#i know i drew for hours and it will flop

[hinaliix]

𝓐𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓵 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓗𝓲𝓼 𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓻 🪽

[madbard]

Hey Hozier fans… can we finish the song? Art, lyrics, OC’s, fanart… join in! Go in order or just add your favorite part. Let’s see what we sinners can create.

[gf2bellamy]

obsessed with the idea of a nervous spencer trying to hide his new relationship with a member of his team (reader) during a case where they share a hotel room and bringing up like statistics of secret relationships or something like that and needing the reassurance that everythings fine [i’d like to request non freaky if possible, but it’s ultimately up to you :) ] have a good say!!

secret — spencer reid

pairing : spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: nothing i think ? a/n: thank you for your request !! i absolutely loved this idea it's so cute i hope you like this !! <3

You collapsed onto the bed with a heavy sigh, your muscles aching from hours of travel and the stress of the case. The moment your body hit the soft mattress, you could feel your eyelids growing heavier, and exhaustion seemed to envelop you like a thick blanket.

You were so tired, you could have easily fallen asleep right there, still fully dressed. 

“Don’t fall asleep yet,” Spencer's voice pulled you from your drowsy haze. His voice was soft, almost gentle, but you could hear the amusement in it. “You need to change out of your outside clothes.” 

You groaned, half-heartedly rolling over onto your back, your arm flopping across your eyes. “What for?” you mumbled, not even bothering to lift your head.

Spencer chuckled quietly as he dropped both your bags and his onto the floor with a soft thud. He leaned against the foot of the bed, his eyes scanning your tired form.

“Hotch will probably pull us out of bed in the middle of the night anyway,” you added with a hint of frustration in your tone. “Might as well be ready, right?” 

You cracked open an eye, and there he was—Spencer, standing there with that familiar, sweet smile that made your heart do a little flip. 

“Come on,” he said gently, offering his hand to you, his fingers extended toward you.

You hesitated for a moment, letting out a small sigh of frustration. But something about his smile, about the way he always knew how to make you feel just a little bit lighter, made it hard to resist. 

With a reluctant but trusting motion, you placed your hand in his, allowing him to gently pull you up.

Spencer bent down to grab one of the bags, rummaging through it for a moment before pulling out your favorite hoodie and a pair of soft sweatpants. "Here," he said gently, handing them to you.

His voice was soft, and his eyes sparkled with that quiet affection you’d come to know all too well. "Get changed," he added with a soft tone.

You nodded, too tired to protest, but you smiled softly as you took the clothes from him.

Spencer's kindness and thoughtfulness had always been one of the things that drew you to him.

"Thanks," you murmured. 

As you moved to slip into the clothes, you heard the soft sound of Spencer moving around, followed by the familiar swish of the bathroom door opening and closing.

When you got done changing you walked towards the bathroom leaning against the doorframe. Spencer stood in front of the mirror, his back turned to you as he brushed his teeth.

His curls were slightly messy. You couldn't help but smile at how effortlessly cute he looked in such an ordinary moment.

When Spencer turned to you, his brow raised in that familiar, playful way, you could tell he was about to ask what had you staring at him.

"What?" you teased, your smile soft and genuine. "Can't I admire my boyfriend?" The words slipped out with ease, the affection in your voice undeniable. 

You could see the color rise up his neck, creeping toward his cheeks, and a small, bashful smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

It was always so easy to make him blush, and it never failed to make your heart flutter. 

With a quiet chuckle, you turned away from him, walking toward the bed. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. He was so wonderfully endearing, and moments like this made everything else fade into the background. 

After a few moments, you heard the quiet rustle of him finishing in the bathroom. When you glanced up at him, you saw him standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed, watching you.

Now, he was the one staring at you, his gaze soft.

For a moment, the weight of the silence between you two seemed to stretch out.

"Do you think they know?" he asked suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes avoided yours as he spoke, staring at the floor as if there was something there he needed to focus on. 

"Who's 'they'?" you asked, your voice laced with confusion. You tilted your head, feeling a shift in the air. You pulled the blanket up, making space for him beside you. "And know what?" 

He hesitated before answering, his fingers twitching slightly as he shut the bathroom door behind him. "The team," he finally muttered, lowering his gaze even more. "About us." 

He sat beside you, but there was a certain distance in the way he sat—fidgeting, picking at the blanket between you two. You watched him carefully, your curiosity piqued.

You sat up, turning your body fully toward him, narrowing your eyes as you tried to figure out what he was feeling. "Spence," you said softly, trying to catch his gaze. "What are you worried about?" 

He sighed deeply, his eyes now locked on his hands, which had become absorbed in the folds of the blanket. “I just… I don’t know." His voice was shaky now, as if trying to force out a thought that wasn’t easy to say. "It’s not uncommon for people in our line of work to keep things like this secret. But... I mean, statistically speaking, workplace relationships tend to end up in complications, and... and with our jobs being so stressful, we have to maintain a certain level of professionalism and—" 

You watched him ramble, his words rushing out as if he couldn’t stop them, his mind running in a thousand directions at once.

You could see it—the way his brow furrowed, and his lips moved quickly, barely taking a breath between sentences.

His eyes remained fixed on the blanket, his thoughts clearly all over the place. 

You scooted a bit closer, your body naturally gravitating toward his as you reached out to gently place your hand on his, stopping him from fiddling with the blanket. His hands immediately stilled under yours, the restless motion ceasing.

He exhaled softly, his shoulders slumping as if he'd finally realized how much he'd been overthinking. "Sorry," he mumbled, his voice filled with a mix of apology and frustration. 

You shook your head, your thumb brushing across the back of his hand as you gave him a soft, comforting smile. "Don’t apologize," you said quietly, your voice warm and understanding. You could see the way his mind was still spinning. You brushed his hair out of his face, your fingers lingering on his cheek for more than just a second.

“Spence,” you called his name softly, practically asking him to meet your gaze.

His hazel eyes were filled with the familiar vulnerability you knew so well, and you couldn’t help but soften at the sight. 

“You know they’re not just our team, right?” you continued, your voice filled with care. “We practically spend our entire day with them. They’re like family.” You studied his face, trying to convey the depth of your feelings. "So what if they find out?" 

Spencer blinked, his eyes searching yours as if weighing your words. You watched him closely, waiting for him to process it.

You could feel the tension in him, the doubt still lingering.

You smiled softly, knowing you had to push this a little further, to make him see things from your perspective. “The worst thing that could happen would be Garcia and Derek annoying us all day,” you teased lightly, a playful note creeping into your voice. 

At that, Spencer let out a quiet chuckle, his lips curving up into a small, amused smile. You watched as the tension in his shoulders slowly eased. 

“I can already hear Garcia asking us a thousand questions,” he muttered, half-laughing at the image in his head. “Derek would be all over it, too—probably making terrible jokes about us.”

You grinned, teasing him lightly. “I can already hear Garcia asking if we’ve picked out the wedding colors yet. And Derek? He’ll probably be calling us ‘lovebirds’ for the next week.”

Spencer chuckled, his shoulders shaking slightly as he imagined the teasing they'd get from their teammates. “Yeah, and Morgan will act like he’s our unofficial wedding planner,” he said, rolling his eyes in mock annoyance. “He’d probably try to get us to elope in Vegas or something.”

You burst out laughing at the thought of Derek’s over-the-top antics. “Honestly, that sounds like something he’d suggest." You smiled playfully at him.

He looked down at you , his expression turning slightly serious.

His eyes warm and fond, but there was still a hint of uncertainty lingering in his gaze. “I just don’t want things to get weird, you know? Between us, or with the team.”

You softened, your heart going out to him. You reached up, gently cupping his cheek to get him to look at you, a reassuring smile on your lips. “Spencer, we’ve been through a lot together, and if anyone’s going to understand, it’s them. We’re a team, and they’ll support us—no matter what. I promise.”

 Without thinking, you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin against your lips.

Spencer blinked in surprise, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush, and he turned to you with a soft smile that made your heart flutter. “Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice sincere as he gazed at you with warmth in his eyes. 

You smiled back, reaching over to gently pat his hand. “Anytime,” you said.

“How about we sleep now?” you added, a slightly tired look in your eyes.

Spencer nodded without hesitation, giving you a small, relieved smile as he stood up to turn off the nightlight.

You scooted over, making space for him, and before long, he was lying beside you, pulling you gently into his chest. 

The warmth of his body surrounded you, and you rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

 "Good night," Spencer murmured softly, his voice barely more than a breath.

You smiled, your eyes fluttering shut as you snuggled closer, your fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt. “Good night, Spence,” you whispered back, your voice soft and content. 

[cntloup]

Imagine lying in bed with Simon, after him fucking your brains out. 😗😗😗

And you trace your finger softly on all the scars scattering the muscular planes of his chest (totally a ‘you drew star around my scars’ typa moment)

And he just shudders at your soft touch and he himself can’t believe how pure, innocent and caring you are.

He nuzzles his head closer to you and whispers how much he appreciates your love and just becomes this big ol’softie

omg this is so sweet and beautiful babes <333 i know you said chest but i changed it to match the gif sorry if this is not what you wanted :(

He flops down on you after ploughing into your tight pretty hole for hours and giving you mind-blowing orgasm after orgasm.

You're both panting heavily, content fucked-out smiles dancing on your faces.

He lays his head on your chest as he remains inside you.

You softly caress his nape, running your fingers gently through his hair.

Your hands begin to wander around, roam across the various scars painting his back and sides.

The pads of your fingers delicately trail along the lines, drawing different shapes and figures.

The pure love you feel for him pours out of your fingertips as they dance around his body.

And he trembles under your tender touch, his heart swelling with immense love and devotion, only for you.

Your warmth engulfs his entire being, body and soul as he's fully immersed in your embrace.

And he lifts his head to look into your beautiful eyes as they glint in the moonlight.

"Thank you." he whispers before capturing your lips with his in a sweet kiss.

"I love you, Si." you murmur against his lips.

"I love you too, dove." he mutters, connecting your lips again as you tighten your arms around him.

the gif got flagged so i posted a screenshot of it :(

[obx-4-life]

Teach me...

Bsf!rafe × inexperienced!reader

Warnings: Mastrubation (fem reader), use of doll, and princess, Rafe being a softie, fingering, virgin reader, inexperienced reader. 18+ MDNI

A/n: Sorry if this is no good, it was rushed and I didn't have time to proofread. Let me know what you think or if you'd want a part two. Loved writing a story for Rafe x reader. Tysm guys <3

Please don't copy my work

(Divider isn't mine, credits to whoever made it <3)

For a while now, every single time you saw your best friend, Rafe, you left with an achy feeling in your lower stomach. You wondered why? How? He's your friend, it's wrong, you can't want him.

Today was particularly difficult to peel your eyes away from his perfectly sculpted muscles as you sat on the beach together. Every touch set your body on fire, growing more and more desperate each time.

You managed to control yourself for those few hours, but when you got home, you could feel your core throbbing, begging for Rafe. You flop down onto your bed, drifting away in your thoughts, how hot your best friend looked when he unintentionally flexed his muscles, licked his bottom lip, smiled at you, gazed into your eyes. You felt like you were constantly being teased.

Without realising it, too busy daydreaming, your fingers had slipped below the hem of your panties, desperate for some sort of relief.

You tried rubbing your clit, using your fingers on your self, but it wasn't enough, you needed more and didn't know what to do about it. So you did what anyone else would do, ask their friend for help. It's just help, he's just my friend, I just trust him enough to show me how to have a good time, just that, nothing more... You try to convince yourself that you don't like Rafe, but how couldn't you, everything about him drew you in, made you want to be his, and his only.

So you text him.

You: "I know this is gonna sound so weird, but I need your help"

Rafe: "what with?"

You: "can't get myself off, and there's no one else I trust enough to talk to about this kinda stuff, and I really need some help right now, Rafe"

Rafe: "ok, ok, I'll be round in 5 minutes, yeah?"

You: "thanks Rafey"

Rafe has a key to your house, so he just walks in. He finds you sprawled out on your bed, your cheeks flushed pink, and a frustrated look on your face.

"Hey Rafe. Thanks for helping me with this"

"Mhm, no problem doll. How'd you want me?"

"Your fingers... please... I don't know how to do it to myself properly, I've never uhm well, you know"

"Finished or fucked?"

"Both" you admit shyly.

Rafe sits down next to you, reassuring you, he begins to whisper things into your ear to prepare you to take his fingers but you quietly mumble you "m'already really wet, Rafey".

He looks up to you, silently asking for you if you're ok with this, when you nod, he pulls down your panties before gently pushing your legs apart a bit further than they already were.

You'd heard Rafe fucking girls before, he was always rough and degrading, but here, now, he was sweet, caring, just like the boy you've been friends with all these years, you were the only person to see his soft side and you were eternally thankful for that.

"Y'ok with this, doll?"

You bite your bottom lip and nod. Rafe drags his long, thick, middle finger along your slit, collecting your juices and nudging his finger against your tight, pink, hole. He gently inserts his digit and you let out a whimper, not used to the feeling. His fingers are much bigger than yours and he's way more skilled at knowing the exact angles to position his fingers at.

"Mhm Rafey, you can move it."

He draws his finger back out before sinking it back into you, your gummy walls tightly clenching around his digit.

"Fuck, princess, you're so tight"

After a while, you get used to the feeling, mewls of pleasure slipping out of your mouth. Rafe notices this and adds a second finger and then proceeds to curl them, immediately finding the sensitive spot that makes you moan almost pornographically.

He repeatedly curls his fingers, hitting that spot each time until your walls flutter around him before you come undone. You orgasm coating his fingers in your juices.

Part 2...?

[butwhyduh]

honestly jdk just tim drake x reader where one/or multiple of the batfam walks in?? i just find them entertaining, or they are continually being interrupted through the day!

Warning: eventual smut and Tim is done with everyone’s shit. If it’s not the end of the world, don’t call me- level done. And you can tell it’s fanfic because Tim is actually an adult.

Tim didn’t get into shows very often. He’s busy and he has a terrible habit of falling asleep after the first 10 minutes. He didn’t want to watch the show but he was tinkering with some of his tech while sitting on the couch and you put it on. And that’s how he got sucked in.

“And Daphne said yes to that? Drew is not good enough to lie to her friends over,” he said and you started telling him the backstory.

You binge watch the next few episodes to catch up to the new season. It was a fun and scandalous show, nothing like Tim’s usual picks. And he thought it was cute how animated you were when talking about the show.

“Trevor needs to get his shit together or not only is Naomi going to leave him, he’ll go to jail,” Tim said.

“Yeah but he owes the local crime boss money and he said he’d kill his family otherwise,” you countered.

“Sounds like Gotham,” Tim quipped. You lightly smacked his arm before laying your head on his shoulder and entangling your arm in his.

“That is not comforting,” you said. “Oo they’re going to tell us who took the diamonds!”

The bat phone started ringing almost off the coffee table. You groaned and let Tim go to sit up to answer that.

“The corner of 17 and Parkway? How many combatants?” He said in Bat speak. And that’s when you knew your date night was over. He hung up and turned to you looking apologetic.

“I have to go,” he said. You sighed but pulled him into a hug.

“Be safe. I’ll be here,” you said with practices familiarity. He kissed you before grabbing his stuff and leaving. He didn’t get back until hours later with some fresh bruises and a girlfriend asleep on the couch.

It was 2 days later that you tried to continue the show. Tim had told Bruce to call someone else first. The door was locked and his phone was on silence. You’d even given him some pretty good incentives if you were uninterrupted and alone after the show.

It was all of ten minutes into the continued episode with pho takeout on the way that the fire escape window opened. In flopped Nightwing covered in mud.

“No,” Tim groaned. You huffed before pausing the show. “Do you need help?”

“Only a bit,” Dick said as the understatement of the year. He let Tim look at him to find that he was leaking blood all over the carpet from a bullet wound in his thigh. “Only a graze. Do you have a bandaid?”

“Good lord,” you replied as Tim called Alfred. You quickly grabbed a towel to stop the bleeding.

It was a few hours later and a carpet cleaner before Nightwing and your carpet were patched up. By that time it was the middle of the night and you couldn’t concentrate on anything. Tim promised a date night another day.

This one was a whole week later. All of the Robins had been warned under pain of torture to not talk to Tim for that evening. Because Tim was to put it mildly, frustrated. You two hadn’t had alone time in over a week.

You started the show back up with all entrances locked and phones off. You were able to watch the next 15 minutes before you heard broken glass.

“Hey did you know your window was locked,” Superboy said standing in front of the window. Tim practically growled before pausing the show to shove Kon out the window.

“I don’t know what you need but the other members of Young Justice are available. Call them,” Tim said but it was already too late. The wind had blown into the room and it was starting to snow outside so he couldn’t exactly ignore the window. Once again date night was canceled.

Tim was so frustrated that he had dreams about you in his bed. It was almost a week later and now 3 episodes behind on the show that you had another date night. He was almost willing to skip the show entirely at this point just to have alone time.

Tim had practically threatened everyone he knew with death threats to leave you both alone.

“Someone is feeling the mode,” Bart joked.

“You mean, someone needs to get laid,” Kon added.

“At this point, yes! I don’t want to see, hear, or think of either of you tonight. Unless it’s the  apocalypse, then I don’t want to even know about it,” he growled. The two other heroes howled with laughter as he left.

You could tell Tim was distracted and preoccupied by the way his hand gripped and squeezed your thigh. He gave you frequent kisses between scenes. As the episode ended, Tim pounced.

“Tim!” You gasped as he pushed you to lay on the couch before the credits were even done. It turned to a moan as his hand slid between your thighs to rub you through your panties.

“It’s been way too long,” he groaned as he kissed down your throat. He was almost never this aggressive and it was dizzying. He pushed your panties to the side to finger you.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped as he hit deep inside you. His hips rubbed his hard cock against you. He pulled at your shirt with one hand.

“Take it off,” he groaned with impatience. Before you had even gotten the fabric over your head, he had attacked your chest. Pulling a nipple into his mouth and sucking hard while fingering you thoroughly had you whimpering.

You shoved down his pants to grasp him in a loose fist. Tim rutted into your hand while sloppily kissing across your chest.

“Please, want you,” you whined and he wasted no time sliding in. Your back arched with a gasp. His arm reached behind your back and Tim took his time with long deep strokes.

This pleasure cycle couldn’t last forever and you both finished far too soon. Tim kissed you softly and gently.

“We can continue this later. I think the food is here,” he said.

“Sounds good,” you said adjusting your clothes and sitting up. “I’ll be right back,” you added as you went to clean up.

Tim answered the door in his messied hair and haphazardly placed clothes. Instead of the food delivery guy, it was Jason standing with his food box. Tim frowned.

“What do you want?”

“Pizza anyone?”

“Leave,” tim growled, taking the box. Jason laughed.

“Interrupting something?” Tim almost slammed the door in his face. “Hey, I just need keys to the Robin motorbike,” Jason added. “Oh I didn’t know you watched that show. Can you believe that in last week’s episode, it was the mom all along. Wild hu?”

Tim sighed before throwing the keys at Jason. “Go away.” He slammed the door.

“Well that sucks,” you said across the room.

Tim locked the door and sat the pizza box on the table. “I’m gonna be honest, and that is that I really just want to finish what we started before pizza. I’m not picky where.”

You laughed before letting him grab you fireman style over his shoulder to drag you into the bedroom. There was no way you were answering the door after that.

[rafeskai]

Starstruck | Drew Starkey

Chapter Three

Summary: In the bustling crowd of a premiere event for Outer Banks, you find yourself caught up in a chaotic moment, lost in the sea of fans. Desperate for a way out, you stumble into an alley where fate leads you to an unexpected—and painful—encounter with Drew Starkey. What starts as a simple misstep soon spirals into something far more complicated, and your life takes an unexpected turn.

Pairings: Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Author's Note: SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO UPDATE OMG. HERE'S A LONG CHAPTER FOR Y'ALL.

Masterlist Here

The faint buzz of your phone woke you before the sun had fully risen. Groggily, you reached for it, expecting some random notification or perhaps an email that could wait. But as you squinted at the screen, Ava’s name popped up, her message in all caps: “CHECK TMZ NOW.”

You rubbed your eyes and mumbled, “What?” It was too early for any kind of drama, but Ava rarely texted in all caps unless it was something urgent—or, more likely, celebrity gossip. Your curiosity finally nudged you to open your browser and type in the site’s name.

The headline on TMZ’s homepage made your stomach drop:

“DREW STARKEY SPOTTED WITH MYSTERIOUS WOMAN”

Your breath hitched as you clicked on the article. There it was: a grainy photo of Drew and you, blurry but unmistakably you. Your heart pounded in your chest. The mask you’d been wearing at the bar covered most of your face, and the dim lighting made it difficult to make out any details. But the white tank top, courtesy of Ava’s insistent styling, was unmistakable.

The article buzzed with speculation.

“Who’s the masked woman spotted with Drew Starkey last night? The Outer Banks star was seen leaving an intimate LA hotspot with an unidentified companion. Sources say the two appeared comfortable and spent several hours together inside the bar. Could this be Drew’s latest flame? Or just a casual night out? Our team are on the case!”

Your stomach churned. You scrolled through the comments section.

“Another mysterious nobody who’ll ghost him in two weeks, I bet.”

“Imagine being her. I’d die to just breathe the same air as Drew Starkey.”

“The way she’s covering her face... suspicious much?”

“She’s definitely hiding something. Maybe she’s married?”

A few deep breaths later, you set your phone down, but the sense of dread didn’t leave. Before you could even collect your thoughts, Ava burst into your room, her messy hair looking like a halo of chaos.

“Y/N!” she squeaked, waving her phone around frantically. “You’re famous.”

You groaned, falling back onto the futon. “No, I’m not. No one even knows it’s me.”

“They will,” Ava said with way too much enthusiasm. “TMZ doesn’t just let this go. They’ll start connecting the dots—who was at the premiere, who’s wearing that outfit in public, and eventually, they’ll figure it out. It’s only a matter of time.”

You ran your hands through your hair. “I’m never wearing that outfit again.”

Ava ignored you, pacing back and forth. “Look, we have two options. One: deny everything, keep your head down, and hope the internet finds someone else to obsess over. Or two: lean into it. You’re the enigmatic mystery woman. Milk it for all it’s worth.”

You shot her a flat look. “Option two isn’t happening.”

“Fine, fine,” Ava said with a dramatic sigh, flopping onto the futon next to you. “But come on! You have to admit, it’s kind of cool. You’re the first non-celebrity girl to pop up in Drew Starkey’s dating rumors without getting immediately torn apart. That means something.”

“Yeah,” you muttered, rubbing your temples, “it means I have to be extra careful. I don’t want my life blasted all over the internet.”

“Don’t worry,” Ava reassured you, her hand resting gently on your shoulder. “We’ll figure it out. And honestly? If Drew’s as decent as he seemed, he won’t let this get weird.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Later that afternoon, as you sat in the corner of your room, your phone buzzed again. This time, the name on the screen made your heart skip: Drew.

Drew: “Hey, you good? Saw the TMZ thing. Sorry if this is overwhelming. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

You stared at his message for a moment, a mix of relief and panic flooding you. You could feel the weight of the situation pressing down. Part of you wanted to brush it off, pretend it wasn’t a big deal. But another part of you—the one that was still a little overwhelmed by the chaos—was grateful for his words of concern.

You: “I’m fine. Just... not used to this. Do you deal with this kind of thing a lot?”

Drew: “More than I’d like, yeah. But it usually blows over fast. People move on to the next headline. If you need me to talk to PR or anything, I can.”

You winced at the thought of involving PR—public statements, press releases—it all felt too formal, too... invasive.

You: “I don’t think it’s necessary. As long as they don’t figure out it’s me, I’ll survive.”

There was a pause before Drew’s response came through.

Drew: “If it helps, you’re handling this way better than I did the first time TMZ came for me. If you need to vent or just want a distraction, hit me up.”

His offer to just talk made you smile. You weren’t entirely sure what to say back, so you typed a quick reply, thanking him for the message, and then set your phone down.

As the day wore on, things quieted down. TMZ didn’t update the story, and the internet’s attention began to shift. Without a clear shot of your face or any definitive details about your identity, people started to lose interest. But that didn’t mean it was over for you. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The day crawled forward, each passing hour a mix of relief and unease. It seemed TMZ's interest in Drew’s “mystery woman” had dwindled without a fresh lead to stoke the flames. By early evening, the frenzy online was noticeably quieter.

Still, the tension in the air lingered, like a storm that had passed but left the skies unsettled.

Ava had mercifully stopped treating the situation like a red-carpet event. She sat cross-legged on the living room floor, scrolling aimlessly through her phone while munching on a bag of popcorn. You paced nearby, trying to shake off the knot of nerves in your stomach.

Then your phone buzzed. It was Drew again.

Drew: “Can I come over for a bit? Just got done with a photoshoot and paparazzi are everywhere outside my place, and I need to lay low for a while.”

Your heart leapt at the thought of him showing up at your apartment—your quiet, nondescript little corner of the city suddenly becoming a refuge for Drew Starkey. You glanced at Ava, who raised an eyebrow as she noticed your sudden stillness.

You: “Yeah, sure. How are you going to get here without being seen?”

Drew: “I’ll figure it out. I know a back way in. Just text me your address.”

You hesitated for a moment, then sent the details. It wasn’t long before he replied.

Drew: “Be there in 15. Thanks, by the way.”

The next 15 minutes passed in a blur. You hurriedly cleared the living room of any clutter, your nerves bubbling into a chaotic energy. Ava, meanwhile, perched on the couch with a dazed grin, clearly trying to play it cool but failing miserably.

When the soft knock finally came at the door, your pulse quickened. Ava bolted upright, her excitement palpable. “This is it,” she whispered, clutching the couch cushion like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

You opened the door, and there he was—Drew, in a plain hoodie and baseball cap, looking like any regular guy. He offered a small smile, his eyes scanning the hallway before stepping inside.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Thanks for this.”

“No problem,” you replied, closing the door behind him. “Figured you could use some peace.”

Ava, standing awkwardly by the couch, let out a shaky laugh. “Hi. Um. Wow. Hi.”

Drew chuckled, clearly used to this reaction but handling it with grace. “Hey. You must be Ava.”

She nodded rapidly, then promptly sat back down, her face bright red. Drew turned to you, his smile warm but tired. “I hope I’m not imposing.”

“Not at all,” you said, motioning for him to sit. “Make yourself at home.”

As he settled onto the couch, Ava finally seemed to snap out of her starstruck trance—at least a little. “Do you need anything? Water? Snacks? I have... popcorn?” she offered, holding up the bag as if it were a peace offering.

Drew smiled. “Popcorn sounds great, actually.”

Ava handed over the bag, then promptly excused herself to the kitchen under the guise of making tea, though you suspected she just needed a moment to compose herself. That left you and Drew alone in the living room.

“So,” he said, leaning back slightly. “How’s your day been? Any more chaos?”

You laughed softly. “Thankfully, no. The internet seems to be moving on. I think we’re in the clear.”

“That’s good,” he said, popping a kernel of popcorn into his mouth. “I feel bad for dragging you into this.”

“It’s not your fault,” you said, sitting down on the armchair across from him. “It’s not like you invited TMZ to follow you.”

He gave a wry smile. “Still, I appreciate you being so cool about it. Most people would be freaking out.”

“I think Ava freaked out enough for both of us,” you joked, glancing toward the kitchen. Drew laughed, the sound light and genuine, and you couldn’t help but feel the tension in the room ease.

Over the next hour, the conversation flowed surprisingly easily. Drew talked about his hectic schedule, his favorite low-key spots in LA, and a few funny on-set stories that had you laughing until your sides hurt. Ava eventually returned, having calmed down enough to join in without squealing every time Drew spoke.

As the evening wore on, the initial awkwardness faded entirely. Drew’s presence felt natural—like he belonged there, sitting on your couch, sharing popcorn and swapping stories. It was almost too easy to forget who he was, how absurd this situation really was.

At one point, Ava let out a dramatic yawn and stretched. “I’m gonna call it a night,” she said, giving you a not-so-subtle wink before retreating to her room.

That left you and Drew alone again, the apartment quiet except for the faint hum of the city outside. He leaned back against the couch, his gaze soft as he looked at you.

“Thanks again for letting me crash here,” he said. “I really needed a break from... all of it.”

You smiled. “Anytime. Seriously. It’s nice having company.”

He held your gaze for a moment, and you felt a flutter of something unspoken pass between you. Then he grinned, breaking the moment. “Well, if TMZ ever finds out about this, at least I’ll have a great story to tell.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The evening stretched on, a slow dance of easy conversation and laughter. It felt surreal—Drew Starkey, the star of Outer Banks and Queer, sitting in your living room, eating popcorn and talking about his favorite movies like any regular person. But the longer he stayed, the more normal everything felt. He wasn’t a celebrity in this space. He was just Drew, the guy sitting across from you, making you laugh and sharing little bits of his world.

Ava had retreated to her room after her not-so-subtle hint about bedtime, leaving you and Drew alone in the living room. You didn’t mind—it gave you the space to talk without interruptions, to get to know each other a little more.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Drew said after a pause, setting the popcorn down on the coffee table and shifting slightly on the couch. “What do you do when you’re not dealing with... all of this?”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little at the way he gestured vaguely around the room “Nothing nearly as exciting as your life, that’s for sure.”

He smiled, his eyes softening. “I’m sure that’s not true, although it’s definitely a different world, being in the spotlight like this.” He paused for a moment, his tone thoughtful. “I think people forget that celebrities are just people, you know?”

“I think people forget that about anyone, really,” you said with a shrug. “Everyone’s got their own thing going on. Whether you’re famous or not, it’s all the same. We all have our struggles, our ups and downs.”

“Yeah,” he agreed quietly, nodding. “I think that’s what I miss most sometimes. Just... being able to go out without feeling like everyone’s watching, analyzing your every move.”

You looked at him, the weight of his words sinking in. You hadn’t really considered how strange it must be to live under that kind of constant scrutiny. You found yourself wanting to offer him something more than just sympathy. “You don’t have to be ‘Drew Starkey’ tonight,” you said gently. “You’re just... Drew. And I’m just me. No TMZ, no cameras, no headlines.”

His smile returned, a little softer this time. “I like that. I really like that.”

The conversation drifted effortlessly from one topic to another. You talked about favorite childhood memories, your go-to comfort foods, and the last book you’d both read. He listened with an openness that made you feel like you could share just about anything, and the more you spoke, the more at ease you became.

Drew revealed little snippets about his life that were both surprising and comforting. Like how he had a weird obsession with vintage comic books or how, despite being a well-known actor, he still had the same group of friends he’d had since high school. You learned he was surprisingly humble, almost self-deprecating at times, and he had this way of laughing at himself that made him even more relatable.

“You ever go to concerts?” you asked after a moment, trying to steer the conversation toward something lighter.

He grinned, his eyes lighting up. “Oh, I love concerts. I try to hit up a few whenever I can. Nothing like live music, right?”

“Right,” you agreed, smiling back. “There’s just something about the energy in the air. It’s like everyone’s in the same vibe.”

“I’m a sucker for the energy,” Drew said with a nod. “What’s your favorite genre? Or are you more of a ‘whatever’s on’ type?”

“Definitely more of a whatever’s on type,” you said, laughing. “I like a little bit of everything. But I do have a soft spot for indie rock. You?”

“Indie rock, too,” he said without hesitation. “I swear, I could spend hours listening to bands you’ve never heard of and not even care.”

“That’s the best part, though. The discovery,” you said. “I love finding those hidden gems. The stuff that feels like it’s just yours.”

“I totally get that,” Drew agreed, and there was something about the way he said it—like he really meant it—that made you smile. It was nice, sharing something like that with someone, especially someone you’d barely known just a few hours ago.

As the night wore on, the conversation became less about anything significant and more about just... being. The silence that fell between you wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that happens when you’re with someone you trust, someone you don’t feel the need to fill every moment with words.

You glanced over at the clock on the wall and realized it was past midnight. You yawned, your body starting to feel the effects of the long, unexpected day.

“I think I’m about ready for bed,” you said, stretching a little.

Drew chuckled. “Yeah, me too. It’s been a long day.”

“Thanks for hanging out,” you added, not sure if it sounded too casual, but it felt right. “It’s been nice—just, you know, talking and not worrying about anything.”

Drew smiled, his expression sincere. “Yeah, it’s been nice. Really nice. I’m glad I could... hide out here for a while.”

You grinned. “Anytime.”

He stood up from the couch, stretching his legs. “Well, I guess I should let you get some rest. You’ve probably had enough of me by now.”

“Not at all,” you said, standing as well. “But I think I’m gonna crash before I regret it.”

“Fair enough,” Drew said, his voice warm. “Sleep well, Y/N.”

“You too, Drew. And thanks, again,” you said quietly.

With a final smile, Drew grabbed his hoodie and headed toward the door, turning back for one last glance.

“Goodnight,” he said, before stepping out into the night, leaving you standing there, a feeling of warmth spreading through you.

As you made your way back to your room, you realized just how much you’d enjoyed the unexpected company, the quiet conversation, the sense of connection with someone who, for a few hours, was just like you. No drama, no paparazzi—just two people talking about life.

You crawled into bed, your thoughts swirling with everything that had happened, the night’s laughter still echoing softly in your mind. And for the first time that day, you felt... peaceful.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The next morning, you woke up to a quiet, almost peaceful stillness. The events of the previous day felt like a dream—Drew in your living room, hanging out like any other person, sharing stories and laughter. The time spent with him had left you feeling light, surprisingly at ease considering everything that had happened. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d spent an entire night without feeling the weight of your worries, the world of social media, or the endless noise in your head.

You sat up, stretching, and reached for your phone. The screen lit up with a message from Drew.

Drew: "Hey, hope you slept well. I know we just met, but I was wondering if you’d be up for an adventure today. I’ve got a couple days left in LA before work picks back up, and I could use a break from the usual."

Your heart skipped a beat. An adventure? Just the two of you? The idea was tempting, and, honestly, you hadn’t expected him to reach out so soon after everything that had happened. But there was something about his message that felt... genuine. Like he just wanted to spend time with you, not because of the headlines or the drama, but because you’d connected.

You chewed on your lip for a moment, debating the logistics. It was sudden, but at the same time, it felt like a chance to break away from the chaos, to have a normal, carefree day. Maybe that’s exactly what you needed.

You typed back quickly, the excitement creeping in.

You: "I’m in. What do you have in mind?"

A few minutes later, his reply came through, and you couldn’t help but grin.

Drew: "Perfect. How about we start with a hike? I’ve heard this great spot in the hills with a killer view of the city. We can grab breakfast after and see where the day takes us. No paparazzi, no drama—just a chance to be outside for a bit."

You could almost hear his grin through the text, and you found yourself feeling a little giddy. It had been forever since you’d just wandered, no plans, no expectations.

You: "That sounds perfect. What time do you want to meet?"

Drew: "How about 9? Gives us a little time to get our bearings, but still plenty of daylight. I’ll pick you up at your place."

You: "Deal. I’ll be ready."

The exchange left you buzzing with excitement. There was something about this—a spontaneous day with Drew, exploring LA without the pressure of anything. Just... living in the moment.

You quickly jumped out of bed, got dressed, and packed a small bag with the essentials: water, sunscreen, a hat—anything that would make the day more enjoyable. As you glanced in the mirror, you couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious. It was one thing to hang out with Drew at your place, but hiking? A day out in the open? You weren’t sure what to expect, but you figured you’d roll with it.

A few hours later, the knock on your door jolted you from your thoughts. You opened it to find Drew standing there, dressed casually in a t-shirt, athletic shorts, and sneakers, his hair slightly windblown as if he’d already been out for a little while. He was holding a water bottle in one hand, a wide, genuine smile on his face.

“You ready for this?” he asked, his eyes glinting with the same excitement you felt bubbling inside.

You grinned back, nodding. “I think so. Lead the way.”

He chuckled and gestured for you to follow him down to the car, where the day’s adventure would begin.

The drive was surprisingly calm, with Drew playing some laid-back tunes and chatting about random things—his love of LA's hidden gems, how he’d gotten into hiking recently, and how crazy it was that he was actually getting a few days to relax between filming schedules. You felt yourself easing into the rhythm of the day, his presence comfortable, easy.

As you reached the trailhead, you couldn’t help but stare at the sprawling view of the city below, the sprawling landscape unfolding in front of you like something out of a postcard. The hills were quiet, a peaceful escape from the noise of LA.

Drew turned to you with a playful grin. “Ready to get your steps in?”

You raised an eyebrow, matching his grin. “I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

And so, the two of you set off, the trail winding upward through trees and rocky paths, the air crisp with morning freshness. The conversation flowed easily between you both, sometimes serious, sometimes silly. You talked about your favorite movies, shared memories of childhood adventures, and joked about the ridiculousness of modern-day life, social media, and the constant pressure to perform.

The higher you climbed, the more the city seemed to disappear, swallowed by the dense trees and distant mountains. You took breaks along the way, sitting on rocks and chatting, letting the quiet calm of nature seep into your bones. There was something so refreshing about being away from it all, away from the spotlight and the noise, and just sharing these small, human moments.

After a few hours, you finally reached the summit. The view was nothing short of breathtaking. You could see the entire city sprawled out below you, the glittering skyline on one side, the ocean stretching off into the horizon on the other. Drew sat down on a large rock, motioning for you to join him.

You settled next to him, the moment stretching out peacefully between you. Drew glanced over at you, his gaze soft and contemplative.

“You’re quiet all of a sudden,” he teased lightly.

You shrugged, letting the view speak for itself. “It’s just... a nice change of pace. Everything feels so loud sometimes, especially in LA, you know? But up here, it’s just... quiet.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Drew said, his voice quieter now, a touch more serious. “It’s nice to get away from everything, even if it’s just for a few hours. No expectations, no noise. Just... living.”

You smiled, your heart feeling lighter than it had in days. It felt like this was exactly what you needed—a simple day of adventure, of discovering new places and enjoying the company of someone who wasn’t focused on all the distractions of the world.

After a long while, you both stood up and started the trek back down the trail, still laughing and joking, your connection growing deeper with every passing moment.

When you reached the car, Drew turned to you, a mischievous glint in his eye. “So, breakfast time?”

You nodded enthusiastically. “I’ve never earned a meal so much in my life.”

“Great,” Drew said with a wink. “Let’s go get some pancakes.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The drive to the diner was easy, the calm of the road soothing your nerves. Drew didn’t put on any music this time, letting the hum of the tires on the pavement fill the air as you both enjoyed the simple comfort of the drive. It felt grounding to be out of the whirlwind, just the two of you cruising through LA, away from everything else. No flashing lights, no rumors. Just a quiet moment.

When you arrived at the diner, it was an unassuming little place on a corner, a slice of nostalgia with its neon sign flickering invitingly. The retro décor inside felt like stepping into another time, and you immediately felt at ease in the warm, cozy atmosphere. Drew led the way, holding the door open for you with a smile that made everything feel effortless.

“Welcome to the best pancake spot in LA,” he said with a grin. “Trust me, they know what they’re doing here.”

You smiled, following him inside, and the waitress greeted you both with a friendly nod before leading you to a booth by the window. It wasn’t crowded, and the faint murmur of conversations filled the background as you both settled into your seats. It was the kind of place where you could be left alone to enjoy your meal, and the thought of it made you feel even more relaxed.

The waitress handed you both menus, and Drew glanced at his for a moment before looking up at you. “So, you’ve been in LA for what, a couple of days now?” he asked, his eyes bright with curiosity. “How’s it been? Adjusting from your small town?”

You hesitated for just a moment, taking in his question. It felt strange to admit just how big the change had been. In your small hometown, everything was familiar, comfortable, but LA was… overwhelming, in a good way, mostly. You had come here for something new, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a challenge.

“It’s been… different,” you said, shrugging slightly. “I mean, I grew up in a town where everyone knew everyone. You can’t walk into a store without running into half the people you know. LA’s kind of the opposite—huge, anonymous. It’s been nice, but also a little isolating. That’s why I’ve been trying to make sure I don’t get stuck in my own head too much. I’ve been trying to actually explore, you know? Get out and see the city.”

Drew nodded, his gaze steady, like he was really listening. “Yeah, I get that. LA can swallow you up if you let it. But it’s all about finding your rhythm. I think that’s why I love getting out of the city sometimes, doing stuff that reminds me what life’s like beyond the buzz.”

You smiled, feeling like you could connect with that more than you expected. “Exactly. It’s easy to forget there’s more to life than all this. I’m still figuring out how to balance it all.”

“That’s the thing with LA,” Drew said with a half-smile. “Everyone thinks you’re supposed to be constantly on the go, constantly working. But sometimes the best days are the ones where you’re just… present.”

His words made you pause, and you felt like the weight of the conversation wasn’t just passing by—it was something real. For someone who had so much of the world watching him, Drew seemed to get it, more than you expected. He was speaking to something you’d been trying to figure out since you’d gotten here: what life could look like outside the noise.

Before you could respond, the waitress returned, and you both ordered your meals, Drew sticking with his usual blueberry pancakes and you opting for a classic stack of buttermilks with a side of crispy bacon. The conversation drifted for a moment into lighter territory—favorite foods, places to visit in LA—but you felt the undercurrent of a real connection building between you.

As the waitress set down your pancakes, the sun had already climbed higher in the sky. You dug in, savoring the warmth and comfort of the food. It wasn’t just the pancakes you were enjoying—it was the feeling of normalcy, the feeling of being with someone who made you forget all the distractions.

“So,” Drew said between bites, “I remember you telling me that you came out here for a change. What was it like before? Your small town, I mean.”

You glanced at him, taken a little off guard by the question. You hadn’t really talked about your past in detail, and you weren’t sure how much to share. But Drew seemed genuinely curious, and something about the way he asked made it easier to open up.

“It was a lot quieter,” you said, your voice soft as you thought about your hometown. “A lot of people stick to the same routine, year after year. It wasn’t bad, but I knew it wasn’t the life I wanted. I needed something… bigger, I guess. Something where I could challenge myself. I didn’t want to wake up in ten years and feel like I hadn’t tried.”

Drew’s eyes softened with understanding. “Yeah. I get that. LA’s definitely a place that pushes you out of your comfort zone. I think that’s what I like about it, too—if you’re brave enough, it’ll make you grow.”

You nodded, feeling the truth of his words sink in. “I guess I’m just figuring out what that looks like.”

“I think that’s the beauty of it,” Drew said. “You don’t have to have it all figured out. The point is just… living it, you know?”

His words hit home in a way you hadn’t expected. Maybe it was the sincerity in his voice or the ease with which he spoke, but you felt like you were hearing something important. Maybe it wasn’t about having everything lined up or planned out. Maybe it was more about being open to the journey.

You smiled, realizing that being here, right now, with Drew, was a part of that journey.

After finishing your pancakes, Drew leaned back in his booth, looking satisfied. “So, what’s next? I know you’ve probably seen all the tourist stuff by now, but I’m thinking we hit some places that aren’t on the usual list. You up for an adventure?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the thought. You had only just started getting to know LA, and the idea of seeing it through someone else’s eyes—someone who had lived here long enough to know the best hidden gems—sounded perfect.

“Adventure sounds great,” you said with a grin. “What do you have in mind?”

Drew grinned back, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “You’ll see. Let’s go.”

And just like that, you were back on the road, ready for whatever Drew had planned. You didn’t know what the day would hold, but you were more than ready to find out. The city, with all its chaos and beauty, didn’t feel so overwhelming anymore. Not when you had someone by your side who understood what it meant to be in search of something more.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

As you and Drew cruised through the winding streets toward the beach, the excitement you felt earlier in the day had started to shift. There was a sense of unease building in the pit of your stomach, and you couldn’t put your finger on why. You’d spent the morning laughing, talking about your favorite places in the city, and getting to know each other more. But as the car neared the coast, something began to feel off.

Drew was in high spirits, excited about showing you something he loved. But just as you started to relax again, you noticed something—you hadn’t seen a single paparazzi yet. For a moment, you told yourself it was just coincidence. LA wasn’t that small, right?

Then, the first click of a camera caught your ear.

You froze, eyes darting toward the rearview mirror. Drew, blissfully unaware, was focused on the road, humming lightly to the music. But you could see them now—two cars trailing a little too closely. Paparazzi.

Your stomach dropped, and before you could say anything, Drew swore under his breath, his expression darkening.

“Shit,” he muttered, hands tightening on the wheel. “Of course, they found us.”

You started to speak, but Drew was already acting. He began weaving through traffic, trying to shake them off, but the paparazzi followed relentlessly. You felt yourself growing more anxious with each passing second, the buzz of the chase creeping into your nerves.

“This is ridiculous,” you said, glancing over at him, trying to make light of the situation. “We were just going to the beach.”

Drew’s eyes flickered toward you, but it wasn’t the same relaxed, playful Drew from earlier. He looked frustrated, panicked almost. “Yeah, well, this is what happens when you’re seen with someone like me.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, the weight of them sinking deep into your chest. You blinked, processing. “What do you mean, someone like you?”

Drew shook his head, his jaw tight. “I mean, me—a celebrity. People want to know every little thing about me. And now I have to deal with it because I invited you along. People are going to start thinking you're just another hanger-on, someone who wants to use me for the attention.”

His voice wasn’t cruel, but the implication stung all the same. It felt like he’d just dismissed everything about you—everything you were. As if your presence wasn’t your own choice but something tied to his fame, and he didn’t even see how that could hurt. You could feel the heat rise in your chest, the hurt twisting in your gut.

You opened your mouth to respond but stopped yourself. What could you say? You weren’t sure if you were hurt more by the words themselves or by the way they seemed to come so naturally to him. It felt like you were an accessory to his life, just something he had to keep in line to avoid drama. And yet, you hadn’t asked for any of this.

Before you could process it any further, Drew pulled into an alley near a side street, his car screeching to a halt as he scrambled to hide. He turned to you quickly, his eyes frantic. “Put this on.” He reached into the back seat and threw a dark hoodie at you.

“What’s this?” you asked, holding it up.

“A disguise,” he said, voice clipped. “Just do it, okay? I need you to look like someone else right now.”

You stared at the hoodie in your hands, a sinking feeling growing inside you. He was treating this like a game, like you were just a prop to be hidden away. You didn’t have time to argue, though—he was already turning the car around, trying to make his escape.

Your fingers fumbled with the hoodie as you quickly pulled it over your head, the oversized fabric swallowing you. Your mind was spinning, and you couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling gnawing at you. The way he’d talked to you, the way he was treating you—it felt like he was just seeing you as a part of his world, not you. And that hurt more than anything else.

“We can switch cars with Ava.” You offered. Within minutes, you were back at Ava’s apartment, and Drew was practically dragging you inside, his eyes scanning the street as if expecting a mob to pop up at any moment. He rushed you into the apartment, clearly panicked, and you could tell his nerves were getting the better of him.

“We need to go. We can’t stay here,” he said urgently, tossing a bag into the back of Ava’s almost-broken-down car. He had barely taken a second to notice the difference in the car’s condition before he threw the keys into your hands.

You didn’t protest—this was his world, after all. You just followed him, your stomach twisting, feeling more like an afterthought in his plans. The more you saw of this side of Drew, the more you realized that it wasn’t just the paparazzi that were a problem—it was the way he expected you to just fit into it, without a word.

The car started, and Drew floored it as he raced toward the mountains, hoping to escape the frenzy for a while. The roads became more winding, the city skyline fading behind you. But the paparazzi didn’t give up so easily, and just when you thought you were free, you saw the familiar outline of the cars in the rearview mirror.

You sighed. “They’re still following us.”

Drew’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered under his breath. “They can’t leave us alone for five minutes.”

In an effort to lose them, Drew took a sharp turn onto a stray road, one that seemed to go deeper into the mountains. The road grew narrower, the trees thicker, but the paparazzi stayed right behind. You felt your patience wearing thin, and as the car started to slow, Drew cursed again.

“We’re lost, aren’t we?” you said dryly, looking out the window at the dense trees that surrounded you.

“I’m just trying to shake them,” Drew replied, trying to hide the frustration in his voice, but you could hear it clearly.

A moment later, the car sputtered and came to a stop.

Drew swore again, banging his hands on the steering wheel. “Shit! We’re stuck.”

You groaned, leaning back in your seat, the weight of everything crashing down on you. “Are you kidding me? We’re stuck in the middle of nowhere, and we’re lost?”

“I didn’t plan this,” Drew snapped. “You think I wanted this?”

“Obviously you didn’t think this through,” you retorted, your voice rising in frustration. “We’re out here because you couldn’t accept that people are following you. You forced me into a disguise, dragged me out of the city, and now we’re stuck in the mud!”

Drew turned to you, his face hard. “You think I wanted any of this? I didn’t ask for this either, you know. I didn’t ask to be followed around by paparazzi all the time. I didn’t ask for people like you to get involved in my life.”

The words stung, and for a moment, you felt something inside snap. “You don’t get it,” you said, voice trembling with emotion. “I didn’t ask for any of this either. I came to LA for a fresh start, to get away from all of that. But now I’m just here, stuck with you in the middle of nowhere, pretending to be someone I’m not, and for what?”

Drew’s face softened, but the damage was already done. You couldn’t look at him anymore. The silence between you both was deafening as you sat in the car, the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

You weren’t sure what you were more upset about—the situation itself, or the way Drew had made you feel so small.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The car sat idling in the middle of nowhere, its engine sputtering one last time before dying with a sad cough. You stared at the dense forest surrounding you, the humid air creeping into the small confines of Ava’s beat-up car. Drew banged his fists lightly on the steering wheel and groaned, muttering something under his breath.

“I can’t believe this,” you muttered, unbuckling your seatbelt. “We’re literally stuck in the middle of nowhere because you—”

“Because me?” Drew interrupted, incredulous, turning toward you with wide eyes. “Let’s not forget, the only reason we’re here is because I’m trying to protect you.”

“Protect me?” you shot back, your voice rising. “You mean forcing me into a disguise, dragging me into some wild goose chase to avoid a couple of cameras, and now stranding me in the wilderness counts as protection?”

“You think I enjoy this?” Drew countered, gesturing wildly at the forest. “You think I wanted to get stuck in mud, in a car that sounds like it might explode at any moment?”

“Don’t you dare blame Ava’s car!” you snapped, your voice almost a growl. “It’s a miracle this thing even runs, and honestly, I’d trust it over you right now!”

Drew opened his mouth, then shut it, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered. “We should be working together, not blaming each other.”

“Oh, now you want teamwork?” you scoffed, crossing your arms. “You mean after you implied I’m some leech who can’t handle your celebrity life?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Drew said quickly, his tone defensive. “I was frustrated, okay? You don’t know what it’s like having your every move watched.”

“I didn’t ask for this!” you yelled, finally stepping out of the car. The humid air hit you, but you didn’t care. You needed to move. “You dragged me into this! I just wanted a nice day out, and instead, I’m in the middle of nowhere, wearing your hoodie, and wondering if I’m about to be eaten by a bear.”

Drew stepped out of the car too, holding his hands up in surrender. “Okay, first of all, there are no bears here—probably. Second, I was just trying to make the day fun.”

“Oh, yeah, super fun,” you shot back sarcastically, pacing in front of him. “Getting chased by paparazzi, being forced into a hoodie that smells like Axe body spray—real thrilling.”

Drew blinked. “Axe body spray? That’s Tom Ford.”

“Whatever,” you said, throwing your hands up. “It all smells the same when you’re stressed out and stuck in the mud!”

Drew sighed, leaning against the car, his head tilted back. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t think it would get this bad.”

“You didn’t think at all!” you snapped, poking a finger at his chest. “And now we’re stranded, because apparently, your grand plan to escape paparazzi is to drive until the Earth swallows us whole.”

“Hey!” Drew said, his tone turning defensive again. “I was improvising. I didn’t see you coming up with any ideas!”

“Because I didn’t sign up to be part of your personal action movie!” you shot back.

There was a beat of silence before Drew’s lips quirked upward, the tiniest hint of a smirk forming.

“What?” you demanded, narrowing your eyes at him.

“You’re cute when you’re mad,” he said, a lazy grin spreading across his face.

You blinked, caught completely off guard. “Excuse me?”

“I mean,” Drew continued, leaning slightly closer, “the way you’re all fiery and passionate right now—it’s kind of hot.”

You gaped at him, utterly speechless. “Are you—are you seriously trying to flirt your way out of this argument?”

“Depends,” he said, his smirk growing. “Is it working?”

You let out a sharp laugh, more out of disbelief than humor. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably charming?” he quipped, raising an eyebrow.

“Unbelievably infuriating,” you corrected, throwing your hands up. “I’m out of here.”

You turned on your heel and started walking toward the road, your footsteps crunching against the gravel. Drew scrambled after you.

“Wait! You can’t just storm off into the wilderness!” he called.

“Watch me,” you shot back, not breaking stride.

“Y/N,” Drew said, his voice dropping into a softer, coaxing tone. “Come on. You don’t want to leave me here all alone, do you?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” you said, turning around to glare at him. “I���m sure you can charm the forest animals into helping you out.”

Drew stopped in his tracks, his mouth opening and closing like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Finally, he sighed and threw his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. You win. I screwed up.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Go on.”

“I’ll admit,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I didn’t think this through. I was trying to be... I don’t know, spontaneous? Adventurous?”

“Well, congratulations,” you said dryly. “You’ve succeeded in creating the most chaotic adventure of all time.”

Drew chuckled softly, his eyes meeting yours with a hint of guilt. “I’ll fix it. I promise. Just... don’t walk away, okay?”

You sighed, the fight draining out of you as his expression softened. “Fine,” you said reluctantly. “But if we get eaten by a bear, I’m haunting you.”

“Deal,” Drew said, grinning. And despite everything, you found yourself smiling back—just a little.

© 2025 rafeskai | All rights reserved. This fanfiction is a work of fiction inspired by characters from Outer Banks, and no part of it may be reproduced or distributed without permission.

[rafecamerons-national-anthem]

HAPPY BARK-DREW STARKEY

𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪 Drew and Y/N visit a shelter just to look and leave with a mischievous puppy.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

It started as a lazy Saturday morning, the kind where Drew Starkey and Y/N could enjoy the rare luxury of sleeping in. The sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting warm streaks across their shared apartment. Drew was sprawled across the couch, flipping through streaming options while Y/N scrolled on her phone, her feet tucked under his legs for warmth.

“Did you see this?” Y/N suddenly asked, holding her phone out toward him.

He glanced up from the TV. “What?”

“The animal shelter downtown is hosting an adoption event today,” she said, her voice tinged with excitement. “They’re waiving all the adoption fees.”

Drew raised an eyebrow. “I thought we agreed we’re not ready for a pet yet.”

Y/N shrugged, an innocent smile creeping onto her face. “We could just look. It’s not like we’re committing to anything.”

Drew sighed, though he knew he was already losing the battle. “You’re dangerous, you know that? We’ll go look, but I’m not carrying a leash out of there, okay?”

“Okay,” Y/N said, but the gleam in her eyes said otherwise.

The shelter was a bustling hive of activity when they arrived, with volunteers greeting visitors and happy barks and meows echoing through the halls. Drew held the door open as Y/N stepped inside, immediately drawn toward a row of kennels where dogs of all sizes wagged their tails enthusiastically.

“I don’t know how anyone works here without adopting every single one of them,” Y/N said, crouching in front of a cage housing a small, scruffy terrier.

Drew smiled, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets. “Yeah, I’d be terrible at it. They’d all end up at my place.”

They walked through the rows together, Y/N stopping at nearly every kennel to coo at the dogs. Drew found himself enjoying her enthusiasm, even if he was still wary about the idea of actually adopting one.

And then they saw him.

In the far corner of the room, a tiny golden puppy sat alone in a kennel, his oversized paws sprawled out in front of him. His ears flopped comically over his head, and his soulful brown eyes locked onto them the moment they approached.

“Drew,” Y/N whispered, clutching his arm. “Look at him.”

The puppy tilted his head, letting out a soft, high pitched bark. Drew crouched down to get a better look.

“He’s cute,” Drew admitted.

“He’s perfect,” Y/N corrected. She glanced at the tag on his kennel. “It says his name is Charlie. Three months old. He’s still a baby.”

Drew rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the beginnings of a smile tug at his lips. “We’re just looking, remember?”

“Right, right,” Y/N said, though she was already waving down one of the volunteers.

Within minutes, they were in a small playroom with Charlie, who bounded toward them with all the uncoordinated energy of a puppy. He tumbled into Drew’s lap, licking his face with abandon, then darted over to Y/N to do the same.

“I think he likes us,” Y/N said, laughing as she tried to wrangle him into a hug.

“Or he’s trying to convince us to take him home,” Drew replied, rubbing behind Charlie’s floppy ears. The puppy let out a happy bark, wagging his tail so hard that his whole body wiggled.

Y/N’s eyes met Drew’s, her expression hopeful. “What do you think?”

Drew sighed, already feeling his resolve crumbling. “I think we’re suckers.”

An hour later, they were walking out of the shelter with a leash, a bag of supplies, and Charlie trotting happily between them. Drew carried the paperwork under one arm, shaking his head in disbelief.

“I can’t believe we did this,” he said, though he couldn’t help but smile as Charlie stopped to sniff a bush.

“Me neither,” Y/N said, beaming. “But come on, look at him. He’s perfect.”

Charlie, as if on cue, tripped over his own paws and rolled into a patch of grass. He popped back up a second later, tail wagging as if nothing had happened.

“Perfectly clumsy,” Drew teased.

By the time they got home, Charlie had already claimed a corner of the living room as his own, flopping onto a blanket they’d set out for him. Drew watched as Y/N knelt beside him, scratching behind his ears and cooing softly.

“You’re really good with him,” Drew said, leaning against the doorframe.

Y/N looked up, her smile soft. “And you’re not bad yourself. He already loves you, you know.”

Drew glanced at Charlie, who was now chewing on a squeaky toy they’d bought on the way home. “Yeah, well, he’d better. He’s stuck with us now.”

Y/N stood and wrapped her arms around Drew’s waist, resting her chin on his chest. “Admit it. You’re glad we went.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Okay, fine. You were right. But I’m still blaming you when he chews up my shoes.”

“Deal,” Y/N said, grinning.

As they stood there watching their new furry companion explore his surroundings, Drew realized that sometimes the best things in life happened when you least expected them, like stopping by a shelter “just to look” and leaving with a new family member.

𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 @nicholaschavezslut69

[nataliasquote]

Mustang | cowgirl nat au

Summary: The mayor’s daughter. A bounty hunter. One has freedom, the other does not. But will one fleeting night be enough to convince Natasha to leave everything she’s ever known behind?

Warnings: Natasha is a hot cowgirl, cowboy slang

wc: 4.3k

note: this is for all the cowgirl Nat simps out there (yes you know who you are @katyaromanoffpetrova ). And also for @milfs69420 who drew the inspiration for cowgirl Nat in this scene (i’m obsessed with that drawing no joke). I hope this lives up to expectations!

-⧗-

A loud yell echoed across the grassy plain, rising above the sound of thundering hooves and the distant shriek of a stream train whistle. One lone rider, racing across fields she knew like the back of her hand. Strong thighs squeezed the flanks of the midnight horse beneath her as she raised her arms above her head and tilted her face up to the sky, letting the golden rays of the sun soak into her skin. Not once did her balance falter, years of riding making her feel like an extension of the steed beneath her. Her cheeks started to burn with how hard she was smiling, so she placed both hands back on the reins and kicked her horse to speed up.

There really was nothing that Natasha loved more than riding. It was her escape, her outlet, her way of breaking away from her usual daily duties. Was she out on her horse a bit too often? Her father would say yes. But if there was one thing Natasha Romanoff hated, it was being told what to do.

She’d caught up with the train rolling steadily along the tracks and Natasha leaned forwards, scarlet hair, tied in a single braid, flying behind her from under her hat as she raced beside it, trying to keep up. She could feel the muscles of her horse flexing with every stride they took and the rusted green walls of the carriage were almost in reach of her fingertips if she stretched out towards it. The smoke puffing out of the chimney tainted the air that she breathed in, but she barely noticed it through her euphoria. She knew where this train was headed, towards the larger cities, so she broke away and turned back to her hometown, slowing up as they trotted under the town’s welcome sign.

Most walked their horses through the streets on foot, but Natasha stayed seated, guiding her horse through the swarms of townspeople and down to the large house at the end of the main street. She hopped down and tied him to the fence temporarily, making sure he had enough hay and water before she strolled into the house.

Not even bothering to take her boots off, Natasha waltzed into the kitchen and flopped down on a chair. She tossed her hat onto the table and let out a sigh, staring at the small red symbol on the front of her hat.

“Natasha,” a gruff voice called after her. She rolled her eyes. “Where the hell were you?”

“Out,” was all she replied. She didn’t turn around but could feel her father’s eyes boring into the back of her skull. And his disapproving tone was nothing she wasn’t familiar with.

“You were supposed to be home two hours ago, for the opening ceremony.” Without looking at him, she knew how he was standing. Arms folded across his chest as he took up almost the entire doorway. “Yelena was upset you weren’t there.”

Natasha scoffed. “No she wasn’t, she couldn’t care less.”

“I felt betrayed, actually.” Great, now her sister had joined in. “You’re always choosing Liho over me, don’t you feel my pain?”

“I’m sure you’ll live,” Natasha deadpanned, wanting nothing more than some peace and quiet.

But that was a rarity as the mayor’s daughter. Her whole life was scrutinized, and many people disapproved of her non-traditional ways. “Is there anything else required of me? Or can I leave now?”

Yelena appeared in the corner of her vision, leaning against the kitchen countertop. “Well, I was going to ask if you would come by the range, seeing as you-“

“Ok, so that’s a no.”

“Natasha, be nice to her please. It’s Yelena’s big day!” Alexei’s voice seemed to be in constant ‘public speaker’ mode, which was fine for pretty much everything except quiet conversations in the kitchen. He was too close, and Natasha scraped her chair back and reached for a glass to fill up from the pitcher of sweet tea on the table. Reluctantly, she offered one to Yelena, who accepted with a soft smile. Alexei took their ignorance of his statement to disappear back to his office, and Natasha breathed a small sigh of relief.

“I knew you liked me really.” Natasha deadpanned her comment but Yelena only stifled her giggle behind a sip, the sweet beverage coating her tastebuds deliciously. “I’m not mad, it’s fine. But promise me you’ll shoot this week?”

“I was planning to anyway,” Natasha admitted. “Do you have riding targets too?”

Yelena let out a ‘ha’ and leaned back in her chair, chin tilted towards the window. “What do you take me for, an amateur? That’s like asking if Barton sells beer.”

“Speaking of, fancy a drink?” Yelena gestured to her half full glass with an eyebrow raised. “I was going to go down to Barton’s if you want to join me?”

Yelena thought for a moment, watching a lone ice cube float around her glass. “I would, but I promised Kate I’d meet her at the stables and you know what she’s like if I cancel on her.”

“Suit yourself,” said Natasha. Ok, so maybe she did feel a little remorse over missing the ceremony, but never would she admit that out loud. “I’ll see you later. Oh, and tell Ma to not wait up for me at dinner. I’ll sort myself out.”

“Roger that,” Yelena gave a mock salute and Natasha just rolled her eyes in jest. She grabbed her hat, slipped it on her head and wandered back out of the door, but not before she slipped a few snacks for her horse. Liho was still waiting patiently for her and he swished his tail as he approached, rather fed up of just standing around in the sun.

As Natasha brushed him down and gave the stable a quick tidy, her mind wandered back to the open grassland. What she’d give to never return home, just riding to her heart's content and staying in whatever town she came across. Or just sleeping under the stars, listening to the howls of the coyotes and the thundering hooves of wild horses echoing behind the mountains on the horizon. She craved the freedom that the cowboys had and the small taste she could get would never suffice; she lusted for more.

With a small threat to Peter, the stablehand, to not hurt Liho, Natasha wandered back into the town centre, stopping off at the ammunition store on her way for a magazine refill. She shot the test targets to pieces purely for the fun of it, knowing her aim was impeccable. The owner just rolled his eyes but let her continue; this behaviour was expected. After all, Alexei was a well respected and slightly feared man, which rubbed off onto his daughters too. And Natasha’s fiery temperament was almost as famous as her father was. No one with any brains would ever challenge her to a duel if they wanted to keep their life.

The redhead’s eyes cast over the centre-most building, the brim of her hat concealing the sign on the front. But she didn’t need words to tell her what it was- she knew her second favourite place like the back of her hand. The heels of her boots clicked against the tiled floor as she pushed the wooden saloon doors to swing open, hitting the walls beside them with a crack.

With her hat still dipped low, she paused, surveying the entirety of the room in one fast sweep. Partially content with what she saw, Natasha tipped her hat from her head and tucked it under her arm, feeling strands from her messy braid to fall and frame her face. Green eyes darted across every familiar face, occasionally leading to the subtle tug of a smile to play on her lips if she felt particularly fond of someone, but not many had that blessing. She didn’t pay two minds to the rest of the townspeople once she’d locked on the one person who didn’t think she was completely crazy.

Wild yet utterly desirable, Natasha somehow held every single person captive within her presence. The general chattering subsided as she moved between the tables, even the men who spent their days airing their lungs over bottles of brandy and rum paused their drinking to take a good look at her. If Natasha even cared, she’d be repulsed, but noticing the way the men of the town looked at her had become a thing of the past. She would never settle down so why bother?

The red velvet-topped bar stools were smooth under her jeans as Natasha slid onto one, her hat coming to rest atop the wooden bar. She unbuttoned the cuffs of her green plaid shirt and rolled her sleeves up to her elbows, exposing her forearms with a sigh.

“Didn’t see you at Yelena’s gun range opening today,” the bartender commented as he slid an open bottle of beer in Natasha’s direction. He knew her well, and he should, as her childhood best friend. And Natasha may be unpredictable but her beer choices never wavered.

“Oh don’t tell me you were there too. I swear, if one more person asks me about that I’m going to put a bullet in someone’s head.” Her hand fell to her holster for effect, making the bartender step back, hands raised in surrender. Natasha rolled her eyes and smirked before taking a sip of her beer. “My Pa gave me an earful when I was barely through the door. I don’t see why it matters, Barton, it’s just an opening.”

Clint threw the tea towel he was holding into the sink over his shoulder. “I’m just talking, but she’s your sister, so isn’t it in your duties to go to that kind of thing?”

Natasha shot him an unimpressed look, her brow bone casting a shadow across her eyes in the dim light. “You mean that as her sister, or as the mayor’s daughter? I plan on using the range anyway, so why do I need to show my face now? It’s not even about me.” She puffed out her cheeks and rested her chin on the hand that was placed on the beer bottle rim. “If I was Lena, I’d be happy my sister didn’t show up. She can have the spotlight for a change.”

“Where did you go, exactly?” Clint was the only one who would listen to Natasha’s tales, so he just let her talk whilst he worked. Gave him something refreshing to think about instead of his unruly customers.

“I caught wind of a new group riding out by the Ridge yesterday, so I wanted to check it out. Saw nothing but Ol’ Joe moving his cattle. Swear that man digs for his cannon ev’ry chance he gets.”

“Well, he’s not the best with people,” said Clint, only realising afterwards that he’d just stated the obvious. “Is that what you want though? A group like that?”

Natasha pursed her lips. She hadn’t thought through the logistics of what her future looked like, she knew it involved a lot more open space and a lot less… people. “Not a group, I couldn’t handle that.”

“Nat, you know it’s not safe out there on your own. You need your home, a family.” Clint was family orientated to the core, but the same couldn’t be said for Natasha. “You know it’s even worse for women.”

“I can handle myself,” Natasha scoffed, feeling rather put out by his insinuation. “I don’t need a bunch of asshat guys telling me what to do!

“I know, but-“

“If I wanted an argument, I would have stayed at home,” she pointed out. Clint’s mouth opened before he closed it with a huff, thinking better than to protest again. Natasha’s hands tugged her hair out of her braid, reveling in the feeling of it falling loose around her shoulders.

She chewed on her lip, trying to suppress the anxious feeling bubbling low in her stomach. With each passing day, the small town life rattled her and the walls of the village seemed to close in. It had taken root in her chest since she was a child, that feeling of longing never quite subsiding.

Clint moved off to serve customers further down the bar, leaving the redhead lost in her own mind. Slender fingers tapped rhythmically on the glass bottle.

What did she want? Natasha knew how her dreams played out, but Clint was right; where was her stability? The thought of being alone was heavenly, but that was coming from someone who had never truly experienced it. She’d been surrounded by people since the day she was born, and those fleeting moments of freedom with just Liho for company were the best she’d felt.

But what did a future full of that entail? She’d idealised it to the point where she was biased, getting defensive whenever anyone tried to make her see sense. She may not see eye to eye with her father anymore, but the stubbornness she inherited from him was a clear determiner of her roots and more importantly, her home.

A cacophony of whistles erupted from the tables behind her, snapping her out of her spiral and Natasha turned on her stool to take a look at the source of the commotion. A woman stood in the doorway, dressed similarly to Natasha, which was rather uncommon in this town. Most of the women wore skirts, so seeing another in jeans that wasn’t Natasha, Yelena or Kate had heads turning.

Natasha watched the way the stranger’s hand instinctively flew to her holster as her eyes adjusted to the darkened room, a bitter contrast to the sun blazed street just outside. The saloon was always kept dark, just the way Natasha liked it, but it did look a bit intimidating from an outsider’s perspective.

Ignoring the outstretched hands of drunk men that grabbed at her from their seats at the closest tables, the woman picked her way through the crowd, her hips swaying in her jeans and brown fringed chaps as she rounded the final table and slumped down onto a stool. Natasha peered at Clint out of the corner of her eye and tried to hide her smile, taking a long sip of her beer bottle as the stranger sat four seats over.

“What’s the strongest stuff you’ve got?” The stranger asked Clint, her hat still sat squarely on her head. A strange move in Natasha’s eyes, but it added to the air of mystery around her and the redhead couldn’t help but watch her reflection in the glass opposite.

“I’ve got a couple bottles of whiskey if that’s what you’re after?”

“I’ll get a glass of that, thanks.”

Natasha pulled a face, impressed. “Going for the hard stuff, I see.”

The stranger didn’t turn her head, keeping her eyes down and focussed on her hands that rested atop the bar. “Something like that.”

There was something different about her, something refreshing. Natasha stood up, grabbed her beer bottle and wandered down the bar, now appearing on the seat beside the stranger. She leaned on the bar, one leg crossed over the other, accentuating the curve of her hips in her jeans. The stranger’s head moved slightly, trying to get the best view of Natasha that she could.

Clint read his friend’s body language like he was fluent, and quickly swapped her bottles so she was presented with a fresh drink. Natasha waited a couple of seconds before striking up conversation again, not put out by the stranger’s lack of enthusiasm.

“Is this seat taken?”

The stranger shook her head and scooted over, nursing her glass of whiskey with both hands. She was nervous and guarded and Natasha saw the twitch of her fingers that seemed uncontrollable.

“I’ve not seen you before. You not from around here?” Her southern drawl was laid on thick, emphasising the rasp in her voice that came out when she spoke properly. Natasha’s skill set didn’t stop at shooting. She was incredibly proficient at flirting and Clint loved to just stand back and watch her pick her next target that wandered into his bar.

The stranger finally turned to Natasha and lifted her hat from her head, revealing her face and piercing eyes that bore into Natasha’s. “Is it that obvious I’m not from around here?”

Natasha laughed around the rim of her bottle and readjusted her stance, using her movement as a way to take in the woman with a quick flick up and down. “I know my people,” she replied, gesturing to the full tables behind them. Her eyes fell to the stranger’s lips. “And I’d remember a face like yours, darlin’.”

The mysterious woman’s cheeks flushed red and she took a swig of whiskey, welcoming the burn that flooded her chest. The hot feeling racing through her body was purely alcohol induced… wasn’t it?

The brunette ducked her head down, embarrassed. “I’m only passing through. Had to stop off at the stables to get my horse’s hooves checked. Ran across a thorn patch, she did.”

“Well, Bishops’ will take good care of her. And in the meantime, does the gorgeous woman have a pretty name to match?”

Whiskey was by far the best choice she could have made- it could account for the now permanent flush that took residence in her cheeks. The woman turned on her stool and let her knees fall open loosely, her body language much less guarded.

“I’m Y/n. And you are..?”

“Natasha Romanoff, at your service.” The redhead quickly put her hat on and tipped it forwards, eliciting a laugh from the woman opposite. Clint eyed their interaction as he dried some glasses, grinning to himself at how effective Natasha’s charm truly was. She turned it on with the tip of her hat and a flash of her smile, making men and women alike stop dread in their tracks.

“You’re the mayor’s daughter?” Something flashed across Y/n’s eyes but it was gone as quickly as it came and Natasha couldn’t decipher it.

“Yeah,” she trailed off, frowning slightly. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Not at all,” Y/n gave her a smile, nodding to the stool beside her. Natasha sat far too quickly, like an obedient dog. One glance from a gorgeous woman had turned her to mush- what was happening?

A couple of loud thuds resonated from the back of the room and Natasha rolled her eyes, knowing exactly who sat there regularly. “Hey, Romanoff, give us a dance, will ya?” A leering voice echoed above the general hum of conversation and Y/n watched as Natasha rolled her eyes and adjusted her gun that sat in a holster on her hip.

“Give it up, Stark, you’re barking at a knot.” The man in question jeered at her and banged his beer bottle on the barrel table, several men around him doing the same. “If you wanna watch me dance, you better pay me for it.” This only gained her more nonsensical yelling and a man on Stark’s table threw a dollar bill in her direction.

But Natasha just stood up, squared her shoulders and fired her handgun in their direction, the bullet slamming into the wall mere inches above Stark’s head. She blew the smoke off her gun with a cocky smirk and shoved it back in the holster. The entire saloon fell silent, aside from Clint’s mutterings about yet another hole to fix thanks to his fiery friend.

Natasha waited a second longer, almost daring Stark and his guys to test her again. But they didn’t, now only watching her warily as she turned back to her new woman who was watching with a slack jaw. Natasha felt a burst of pride surge through her chest and she puffed it out slightly, sinking down into her seat with one foot up on the footrest, her legs manspreading.

“I’m sorry about that, that was no way to treat a new lady.”

Y/n snickered, shaking her head. “Oh please, I ain’t a lady. I’ve seen worse men than that in towns over, they really never change.”

Natasha’s gaze had drifted to the way the brunette’s hair fell over her shoulder, and how soft it looked despite being so exposed to the elements. But at the mention of different towns she snapped, eyes wide.

“You’ve visited other towns?” She tried to keep her cool, but there was truly no hiding her excitement. This woman had everything Natasha wanted and more.

“I’m a bounty hunter,” she admitted, watching Natasha’s face change. “But I ain’t got much work at the moment. There’s not many people that trust a woman to do what a man can do.”

“So you’re just… floating between towns?”

Y/n nodded, taking a sip of her whiskey. “Yup, it’s just me and my girl. And the occasional over-friendly landlord who tries to get up in my business.”

Natasha’s mind was racing like a mustang. She felt almost childish, wanting to hear stories of her travels and what the world was really like. Y/n could see her curiosity, it was too apparent to mask, and it was like a breath of fresh air. All too often she was met with disapproving glances and was often the butt of circulating gossip, housewives and prostitutes judging her uncommon way of life. But she was happy, and no one was about to take that away from her.

“Where are you from?”

Y/n’s smile faltered and she traced the rim of her now empty whisky glass. “I don’t think about that. Doesn’t matter where I’m from, I’m never going back. There’s nothing for me there. My life is out here now.”

“I wish,” Natasha muttered, more to herself than anyone else. Y/n heard it but didn’t comment. After all, they were just two strangers in a bar, nothing more.

“So, if you’re the mayor’s girl, you must know what there is to do around here.” Her words had an element of teasing to them, which didn’t go unnoticed by Natasha.

Natasha shook her head with a laugh. Ten minutes in and already poking fun at who she was. Why was that so attractive? “There’s a barn dance later if you want to come?” Natasha suggested. “That is, if you’re sticking around for that long.”

“I’ve got a compelling reason to now,” Y/n teased, toying with the hints Natasha had been sending her way.

Natasha quirked her brow and raised an arm behind her head, her bicep flexing slightly under her scrunched up shirt sleeves. “Well, I never turn down the chance to take a pretty girl to a dance.”

“Sounds like you have experience.”

Natasha narrowed her eyes in playful accusation “Is that a problem to you?”

“Not at all. I like a woman who knows what she’s doing.” Her words were heavy and even Clint raised his eyebrows, having been listening in to their conversation whilst he polished glasses.

“Then you’re in for a real treat, darlin’.” Natasha held eye contact and took a swig of her beer, licking her lip as a drop escaped. Y/n stared back at her and then coughed, using that as her excuse to look away. Anyone could feel the air shift and Clint walked away, shaking his head with a smile. God, Natasha certainly knew how to play this game.

“Where did you say you were staying?” Natasha continued, probing yet more information out of the poor woman.

“Here, actually,” Y/n answered, gesturing towards the door that led to the small assortment of lodgings that the saloon housed “ ‘S the only place willing to take someone like me.”

“Barton!” The man in question looked around guiltily. “Keeping things from me now, are we?”

“You were out! When was I gonna tell ya?”

Natasha grunted and jutted her chin out at him, furious that he’d watched their interaction knowing exactly who this woman was. And Y/n found the whole ordeal rather funny, having made the connection that they knew each other a little while ago.

“Well, if you’re stayin’ here, I know where to pick you up later.”

“Inviting me to a dance and picking me up? Do all foreign girls get this treatment from you?”

Natasha winked coyly, sliding her hat along the bar where she’d left it. “Only the special ones.”

“Oh you’re flannel-mouthed!” Y/n exclaimed, to which Natasha only shrugged cockily. “I’ll be waitin’. Right here, so don’t be late.”

“Roger that,” Natasha responded, mimicking Yelena from earlier. She stood up with a flourish, placed her hat on her head and took Y/n’s hand to place a kiss on the back of it, treating her like a proper lady. Clint wolf whistled her, receiving an insult thrown his way before Natasha had disappeared back through the doors she’d come through, leaving them swinging back and forth with the momentum.

“She’s a wild one, watch out.” Clint nodded after the redhead, silently laughing to himself at her dramatics. Always one for the exits, she was.

But Y/n didn’t even notice his amusement. She was gazing at the gunshot hole left in the wall across the room, and more specifically, thinking about the woman that put it there.

“The wilder the better, I always say,” was all she replied, her mind now miles away. Sure, she said that about horses, but Y/n was starting to think that applied to the women she surrounded herself with too.

[pamperedollie]

previous | next

XOXO. જ⁀➴ ONE

. ۫ ꣑ৎ "you look great,"

summary. your mother’s high-society dinner party pulls you into the orbit of the vanderbilt siblings—a tense exchange with drew, an electrifying moment with harris, and a night that takes an unexpected, chaotic turn.

word count. 3.9k

warnings. underage drinking, cheating, language

You trudge into your bedroom, dragging your feet beneath you as your legs burn like fire. Your brain feels foggy, and all you want to do is close your eyes. You flop onto your bed and sigh. You don’t miss this feeling—you hate it, in fact. Today was your first day back at your internship after being on vacation, and you’re now weeks behind on your work. You stayed four hours late today just to catch up.

“Honey, could you help me in here?” your mom calls out from the living room, her voice in a sing-song tone. Could she have chosen a worse time? You feel your soft mattress sinking beneath you, but you force yourself up, trudging toward the door with the weight of the day dragging you down.

As you pass through the kitchen, the conflicting sweet aroma of rich vanilla and the smoky scent of the grill surprisingly pair together nicely, instilling you with a slight sense of calm. All you want is to sit still and enjoy it. But instead, you drag yourself into the living room.

“Why do you always insist on doing these things yourself? You’ll end up hurting yourself again,” you mutter, the words slipping out before you can stop them. You already begin to regret it as your mom turns to glare at you. She’s holding one of her signature curated art pieces—one she only brings out for these dinner parties. She says it “sparks conversation.”

“We’ve been through this! Your father helps cook dinner, and I fix up the house,” she adds, adjusting the frame. “I really don’t even do that much anyway…”

You can’t help but laugh, looking around the penthouse. You observe the meticulously arranged dinner table, the balcony doors slightly ajar letting in a breeze that feels almost intentional. Your father is directing a small army of dessert and dinner caterers around the kitchen, and floral arrangements adorn every corner of the home. You sigh. “Sure, Mom. Whatever you say!”

It may not sound like a typical dinner party, but your mom takes these events very seriously. These so-called dinner parties rarely have a guest list under one hundred people; they are extravagant affairs where the rich and elite fight tooth and nail for the juiciest gossip and the chance to one-up each other with tales of their latest business ventures and lavish vacations. You loathe every second of it and would just stay in your room the entire time if it weren’t for your parents.

But it isn’t all bad.

There’s one frequent guest you can tolerate—barely—Ryan Bennett. She was born into a family of doctors and therapists and raised only by her father. In a world of superficial people, she’s genuinely sweet—the most authentic person you know in a never-ending sea of snakes. She’s mature, which suits her since her father is a behavioral therapist, and she hopes to follow in his footsteps. Ryan is the kind of girl you wish you could be more like—a diamond in a sea of pearls. Although she does have her flaws...

Ryan is impossible to keep up with when it comes to relationships. Once one ends, it’s on to the next. Now, this would be fine if her taste wasn’t exclusively in older men—college students, CEOs; it didn’t matter. As soon as she turned eighteen, she tossed aside anyone her age. 

---

Time slips through your fingers as you sit at your vanity, staring at your reflection for hours, covering every blemish and pimple, applying just enough blush until it looks like you’ve just come back from a romantic walk in the snow. Your dress of choice is gold; it covers you down to your feet and hugs your figure like a glove. Its silk drapes elegantly at your chest. You carefully brush each section of your hair, rolling each strand into perfect curls. The tension in your shoulders aches, but what can you say? You love a flawless blowout.

KNOCK KNOCK

With rollers still clinging to your head and your setting powder baking under your eyes, you freeze, your heart skipping a beat. Your parents aren’t knockers; they’re more of the “coming in!” types, barging in without a second thought. But it’s only six; the party hasn’t even started. Panic fills your entire body from head to toe.

“Who is it?” you ask, holding your breath.

“Me, dummy!” a familiar voice calls from the other side of the door. You release a deep sigh of relief and shuffle to the door.

Ryan steps inside, plopping down onto your bed like it’s her own. She looks you up and down. “The invitation said formal wear clubbing,” she jokes, raising an eyebrow as she assesses your outfit.

You glance her up and down as she smooths the hem of her glittery black mini dress. Her stilettos click as she crosses her legs. “Okay…” you tease, eyeing her from head to toe.

“What?” she giggles, unbothered. “I heard the Vanderbilts are coming.”

You laugh, leaning back against your chair. “You going after the dad next?” you remark, knowing full well where this conversation is headed.

“Oh, not yet,” she yawns, stretching her limbs as if she’s just getting started. “I’m saving him until I’m twenty-five and he’s in the middle of a midlife crisis.” You can’t help but laugh at how nonchalantly she says it

“Then who?” you question, leaning back a little more.

“Harris, the oldest,” she replies without hesitation, a gleam in her eyes.

You gasp. Harris? The model child of the Vanderbilt family? Currently studying law at Yale? He’s back?

“Yes, he’s back, staying till winter’s over,” she adds, almost as if she could read your mind—and casually at that. You’re not surprised Ryan would know all this; she’s almost always the first to know when it comes to this stuff. Ryan’s a silent observer of the world around her, and it’s kind of charming how perceptive she is.

A short while later, you get up from your vanity and fall back onto the bed, the weight of it all sinking in. “I’m so tired of it all, Ryan,” you admit without thinking.

She shifts on the bed to face you, looking… concerned. “What’s up?” she asks.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure if you should burden her with the mess that is your life and ruin the mood. But Ryan’s always been the one you could talk to about this stuff; she’s never not been there for you.

“You can tell me anything, Y/N,” she reassures you, smiling softly.

You can’t hold it in anymore. “Well, there’s the internship… I feel like I’m invisible. My boss doesn’t recognize me for anything.” You exhale sharply, looking up, trying to stop the tears from bubbling in your eyes. “Then school—God, I’ve been so worked up from the stress of my internship that I’ve forgotten what’s going on in any of my classes.” You can feel the frustration and exhaustion release from your body.

Ryan’s eyes soften. “Listen, Y/N, this is gonna sound so shitty, but hear me out,” her voice lowers, quieter now. “You’re too humble for your own good. You’re ashamed of your privilege, trying your hardest to get by without it, but—” she laughs, “You have the opportunity to forget about school and really take on fashion fully—but you’d rather try to juggle the two? Trust me when I say so many girls would kill to have something to fall back on if school doesn’t go well.” The weight of her words hits you hard.

You’ve spent so much time hating your wealth and power, wishing it away, but now, in the quiet of your room, you realize how fucking stupid that is.

“I hate how right you are sometimes,” you admit.

You and Ryan finish the final touches of your hair and makeup and head outside the room. The space is crowded, the sounds of expensive chatter and clinking glasses ringing in your ears. You take in the sea of faces you know all too well.

Businessmen who can’t separate work from play, the silver-spooned socialites, trophy wives, and burnout trust-fund kids—including… the worst of them all.

Alexa Esparza, heiress to her family’s billion-dollar hotel chain, and an absolute snake. Then Evan Ortigas, the burnout skater who thinks rolling out of bed qualifies as getting ready. His father owns a massive production company, so Evan never really had to try at life. Damson Sinclair, probably the most genuine out of all of them—he was just so annoyingly rich, his family founded the largest tech company in the world. Surprisingly, Damson never fell back on his wealth; he’s actually a straight-A student and an amazing coder. He’s just shitty by association. Then worst of all, Drew Vanderbilt. The Vanderbilts were all lawyers—like literally every Vanderbilt—hence why they’re such assholes. Drew is the walking embodiment of privilege and arrogance.

All they really did was gossip, party, and… nope, that’s it.

You’ve seen it all before—their reckless antics at almost every event. They’d get high and/or drunk and act like they own the world, making absolute fools of themselves. Once, you caught Evan HOOKING UP in YOUR ROOM. What really gets under your skin most of all is the fact that they thrive on the attention, live for it, really.

Gossip Girl eats this up—the blog that tracks every scandal and ridiculous moment of their lives. You’re proud to say you’ve never made an appearance on the blog, and you intend to keep it that way.

You shuffle around the room, exchanging shallow, substanceless small talk with the guests, swarmed with empty chatter. You can feel your exhaustion creeping back in. All you want is to get away, to breathe for just a moment.

You slip away to the balcony, but of course, Evan is there waiting for you—the burnout, stoner, and skater who thinks he’s God’s gift to everyone. “You look pretty,” his eyes scanning you like a piece of meat.

You sigh. “Save it for your girlfriend, Evan.” You brush him aside, but he doesn’t falter, grabbing your arm before you can get away. “Can’t I give a compliment?” he asks, flashing a predatory smile.

You snatch your arm back, repulsed. “Not when your girlfriend is in there sitting alone. You’re such an asshole.” His smug expression fades, and he backs off, returning to the party.

Just as you start to find solace in the bustling space, a voice breaks the silence. You turn to see Drew Vanderbilt, all 6’2” of him.

Great…

As he walks toward the edge of the balcony, you notice he’s on the phone. “Are you fucking serious? Dad’s waiting on you, and so is Lila. You can’t just put that on me!” His voice is sharp and strained, and he gives you a polite nod, barely acknowledging your existence before returning to his argument.

“Could you just leave your work behind for one night and be with your family?” His voice rises, making you feel like an intruder on something personal.

You stand frozen for a moment, hearing him argue into his phone, his brow furrowed and jaw tight. For the first time, you feel a flicker of empathy for Drew Vanderbilt—but then you immediately withdraw it. Taking a deep breath, you know it’s time to exit the situation.

You step back into the party, the heat of the room overwhelming from the sheer number of people. You grab a cold glass of champagne from a passing waiter, the bubbles tickling your throat as you slowly take a sip. Finding a quiet corner to sit alone, you let the chaos whirl around you. Your eyes begin to wander—Alexa and Damson trying to sneakily hit their vapes (it’s painfully obvious), Evan getting touchy with his girlfriend in the corner—a reminder to lock your bedroom door later.

Then your eyes land on her: Lila Vanderbilt, the youngest of the family. You’ve always thought she was sweet, and it’s hard not to feel sympathy seeing her sitting alone with her head down.

You decide to go over and keep her company. After all, you share a bit of history from being on the student council together. You’re sort of friends?

“Hey, how are you?” you place a hand gently on her shoulder, trying to grab her attention. She looks up, her face brightening when she recognizes you, a warm smile spreading across her face.

“I’m great!” she says, standing up. “How are you? Oh my gosh, we haven’t spoken in forever,” she asks, her voice filled with genuine kindness.

“I’m good, just waiting for this party to be over,” you reply sarcastically, a smile pulling at the corners of your mouth.

Lila giggles. “Right? I had to come straight from practice. I got ready in the locker room. I’m so exhausted!”

You share a chuckle, bonding over the shared annoyance of these events. It’s nice having someone to talk to who gets it.

You chat for a while, catching up, talking about everything from school to how obvious Alexa and Damson are being. You almost forget where you are in the midst of the conversation.

But then, you hear a deep, husky voice that brings you back to reality. “You missed me?” There he is—Harris Vanderbilt. His voice carries such power that it instantly makes the air heavier. Lila’s face lights up as she turns to see her brother, practically jumping to hug him. “You came! Drew said you had to work!” Her excitement is clear. It’s sweet to see.

Harris chuckles. “Thank Drew. He practically called me every name under the sun to get me here.” There’s a slight annoyance in his tone.

So that’s who he was arguing with…

You let out a small chuckle to yourself, accidentally catching Harris’ attention. His gaze lands on you with a familiarity that sends a strange flutter through your chest. Taking a slow sip of champagne, his gaze doesn’t leave you for a second. His smirk grows slightly, as if he knows something you don’t.

You awkwardly laugh and smile, avoiding direct eye contact. Then he breaks the silence. “Y/N, how are you?” His deep voice is smooth as he extends his hand to you. You stare at it for a second—large, confident, powerful—and place your hand into his, feeling his warmth against yours.

“I’m great, how’s Yale?” you manage, trying your hardest to keep your composure.

“Stressful,” he replies with a slight humor, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. “But it’s nice to see you.”

He begins to rub his hands together, as though he’s considering something. His eyes scan you up and down. The look is quick, but it sends a shiver down your spine. You try to ignore the dreadful nervousness creeping in.

“You look great, by the way,” Harris adds, licking his lips. His voice is low and steady, the compliment lingering in the air between you two, making you fumble over your words.

“Thank you,” you respond, nodding rapidly, the smile on your face a little too tightt.

You finally make your way to the bar, desperate for an escape from the intensity of the night. A deep sigh escapes your lips as you bury your face in the cold marble counter. The chill against your forehead is almost comforting, and you try to let go of all the frustration of the evening, wishing you could make sense of it all.

Slowly, you lift your head from the counter and glance back at the party behind you. People are starting to leave, and you can’t help but feel a sense of relief. This night is almost over, and soon, you can retreat to your room.

But just then, your peace is shattered once again by that all-too-familiar presence beside you. You glance to the side and see none other than Drew Vanderbilt—the last person you want to see right now.

Isn’t that enough Vanderbilt for one evening?

He rests his elbows on the bar. “Whiskey on the rocks, please,” Drew mutters to the bartender, looking utterly exhausted and worn out. Before he takes a sip, he lets out a heavy sigh, dropping his head down to face the counter, his posture slumped in a way that makes you wonder if the night has drained him as much as it has drained you.

After a moment, he glances over at you, his eyes narrowing slightly when he notices your worried expression. “Do you need something?” he asks, his voice dripping with his usual attitude.

You cringe. What an asshole.

“You looked like shit, but I forgot—that’s just you!” you shoot back, flashing a dry smile. Without giving him a chance to respond, you grab your champagne and make a beeline for the door, not bothering to look back.

You just need to get out of there.

Hoping for some solitude, you lean against your room door, putting all your weight on it. But as you open the door, you freeze. Your brain takes a second to process what it’s seeing—Ryan and Damson, completely enveloped in each other, kissing on YOUR bed.

You can’t believe it. “Not you, Ryan…” you mutter under your breath, disbelief clouding your thoughts. You step into the room and slam the door behind you. “OUT!” you snap, your voice sharp.

Ryan looks up at you, her eyes wide, clearly caught off guard. After a split second of hesitation, Damson bolts from the room, leaving you and Ryan alone.

Ryan tries to explain herself, her voice frantic. “Wait, don’t hate me, please! I promise there’s a valid reason—”

You pause. You can’t just kick her out without hearing her out. Crossing your arms, you let out a sigh. “Fine, talk,” you say, flopping down onto the edge of your bed.

She crosses her legs, holding a pillow for comfort. “Harris totally rejected me. Like, he wanted nothing to do with me,” she sighs, frustration lacing her words. “I was just upset and needed a rebound.”

You blink, stunned. Harris rejecting… Ryan? That’s hard to fathom. You haven’t heard of someone rejecting her in years; it’s a rare occurrence. Seeing her like this makes your heart ache, especially knowing you weren’t there for her.

“I’m so sorry,” you murmur under your breath. But before you can continue, you can’t help but ask, unable to suppress your grin. “But Damson?”

You both burst into laughter at the sheer absurdity of the situation. For a moment, the chaos of the night fades, and you share a brief moment of calm together.

But, of course, nothing lasts.

BZZZ, BZZZ

You both pull out your phones at the same time. The sound of a notification echoes in the now silent room. You look at your phone—and for a second, your heart stops.

to be continued…

[pit-and-the-pen]

Three's a crowd

Summary: After finding out your mate, Cassian, had slept with Nesta you let slip that you wouldn't mind her joining you and Cassian.

Cassian x reader established relationship, Smut (18+)Female reader, m/f/f threesome, mean dom Nesta, soft dom Cassian, Sub reader, impact play, subspace kinda, fingering, oral (m/f receiving), orgasm denial, lots of praise, lots of safe word checks. Two mentions of spit. 

Idea by the lovely @sarawritestories <3

divider by @tsunami-of-tears

It started out as an innocent story telling session with your family. Nothing out of the ordinary, a bottle or two of wine shared in your cozy living room. Nesta, Emery, Gwen and you sitting on your couches feet tucked up as laughter filled the air. Your mate, Cassian, was out grabbing a few drinks with his brothers at Rita’s so naturally you invited all your friends. 

The hours passed like minutes, Gwen recounting some story about a unicorn that had Nesta and Emery roaring with laughter, shouting over each other with “That’s not how it happened!” “Tell it right, Gwen!”

“What he did like me more. I know you were too busy getting your world rocked by Cas to remember anything correctly but-” Gwen gasped before clamping a hand over her mouth. You felt your eyes widen, letting the words sink in. “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry. I…shit.” The red head knocked back the rest of her glass of wine. Nesta’s cheeks had tinged pink right up to the long tips of her ears. 

“It’s fine. I promise.” You said, taking a long sip of your own. Nesta’s head snapped to yours. 

“What?”

“It’s no big deal. If I got jealous over every person Cassian has ever slept with, I would never know a moment of peace.” You laughed lightly to yourself. And you truly didn’t mind. Maybe only slightly because she hasn't told you but that’s the past. 

“Did I hear my name?” Speak of the devil. Cassian strolled into the living room, pressing a quick peck to the top of your head as he flopped down onto the couch next to you. 

“Only talking about how much of a rake you used to be.” Another laugh drew out of you at his faux scandalized face. 

“Me?” 

“Yes you.” You poked right in between his ribs and he jumped slightly. Playfully batting away your hand. 

“And why, pray tell, are we discussing that?” 

“Gwen said you slept with Nesta. Well I believe her exact words were ‘rocking Nesta’s world’” Cassian’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head. You brushed a gentle hand on his cheek. “And I was just telling her that I’m fine with it.”

“You are?” You only nodded, draining the rest of your wine glass. 

“It was forever ago. I haven't even met you yet.” He tried to explain, words tumbling out. 

“Cas.” You cut him off, placing a hand on his thigh. “I really really don’t mind. I mean who wouldn’t want to sleep with Nesta.” It was your turn to blush. The sound of Gwen sputtering reminded you that you were in your very full living room that suddenly felt very small. You shot up to your feet, nearly stumbling over your own limbs. 

“I’m going to grab more wine.” You practically shouted and turned to leave the room. Trying not to run to the small wine cabinet, you were cursing yourself mentally. 

“You got out of there pretty fast.” Cassian said, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“I don’t know how I’m ever supposed to look her in the eye again.” You groaned, pressing your forehead against the cool wood of the cabinet. 

“Very easily actually. Did you mean it though?” 

“What part?” Your breath hitched in your throat as Cassian kissed up your neck. 

“Do you want to sleep with Nesta?” Your heartbeat sped up as you tried to fight back the thoughts. Nesta was gorgeous, anyone with eyes could see that. And you’d be lying if you said you never considered it. You loved your mate wholeheartedly but there was nothing wrong with looking. It wasn’t uncommon for you and Cassian to point out a fae or two that caught your eye at Rita’s, so this was no different. 

“Princess?” Cassian froze, mouth hovering right over your pulse point. 

“Would you be mad if I said yes?” Your voice was small, cheeks burning hot. He chuckled against your neck, continuing his path of kisses. 

“No.” His mouth was right against your ear. “Do you want her to join us in our bed?” He practically purred it and you gasped as his teeth toyed with your ear lobe. You could only nod your head. “Interesting. I’ll talk to her. But, be warned princess. She’s just as vicious in bed as she is out of bed.” He left one final bite to the column of your throat and unwrapped himself from around you. Leaving you trembling and wondering just exactly what you had gotten yourself into. And oh so excited for it. 

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

“Why don’t you go over your colors for Nesta, Princess.” Cassian’s hand rested lightly on your jaw, tugging your face up to look at him. You knelt in front of him, naked with your palms resting on your thighs.

“Yes, General. Green is okay, yellow means slow down or I’m starting to get uncomfortable. And red means stop.”

“Good girl.” Cassian said, running a hand through your hair. “And if you can’t talk? Like if Nesta was sitting on that pretty little face of yours?” Your breath hitched at the image he painted for you. You licked your lips as you let your mind wander. A slight tap on your head pulled you out of your dirty thoughts. 

“Right. One tap is good, two means slow down, and three is stop.” 

“Good girl. Now our rules are I can touch you, Nesta, but no fucking. Anything else I’m missing, princess?” 

“No, General.”

“Alright. Now show Nesta just exactly how good you can be.” He stepped back, letting Nesta step in front of you. 

“Can I touch you?” She asked, eyes roving over your naked form. She still had on a silk robe, tied loosely but covering anything that mattered. 

“Yes.” You said and her hand instantly tangled into the roots of your hair, pulling your head back to the ceiling. A small yelp left your mouth and she gave you a feline smile. 

“Oh you’re going to be fun to play with.” 

Nesta didn’t waste time before she had you ass up on the bed. Circling you with your favorite paddle in her hand. Your head was in Cassian’s lap, his straining cock right in front of you, throbbing, as you ran the tip of your tongue out to trace the veins that ran underneath. 

A loud smack filled the room and your shriek died off to a moan. 

“No touching him, yet.” She called out. You whimpered and Cassian ran a gentle hand through your hair. Another smack. 

“No touching her either, General.” She teased. “You have to earn touching him.” One more smack, harder than the others. Your foot kicked up at the feeling. The tinge of delicious pain that ran through you making you moan loudly. 

Nesta delivered hit after hit until tears stung your eyes. Cries bubbling out of your throat. Cassian’s cock was leaking, listening to your sweet noises but not being able to touch you. His hands were clenched tight by his side, fighting the urge to thread his fingers into your hair and push you down onto his aching cock. 

One last smack pulled a yelp from your throat. Slightly different from the others. Cassian swore under his breath. 

“Gods Nesta. I don’t even hit that hard during punishments.” He tapped your cheek lightly, asking for your eyes on him. You did so instantly. “Color?”

“Green. Very much green.” 

Another sharp hit, the paddle whipping through the air. 

“Is that how you address him?” Nesta asked. You shook your head. 

“No. I’m sorry, General.” 

Cassian had his eyes narrowed on Nesta as he answered you. “It’s okay, Princess. You’re doing great.” You didn’t need to see Nesta to know she rolled her eyes, a small sigh leaving her lips. 

“Aren’t you just dying to get your mouth around him?” She purred as her hand started rubbing at your now red backside. You nodded, which earned you a small snack with her hand this time. 

“Gods. Yes.” You answered. Her hand gently ran up the curve of your back, her lithe body following it until she was leaning over you. 

“Then put that pretty mouth to use, or is it only good for screaming?” You didn’t get a chance to answer before she tangled a hand into your hair and pulled you onto Cassian rock hard cock. His loud moan echoed through the room as he instantly hit the back of your throat. You gagged, trying to breathe through your nose. A string of curses left his mouth and his hand tried to rest on your head. The sound of a sharp slap filled the room as Nesta smacked his hand away. 

“I didn’t say you could touch her yet.” She hissed and pulled you off of him. A string of spit connecting your lips and the tip of him. “Color?” She asked you, you didn’t hesitate. 

“Green.” 

Her eyes flickered back to Cassian.

“See. She can take it. Now keep your hands to yourself before I tie them up.” She winked and that was all the time you got before she was pushing you back down onto Cassian. You were better prepared this time. Relaxing your throat and taking a short breath through your nose. Nesta praised you as she pulled your head up and down, controlling your every move. You were a whining mess under her as you wanted to be able to touch Cassian, run your hands up and down his thick thighs, cup his heavy balls the way that would make him moan your name and have him spill down your throat. 

“Enough.” She said and pulled you off of him again. She kept tugging until you were sitting on your knees, chest heaving as you gulped down precious air. Her hands rest lightly around your neck and she pushes you back against the bed, your hair hanging over the edge. 

She slings her legs over your chest, putting all of her weight right in the center. She curls a finger at Cassian, beckoning him to you. 

“Make her scream, General.” She purrs at Cassian and that’s all it takes for him to throw your legs apart. He runs a finger through your folds and groans when he finds you soaked. He thrusts two fingers into you, scissoring them to stretch you out for him. 

“Are you ready for me, princess? Think you can take me?” He coos and you cry your yes. Followed by a string of please. The words die off in your throat as he pushes his tip in. Your eyes flutter closed at the feeling of your mate entering you. 

Cassian sinks into you fully as Nesta’s fingers give your nipples a harsh tug. Your moan is quickly cut off by her thumb sliding into your mouth. 

“I think that’s a much better use for that loud mouth of yours, don’t you think Cas?” Your skin flushed as she talked about you like you weren’t even there. Cassian’s only answer was a sharp thrust of his hips, a move that would have sent you further up the bed if it wasn’t for Nesta’s weight on the center of your chest. His finger rubbing tight lethal circles on your clit. 

“Fuck. Everytime, it’s like you were made for me.” He spoke through clenched teeth. Slowing his thrust down to let you feel every inch of him. 

Your eyes shut close as you felt that coil tighten in your stomach. Biting into Nesta’s thumb as you fought back screams. Your body jolted when Nesta gave your breast a sharp slap. 

“Not yet.” Was all she barked before she pressed that same hand low on your belly. Your body shook as it only served to amplify every thrust, singeing every nerve in your body. 

Your head starts to feel a little fuzzy, slipping into that delicious headspace that only Cassian could give to you. Your hand sneaks across the bed, searching for his warm hand to stop you from fully floating away, not entirely sure of yourself with Nesta around. Nesta’s foot comes to rest on your wrist, pinning it down hard enough that you gasp. Nesta’s weight is off of you instantly. Cassian slipping out of you with a growl. Blinking off the haze in your eyes, you see Cassian holding Nesta’s neck lightly. 

“Cool off Nes.This is her first time. If my mate wants the comfort of my touch, then that’s what she gets. Do you understand?” Cassian growls. Something in Nesta’s eyes switches. That hard edge melts away and a flush rises over her cheeks. She mumbles something under her breath. 

“What was that?” His tone is softer now. Nesta’s eyes don’t meet his. 

“Yes sir.” Her voice is shaky.

Cassian’s eyebrows raise in question. He removes his hand from her neck, sliding it down her body. She shudders at the contact. Cassian leans in close until his mouth is just an inch away from her ear.

“I think you can do better than that, right Nes?” Nesta’s eyes flicker to you. You give her a small nod of encouragement, eyes wide at the scene unfolding in front of you. Still hazy from the orgasm you had been denied. 

“Yes, sir.” Nesta’s words are more firm. Cassian groans at the tone. 

“Better. Now I think we owe our girl over there something, don’t you?” Nesta bites her lip and nods. 

Cassian turns his attention to you “Color, princess?” 

“Y..yellow.” You stuttered out. “Just wanna touch you.” Your voice was small and shaky. The tell tale sign that you were starting to get overstimulated. 

“Are you okay with Nesta staying?” 

You think for a second then nod. His eyes soften and he runs a soothing hand through your hair. He places a kiss on your forehead and you all but melt against him. Dipping your head down to rest in the crook of his neck. His arms wrap around you and he shifts you to his lap, making you straddle him. 

“Like this?” He asks and you nod again. You raise your hips and whimper as you sink down onto him. You throw your head back as he bottoms out, hitting that sweet spot inside you right away. He gives you a few breaths to adjust to the new position. Then he hooks an arm over your shoulder and grinds you down on him, short quick thrusts that pull high pitched mewls from you. 

“Nesta.” You say between cries. The blonde was quickly by your side. You grabbed her cheeks between your hands and pulled her lips to yours. She swallowed every one of your moans, chasing them like they were oxygen. 

One of your hands snaked down her smooth stomach, feeling every muscle that her training has given her until you reach between her thighs. You trailed a tentative finger through her center. Drawing a moan from both of you as you circled her clit, applying the pressure the same way you would to yourself. Her hips bucked at the contact. Her own hand cupping the back of your head as the other started playing with your nipples. You slipped a finger into her, the sound of both of your slick filling the air. You paced your finger to the timing of Cassian’s thrusts. Your legs were shaking around Cassian and he moaned as you clenched around him. 

“Good girl. Fuck, you gonna cum all over my cock?” You moaned your yes. Not pulling away from Nesta’s soft lips. She nipped at your lower lip as you added another finger into her. Trying to get her to her own release. 

“Go ahead. Gods, you’re squeezing me like crazy, princess.” His words mixed with the sharp tug on your nipples had your whole body tensing. You pulled away from Nesta, fingers stilling inside of her as you came so hard you saw stars. Nesta held your head, Cassian wrapping his arms tight around your waist to crash you against him. Your ears were ringing but you could hear both of them whispering their praises in your ear. A few harsh thrusts from Cassian had him panting your name as he spilled into you. A loud keen flowing from your lips as he fucked you both through it. You're both panting, heads resting against each other when you remember you still had two fingers buried in Nesta. 

You pull off of Cassian, feeling his cum drip down your thigh as he slips out of you. 

“Lay down for me Nes.” You say as you pull your hand away from her cunt. She gives you a sleepy smile and does just that. You make a big show of slipping your fingers into your mouth. Moaning at the taste of her. You’re rewarded with her sharp inhale. You smile down at her and start trailing kisses down her chest. Lower, delivering a soft nip to her stomach, her hip, the inside of her thigh. She tilts her hips up to meet your mouth and you feel Cassian pin her hips to the bed. You look up at the both of them as you lower your mouth to Nesta’s center. 

She moans loudly as you lick a soft stripe between her folds. Her hands are instantly tangling in your hair. You circle her clit with your tongue, once, twice then you tap Cassian’s wrist once. Signaling him to let her go. That’s all it takes for her to start bucking against your face. Using that hand in your hair to push you closer into her. 

You can sense her growing frustration and sneak your hand up, teasing those same fingers inside of her again. Her back arches off the bed and she rides your face. Pushing your fingers deeper inside of her. You curl your fingers, searching for that rougher patch and almost smile when she curses loudly. Her moans quickly raise in pitch. Swears mingling with a garbled version of your name. Her legs try to clamp around your head but Cassian keeps a hand on her knee to stop her. Her moans turn into small mewls as her legs start to shake. You flick your eyes up and lock them with hers. That’s all it takes for her to fall apart on your tongue. Hips still bucking against your face as she rides out her high. You don’t stop your fingers until she’s pushing you away lightly. You drink up every drop off her arousal, leaving her glistening with a mix of it and your spit. You smile widely up at her as she pants, chest heaving, staring up at the ceiling. Her cheeks are tinged pink and she looks so pretty that you want to kiss her. So you do. A much softer kiss than the one you shared earlier. 

When you pull away and turn your face to your mate, you see him hardening against his thigh again. 

“Round two?” You turn back to Nesta, biting your lip. She quickly nods before Cassian is attaching his lips to yours. The groan that you pull from him lets you know just how long this night will be.

[ray-gt]

sleep-in

I've been thinking about the girls again. A quick one because I love them.

___________________________

“Morning,” Lilah murmured.

Dani felt her girlfriend’s large nose nuzzle the length of her spine before her shoulders were enveloped by the soft cushiony press of her lips.

Dani simply groaned in response, rebelling against Lilah’s obvious push to wake her up. She turned further away, burying her face in the pillow and pulling the sheet over her head.

Lilah let out a breathy chuckle before flipping back down with a petulant whine. The bed shook from her movement but Dani was too sleepy and too stubborn to give Lilah the reaction she was hunting.

Just as she felt sleep tickle the edges of her consciousness, Lilah rolled over again in Dani’s direction, chasing it away. She felt the sheet being pulled off her head and she scrambled to grab it. It was laughable how hard she had to pull just to keep it from being pulled away any further. She knew this was just a game for Lilah. If her girlfriend wanted to, there would be no contest. Instead she was content to let Dani, sleepy and disgruntled, try and eventually give up.

“Fine.” She muttered. She let go of the sheet and flopped back face-first on the pillow.

Above her Lilah huffed.

“Dani.” She complained, drawing in out like a child. “It’s 8am! You don’t want to waste the morning. I’ve been up for an hour already.”

Dani didn’t reply. Lilah had a faulty brain that enjoyed getting up at the asscrack of dawn, but Dani’d been up until 2am the night before prepping a new case briefing for the partners at her firm, she didn’t have the same reverence. This sacred space of morning was hers to turn her brain off and indulge in the freedom of a semi-empty mind. The pure physicality of being tired.

When the silence endured long enough for Lilah to realise Dani didn’t intend on replying to or acknowledging her, she let out a long, loud sigh.

That’s ok, Dani could deal with Lilah’s fidgeting.

There was nothing stopping Lilah from seizing the day or whatever it was that people did when they voluntarily got up before mid-morning.

Dani was content until she felt the press of something indenting the pillow around her and then Lilah’s large fingers curling beneath her and meeting below Dani’s stomach.

With a yelp, she was airborne and watched as her precious pillow grew further and further away. As she watched her view was replaced with Lilah’s smug grin.

Her girlfriend looked the opposite to what Dani felt. Was it some magic in giants that meant their equivalent of ‘bed head’ was just slightly tussled? What would be a sagged, tired squint on Dani was a soft low-lidded stare from Lilah. When they made eye contact - Dani dangling above her girlfriend’s face - Lilah’s eyes shone.

“Li,” Dani groaned. Her voice was cracked with the disuse of morning. “You know I’m not a nice person until at least 10am.”

“I don’t mind.” Lilah shrugged.

Dani rolled her eyes.

“How kind. Can you please put me down? I need at least 10 more hours of sleep.”

Lilah pouted. “But I miss you.”

“I’m literally sharing a bed with you.”

Lilah didn’t reply but Dani saw an idea form behind her eyes.

“Ok, fine.”

The hand holding Dani began to move, but instead of it returning her to her pillow, she was lowered onto Lilah’s chest. Then Lilah drew the sheet up to her and rested back.

“You can sleep.” She said at last, grabbing a book and her glasses from her bedside table.

Dani wanted to protest. She felt like she should say something about agency and autonomy, but she was too tired and too comfortable to care. Lilah was letting her sleep-in (which she rarely ever did, regardless of size) so Dani decided to just take the win.

“You’re so needy.” Dani muttered by way of rebuttal. She felt Lilah’s chest vibrate as her girlfriend hummed in contentment.  

Slowly, the rise and fall of Lilah’s chest, the quiet turn of a page, and the rhythmic wash of Lilah’s breath coaxed her back into the sweet embrace of sleep.

(I've been writing a bit of Dani and Lilah stuff offline, and I'm having a lot of fun I fear. You can rad more about them here, or over one AO3 where I've been reworking the story a bit - ray xx)

[biblical-chronicles]

The Masterplan pt. 2

__________________________________________

where Noel makes sure you end up as his.

pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3 | pt.4

__________________________________________

The next day Noel scheduled Liam to swing by for some loose-end business about four hours after you were meant to leave. That gave him plenty of time to enjoy his daily check-in with you and make sure you wouldn't cross paths with his brother.

He approached your studio, already anticipating the sound of your voice. It was becoming a comforting fixture in his day—something he’d never admit to you, of course. But as he drew closer, he heard something that instantly put him on edge: laughter. Yours, unmistakably, followed by a second voice—deep, familiar, and carefree.

Noel froze in the hallway, his mind racing. Liam. It had to be Liam. But what the hell was he doing here so early? His jaw tightened as he glanced up and down the corridor, ensuring no one was around to witness whatever was about to happen. Then, he leaned slightly toward your door, trying to see something—anything—through the keyhole.

Nothing. The angle was all wrong, and he cursed under his breath, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. Fine. If he couldn’t spy, he’d have to go in. Straightening his posture, he knocked sharply on the door and waited.

You opened it, your face lighting up with a smile when you saw him. “Oh, hi, Noel! Didn’t expect you just yet.”

From inside the room, Liam’s voice rang out: “Oh, is that my little sad case of a brother? Thought I smelled bitterness in the air!”

Noel’s eye twitched, but he plastered on a tight-lipped smirk. He leaned casually against the doorframe, ignoring Liam’s jab. “Liam,” he said evenly, “weren’t you supposed to be here in, oh, I don’t know in around four hours or so?”

Liam appeared behind you, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. “Yeah, well, thought I’d do you a favour, didn’t I? Could’ve flaked altogether, but here I am, blessin’ you with me presence earlier so I can devote the rest of me evening to the boozer.”

He then turned his attention to you, his eyes raking you up and down with a grin that Noel wanted to smack clean off his face. “If you told me you’ve got such fit birds hangin’ around here, I’d’ve been stoppin’ by way earlier.”

You laughed, caught off guard by Liam’s comment. “Well, I guess it’s good you decided to come in today, then.” you replied, amused.

Noel’s stomach twisted at the sound of your laughter. He forced himself to keep his composure, though his fingers curled into a fist at his side. “Right,” he said curtly, stepping further into the room. “Liam, if you don’t mind, let’s take this conversation elsewhere, yeah? Got a couple things to go over before you... bless the pub with your presence.”

Liam smirked knowingly, clearly aware of the tension he was stirring. “Oh, alright then. Don’t wanna keep you waiting, do I? Catch ya later, love.” he added, throwing a wink in your direction as he followed Noel out of the room.

The moment the door closed behind them, Noel grabbed Liam by the arm and steered him down the hallway toward his own studio. His grip was firm, borderline aggressive, but Liam just chuckled, letting himself be dragged along.

Once inside Noel’s studio, Noel shut the door with a sharp click and rounded on Liam. “What the fuck are you playin’ at?” he hissed, his voice low but dangerously pointed.

“What d’you mean?” Liam asked, feigning innocence as he flopped onto the couch. “Just tryin’ to make conversation, mate.”

“Conversation?” Noel repeated, his tone laced with disbelief. “You stroll in hours early, start chattin’ up me—” He stopped himself, realizing the trap he’d almost fallen into. “Me studio mate, and you think that’s just fine, yeah?”

Liam raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Oh, so she’s ‘yours’ now, is she? Didn’t know we were callin’ dibs these days.”

Noel rolled his eyes, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “She’s not ‘mine.’ Just don’t want you scarin’ her off with your bollocks, alright?”

“Scarin’ her off?” Liam laughed. “She seemed fine to me. Actually, she seemed to be enjoyin’ herself.”

“Yeah, well, don’t push your luck,” Noel snapped. “I’ve got a rhythm goin’ here, and I don’t need you fuckin’ it up.”

Liam leaned back, folding his arms behind his head with a shit-eating grin. “Ah, so that’s what this is. You’re sweet on her. Poor lass. Hasn’t got a clue what she’s gettin’ into, does she?”

Noel shot him a glare. “Don’t you have a pub to get to?”

Liam chuckled, standing up and heading toward the door. “Alright, alright, I’ll leave you to your... rhythm. But Noel,” he added, pausing with a smirk, “if you’re plannin’ to make a move, you’d better hurry up, hate to see you get outplayed.”

With that, he sauntered off, leaving Noel standing there, fuming. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

Noel just sat in his studio after Liam’s earlier theatrics, thoughts running through his head. It wasn’t just irritation gnawing at him—it was urgency. Liam had thrown him off his game, and for the first time since he’d set his plan into motion, Noel felt an itch of doubt. What if you started fancying his brother? Liam had charm, sure, but it was the loud, reckless kind. People fell for it all the time. Noel couldn’t let that happen.

He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t just claim you outright—too obvious. You weren’t there yet, not with him. But Liam’s actions had planted a seed of paranoia. Noel smirked bitterly to himself but after a while a new idea blossomed in his mind.

When lunch hour rolled around, he slipped out of his studio and headed toward the lounge. He made a show of brewing himself a tea, the mundane act giving him a sense of control as he waited. Sure enough, your manager wandered in a few minutes later, his predictable routine making him easy to catch.

“Alright, Noel.” your manager greeted, moving toward the kettle.

“Alright.” Noel replied, giving a polite nod. He sipped his brew, watching the man out of the corner of his eye.

As expected, your manager didn’t take long to bring up the one topic Noel had anticipated. “You know, I’ve been pushing her a bit harder like you said,” he said, stirring sugar into his cup. “She’s getting more publicity now—good buzz around her gigs, even a few mentions in the papers.”

Noel nodded, feigning casual approval. “Told you, mate. She’s got summat special. People just need to see it.”

Your manager sighed, leaning against the counter. “Yeah, but she still needs that... push, y’know? Something to really catch fire. She’s not exactly front page material yet.”

Noel’s grip on his mug tightened. That was exactly what he needed to hear. He kept his expression neutral, though his mind was already racing. This was the moment he’d been waiting for.

“Sometimes it’s not about talent, is it?” Noel said, his tone deliberate. “It’s about the story. People love a story. Might be worth thinkin’ about how you can sell that angle.”

Your manager nodded thoughtfully, clearly mulling it over. “You’re not wrong. She’s got the talent and looks, no doubt, but yeah, maybe we need to package it better. Thanks, Noel. Always good to get your perspective.”

“Anytime,” Noel said with a small smile. “Good luck with it, yeah?”

Your manager gave him a wave and left the lounge. Noel finished his tea, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips.

Back in his studio, he settled in to wait. Hours ticked by, but Noel didn’t mind.

When he heard a soft knock on his door, followed by your familiar voice calling his name, he already knew. He stood and opened it to find you standing there, your eyes glassy and rimmed red.

“Hey,” you said softly, and before he could even ask what was wrong, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him.

For a moment, Noel froze, caught off guard by the sudden contact. Then he softened, his arms coming up to hold you close. “What’s all this about?” he asked, his voice low and steady.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your expression crumpling. “It’s stupid,” you said, shaking your head. “I didn’t know where else to go, and you’ve been so helpful already, and—god, I’m sorry for dumping this on you.”

“Hey, don’t be daft,” Noel said, his tone firm but gentle. He guided you to the small couch in his studio, sitting down beside you. “Tell me what’s goin’ on.”

You took a shaky breath, your hands fiddling with the hem of your jumper. “It’s me manager. He’s been pushing me harder, which I get—I really do—but now he’s talking about needing some kind of... big moment to make me stand out. Summat headline worthy.”

Noel tilted his head, a concerned frown on his face. “That’s a lot to put on you.”

You nodded, your voice cracking as you continued. “I just feel so... lost. I don’t know what he expects me to do. I’m an artist, not some circus act.”

He reached out, covering your fidgeting hands with his own. “You’re right, it’s bollocks,” he said earnestly. “But you’ll figure it out. You’re too good not to.”

You managed a small smile through your tears. “Thanks, Noel. I don’t know what I’d do without you right now.”

“You don’t have to do this alone,” he said, his voice low as he gave your hands a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve got people in your corner. You’ve got me.”

You blinked at him, surprised, but the warmth in his gaze eased the knot in your chest. “Thanks.” you murmured again, leaning into him for comfort.

As you nestled in Noel’s arms, the tears slowed, his calm demeanor grounding you in a way that surprised you. He hadn’t let go, and truth be told, you didn’t want him to. His hands were steady on your back, his voice low and soothing as he murmured reassurances.

Noel was silently elated, his mind reeling at the feeling of having you this close. The faint scent of your shampoo, the way your body relaxed slightly against his—it was intoxicating.

“You know,” he began, his tone casual. “I might have an idea for those headlines they’re after.”

You shifted slightly in his arms to look up at him, your brows furrowed. “Yeah?”

He hesitated, a flicker of nerves passing through him. He had to play this just right. “How about... a PR stunt relationship? That sort of thing always grabs attention.”

Your eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, you didn’t respond, just staring at him. Noel’s heart skipped a beat. Shit. Too soon. Too bloody much. But before he could backpedal, you spoke.

“Actually... that could work,” you said slowly, your voice thoughtful. “But the thing is, I wouldn’t even know who to ask. And I’d hate to fake a relationship with someone I don’t like as a person.”

Noel felt a wave of relief, he couldn’t have scripted this better if he’d tried. He shrugged, keeping his tone easy and nonchalant despite the hammering in his chest.

“Well,” he said, a small smirk tugging at his lips, “I’m not a stranger, am I? And you don’t seem to hate me.”

Your jaw dropped slightly, and you laughed, the sound light and incredulous. “No way,” you said, shaking your head. “You can’t be serious.”

“Why not?” he countered, leaning back slightly to meet your gaze. “I’ve already got the name recognition. It’d be easy for the press to spin. And we get on, don’t we?”

You studied him for a moment, searching his face. His expression was sincere. “I mean... you’re not wrong,” you admitted, though you still sounded unsure.

Noel took your hesitation as his cue to lean in, sealing the deal. “It doesn’t have to be a big thing. Just enough to get people talking. Besides,” he added, his voice dipping to a softer, almost conspiratorial tone, “I’d make sure it’s easy for you. No strangers. No awkward bollocks. Just us.”

The simplicity of it made sense, and before you could overthink it, you found yourself nodding. “Alright,” you said, almost in disbelief. “But if this goes sideways, I’m blaming you.”

“Deal.” Noel said quickly, his lips curving into a triumphant smile. When you leaned in and hugged him tightly again, he closed his eyes, savoring the moment.

As the two of you left the studio together, the air between you felt lighter. Noel’s hand brushed yours, and he hesitated for a moment before boldly reaching out to take it. You glanced at him, eyebrows raised, but you didn’t pull away.

The streets were quiet, the golden hour light painting everything in a soft glow. Neither of you spoke much, but the silence was comfortable. That was, until a stray reporter appeared around the corner, camera in hand.

Noel tensed slightly, his grip on your hand tightening instinctively. “Well, there’s your first headline,” he muttered under his breath.

But to his shock, you stopped walking, turned to him, and—without warning—leaned in to kiss him.

Noel’s brain short-circuited. For a moment, he was frozen, too stunned to move. But the second he felt the warmth of your lips on his, his hands found their place on your waist, pulling you closer as he kissed you back. His heart pounded so hard it was a wonder you couldn’t hear it.

When you pulled back, a little breathless but grinning, you looked at him like nothing had just happened. “There. Now it’s more convincing.”

Noel couldn’t suppress the grin that spread across his face. “You’re bloody brilliant, you are,” he said, still slightly dazed.

__________________________________________

oh things are gettin' more interesting you lot, still I'd be more than keen on gettin' manipulated by Noel

hope you liked it, and tomorrow I promise I'll be posting earlier xx

love ya !!

pt. 3 here x

[partycatty]

i had a vision and drew it - and even better, i got a fic idea from it!

johnny cage > discovery

johnny discovers his new powers unexpectedly. maybe he wasn't as ordinary as others thought.

warnings: johnny thinks he's dying and gets all crisis-y, established relationship

notes: imagine instead of activating his powers in a life or death situation, it randomly bodyslams him like a heart attack - and it scares the hell out of him. also i hope u like my silly sketch :3

masterlist <3

• johnny's life was crumbling. his movies were flopping hard, and people were starting to forget his name. his spending habits were out of control, and you two were arguing about it so much that you grew tired of hearing your own voice. most days were the cold shoulder or shouting matches. things weren't looking great.

• it was during one of these matches when the shouting on his end abruptly paused, and he doubled over. your anger was shoved aside as you dashed forward to inspect his current state. but, just as soon as it started, it was over in a flash. johnny was startled, to say the least. his eyes were wide and he was panting.

• you guys assumed the stress was taking a toll on him, a physical toll. out of respect for his well-being, you held your tongue from that point on. or at least, you tried to. everything was relatively quiet until a mysterious yakuza member demanded the sword on your shared mantle. you would've thrown it at him if given the opportunity since the damn thing sent you back millions. johnny, however, wasn't as willing. fortunately for your safety's concern, he was the ultimate home security system, tying up the man after knocking him unconscious.

• we all know the rest. "what in the actual-" "i am the god of fire" "get your damn hands off him" "that's no special effect" "change the arc of your lives." blah blah blah. it was all a weird blur. apparently, you, johnny, and this new "friend" of yours were all chosen to fight for something bigger than a malibu disagreement. you were a fighter alongside your husband, but you did it competitively. johnny did it for the cameras, which isn't to say he's worse naturally. he could kick ass, and so could you, just in different directions.

• liu kang warned everyone that training would take months, as the tournament was far down the line. johnny grew impatient, and you grew tense with his lack of eagerness to actually train. regardless, you sparred and took the monk's advices to heart.

• johnny wouldn't tell you at first, since he didn't want to distract your own progress, but he would oftentimes catch himself feeling... funny, for lack of a better phrase. during meals, his eyes would unfocus and his hearing sounded underwater. at night, he'd toss and turn for hours in the cot beside yours. something felt wrong, really wrong. his chest felt fluttery and cold, like a sprite weaving between his ribs. it scared the holy hell out of him, considering how prone is family is to heart attacks.

• "great session! whaddya say to a well-deserved break?" he'd announce out of concealed desperation to the other earthrealmers, hoping that someone would agree and he'd be able to excuse himself to loosen his collar and sit down for a moment. it was after the fifth time asking in a day that you approached him with genuine concern.

• "honey, are you alright?" you asked gently, putting a hand on his shoulder. his eyes followed your touch and he sighed, moving your hand to his chest.

• "i-i'm afraid," he'll confess quietly, glancing behind you to make sure nobody was overhearing his moment of worry. "i haven't been feeling well, but i can't just drop everything and leave. not when my career's in the shithole. we've got nothing to return to. this fire god guy needs me, needs us, and i know damn well you'd follow me out if i stepped back from all of this."

• johnny's tragic worry struck a chord in your heart and you couldn't help but agree with his words. you advised him to ask a monk about decongestant tea, or some other simple remedy that would keep you at the academy.

• things died down, or at least, johnny's pain wouldn't be verbalized for a while. you and the boys were actually gaining significant strength and conditioning with the brutal training regime liu kang assigned. when he felt everyone was finally prepared to choose a champion, he assembled a king of the hill type of tournament on campus grounds.

• you stood between johnny and kenshi, a palpable tension on your husband's shoulders. his jaw was clenched tight, as were his fists. he looked... terrified. this wasn't a normal expression for the star.

• "johnny?" you whisper to him, reaching down to intertwine your fingers with his. before you could fully articulate your concerns, he speaks up.

• "i don't feel well," he murmurs in return, eyes fixated at the platform in front of you all. he visibly pales.

• liu kang calls you to the platform as the first contestant, and you obediently oblige with a bow, waiting for further instruction. your eyes danced across your potential competitors — raiden and kung lao, the humble farmers. kenshi, the enigmatic swordsman... and your husband, who looked as if he was shitting himself and moments away from puking.

• "you will face (reader), johnny cage."

• "a-are you sure? because that's my spouse, and i'd hate to—"

• liu kang frowns. johnny puts his hands up in a surrender motion, a pathetic attempt at remaining playful, and hoists himself to the platform across from you. his position readies, as does yours.

• though he may be visibly under the weather, the technique is still there. johnny's fighting style is unique and calculate, effortlessly playful and charismatic, just like him. even so, the match becomes quite even as you're familiar with his style. you parry many blows, mirroring others. the crowd is pleased and excited by the potential outcomes.

• you land a good kick to johnny's face, sending him spiraling in the air and landing on his back with a deep thud. the color in his face returns (due to the bruising) as he stares up at you, licking his lips before flourishing his way back up.

• but then, he lets out a strained cry.

• johnny clutches his chest, clawing at the layers of fabric across his body as if they're an anvil sitting atop his torso. his face twists as he doubled over in complete agony.

• "by the elder gods!" liu kang shouts, standing from his spectator chair. others let out their own concerns and shouts, but you're the first one rocketing to his side. you get to his level to inspect his face. you make a desperate attempt to push his damp hair from his face, but his neck snaps the other way as his body tries to expel this sudden onslaught of pain.

• as the fear that a heart attack is imminent, a sudden glow of green burns bright even past johnny's robes. it spills out like an angry cloud, seeping through johnny's fingers as he cries out in the worst pain he'd ever experienced. it is here that liu kang tenses up, then relaxes. he steps to the side, and does nothing but watch blankly. you come closer and part his clothing, giving yourself access to his bare chest to inspect the source.

• shockingly, the problem is... internal. his veins are glowing a bright green shade and when his eyes aren't deeply clenched, you sense a faint trace of emerald in his irises. right where his heart is, is a rhythmic flashing pattern.

• "make it stop!" johnny begs helplessly, and you reply on the verge of tears that you don't know how to help. however, almost as if on cue, he takes a deep breath inward and sits upright, eyes wide and jaw slack. and, just like that, everything seems normal again.

• you run your hand frantically across his bare skin, trying to feel for abnormalities as he catches his breath. you're crying now from the fear, and you catch a glimpse at his watery eyes.

• "are you okay?!" kung lao asks, putting a hand on his back to help him stabilize. "what was that?!"

• "i don't know..." johnny breathlessly replies, reaching a hand up to fix his hair nervously. however, as his hand traveled upward, he noticed the same emerald aura clouding around his hands, and he shouts out and scurries as if he's trying to run away from his own arm. as it's outstretched, it shoots a ball of energy outward, frying a mannequin that sat innocently off to the side. the crowd's eyes go from the mannequin and back to the celebrity. your fists ball up on his back, fistfuls of fabric keeping you upright otherwise you'd fall back from shock.

• "that is not how i anticipated that happening this time," liu kang muttered, coming closer to inspect johnny's palms. johnny stares at his hands like they grew overnight. his eyes shoot to the fire god, incredulous.

• "what the hell do you mean, 'this time?!'"

[stylesonfilms]

ink & innocence - 4

word count: 4.3k

The following week passed in a blur, slipping through Aspen's fingers like grains of sand. It wasn't that anything particularly eventful happened— it was simply the ebb and flow of her routine picking back up, steady and unrelenting. Aspen and Harry hadn't crossed paths since their last interaction in his car. There was no awkward avoidance, no pointed effort to stay away from one another; it just seemed like their worlds didn't have any reason to overlap again, and Aspen was grateful for it.

Zayn, however, was a frequent presence at her and Isobel's apartment. He popped in and out like he lived there, lounging on their couch or rummaging through their fridge as if it were his own. Aspen didn't mind, his visits usually brought a liveliness to the apartment that she appreciated. Twice that week, she'd given Isobel a ride over to Zayn's place, the two of them chatting in the car about everything from class projects to the latest drama in their friend group. It felt normal, comforting, like slipping back into a well-worn pair of shoes.

As the days went on, Aspen slowly settled back into her own rhythm. The sting of Harry's biting words and cold demeanor faded into the background, their sharp edges dulling with time and distraction. She convinced herself she wouldn't have to see him again, and with that thought, the encounter began to dissolve into the haze of forgotten moments.

By the weekend, Aspen had all but moved on. Isobel, however, had other plans. She'd been buzzing with excitement about a small hangout she'd planned with Zayn and another mutual friend from their ethics class, Kirsten.

Kirsten was someone Aspen had always admired from a distance, though their friendship had grown steadily over the past semester. There was something effortlessly cool about her—the way her jet-black hair always looked freshly blown out, the patchwork tattoos decorating her arms and torso like a living canvas, and her easygoing confidence that drew people in. Aspen often found herself marveling at how Kirsten made everything seem so effortless, even though she knew her friend worked hard behind the scenes.

Months back, Aspen had gifted Kirsten a set of earrings from Hot Topic, a simple three-pack she'd picked up on a whim. To her delight, Kirsten had been over the moon about them, threading them through some of the many piercings in her ears and swearing they were her new favorites. Aspen couldn't help but smile every time she saw them still nestled in their spots, as if they'd become a permanent part of Kirsten's look. Little things like that made Aspen happy, knowing she'd managed to give someone even a tiny bit of joy.

The only downside to the evening was that Aspen couldn't join them.

"Are you sure you can't call off?" Isobel pouted from her spot on Aspen's bed, her wide eyes pleading as Aspen bustled around the room. Her tote bag sat open on the desk, half-packed with her essentials for work, and Aspen was carefully ticking off a mental checklist as she slipped items inside.

"Sorry, Iz," Aspen said with an apologetic smile, glancing over her shoulder. "I really need this shift. Just tell Kirsten and Zayn I said hi, okay? I'll come by as soon as I get off."

Isobel huffed dramatically, flopping back against the pillows like a scorned child. "You're no fun," she whined, though her tone was light, her pout more for show than anything else.

Aspen chuckled softly, zipping up her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. "You'll survive without me for a few hours," she teased, grabbing her car keys from the hook by the door. She twirled the ring around her finger absentmindedly, muttering under her breath as she double-checked her mental list. Wallet? Check. Keys? Check. Notebook? Check.

It was only a six-hour shift at the library, but Aspen wasn't taking any chances. She'd made the mistake of forgetting her planner once before and spent the whole shift feeling adrift. Today, she was determined to be prepared.

"Alright, I'm off," she said, pausing in the doorway to shoot Isobel a quick smile. "Don't have too much fun without me."

"Impossible," Isobel replied, blowing her a playful kiss as Aspen stepped out into the hall.

The door clicked shut behind her, and Aspen let out a small sigh as she headed toward the stairs. She loved her friends, but there was a certain peace in stepping away for a while, retreating into her own little bubble at work. The library wasn't particularly busy on weekend nights, and she suspected tonight would be no different. Still, Aspen felt a twinge of guilt for missing the hangout. She consoled herself with the thought that she'd still have time to join them later, even if just for an hour or two.

As she slid into the driver's seat of her car and started the engine, she made a mental note to text Marion about picking up extra shifts next week. With the semester break in full swing, she had no excuse not to fill her days with something productive. For now, though, she focused on the road ahead, leaving the apartment—and the lingering thought of Harry—firmly in her rearview mirror.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Harry leaned back against the sofa, glaring at the ceiling as Zayn's insistent knocking echoed through the flat. His jaw clenched so tightly it ached, but he ignored it, determined to outlast his friend's relentless persistence. Normally, anytime there was a chick for Harry to meet, he would jump at the opprotunity. But when Zayn informed Harry it would be at Isobel's place, which she shared with Aspen, he slammed the door in the fools face. Why couldn't Zayn take a hint? The last thing Harry wanted to do was show up at Isobel's place and risk seeing Aspen.

He couldn't explain it to himself, let alone to Zayn. Something about Aspen had gotten under his skin in a way that he didn't like, couldn't afford to like. He'd spent the entire week trying to brush it off, but the memory of her wide, vulnerable eyes kept creeping in when he least expected it. The way her expression had faltered when he pretended not to know her replayed in his head like a broken record.

"Stupid," Harry muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair. He knew exactly what he'd been doing that night. Keeping her at a distance was the smart thing to do, the necessary thing. She was too soft, too trusting, too much of a reminder of the things he didn't let himself have.

The knocking stopped, and for a moment, Harry thought Zayn had finally given up. But then came the voice; louder now, more annoyed.

"It's been a week, Harold!" Zayn shouted through the door, the sound carrying easily through the quiet flat. "You can't avoid this forever!"

Harry scoffed, muttering to himself, "Watch me."

But Zayn wasn't deterred. The knocking resumed, harder this time, like he was trying to break down the door. Harry's temper flared.

"Piss off!" Harry barked, his voice sharp enough to cut through the air. He was halfway off the couch, ready to march to the door and tell Zayn to leave in no uncertain terms, when the next words froze him in his tracks.

"She won't be there!" Zayn shouted.

Harry hesitated, his fists clenching at his sides.

"Get your ass in the car in the next five minutes, or I'm off without you!" Zayn added, the frustration in his tone clear.

Harry stood there for a moment, his chest rising and falling as he wrestled with himself. The rational part of his brain told him to stay put, to let Zayn go and save himself the trouble. But the other part, the one that hated the idea of Zayn going without him, won out.

Grabbing his jacket off the back of the couch, Harry stormed to the door and yanked it open. Zayn stood on the other side, his arms crossed and a smug expression already forming on his face.

"Happy now?" Harry snapped, shoving past him.

"Ecstatic," Zayn shot back, following him down the hall. "You know, you're a real piece of work sometimes."

"Yeah, well, I didn't ask for your opinion, did I?" Harry muttered, pulling his keys from his pocket with more force than necessary.

They made it to Zayn's car in tense silence, the only sound the clicking of Harry's boots against the pavement. He slid into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut behind him, and crossed his arms over his chest.

Zayn glanced at him as he started the car. "You gonna act like this all night?"

Harry didn't answer, his eyes fixed on the window as the city streets blurred past. He wasn't about to give Zayn the satisfaction of a response— not when he was still trying to convince himself this wasn't a colossal mistake.

But as the car neared Isobel's place, Harry felt the familiar knot of tension tighten in his chest. He told himself it was fine, that Aspen wouldn't be there, that it didn't matter even if she was.

And yet, he couldn't stop his mind from drifting back to the last time he saw her, to the soft quiver in her voice, the hurt lingering in her eyes.

For the briefest moment, he allowed himself to wonder what it would've been like if he hadn't been such a grump that night. If he'd let her in instead of pushing her away.

But then the car came to a stop, and Harry shoved the thought aside, hardening his expression as he prepared for whatever lay ahead.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The knot in Harry's stomach eased as soon as he stepped inside the apartment and confirmed Aspen wasn't there. It wasn't that he was afraid of seeing her— no, he'd never admit that— but the lack of her presence made it easier to relax. He trailed behind Zayn, his ears semi-attuned to the conversation ahead of him.

"Asp says hi, she's just at work," Isobel chirped, smiling as she gestured for them to come in.

Zayn nodded, making a noise of acknowledgment as he immediately grabbed a handful of popcorn from the coffee table and stuffed it into his mouth.

Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, shoving his hands into his pockets as he glanced around the cozy apartment. It was just about six PM now, the golden light of the evening spilling through the sheer curtains and casting warm streaks across the walls.

He settled into the same single seat he'd claimed when they arrived, nursing a beer he barely sipped. The past hour had dragged by in a haze of idle chatter, Zayn and Isobel's easy back-and-forth filling the room. Harry tuned in and out, his green eyes flickering between them and the third person he hadn't met before.

Kirsten.

She was hard to miss, even in the relaxed setting. Jet-black hair with the perfect blowout, tattoos snaking up her arms, and a confidence in the way she carried herself that couldn't be ignored. Harry wasn't going to lie to himself— she was undeniably attractive.

The glass bottle in his hand met his lips as he took another sip, his gaze locking with Kirsten's when she suddenly directed a question his way. Her voice was smooth, steady, and tinged with curiosity.

"Oh, hm?" Harry blinked, realizing too late that he'd completely missed what she said.

Kirsten laughed lightly, shaking her head as she repeated herself. "I asked how long you've been doing tattoos. Isobel always talks about how talented Zayn is, and you," she motioned to the intricate art covering his arms, "don't seem far behind."

Harry's lips quirked up in a half-smile, the smallest bit of amusement flickering across his features. "About four years," he said, his voice low and even. He tipped his beer toward her. "Thanks. You got any tattoos yourself?"

It was a dumb question, and Harry knew it the second the words left his mouth. He'd already caught glimpses of ink peeking out from beneath the edges of her sleeves, but he couldn't exactly take it back now.

Kirsten didn't seem to mind, though. "Do I?" she teased, rolling her sleeves up to reveal a collection of intricate designs. What he hadn't expected was for her to stand, grinning as she gave a guided tour of her tattoos. Harry leaned forward slightly, feigning casual interest as she explained the stories and meaning behind each piece.

Then, without much hesitation, Kirsten lifted her shirt to reveal more ink winding up her side.

Harry wasn't proud of it, but he couldn't stop his eyes from following the smooth line of her skin. Patchwork tattoos decorated her tan complexion, leading up to a striking piece that curved along her ribs. He knew from experience how painful those placements could be, and he couldn't help but be impressed by her commitment.

But then he caught a glimpse of the underside of her bra, a little black bow sitting between the two cups.

The momentary flash was enough to snap him out of his trance. Harry cleared his throat, his gaze darting anywhere but her torso as he suddenly became very interested in the popcorn bowl Zayn was hogging.

Zayn raised an eyebrow at Harry, the barest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips as if he knew exactly where his friend's attention had been. Kirsten didn't seem to notice, lowering her shirt with an easy smile. "The ribs were the worst," she said, sitting back down and melting into more conversation with the others.

Harry nodded, his tone casual but clipped as he responded, "Yeah, they usually are." His knuckles tightened around the neck of his beer bottle, but he forced himself to relax, leaning back into the chair with a practiced ease.

It wasn't that Kirsten wasn't captivating— she absolutely was. But even as she sat back down, her confident laugh ringing in his ears, Harry couldn't stop the faint, unwelcome thought of Aspen from creeping into his mind.

No. Not now. He shut it down before it could go any further, forcing himself to focus on the present. Aspen wasn't here, and that was for the best. He had no business thinking about her when someone as bold and stunning as Kirsten was sitting right in front of him. Plus, he didn't care. He didn't care.

By the time seven-thirty rolled around, the fiery golden light filtering through the shades had faded into a soft haze of orange that melted into the deep blue of the encroaching night. The living room had quieted in its own way, the earlier energy settling into a calm rhythm as conversations became subdued. Harry, always one to retreat into his thoughts, found himself staring through the circular window. The soft glow outside reflected against the glass, and for a moment, he let his mind drift.

The sound of movement pulled him back, and he turned to see Kirsten sliding into the seat next to him. She settled in with an easy grace, her long legs crossing as she leaned slightly toward him. Harry's gaze instinctively flickered toward Zayn and Isobel on the other side of the room. They were hooked together in conversation, arms draped over the back of the sofa, utterly oblivious to anything beyond their small bubble.

Harry suppressed a sigh, realizing he had no real choice but to engage with Kirsten. Not that he particularly minded, though. There was something intriguing about her, even if he wouldn't say it outright.

He raked a hand through his curls, the silver rings on his fingers catching the dim light as he brought his attention back to her. She was watching him, her dark eyes sharp and interested, the corner of her mouth pulled into a slight, knowing smile.

"You always this quiet?" Kirsten asked, her tone teasing but not unkind. Her confidence lingered in every word, and she didn't seem fazed by Harry's reputation or the tension he carried like armor.

"Depends," Harry replied, his voice low and rough, the kind of tone that made most people think twice about pushing him. His green eyes held hers for a beat longer than necessary before he added, "Not much to say if there's nothing worth talking about."

Kirsten laughed softly, a sound that was warm but measured, like she wasn't going to let him off that easy. "Good thing I'm here, then. I've been told I'm great at pulling words out of people."

Harry tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at the edge of his lips. "Is that so?"

"It is." She leaned back, her arm draping over the chair in a mirror of his posture. "But you'll have to tell me if it's working."

Harry took a slow sip of his beer, buying himself a second to decide if he wanted to indulge her. There was a challenge in her eyes, one he wasn't entirely sure how to approach. She wasn't like most people he met; intimidated, fawning, or overly eager to crack his exterior. She seemed comfortable in her own skin, and that unsettled him in a way he couldn't quite pin down.

"You like tattoos," he said finally, nodding toward the ink she'd shown earlier. His tone was casual, but there was an edge of curiosity beneath it.

Kirsten's brows lifted slightly, like she hadn't expected him to start there, but she didn't miss a beat. "Love them. Got my first one when I was eighteen. You?"

"Sixteen," he replied, his lips quirking into something that wasn't quite a smile but close enough. "Did it myself. Still looks like shit."

She laughed again, this time with more warmth, her fingers brushing absentmindedly over the ink on her forearm. "Everyone's first is terrible. That's the rule, isn't it?"

"Maybe. But mine's particularly bad," Harry admitted, his voice dropping into a quieter, almost self-deprecating tone. For a moment, the intimidating edge to him softened, just enough for her to catch a glimpse of something more vulnerable underneath.

Kirsten tilted her head, studying him. "I don't believe it. You're too much of a perfectionist for that."

Harry's gaze sharpened at her words, his brow furrowing slightly. "What makes you think that?"

"You're careful," she said simply, shrugging one shoulder. "The way you sit, the way you talk, even the way you drink your beer. It's all calculated, whether you realize it or not."

For a split second, Harry wasn't sure if he should be annoyed or impressed. Most people didn't pay enough attention to notice those things about him, let alone point them out. He settled on a middle ground, his voice cool but laced with a faint hint of intrigue. "You think you've got me figured out?"

"Not entirely," Kirsten admitted, her smile turning sly. "But I'm getting there."

The corner of Harry's mouth lifted into a small smirk, and he leaned back in his chair, resting the bottle on his knee. "Good luck with that."

Her laughter was soft but genuine, and the sound tugged at something deep in his chest that he immediately dismissed. She wasn't Aspen, there was no vulnerability here, no wide eyes searching for something from him he couldn't give. Kirsten was confident, assured, and, most importantly, not asking him to be anything other than himself.

And yet, as their conversation stretched on, with Kirsten's voice carrying easily over the quiet hum of the apartment, Harry couldn't shake the strange sensation that this moment, with her leaning just a little too close and the night pressing in through the windows, might be the first time in a while he wasn't entirely in control.

They spoke as the time went on, Kirsten shyly agreeing to come back to Harrys whenever the night ended. To that, they cheered their drinks and Harry swallowed down the rest of the bottle, reaching for a shot of whatever Isobel laid out.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

"Goodnight, Marion!" Aspen waved her hand at the sweet old lady that was gracious enough to let her go home without closing. Aspen didn't mind doing it but there were just so many doors and windows and books. 

The apartment buzzed faintly with the warmth of company, the scent of buttered popcorn mingling with the low hum of music that drifted through the air. Aspen took a moment to absorb the familiar comfort of her shared home, her heart lifting at the sight of Zayn's car in the driveway. The thought of Kirsten being there brightened her evening even more; their busy schedules hadn't allowed for much catch-up time lately, and Aspen had been looking forward to reconnecting.

As she locked her car and hurried toward the door, she smiled, clutching her bag, phone, and water bottle. The excitement in her chest felt light and bubbly, carrying her through the chilly night and into the apartment. The familiar squeak of the door welcomed her as it swung open.

"Hey, Isobel, Zayn!" she started cheerfully, waving toward her friends, her smile wide. She toed off her shoes, already slipping into her usual rhythm. But as her hand moved to hang her keys on the hook, her gaze landed on him.

Harry.

Aspen froze for a fraction of a second, her heart jolting in her chest. Her breath hitched, and her body stiffened. It wasn't just Harry's presence that caught her off guard—it was the fact that Kirsten was seated next to him, her posture relaxed and confident, her knees nearly brushing his. They were mid-conversation, Kirsten laughing lightly at something Harry had said, her tattooed arms resting casually on her lap.

Aspen felt heat creep up her neck, not from anger but from a strange mix of embarrassment and discomfort. She didn't want to feel this way—she barely knew Harry, and he had made it abundantly clear what he thought of her. Still, her shy nature and the lingering sting of their last encounter made her instinctively want to retreat.

"Hi," she muttered quickly, her voice barely above a whisper. She cleared her throat and busied herself with her bag, keeping her eyes downcast as she padded further into the apartment. Her shoulders felt tight, like she was carrying some invisible weight, but she forced herself to keep moving.

Aspen leaned down to hug Isobel from behind, using the gesture as an excuse to avoid looking in Harry's direction. "Missed you," she said softly, her voice almost drowned out by the background music. Then, she turned to Zayn, who offered her a casual side hug and a warm grin.

"Glad you're home," Zayn said with genuine kindness, his words easing some of the tension Aspen felt.

Isobel patted the empty seat beside her, the indent from where Kirsten had been still visible. "Come on, sit! We're just hanging out."

Aspen hesitated, her eyes flickering toward Kirsten and Harry for a split second before she looked back at Isobel. The idea of sitting near them, near him, made her chest tighten. She could feel the way Harry's presence seemed to fill the room, an unspoken intensity that always made her self-conscious.

Faking a yawn, she stretched her arms half-heartedly. "Oh, I would, but I'm just so tired," she said, her words rushing out in an effort to excuse herself. She forced a sheepish smile. "I have to get up early to help Marion shuffle through some books. It's been a long day."

Isobel's brows furrowed slightly, and Aspen could tell her friend wasn't buying the excuse. Their eyes met briefly, and Aspen silently pleaded for her understanding. Isobel's lips pressed together, and she gave a small nod, letting her off the hook.

Aspen shot an apologetic look toward the group as she backed toward her room. "You guys have fun, though! I'll see you tomorrow." She gave a small wave and slipped down the hall before anyone could stop her.

Once inside her room, Aspen shut the door and leaned against it, exhaling a shaky breath. Her heart was still racing, and her cheeks burned from the tension she'd felt. She dropped her bag onto the floor and sank onto her bed, burying her face in her hands.

Why was she letting him get to her? It wasn't like Harry cared, he hadn't even acknowledged her properly. She shook her head, trying to dismiss the knot of emotions tangled in her chest. She was overthinking it.

But as she changed into her pajamas and slid under the covers, the image of Harry and Kirsten sitting so close together lingered in her mind. She hated how it made her feel, an odd pang of something she didn't want to name. Aspen closed her eyes, hoping that sleep would wash away the thoughts, but her mind remained restless. She wasn't even so sure why she was hung up on it all.

She never took herself as the jealous type. Certainly not over boys, and certainly not over ones like Harry. It was all a new feeling and one thing was for sure, she did not like it.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Back in the living room, Harry's sharp green eyes flickered toward the hall where Aspen had disappeared. His jaw clenched as he took another sip of another beer, masking the unease that her brief presence had stirred.

"She's just shy," Kirsten remarked casually, her voice cutting through his thoughts. She didn't sound judgmental, just observant. Kirsten wasn't kept in the loop as much as Isobel was, her lack of Aspens and Harrys hiccup showing.

Harry shrugged, his expression indifferent. "Some people are." His tone was clipped, as though the subject didn't warrant further discussion.

Kirsten arched a brow, clearly amused by his brusqueness. "Not much of a people person, huh?" she teased, leaning back in her seat.

Harry glanced at her, his gaze steady and cool. "Depends on the people," he replied flatly, his voice laced with an edge that made her smirk.

Kirsten chuckled softly, not deterred in the slightest. "Well, lucky for you, I'm pretty good company," she quipped, her confidence unwavering.

Harry didn't respond immediately, his attention shifting to the amber liquid swirling in his bottle. He wasn't sure why Aspen's sudden exit was still nagging at him, but he pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on Kirsten's bold demeanor. She was easy to talk to, and that was what he needed right now.

But no matter how hard he tried, Aspen's quiet hello and the look in her eyes as she quickly excused herself remained in the back of his mind, a subtle reminder of something he wasn't ready to confront.

[muddyorbsblr]

save my room for last

'one look and they'll know' collection masterlist See my full list of works here!

Placement: the morning after 'a sizing mishap', hours before 'a tale of ice baths and hot sauce'

Summary: One of the duties you're assigned for Soccer Aid Training Week is to run wakeup calls for a handful of players. Today you and your fellow staff members draw names for who you have to wake up.

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: 18+ | smut-ish times [minors & pearl-clutchers, don't even try me i am not the one]; one (1) cuss word

Things to be aware of: cuddly clingy and overall menace bf Tom; cozy steamy times 🥴😮‍💨

The high-pitched scandalizing notes of your alarm pierced the quiet of your hotel room, effectively steamrolling your peaceful slumber in your boyfriend's arms.

"Too early," Tom grumbled, holding your naked body tighter against him. "Sun hasn't even begun to peek through." You fought the urge to snuggle further into his side and burrow your face into the crook of his neck as large hands freely roamed your back.

"I gotta go," you groaned, pushing yourself off the bed and trying to roll out of his hold, only making him let out a whiny groan and wrap his fingers around your thigh to pull you back to him. "Sweetie if I'm late I get whoever's left in the bowl for the wakeup calls." You had to bite your lip to hold back any reaction you had to his hand now lazily kneading at the back of your upper thigh, fingers traveling dangerously close to the part of you that was already most definitely awake and beginning to ache for him. Again.

"Not yet," he mumbled, pressing his lips to your forehead, tracing the features of your face lazily in sloppy kisses. "Just a few more minutes, goddess."

Dammit, when he got all whiny and needy like this, combined with the gravel of his morning voice, it was damn near impossible to deny him anything. You'd be downright hilarious to even try. And yet here you were, doing exactly that.

"I'm really sorry, sweetie, but I gotta go," you mumbled, letting out a few giggles that were muffled when he pressed his lips to yours, already pulling you tighter against him and sighing out in contentment as he did so. "I wanna at least have a chance of drawing your name from the bowls."

"Hmmm…you as a wakeup call," he pondered, the tips of his fingers running lightly up and down your side. "But I already have that luxury. That pleasure. Why give that up now for the possibility of having it again later?" He tightened his hand around your thigh and pulled you on top of him, making you brace your hands on his chest. "Why don't we just enjoy the early morning…" he trailed off, running his hands up the side of your body and down to your hips. "Just like this?"

You let out a groan, leaning down to press a brief kiss to his cheek before making a motion to get up and out of the bed. "Because if we do this it could very well be my first and last time on the committee, which means that if you get called back next year, chances are I won't be working the event with you."

Stepping away from the bed, you held back a giggle from the sight of his absurdly long arm reach out for you before flopping down the side of the bed, fingertips barely grazing the floor. You had to turn around to focus on getting your clothes back on, seeing as the sight of his naked form stretching in bed with the sheets so haphazardly draped over him and barely covering him from the hips down served as quite the distraction.

Add to that the way that the sheets traveled down when he stretched, putting on a sluttish display of the well-defined Adonis belt that framed the smattering of hair from his belly button leading down a path you were all too familiar with. If you didn't look away now you would find yourself back in bed and taking him up on his offer, position in the committee and wakeup call assignments be damned.

Unfortunately you knew that you needed to be there when they drew names. You prided yourself in being fairly decent in reading people, and you saw how the other members of the committee eyed Tom. They would be there before the names were even in the bowl trying some way to rig the system and get his name on the off chance that maybe they would catch even a fraction of the glimpse of the view you'd had just seconds ago. The worst part was that you couldn't even blame them.

The only thing you could really do was make sure you had an equal chance of drawing his name, too.

You opted not to bother with your bra and underwear, seeing as you would end up showering when you got to the room that you were designated to share with two other members, Lilly and Simone, anyway. "Go back to sleep," you whispered into the relative darkness. "Whoever ends up drawing your name, just make sure you're fully ready because I don't trust them not to have a camera on them just to snap a picture."

"Will you do something for me, sweetheart?" he mumbled, seeing the silhouette of his hand raising as if reaching for yours in the dark. You put your hand in his once you'd slipped your shirt on, letting out a little squeal when he brought your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. "Save me for last if you draw my name. I'll barely see you between my practice and whatever gets assigned to you for the day. If I get even a few minutes having you all to myself I want to savor it until the last possible second."

"I promise," you said with a giggle, easing your hand out of his and pressing a quick kiss to his lips before you headed out the door.

You tried your best to make as little sound as possible when you stepped through the door of your assigned room, not wanting to wake your roommates so rudely considering the ungodly hour. Of course, there was only so much you could do with the hinges of the door closer all but sounding trumpets at your return.

"Hmph…" Lilly groaned into the darkness. "There's no way it's already time for the briefing."

"Calm down, it's just me. We have half an hour, go back to sleep."

"Y/N?" Simone queried softly. "Bloody hell where'd you sneak off to? When you didn't come in last night we thought you fell asleep in the lobby prepping the media passes. Had half a mind to go out there and retrieve you so you could actually sleep on a bed."

"I appreciate the concern, but I'll have you know that I didn't pass out in the lobby, or a conference hall, or anywhere of the sort. My boyfriend's working the event, too. I spent the night with him." That announcement seemed to perk them both up considerably, both women sitting up from the bed. "I'm gonna take a shower and then we can all head over to the briefing together and see whose names we end up drawing."

"Please let me get Beck," Lilly whined. "My sister will be totally stoked and maybe I can even get him to greet her in a video or something." She was practically bouncing on her bed from excitement now. "Who do you two wanna get?"

"I don't much care who I get," you  bluffed, blindly choosing an outfit from your suitcase. "What about you, Simone?"

"Asa," she answered without hesitation. "Absolutely adorable, that one." She then let out a stream of giggles. "I'll tell you who a handful of women would absolutely slaughter each other to draw, though. Heard them last night talking about how they were tempted to rig the bowls somehow just so things go their way and maybe they could get a glimpse of the famous bulge that Marvel needed to shell out some extra bucks for to buff out with CGI."

"Rig the bowls?" you huffed. "What're they gonna do, have Hiddleston's name printed in special textured paper so they can feel which one to pick out?"

"Upper level conspiracy material right there," Lilly joked. "I'd bet they'd try and trade with whoever ends up drawing him. Gotta admit, though. I wouldn't mind getting his name."

"Same," you and Simone murmured.

Twenty minutes later and the three of you stood among the other staff members in the briefing room, four bowls filled with paper strips lined up on a table in front of you, and the head of committee, Johanna, standing on the other side of the table with a clipboard in hand.

"Right then. Each of you step up, draw one name from each bowl, and hold on to them until everyone's drawn four names each, two from Team England, and two from Team World. Then and only then will you all take turns sharing the names you've drawn. No swapping." She looked at the members closest to the door, her gaze landing on you. "Y/L/N. You're up first."

Your heart was pounding in every part of your body the entire way through, hoping beyond hope that one of the scraps of paper that now laid in your hand held Tom's name. You watched as the other staff members approached the table one by one, some of them doing the sign of the cross before reaching their hand in, others outright expressing how they wished they'd drawn your boyfriend's name once the papers were in their hands. All the while you did your best to feign indifference, fighting against your body's knee jerk reactions of tensing your neck or glaring at them as if you were imagining what they'd look like if their hair suddenly caught fire.

Once everyone had four scraps of paper each, Johanna randomly called out your names, instructing you to share what was written on your respective papers. With each disappointed announcement came more blatantly optimistic expressions from the remaining members; Lilly proudly announced that she drew the TikTok influencer Beck, and Simone beamed as she read out the name "Butterfield".

You took a deep breath before opening the papers when your name was called, struggling to not show the relief that washed over you as you read out the names in your hand. "Bolt…Claflin…Scott…Hiddleston."

"Y/N name your price," one of the more outspoken members from earlier, Brynne, called out. "Come on, you'd still have--"

"Rules are rules, Brynne. You heard me earlier," Johanna's voice echoed through the room. "No swapping. You know your assignments. Meet back here at oh-eight-hundred to receive your designations for the rest of the day."

Passing through the wakeup call runs of the players from the World Team went off without a hitch, consisting purely of knocking on their doors, announcing your presence, and they were out within five minutes and off to the practice field. There was a tiny bit of an awkward interaction with Sam Claflin pointing at your neck and asking if you were alright because it looked "concerningly red", even wondering if it was a rash.

"Thanks for the concern, but I promise everything's fine," you answered him, not-so-casually moving your hair about so that it fell down in front of your shoulders and covered the area in question. "It's not a rash."

That got quite the reaction from him, causing fairly taller man to break out in chuckles and lightly shake a pointed finger in your direction. "You're quite the character. I hope whoever gave you that 'not a rash' appreciates that."

"I think he does," you quipped. "I mean we've been at this seven years and he doesn't seem bored yet so looks like I might be doing something right," you topped off with a shrug, heading to Jill Scott's room next. "Good luck out there."

"Lovely meeting you, Y/L/N," he said with a wave before heading off in the opposite direction.

A few minutes later you were knocking at the door to Jill's room, a ridiculous excitement slowly building inside of you and making you rock back and forth where you stood thinking about the next and final stop on your list before you had to return to the briefing room.

"Who is it?" you heard her call out from inside the room.

"It's Y/L/N. From staff," you said for the third time this morning. "Morning wakeup call."

"I'll be right out." A few moments later her door swung open, the woman greeting you with a warm smile. "Hey…Y/L/N, at the risk of sounding presumptuous or giving you cause of concern I have to ask you something."

Her premise took you aback, making you walk a little straighter and touch the ends of your hair, making sure that your neck was still considerably covered. "Pretty sure that just brought my blood pressure up a few points, but go ahead," you prompted her, trying to make light of the concern you were already feeling.

"It's just I noticed something whenever you passed by the field yesterday afternoon and--Ah screw it, best to just bite the bullet. You and Hiddleston…are you two an item?"

The question had your eyebrows shoot to your hairline. "Hmm? What uhh…what made you think that?"

"Well, if you two aren't a thing, I highly recommend letting the lad down easy because he looks at you like those videos of pets when they see their owners come home. Wide dopey eyes and like his heart wants to burst out of his stupidly wee jersey. That is the most irretrievably in love man I've ever seen with my own two eyes."

You didn't even bother to fight back the smile that stretched across your face. "We uhh…we are. I won't be letting anyone down easy today because honestly I'm so in love with the man it's borderline painful," you confirmed to her with a little shrug. "I may also be the one responsible for that tiny jersey currently fighting for its life. And the shorts. We're just trying to keep things a bit…less public, you know?"

She clapped her hands together loudly, suddenly looking victorious. "I knew it! For the record, you two make a lovely couple. His face lights up whenever he'd steal a glance your way yesterday. And when the other ladies from the committee try to chat him up, it's like he barely even registers that they're paying him any attention. You caught a rare one."

Her testimony on how he behaved when you weren't around had your heart swelling. If there was one thing that was eating away at you, it was the insecurity you felt knowing exactly who you were with and how much more objectively attractive those women that practically draped themselves over him were. And the fear always lingered in the back of your mind that one day he'd wake up and realize exactly that.

"I know," you choked out. "I really lucked out with him."

She pointed down the hall, starting to make her way to the elevator. "Am I last on your list or you have to make a few more stops?"

Your smile grew even wider, basically giving the answer away already. "No uhh…there's one more. Saving him for last."

A deviously amused toothy grin stretched across her face. "Ah, I see I see. Well I won't keep you. I'm sure you're excited to see him again."

You made your way back to Tom's room as fast as you could short of breaking out into a jog, practically power-walking down the halls until you rounded the final corner to the hallway where he'd carried you in his arms just the night before. Nearly even began to skip on your way there until you saw the small group of people that were waiting just a few doors away from his, the one closest to your destination being Brynne.

"Uhh…are you all waiting for your assigned players to get out or…?" you trailed off, already straightening your stance, deepening your voice, and taking on a posture that you only really dished out once in a blue moon. In private. With Tom.

Everyone but Brynne stepped away from their relaxed positions against the wall and walked back toward the elevator. You eyed the audacious, slightly taller auburn-haired woman expectantly. "Come on, Y/N. Be a team player here. Every time I've worked an event that involved him I don't even get the chance to be anywhere near him, I'm asking nicely please trade with me. I'll give you Payne--"

"Ew," you cut cut her off, not backing down from your 'boss lady-slash-domme' tone. "Shouldn't have led with that, Brynne. I mean I kinda feel for you that you got Mister more than big enough for you luv, when in fact I've been to children's parties that served vienna sausages bigger than what the guy's packing--"

"Exactly!" she empathized, letting out a chuckle and reaching for your hand as if to form a bond between you two. You knew better, though, and moved it just out of her arm's reach, knowing full well that the motion was meant to reach for the keycard you were suddenly holding tighter in your fist. "So please? Be a pal and let me shoot my shot?"

You did your best to keep your jaw unclenched, fighting every urge you had to make a show of this particular wakeup call and reveal the very blatant reason why you would not be helping her 'shoot her shot'. "You know, Brynne, I really wish I could help you but…it's my first year here and I really don't wanna get on Johanna's bad side by disobeying her 'no swapping' rule." The conspiratorial smirk on her face dropped, now eyeing you with incredulity as if you'd given her a resounding slap right to her ego.

With her more or less out of your way, you walked over to Tom's door and knocked three times, same as you did for the rest of your assignments.

"Who is it?" his muffled voice queried from the other side.

"It's Y/L/N. From staff," you called out. "Morning wakeup call."

You could practically hear the smile on his face as he spoke again. "Am I the last on your list?"

Oh sweetie there's no list. It's you. It's only ever gonna be you, you thought to yourself with a smirk. "Yup. Last one."

"Please, come in then." The eyes of your onlookers widened the side of saucers at what they heard. "I'm nearly ready, I wouldn't want you to wait out there on your feet. Come in, catch your breath. Really, I insist."

You made a show of looking a bit perplexed at the offer. "O-Oh. Uhm…alright then." You turned to give your fellow staff members a casual look, shrugging before using the keycard in your hand to open the door and slip into the room, your cheeks and neck already straining from the laughter you were reining in as you saw the image that greeted you. "That is not even remotely 'nearly ready'," you playfully accused, motioning to the towel that he held around his waist, water droplets still running down his torso from the shower you suspected he'd just finished at most a few minutes ago. "What if someone else drew your name?"

Before he could answer, you held a finger to your lips and pointed at the door, then signaled toward your ear to tell him that there were people outside listening, or as you snidely put it in your thoughts, 'rummaging for scraps'. "Simple, darling. I wouldn't have invited them in," he answered in a more hushed tone. "I really should finish getting ready, though. Wouldn't want to let this wakeup call go on for longer than is expected of me," he said in a teasing tone, making a motion as if to turn around.

The air left your lungs in a disbelieving chuckle as he released his hold on the towel, the weighed down fabric falling to the floor with a wet sounding thud, and baring every inch of his gloriously naked form to you.

You had to force yourself to look away, gripping the edge of the dresser so hard that you were sure the skin on your knuckles turned white the second you caught a glimpse of the perfectly rounded cheeks of his ass.

That was monumentally easier back when he was mere feet away from you, and now nearly impossible with the way he walked right up to you, lightly wrapping his fingers around one of your wrists and leaning in to bring his lips closer to your ear. "I noticed you didn't have anything to put your hair up. I know how you get when your hair starts to stick to your neck," he whispered, lips lightly brushing across the shell of your ear.

He leaned in even closer, his slightly damp chest pressing against your shoulder as he reached around behind you with his other arm to tie a ribbon around your wrist. Your breathing hitched in the bach of your throat when he stepped even closer, working his thigh between your legs as he dipped his head and traced along your neck with the tip of his nose. "I uhh…I have to get back to the briefing room by 8…" you trailed off with a whimper, letting out a soft moan the moment you felt him press a kiss to your neck.

"We have time," he murmured, pressing another kiss on the same spot and smiling against your skin when you tilted your head and exposed more of your neck to him. He hummed into your skin, pressing closer against you, taking a deep breath as if he was breathing you in. "Is this a new perfume?"

His question, coupled with how he continued to press kisses along your neck, hands leisurely roaming your body as if you two had all the time in the world, put your mind in a haze. "It uhh…it is. One of the girls I'm assigned to room with suggested I try it out."

You began to grow weak in his arms as he kissed a trail down to your chest, his hands traveling to the back of your thighs to lift you up onto the dresser. "It's divine on you," he breathed against your skin, his lips kissing up to the other side of your neck and making you rest your forehead against his shoulder, struggling to take deep breaths.

When he started nipping and sucking at your neck was when you had to hold a hand over your mouth before you moaned so loud that everyone outside and maybe even the room above you would know exactly what was going down in this room. "What--"

"The mark on your neck looked lonely. Let me fix that," he whispered into your skin before latching his lips onto your neck again and proceeding to bite and suck a bit harder, causing you to press your lips to his shoulder and muffle your moan that way.

When you felt the all too familiar flames of your desire start to lick at your skin, your hands found themselves gripping at his back, struggling to remain cautious to not dig your fingernails in and claw at him.

"No," he grumbled against your skin. "Don't hold back, goddess. Sink your teeth into my skin. Mark me. Let me have you with me all day long." He weaved his fingers into your hair and moved to press his shoulder harder against you, as if urging you even more to leave your mark on him the way he was currently doing for you. His grip at the base of your hair tightened when you bit down on his shoulder, groaning into your neck a near euphoric sound that nearly sounded like a guttural 'thank you'.

You pulled away first, nearly gasping for air. "I have to be out soon or they're going to start gossiping about what they think is happening in here."

"They wouldn't be gossiping, sweetheart, because they would be correct," he shot back with a chuckle, pressing a kiss to your cheek before stepping back from you and finally letting you down from the dresser, giving you a soft smile as he fixed your hair to cover both sides of your neck. "I'll be ready in two minutes. Grab a water before you leave, you look a bit flushed."

"Menace," you murmured, scrunching your nose at him and giggling when he tilted your head up and pressed a quick kiss to your lips before walking back into the bathroom to actually get ready. You made sure to take a few extra seconds before walking back outside. No sense in letting a perfectly good view go unappreciated.

As you'd suspected, Brynne and the other staff members were still outside when you stepped out of the room, water bottle in hand. "Wow…" she droned at you, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "If you were going to nick anything from the room, you shoulda gone for something with a bit more substance. Amateur."

"Okay first of all, I didn't swipe this," you bit back, your tone from earlier suddenly making a return and causing a few of the staff members to flinch at the sudden shift in the room. "He told me grab one, said something about me looking 'redder than usual'. Second? If you have a problem with me being assigned to this particular player, take it up with Johanna. Because frankly I don't have the fucks to spare to deal with your petty toddler pageant behavior."

She stood in front of you gobsmacked, a small sound of utter shock escaping her when you made sure to bump against her shoulder hard when you walked past her as the door to Tom's room opened.

"Oh…I suppose you're all here to perform wakeup calls for your assigned players? Like Y/N?"

His words seemed to snap everyone out of their reverie and they haphazardly approached the doors and knocked, hollering their names and telling the person on the other side that they were there for the morning wakeup call. Your boyfriend let out a soft chuckle, subtly shaking his head at their antics and lightly touching the inside of your wrist before signaling for you two to walk toward the elevators.

"Am I mistaken or did I hear you using that voice you have tucked away for some of our more creative nights out here?" he asked under his breath, deftly swiping the bottle from your hand and bringing it to his lips to take a few gulps before handing it back to you.

"Had to," you answered before you finished off the contents of the bottle. "She was trying to make a move on what's mine."

That had him quickly wrapping his hand around your elbow and leading you into a more narrow hallway that probably led into the hotel staff's service walkways, walking you back against the wall and lightly gripping your chin with his thumb and forefinger. "Much as I adore it when you get a touch territorial, you do know that no one will ever succeed? There's no one in this world that can lure me away from you. I'm yours. Always."

You rose to the tips of your toes, bringing a smile to his face as he met you halfway, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss. "I love you," you murmured against his lips, letting out a whiny whimper when you heard the footsteps of the other players and staff members about to round the corner.

"I love you, too." He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead before you two parted ways and he went toward the elevator, casually greeting the other players as he met them. Meanwhile you made your way back to the briefing room, surprised to find yourself the first one there.

"Ah. Y/L/N. With fifteen minutes to spare, too," Johanna greeted you. "How'd you like to be assigned to set up for the Elementals video?"

You fought to keep back the sheer joy that you felt from the offer, the knowledge that you'd be seeing Tom again in a short while filling you with so much excitement you were itching to dance on the spot. "I'd like that very much. Thanks, Johanna."

A/N: I was supposed to have posted this yesterday during my birthday but I got sidetracked building a Baby Groot Lego set 😂🫡 There's about 4 more stories that take place during Soccer Aid week for these two and honestly I can't wait for y'all to see what else I have in store for them because they're precious menaces in love 🥹🥹

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