep it. ‘It’s just a stupid ring, Jakey. It’s not worth your fuckin’ life.’” But then his smile dropped, a slight grimace of pain shooting across it as he moved the injured parts of his face. In a thick voice, he choked out, “But it was all I had left of him, you know? I couldn’t just…I couldn’t just let them take it.”

As more tears streamed down Jake’s face, Bob nodded before turning away to give his friend a moment of privacy. He glanced down the alleyway, the light from the street just a faint glow in the distance. It worried him that even once help arrived, they might have trouble finding them tucked all the way back here in the darkness.

Turning back to Jake—who had composed himself once more— Bob asked, “Do you think you could walk a little if I helped get you to your feet?”

“Seein’ that I can’t feel my feet right now, I doubt it.” A full-body shiver passed through Jake. When he spoke again, there was a slight quiver in his voice. “Man, I thought San Diego was supposed to be warm this time of year. It’s fuckin’ freezin’ tonight.”

Bob didn’t have the heart to tell him that it was currently close to 90°F and the coldness he was feeling was probably due to blood loss.

He glanced back towards the street. “Then maybe I should go wait closer to the entrance so they can find us.” He started to stand up. “I’ll be rig–”

“No. Please, stay.” Jake’s hand brushed against Bob’s leg as his voice trembled. “I…I don’t wanna be alone.” The vulnerability and fear in his voice nearly shattered Bob’s heart. There was an unspoken meaning to his words, but they both knew what he was really saying.

Bob sunk back to the ground, taking Jake’s uninjured left hand and squeezing it tightly. “That’s not gonna happen. And I’m not going anywhere. The ambulance is on its way and they’re going to help. You just have to hold on a bit longer.” Tears began slipping from his eyes, fogging his glasses, but he didn’t dare let go of Jake’s hand to clean them off. “Jake, I can’t…I need you to be okay. So I won’t go anywhere, but you can’t either. Okay?”

Jake slowly reached up—his right hand trembling from the effort—and cupped Bob’s cheek. His hand was ice cold and sticky with blood, but Bob leaned gently into his caress which made a soft smile flicker across Jake’s face. In a voice barely over a whisper, he murmured, “I’m glad it was you.” Then, his eyes drifted shut and his whole body went limp, his hand slipping from Bob’s cheek and splashing into the pool of his own blood on the pavement.

“J-Jake?” Bob felt his heart stop as he stared at the still body of his friend. He squeezed Jake’s hand tighter where it was still clutched in his own, silently begging for even the slightest of signs that he was okay. But Jake didn’t even flinch. “Hey?! Stay with me, okay? Please, Jake. Don’t leave me. You got to hold on. For me…please. I can’t—”

Bob’s head snapped up as he heard a siren off in the distance steadily growing closer. He wanted to jump up and sprint down the alley, screaming for them to hurry, to help Jake before it was too late. But he had made him a promise. He wasn’t going to leave him, no matter what.

So, as Bob saw dark shapes moving at the edge of the glowing entrance to the alley, he took a deep breath and cried at the top of his lungs, “Help! We’re back here! Please! We need help! Someone! PLEASE!”

For a moment, nothing happened. Then he saw three figures making their way down the alley, a gurney rolling unevenly across the broken pavement. They had lights attached to their shirts and Bob blinked as they got closer, the sudden brightness temporarily blinding him. He heard one of the men mutter, “Oh, fuck. I thought dispatch said there was only one victim.”

Realizing how gory he must look, Bob raised his hand to shield his face from the light. “I-I’m okay. It’s just my friend. Please, you have to help him.”

The three men bent down and began to examine Jake. It was only then that Bob pried his hand off of Jake’s and stepped back, giving them room to work. They muttered softly between themselves before one—a spiky-haired blond with piercing blue eyes—turned to look at Bob. “Hey, kid. What’s your name?”

“B-bob.”

“Bob, can you tell me what happened to your friend?”

Bob tried to think of where to start. “H-his name’s Jake. We came to the club with a group of friends. I-I wanted to go home so I came through the back and found him…” He shuddered as he remembered almost walking away when he first heard Jake’s moan of pain. “He said he was stabbed and beaten up by thr–no! Four or five guys. And there was a girl with them too. They took all his stuff and ran off. He was alone when I found him.”

“So, you called it in?” Bob nodded. “And he was still conscious at that point?” Bob nodded again. “Okay, that’s a good sign.”

One of the other paramedics, a taller muscular man with darker spiked hair and a broad forehead, caught the first man’s attention. “We’re good.”

The first man nodded and all three men stood up. Carefully, they lifted Jake and placed him on the gurney. Bob nearly sobbed with relief as Jake groaned softly as they moved him. It was the first sign of life he had shown since his hand slipped from Bob’s face. But a pained Jake was an alive Jake, and that was something Bob could accept for the moment.

As the paramedic began wheeling Jake down the alleyway, Bob stumbled behind them, his legs feeling weak and unsteady beneath him. He kept his eyes on the uneven ground. But as they neared the entrance of the alley, and Bob heard the paramedics talking about whether it was okay to leave him alone or if they should wait for the police to show up, Bob’s head snapped up.

“No!” He struggled to push his way past the paramedics to reach Jake’s hand once more. “No! I promised! I promised I wouldn’t leave him!”

The first paramedic turned and placed his hand on Bob’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze as he held him back from the gurney. Smiling softly, he said, “And you didn’t. You stayed with him until help got to him. You did good, kid. But now we need space to do our job. We’re taking him to St. Mary’s Hospital a few blocks from here. Do you have someone who can drive you?” Bob nodded, his lips trembling. “Good. Tell the person at the front desk Tom said to let you through. I’ll let them know the situation and make sure they let you see him once he’s stable.”

“Th-thank you.”

The man—Tom—nodded, his smile widening slightly. “He’ll be alright. And it’s all thanks to you, Bob. You saved his life. You should be proud of yourself, kid.” Then, with one last squeeze of his shoulder, Tom turned and hurried back to where the other paramedics were wheeling the gurney to the ambulance.

The sounds of the siren must have cut through the noise inside the club because a large mass of people began streaming out trying to see what all the commotion was about. As Bob reached the end of the alley and stepped back onto the main sidewalk, he saw Nat and Javy exiting the club just in front of him, arm in arm as they strained to see over the crowd to where the lights of the emergency vehicle were flashing.

“Jake?” Javy took a few steps towards the ambulance, his eyes wide in disbelief as he caught a glimpse of the man being loaded into the back. As the paramedics moved aside, giving the mob of onlookers a better look at the victim, Javy bolted forward trying to get to his best friend’s side. “Jake!”

However, he only made it a few steps before Nat grabbed his arm and pulled him back. As Javy struggled against her, she leaned her forehead against his shoulder and murmured, “They’ve got him. You need to let them help and you do that by staying out of their way. Let them do their job.”

Javy continued to fight for another moment before slumping into her embrace. His eyes remained fixed on his teammate, his roommate, his best friend as they began loading Jake into the ambulance. “What the fuck happened to him?”

“He was jumped behind the club. Th-they stabbed him and took his stuff.”

Both Javy and Nat whirled around at the sound of Bob’s voice. Nat gasped as she took in his blood-soaked appearance and immediately ran to his side.

But as she began to fuss over him, her fingers gently running over his body as she checked him for injuries, he shrugged her off, muttering, “It’s okay. It’s not mine.”

“Jake’s?” Bob nodded and her eyes grew wide. “You were there?”

He shook his head. “Not for the attack. I found him afterward when I was heading home. I-I called the ambulance.”

Bob looked down at his hands which were covered in Jake’s blood—clinging to the creases on his palms, buried under his fingernails, dripping slowly off the ends of his fingertips—and the full force of the last twenty minutes hit him like a semi-truck. Now that Jake was out of immediate danger and safely in the hands of those trained to help him, there was nothing to keep Bob from feeling everything he had managed to hold back from the moment he saw his friend lying dying in the alley.

Bursting into tears, Bob sobbed, “There was so much blood, Nat, I-I didn’t know what to do! He tried to be strong, to play it off like he wasn’t that hurt because he knew I was worried, but I’ve never seen Jake like that. So weak and in pain. And he was scared. He didn’t want me to leave him to get help. He didn’t want to be alone. I couldn’t leave him a-alone!” Another sob wracked his body as he remembered the way Jake looked at him just before he passed out. Dread sat like a brick in his chest as he wondered if that was the last time he would see Jake’s smile or those pale green eyes that brought him such joy.

With tears welling up in her own eyes, Nat pulled him into her arms and squeezed him so tightly Bob thought she might break something. “Oh, Bob. Why didn’t you call us?”

“I-I tried but neither of you p-picked up,” he cried, nuzzling his face into her shoulder despite the fact it caused his glasses to dig painfully into the bridge of his nose. The mix of pain and comfort actually helped ground him at the moment.

Javy quickly reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. When he saw the missed calls, he cursed loudly and hurled his phone to the ground, not even flinching as it shattered on the sidewalk. “Fuck!” He crouched down and buried his head in his hands just as the ambulance pulled out, sirens blaring.

Bob felt how tense Nat was beneath his embrace, and he knew she was trying to process everything just as much as the rest of them were. However, ever the level-headed one, she sighed and said, “Okay. Here’s what we’re gonna do.” She rested her hand on Javy’s shoulder. “Were you in Jake’s truck tonight?” He looked up, tears filling his eyes, and nodded. She swore under her breath as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Then we have to go find Bradley. We all came in the Bronco so he’ll have to drive us to the hospital.”

Javy straightened up, a little more composed now that he had a plan to follow. “I’ll track him down. Go see if the police need to get a statement from Bob. Then we’ll all meet in the parking lot.” Nat nodded and Javy pushed his way back into the club.

Now, with all of her attention back on him, Nat asked Bob softly, “Do you think you can talk to the police?”

Bob nodded, but then his face crumpled as another sob escaped his lips. Trembling, he cried, “Nat…I can’t lose him. Not Jake. Not like this.”

The tears that she had been holding back slipped from her eyes as she gathered Bob into her arms. “I know. I’m so sorry, Bob. I’m so sorry you had to be the one to find him and that you had to do this all alone. I know what he means to you.”

Bob squeezed his eyes together tightly. She didn’t know. Not really. She knew that lately Bob had sparked up an unusual friendship with Jake and the two sometimes hung out alone. But Bob had never told her the full story. He never told her how he got butterflies in his stomach whenever Jake called him ‘Bobby’. Or how he offered to tutor Jake in geometry just so he could spend more time with him. Or how his heart almost beats out of his chest when Jake slings his arms across his shoulder when the gang all hangs out together.

He never told her how he kissed Jake on the last night of Spring Break or how, for a moment, it felt like Jake had kissed him back.

But most importantly, Bob had never told her that he was hopelessly, head-over-heels in love with Jake Seresin.

There will be one more part coming 10/28 written from Jake's POV!

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