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nolovelingers · 18 days ago

Note

I love ur writing sm. Could you please write a Billy or Stu fic? Thank u sm!

PUSH AND PULL, BABY! ⋆ ˚｡ ୨୧ stu macher

⠀⠀⠀ ︵ requested 𓈒 𓄧

⋆ ★ ex lovers rekindle their (constantly flickering) flame after stu is pushed towards confronting you upon seeing you with someone new.

cw ᝰ .ᐟ sfw ,, jealous!stu ,, ghostface!stu and billy ,, stu is intoxicated ,, several mentions of alc

PURPOSELY LOWERCASE 🎧 &&. written on iphone sorry if funky format =)

in the dimly lit, smoke-filled living room, the atmosphere was electric with the energy of dozens of young, carefree souls lost in the throes of music and alcohol. the air hung heavy with the mingled scents of perfume, sweat and the tang of burning cigarettes. bodies swayed to the beat pulsing from the speakers, a mass of limbs and laughter in the flickering glow of the disco ball spinning lazily overhead.

the house was a sprawling two-story affair, its once-pristine walls now adorned with band posters, graffiti art, and the occasional drunken scrawl. the hardwood floors, long since stripped of their varnish, creaked and groaned beneath the weight of the revelers. the kitchen counters were littered with the night's worth of drinking - empty bottles, overflowing ashtrays, and the remnants of half-eaten snacks scattered across.

cordless lights strung haphazardly from the corners of the house and the still of the windows, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the scene below. the light played across the faces of the dancers; painting them in shades of blue, green and purple, their eyes reflecting the pulsing glow as they moved in time to the music. the air was thick with the acrid tang of marijuana that clung stubbornly to the life within the home.

groups huddled together, engaged in loud conversations. the distant sound of laughter and the occasional shout of drunken revelry; coming from two boys in particular.

stu, his eyes glazed and twitchy from god knows what, sidled up to billy amidst the writhing throng of bodies, pressing up (in billy’s opinion) way closer than he needed to be. he leaned in close, invading his personal space as macher tends to do, shouting over the cacophony of the party to be heard.

his eyes, bloodshot and manic in the disco lights, flicked over to billy with a drunken, lopsided grin. he had to grab billys shoulder to steady himself.

macher grinned maniacally, his eyes darting. "dude!" he hollered, slapping billy hard on the back, nearly knocking the shorter boy off balance. "this parties a fucking BLASTTTTTT! i fuckin' just- i fucking love these things, ya know?!" he gestured vaguely at the gyrating crowd, nearly tripping over his words.

billy scowled, stepping away from stu’s proximity. "jesus, macher. could you not breathe down my neck? and watch the fuckin' hands." he glared at stu’s grinning face.

stu giggled, a high pitched noise that cut through the thumping bass. “my bad, bro.” his grin doesn’t falter, if anything it seems to widen, hardly a trace of a thought behind his eyes. he held up his hands in mock surrender, still grinning like an idiot. "im just tryin' to spread the love, ya know?"

billy rolled his eyes, "more like spread the creep, you fuckin' weirdo." he shook his head in exasperation.

stu laughed, a high-pitched, almost hysterical sound. "creep? man, im just a lover, not a fighter." he punctuated his words with a clumsy, off-beat dance move, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process. when he caught himself, he wound up swaying around in one place, his eyes stuck on the floor.

he seemed out of it all of a sudden, like he was reminded of something. “im a lover, bro.” his eyes stayed stuck on the floor for a while, dissociated in place.

billy eyed him in suspicion. "you dumbass." he crossed his arms. "what's the deal with you tonight, stu? you snort a whole fuckin' bag of crazy or somethin'?"

stu giggled again, a bit too loudly and with an edge that was almost unsettling. "nah man, just the usual shit. ya know, same as always." he waved a hand dismissively, but his grin was starting to look more like a grimace.

he was trying too hard, billy could tell. stu was always a bit of a wild card, sure, but this was different. he was acting even more erratically than usual, his eyes too wide and his laughter too high-pitched. billy had known stu for long enough to recognize the signs of something being off.

he was trying to distract himself, that much was clear. but from what? loomis’ brow furrowed as he studied his friend's stretched smile.

he was trying to act casual, but his body was coiled tight, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

"you're being a fuckin' weirdo. more than normal. somethin's up with you." billy's voice was low and serious, his eyes narrowing as he studied stu's twitching face. he followed the way stu's gaze kept flicking to the doorway, to the spot where his (freshly) ex - y/n - had been standing by with a guy.

stu licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry. he needed to change the subject. fast. "who, me? man, im just fuckin' lit, ya know?" he forced out another giggle, but it sounded hollow and false even to his own ears.

he was trying to ignore the way his heart was pounding in his chest, the way his skin felt too tight and too hot. he was trying to ignore the way his mind kept flashing back to the sight of you, all over that fuckin' prick's arm. that fuckin' prick who wasn't him. thatstupidfuckingprickwhothefuckevenisthisfuckingguywhyshisfacelooksofuckingstupidijustwanttofuckingkillhimwhatkindofoutfitevenisthat

stu could feel a pressure building in his chest, a tightness that had nothing to do with the beer he'd guzzled or the joints he'd smoked (or the things he’d snorted). it was a different kind of tightness. a squeezing, churning sensation that made it hard to breathe. he pressed a hand to his sternum, trying to will the feeling away, but it only seemed to intensify.

his hand clenched into a fist, knuckles turning white as he pressed it harder against his chest. the pressure inside him was building to a crescendo. he could physically feel it pulsing through his veins, setting his nerve endings alight with a unstable energy.

"fuck, i can't stand seeing them together." stu’s voice was low and guttural, barely audible over the pounding bass. he completely seemed to forget about the fact that he was meant to be covering his jealousy in front of his friend. "it makes me wanna...fuck. I dunno what i wanna do to him exactly, but it's definitely bad." he laughed, but it was a harsh, bitter sound that had no joy in it whatsoever.

“i just wanna- i just wanna kill him. billy, let’s fucking kill him. should- should i talk to them? i should talk to them. i should go over there. billy, i gotta get over there.”

“take it easy, man, that’s a terrible idea, y’gotta chill the hell out first.”

he watched them from across the room, watched as you threw your head back and laughed at something your new boy toy had said. watched as you touched his arm, your fingers lingering on his bicep in a way that made stu's blood boil in his veins. he watched as you leaned in close, your faces inches apart as you whispered and flirted with each other.

it was too much. it was more than he could take. stu felt like he was going to explode, like he was going to tear apart at the seams from the force of his own rage and anguish. he couldn't stand it anymore. he couldn't watch you together, couldn't see you touching someone else, couldn't bear the thought of you smiling at anyone but him.

“fuck it,”

without thinking, stu pushed his way through the crowd, his eyes laser-focused on the ‘couple’ across the room. he marched up to you, his steps heavy , the manic and unstable ear to ear grin that had always lingered on his face returned.

stu sidled up to you, his eyes glinting with a dangerous light, smile eerie as ever. "hey there, lovebirds," he drawled, his voice dripping with false cheer. "having fun, are ya?"

he looked the guy dead in the eye, his gaze intense and unblinking. "i gotta say, man, it's pretty fuckin' ballsy of you to be all over my partner like this." stu’s voice took on a mocking, incredulous tone.

behind stu, billy rolled his eyes and sighed, shaking his head at his friend's reckless behavior. he knew stu was just trying to cover his jealousy with his typical macho bullshit, but he couldn't understand why he had to be so fuckin' obvious about it.

stu watched with a sense of grim satisfaction as the other guys face paled, realization dawning in his eyes. "what the fuck?" he sputtered, taking a step back from you. "you didn't mention anything about having a fucking boyfriend."

stu smirked, crossing his arms over his chest as he loomed over the shorter man. "oh, didn't tell you that little detail, huh?" he snorted, making sure to speak louder than you were trying to, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

“fuck this, and fuck you too."

with that, he turned on his heel and stormed off, shouldering his way through the crowd and disappearing into the night. stu watched him go, a laugh bubbling up from his chest as the realization that his plan had worked sank in.

and just like that, it was just the two of you, standing in the middle of the writhing mass of partygoers. the air between you was thick with tension, the silence stretching out for a long drawn-out moment as you stared each other down.

stu's grin softened, taking on a more genuine, almost tender quality as he looked at your beautiful, angry face. "guess it's just you and me now, babe," he said softly, "just like old times, huh? fuck that guy." he had no guilt or remorse displayed as he spoke.

he reeled back slightly, his grin turning impish as he took in the exasperated expression on your face. "what, you're not happy to see me?" he clutched at his chest in mock distress, his eyes wide and wounded. "im hurt, y/n. i thought we had something special, you and me."

despite your annoyance, you could feel a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. stu's playfulness was infectious. you shook your head, trying to maintain your irritation even as his grin threatened to chip away at it.

"you're such a fuckin' idiot," you muttered, "i can't believe you just did that. what if i really liked that guy?”

stu's eyes lit up with a eager gleam as your words sank in. "wait, so you didn't like that asshole?" he grinned widely, his face splitting into a triumphant, feral smile. "i knew it."

he stepped even closer, backing you up against the nearby wall and trapping you there with his body. his hands came up to rest on either side of your head, caging you in as he leaned down to murmur in your ear.

"tell me you don't still think of me. tell me you don't miss the way i make you feel. you know nobody can love you as good as i can, baby." his voice was low and intense, breath hot against your skin.

you could feel a shiver running down your spine at the proximity from the heat of his body being so close to yours. his eyes were dark and intense, boring into your own with an almost hypnotic force. you swallowed hard, heart starting to race in your chest.

"stu..." you breathed, voice barely above a whisper. "we can't...i mean, we're not...you can't just..." but even as you protested, you could feel your resolve starting to crumble, the old feelings rising up to the surface like a tidal wave threatening to drown you at his intrusion of space.

his grin turned wolfish, eyes glinting with a predatory light as he watched you struggle to find the words.

"c'mon, baby," he purred, his voice a low, silky rumble. "use your words."

one of his hands came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over her bottom lip. "tell me you don't want me to kiss you right now."

his other hand drifted down to your waist, pressing his body closer to yours and causing you to feel the cool hard wall behind you.

his hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tilted your head back, making you look up at the whopping 6’3 man.

stu's grin turned absolutely wicked as your breathless words reached his ears. "kiss me.”

“i thought youd never ask, babe.”

and with that, he closed the distance between you, capturing your mouth in a searing, hungry kiss. it was a kiss that spoke of pent-up longing and aching need.

his lips moved demandingly against yours. one hand fisted in your hair, holding you in place, while the other slid down to grip your hip, pulling you impossibly closer.

he kissed you like a man starved, like a man who had been wandering in the desert for fifty years and had finally found water.

he kissed you like he never wanted to let you go, like he wanted to devour you whole and make you a part of him forever.

after a long, heated moment, stu finally pulled back, a smug grin spreading across his face as he took in your kiss-swollen lips and dazed expression. "fuck, i missed that," he murmured, "i missed you."

you blinked up at him, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. you couldn't help but grin back. "youre still a fuckin' idiot. i can't believe i fell for that. again. this is seriously the third time youve pulled this exact stunt with different guys."

stu just laughed, a sound that seemed to rumble through his chest. "aw, but you love it, baby." he leaned in close, his nose brushing against yours as he murmured, "don’t you?" his eyes had a sort of soft look in them, like he was looking for your approval. like he’d resemble a kicked puppy if you told him otherwise.

you rolled your eyes, but you couldn't suppress the giggle that bubbled up in your throat. "youre impossible," you said, shaking your head in exasperation. "seriously, who teaches you your moves? some shitty rom-com?"

"nah, im a natural born lover, baby. its all me." stu's grin was positively sinful, his eyes sparkling with mischief and amusement.

his grin softened into a more genuine smile as he gazed down at you, his eyes searching yours with a newfound sincerity. "y’know, i’been thinkin'..." he murmured, his voice low and thoughtful. "what the hell were we thinkin' when we broke up in the first place, huh?"

you giggled, shaking your head as you leaned back against the wall, your eyes sparkling with a hint of nostalgia. "i don't even remember anymore," you admitted, your smile turning a bit wistful. "does it really matter?"

stu's grin widened, his eyes glinting with a playful, mischievous light. "nah, i guess it doesn't," he agreed, his voice taking on a teasing lilt.

he leaned in closer. "soo.. you wanna get back together?"

and then you smiled. a slow, soft smile that lit up your whole face. "yeah," you whispered, voice barely audible over the pounding music. "i do."

stu's face split into a wide, joyful grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he laughed softly. "hell yeah, baby," he murmured, pulling you in for another kiss. "welcome back."

` ੈ˚ ★ a / n : HI ANON thank you sm for the compliment btw ^_^ ill probably get a billy fic pumped out soon i just gotta think of a plot or smth . i feel like this was short idk :? im sorry

started 1.15.2025. finished 1.15.2025.

( scream masterlist )

©️ nolovelingers 2025

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d4yd4iry · 10 months ago

Text

You

-pt.2 of Crush

Parings: Pham Hanni x fem!reader

Synopsis: you like her, just her…

Genre: Idol au, fluff

“Okay, so unnie listen carefully okay?” Hanni grinned as she nodded at your serious face. Gosh if she weren’t on face time she would be rolling off her bed. You were so cute.

“You know how my schedule has been really packed so I don’t really have time to hangout at the company and like socialize with other idols right?” You waited until Hanni nodded before continuing. “Yeah so, I decided to chill there for a while with my members because we had a free schedule the whole morning…” you continued to rambled but Hanni wasn’t listening, she was only looking at you.

Looking at how your eyes furrowed when you acted confused, or how you slightly pouted when you noticed she wasn’t listening. “Unnie, are you even listening?” Hanni shook her head. “I’m listening, go on.” You raised your eyebrows at her, totally not convinced but chose to continue anyways.

“Okay, so you know that time when I accidentally said that I had a few crushes on a few idols on live right?” Hanni suddenly felt like not listening anymore. She remembered that era of time when you would come to their dorm just to gush to her about your crushes. Let’s say Hanni wasn’t very happy about that.

“They approached me…” You paused to look if she was paying attention, she was.

“And suddenly said that they liked me at the same tim-“ You didn’t get to finish as Hanni interrupted, furrowing her eyebrows she tilted her head. “Like? As in Like-Like?” The bitter taste of jealousy hits her tongue after you nodded.

“And? What did you say?” Hanni felt stiff throughout her whole body, she did not like it one bit but she needed to know more.

“Well…nothing I just stared at them and then my manager came in and saved the day. It’s the reason why I called you, I want advice!” You twirled your hair, giggling like a school girl in love.

“Advice for what?” Hanni asked as her lips grew a pout. Why’d you have to tell her that.

“For what I should do?” You asked, frowning a bit when you noticed that she looked like a child whose lollipop was snatched away.

“I don’t know…” Hanni’s voice trailed off as she glanced away from your pretty face to her freshly painted nails. “Do you like them like that? Any of them?”

“I’m not sure of my feelings…I guess it felt good when they told me they like me? Yeah, I just felt nice…whatever, I like someone else now but it’s not like I’m allowed to even if I wanted to” You shrugged carelessly, leaning back onto your pillow.

But Hanni wasn’t able to care less at all, she cared a lot. If you stopped liking them then who do you like now? Was it one of your members? Or that actress whom you’ve been hanging out with way too much lately. Hanni immediately felt even more bitter after thinking about that actress.

Okay, who ever it is, Hanni Pham desperately needed to know. “Who do you like?!” looking at you with desperate eyes.

“You.”

Hanni jaw dropped as she blinked rapidly, unsure that what she heard was what it was. Even you were surprised by your own words but before any of you could utter a word, you could see from Hanni’s phone that your sister had just entered her room.

As they always say, life is full of interruptions.

“What are you doing?” Minji’s head appeared behind her door. “On video call with my baby sis again?”

Minji raised her brows when no one replied, she then swung the door fully open and walked inside of Hanni’s room, staring at her friend who was frozen in time. “Bro, we need to get to the company now.” then she faced your face through the iPhone screen, you too were quite.

Minji flickered her eyes between the two who were both still and faces were redder than the tomatoes Danielle ate daily. “These two…”Minji shook her head before picking up Hanni’s phone from the desk and bid goodbye to you before leaving the call.

“Han, get it together before I release those love songs you wrote to my baby sis.” Seeing as Hanni won’t respond Minji sighed before punching her arm and then left, leaving Hanni alone.

“She likes me…” Hanni said in a low voice as she held her burning cheeks with both hands. “Yn likes me.” her cheeks hurts from smiling to hard.

#newjeans imagines #newjeans scenarios #newjeans x reader #idol x reader #kpop gg x reader #pham hanni x reader #hanni x reader

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talkdutchtome · 1 year ago

Text

Glitch- chapter nine

pairing . . . max verstappen x reader / mason mount x reader )

summary . . . when mason mount finds out that his assistant has been harbouring feelings for him for years, he makes it clear he doesn't feel the same way. but once he sees her become closer with formula 1 world champion max verstappen, he realises he may have underestimated his feelings towards the girl he has now pushed into the arms of another )

genre . . . angst )

song . . . glitch- taylor swift )

series masterlist . . . available here )

a/n . . . endlessly sorry for how long its been, but i'm back now and we're straight back into tooth rotting fluff <3 )

The dull and familiar sound of the iphone ringtone pulled Y/N abruptly from her nap, she groggily reached for device that woke her so rudely, blinking away the remnants of sleep as she saw Reece's name on the caller ID.

"Hey, Reece. What's up?" she mumbled, still half-asleep.

"Hi, Y/N," came Reece's voice, surprisingly serious. "Did you seriously go to Monaco? With Max?"

Y/N's heart skipped a beat. "Um, yeah," she admitted, unsure where this line of questioning was leading.

"Are we, like, real friends now? Not just, like, mutual friends through Mason?" Reece's question was direct, leaving no room for evasion. The haziness of her nap now long forgotten.

Y/N hesitated, caught off guard by the abruptness of the inquiry. "I... I guess so," she replied tentatively.

Reece didn't mince his words in response. "Does Max know that you and Mason slept together?"

Y/N could literally feel her heart sink. She wasn't prepared for this confrontation, especially not with Reece, she didn’t even know how he knew about that.

"I, uh... I don't know what you're talking about," she stammered, attempting to deflect.

"Cut the bullshit, Y/N," Reece snapped, his usually easygoing demeanor replaced by an uncharacteristic sharpness.

Y/N's breath caught in her throat. She'd never heard Reece speak like this before, and it rattled her.

"Okay, fine," she relented, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, he knows. He came to visit me that night and he could tell something was up and sussed it out, and we decided I should come to Monaco to give... whatever we have a chance. Away from M- away from distractions."

There was a heavy silence on the other end of the line, and Y/N braced herself for Reece's response. She couldn't shake the feeling of vulnerability, exposed by Reece's penetrating questions.

Finally, Reece spoke, his tone softer now. "I understand, Y/N. I hope you figure out what you want."

As Y/N ended the call, she took a moment to collect herself, the weight of Reece's words settling over her like a heavy blanket. She knew she couldn't evade the consequences of her choices, no matter how much she wished she could.

The soft knock on the door stirred Y/N from her reverie, and she quickly composed herself before answering. As Max entered, his concern was evident in the furrow of his brow and the gentle tone of his voice.

"Hey, Y/N. How'd you sleep? Is the room okay for you?" Max inquired, his eyes scanning her face for any sign of distress.

Y/N managed a small smile, grateful for his consideration. "I slept fine, thank you. And the room is lovely, really," she replied, her voice soft but genuine.

Max nodded, seemingly satisfied with her response. "Good to hear. So, who were you talking to on the phone earlier?" he asked casually, his curiosity piqued.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, unsure how much to reveal. "Oh, just Reece," she replied, hoping to brush off the conversation.

Max arched an eyebrow, sensing her reluctance to elaborate. "What did he want?" he pressed gently, his gaze unwavering.

Y/N swallowed hard, knowing she couldn't avoid the truth. "He... he was asking if it was true that I came here," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Max's expression softened at her words, a flicker of understanding passing between them. "Oh, how did he know that?" he inquired, his tone gentle but probing.

Y/N closed her eyes briefly, steeling herself for the admission. "Mason," she murmured, the name heavy with unspoken implications.

The mention of Mason hung in the air like an unwelcome guest, casting a shadow over the room and injecting a palpable tension into the atmosphere. Y/N felt a knot form in her stomach at the mere sound of his name, a stark reminder of the complicated dynamics that had brought her here.

For Max, the mention of Mason was like stumbling upon a hidden obstacle in an otherwise smooth path. He couldn't ignore the sudden shift in Y/N's demeanor, the subtle tensing of her shoulders and the guarded look in her eyes. It was a reminder of the delicate balance they were navigating, with Mason's presence looming large over their fledgling connection.

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions, each of them grappling with their own inner turmoil. Y/N struggled to reconcile her lingering feelings for Mason with the growing attraction she felt for Max, while Max found himself grappling with a sense of unease at the thought of his newfound connection being overshadowed by a past that seemed determined to intrude.

Max sensed the discomfort radiating from Y/N like a tangible force, and he knew he had to act quickly to alleviate the awkwardness that had settled between them like a heavy shroud. With a subtle shift in his demeanor, he gently changed the subject, his voice carrying a note of reassurance as he reminded her of their upcoming dinner reservations.

"Hey, um, so, about dinner," he began, his tone light and casual, "We've got reservations in about an hour. Thought we could grab a bite to eat and maybe explore the area a bit afterward. What do you think?"

His words hung in the air, a lifeline tossed amidst the turbulent sea of emotions that threatened to engulf them. Max watched as Y/N's expression softened ever so slightly, a flicker of relief crossing her features at the prospect of shifting their focus away from the uncomfortable topic at hand.

"Yeah, that sounds good," she replied, the tension in her voice easing as she welcomed the distraction Max offered. "I could use a nice meal right about now."

Max offered her a warm smile, his eyes reflecting a silent understanding as he nodded in agreement. "Great. I'll let you get ready then. Just give me a shout when you're good to go, yeah?"

Y/N nodded in response, a grateful smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she watched Max make his way to the door. As he stepped out into the hallway, she couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for his intuitive nature, for his ability to sense her discomfort and offer her a much-needed reprieve.

As they drove to the restaurant, Y/N couldn't help but feel a twinge of intimidation as she took in the sleek interior of Max's car, a luxurious vehicle that spoke volumes about the extravagant lifestyle he led. She couldn't help but wonder what it must be like to live in a world filled with such opulence and grandeur, feeling a bit out of place amidst its lavishness.

Upon arriving at the restaurant, however, her apprehension began to dissipate as she noticed the quaint charm of the place. It was a cozy little spot, far from the flashy extravagance she had expected, and she found herself feeling more at ease as they entered.

They were greeted by a sweet, elderly couple who seemed to know Max well, exchanging warm greetings and friendly banter as if he were an old friend. Y/N couldn't help but smile at the genuine affection they showed him, feeling a sense of warmth wash over her as they complimented her appearance.

"Max, my boy, you've outdone yourself this time! Who's this lovely lady you've brought with you?" the elderly gentleman chuckled, his eyes twinkling mischievously as he teased Max.

Max chuckled sheepishly, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush as he introduced Y/N to the couple. "This is Y/N, and she's far too good for the likes of me," he joked, though there was a sincerity in his voice that made Y/N's heart skip a beat.

As they were led to their table, she couldn't help but notice the remnants of a slight blush on Max's cheeks, a sight that caused her heart to flutter with an unexpected surge of affection. Sitting across from him, she found herself captivated by the way his eyes sparkled with a hint of excitement, his smile lighting up the room as they settled in for their meal.

During dinner, Max and Y/N found themselves immersed in a discussion about their respective childhoods, sharing stories and anecdotes that offered glimpses into their pasts.

"So, Y/N, tell me about your family," Max prompted, his curiosity piqued as he leaned forward, eager to learn more about her background.

Y/N's eyes sparkled with fond memories as she began to speak. "Well, I come from a big family," she started, a warm smile gracing her lips. "I have three siblings – two sisters and a brother – and we're all really close. Growing up, our house was always bustling with activity, and there was never a dull moment."

Max listened intently, captivated by her description of a lively household filled with love and laughter. "That sounds wonderful," he remarked, a hint of admiration in his voice. "What was it like being the oldest?"

Y/N chuckled, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "It definitely had its challenges," she admitted, "but it also taught me responsibility and the importance of looking out for others. I always felt like I had to set a good example for my siblings, and that's something that's stuck with me throughout my life."

As their conversation continued, Y/N turned the spotlight on Max, asking him about his own family and upbringing. Max shared stories of his childhood, delving into what it was like to grow up in a very driven household, where he spent so much of his time as a kid karting and preparing for a career in Formula One.

After their delightful dinner, Max suggested they visit Le Rocher, a spot where they could admire the breathtaking views of Monaco's old town. As they strolled along, Y/N couldn't help but be mesmerized by the picturesque scenery unfolding before her.

"It's stunning," she breathed, her eyes sweeping over the panoramic vista.

Max nodded in agreement, a soft smile playing on his lips. "This is one of my favorite places to come when I need a break from the racing world," he confessed. "Here, I can just be Max."

Y/N listened, soaking in the tranquility of the moment as they shared a quiet conversation, the gentle evening breeze carrying their words away into the night.

As they reached a particularly scenic spot, Max mentioned Daniel's persistent encouragement to start a jpeg Instagram account like his. "He's always on my case about it," Max chuckled, turning to face Y/N. "But I've been thinking... what do you say we do a little impromptu photoshoot?"

Y/N's initial hesitation melted away at the sight of Max's infectious enthusiasm. "Sure, why not?" she replied with a grin.

With Max behind the camera, they embarked on a playful photoshoot, capturing candid moments and genuine smiles against the backdrop of Monaco's twinkling lights. As they laughed and joked together, time seemed to stand still, and Y/N found herself immersed in the simple joy of being in Max's company.

As the night wore on and the early hours of the morning approached, they reluctantly called an end to their impromptu adventure. But as they made their way back to Max's apartment, the memory of their laughter lingered, a testament to the undeniable connection they shared. And as they bid each other goodnight, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that perhaps, in each other, they had found something truly special.

Throughout the week in Monaco, Max and Y/N embarked on a series of adventures that seemed to draw them closer with each passing day. Max took her out on a yacht ride, where they basked in the warmth of the Mediterranean sun and marveled at the azure waters surrounding them. They went swimming and jet skiing, reveling in the exhilaration of the open sea.

One evening, Max surprised Y/N by cooking dinner for her, showcasing his culinary skills with a delicious meal prepared with care. As they dined together, sharing stories and laughter, it felt like they were in their own little world, untouched by the complexities of reality.

With each passing moment, the bond between them deepened, and Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging whenever she was with Max. In his company, she felt understood and cherished, as if being around each other was something that was meant to be.

Despite the idyllic moments they shared, Y/N couldn't shake the lingering thoughts of Mason and the tangled web of emotions that still tied her to him. But in the midst of their blissful escapades, she found solace in the simple joy of being with Max, relishing the moments they spent together and cherishing the connection they shared.

As race week descended upon Monaco, the tranquil days spent with Max swiftly transformed into a whirlwind of excitement and anticipation. Y/N marveled at the seamless transition as Max shifted gears from the laid-back companion of the past week to the determined machine ready to conquer the race track.

She observed Max navigate through a flurry of press events with effortless charm, amazed at how the sweet man she had grown fond of could seamlessly transform into a focused and driven athlete once he stepped into his race car.

During practice sessions, Y/N stood in Max's garage, taking in the electrifying atmosphere as mechanics buzzed around, fine-tuning the car to perfection. She engaged in conversation with others in the garage, soaking in the insider's view of the Formula One world.

When it was time for qualifying, Y/N found herself watching alongside Heidi, Daniel's girlfriend, forming a quick rapport with her as they cheered on their respective partners. The tension mounted as Max pushed the limits, eventually securing pole position in a stunning display of skill and determination.

As Max emerged from the garage, triumphant and exhilarated, he sought out Y/N amidst the jubilant crowd. To her surprise, he pulled her into a spontaneous embrace, planting a kiss on her lips that left her head spinning. Caught off guard by the unexpected display of affection, Y/N could only watch as the cameras flashed around them, capturing the moment for the world to see.

As Max hurried off to attend to his press obligations, Y/N remained in a daze, still reeling from the unexpected kiss and the flurry of attention that followed. Lost in her thoughts, she barely noticed the bustling activity around her until her phone suddenly rang, jolting her back to reality.

Glancing at the caller ID, she was immediately brought back down to earth. She could feel sick rise up to her throat, she found herself wanting the ground to come up and swallow her whole.

Her phone remained ringing, a picture of her and her best friend filling the screen with the one name she didn’t want to see right now. Mason.

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writingsfromhome · 11 months ago

Text

Dos and Don’ts of H Styles

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

Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

——————————————

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

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

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

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

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

“We were?” Winnie checks in with me.

“Mhm,” I give her an encouraging nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My networks:

🔗H’s iPhone

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

The second instinct wins. Kind of.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

About 2 years ago:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Think think, just be calm and think!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe Riley was just jaded by too many long hours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I swallow the knot in my throat once more.

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

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

“What?” He stares right through me.

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

He nods.

I stay silent for the rest of the ride.

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

People swarm around Harry.

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

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

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

“I don’t have it,” I say lamely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I was an idiot. A big fat idiot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I open it:

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

-don’t expect any gratitude from a narcissist

-don’t fall for his charm

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

The notes were my saving grace.

“My head is killing me,” Harry groans.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well?”

“Oh!” I lift it but it’s locked.

“1021.”

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

“Reply to him.”

I do as I’m told.

“Um Mitch wants to know if you’re-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stuff,” Harry repeats.

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

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

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

Was he joking? He was joking…I think.

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

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

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

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

“I meant they don’t really know me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened to your blazers?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you make that yourself?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Harry you car is waiting downstairs.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh my…Harry Styles?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t think Mr-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

“That’s what you said last weekend.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A friend?”

“My fiancé’s younger sister.”

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

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

“Yeah, nearly a year now.”

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

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

“What does he do?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Best to get going then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you let it go!?” Josie scowls.

“What?” I whisper.

“Mom will kill you,” Gray warns.

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

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

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

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

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

“Go ahead, have you eaten?”

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

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

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

“It’s different y/n.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What? What was so urgent about a bucket of-

Oh.

Fuck.

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

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

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

Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

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

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

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

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

“It’s Saturday fucking night.”

“Yeah but-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck Harry.

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/n?” He looks as confused as I am.

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

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

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

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

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

“I told you to call me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I nod.

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

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

“Good night Y/N. See you Monday.”

“Good night Mr. Styles.”

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

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

***

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

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

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hyunjins-orange-slice-too · 11 months ago

Text

pairing: dom lee know x f. reader

genre: smut— smut with feelings (me being delulu at the end)

word count: ~2.3k

warnings: established relationship— pet names— bondage— toys— oral (f. and m.receiving)— orgasm denial (kinda)— unprotected sex— cum eating— spanking

masterlist

He kissed you softly on the lips before returning to his chair. The chair had a high back and was upholstered with black velvet. The material made a shhh noise as his suit pants slid over its surface. He leaned back, a smirk on his face, admiring his work. You were a few feet away, on the bed. You were on all fours, your weight resting on your knees and elbows. You were bound with black shibari rope. You looked up at him through your lashes, he was staring at you like you were something to eat. Like he was going to absolutely wreck you. His eyes fell to your clothing. You were wearing his favorite piece of lingerie. Violet lace, tied together in the middle by a thin silk string. It barely covered your breasts. A matching violet thong did nothing to cover your sex. Especially with you squirming around, unable to keep still, begging him to touch you. His room was dark, lit only by candles. Though there were many, many candles. Their wax having dropped down their holders, over many uses, to pool on the floor. In the flickering light, your eyes met.

"You’re wearing my favorite." He purred.

You nodded, unable to make a noise that wasn’t a whimper. You rocked forward and back on your knees. He flexed his hand that was resting on his thigh. Three of the five fingers on that hand were adorned with silver rings, and a small silver chain dangled from his wrist. Thick veins ran up the back of his hand, up his forearm, and disappeared under his shirt cuff where you couldn’t see them anymore. As if he was itching to swat your backside, he flexed his hand again, before balling it up into a fist. His other hand was busy undoing the top few buttons of his white dress shirt. Through the small gap, you could see the thin silver necklace that matched his bracelet. The long chain lay against his heaving chest, mingling with his limited chest hair, as he took deep breaths. You couldn’t see it, because it was hidden by his shirt, but there is a small charm on the end of that chain. The charm had a simple engraving of your first initial.

He leaned to one side now, the fisted hand relaxing and sliding into his pocket. He pulled out a sleek, black iPhone. Is he going to take your picture? You didn’t care. You trusted him fully, and if he wanted to take a picture to remember this moment, then you wanted him to have it. But instead of raising the phone to point the camera in your direction, he started swiping through apps. He found the one he wanted and opened it. He laid the phone on his thigh and you could see there was nothing on the screen but a graphic of a shiny gold button.

"Do you know what this button does?" He asked.

You shook your head, no.

He leaned forward, presenting the phone to you.

"Would you like to find out?" You looked at him, unsure. He slid the phone onto the bed so it was resting underneath your tied hands, which now hovered over the screen. You looked down at the phone, then back up to him. He ran the tip of his nose up your arm, and kissed your shoulder gently.

"Go on, baby." He whispered in your ear. "Press it."

You brought your hands down, and with all the courage you could muster, pressed the button quickly. You gasped. The small toy he had inserted into you, after tying you up, gave a quick buzz. He chuckled darkly at your reaction. You pressed the button again, longer this time, holding your finger on it. The toy buzzzzzed inside of you, sending shivers through your whole body. You moaned, thoroughly enjoying the sensation. He leaned forward and snatched the phone from your hand.

"Ah ah ah," he scolded. "Let’s not get carried away."

He sat back in his chair, watching you. He pressed the button a few times in quick succession. Your body flinched and shook with the vibrations. You whimpered and looked at him pleadingly. He held his finger on the button for a few short seconds. Your back arched, your eyes screwed shut. You whimpered once more when he removed his finger from the button.

"Poor baby," he teased. "Do you want me to keep pressing the button?" He pressed it once quickly as he said the word ‘button’. You gasped and nodded vigorously. He pressed it again for a few seconds, moans falling from your lips.

"You look so beautiful, kitten. Tied up and moaning for me." His words made you clench around the toy, which buzzed as he held the button. He continued holding it, the longest he had yet. No longer able to stay upright, one of your hips hit the bed. Now facing him, your tiny silk string had come undone, revealing your breasts to him. He released the button. You were breathing heavily. He knelt next to the bed, leaning in to give you a sweet kiss. His soft lips kissed from your mouth, down your neck, until they found your breast. His quick tongue lashed out at your nipple. Your head fell back, eyes closed, in bliss. He sucked your nipple into his mouth and pressed the button. He hummed his approval at the sound of your moans, causing vibrations on your breast that matched the ones at your core. He released the button and you fell back on the mattress.

He stood and you grew cold without him near. He walked to the foot of the bed, and ran his fingers up and down your left calf.

"So beautiful." He whispered to himself. You pulled your knees toward your chest, revealing your sex to him. His pupils dilated. He got on his knees. "I love playing with you, kitten." He said, his warm breath brushing across your clit. You lifted your hips slightly, bringing yourself closer to his mouth. He pulled back.

"Don’t get greedy, baby. You will get what I give you, when I give it to you." He scolded, and then smacked you in your most sensitive area. You yelped.

"These panties look so pretty, shielding your little pussy, but I think it’s time to take them off." He pulled your thong down to your ankles. Now fully exposed to him, he leaned in and licked a stripe from the toy up to the top. The feeling of his tongue on you making you buck your hips again. He gave you another smack on your now naked pussy.

"You taste so good, princess." He moaned. He was slowly loosing his composure. He licked another stripe, then flicked his tongue across your clit, and pressed the button. Your stomach tightened and you nearly screamed. He kept his finger on the button and his tongue kept pace. You could feel your release building inside you. He could hear it in your moans that you were close. He released the button and pulled away. You whined.

"Don’t you whine at me." He warned, standing up. "I’ll let you cum, but I want to see your face when you do."

His thumb found your clit and began to rub circles, while his other thumb pushed the button. You moaned and your back arched, pushing your breasts higher. You could feel it building again.

"Go ahead, baby." He encouraged. "Cum for me."

And you did. Your body trembled with the release of it, your eyes scrunched shut, hands balled up into fists.

"Good girl baby. Your so pretty when you’re cumming." He said, releasing the button. You relaxed on the sheets as you came down from your high. He slowly pulled the toy out and placed it on the bedside table. He walked toward your head.

"When you’re ready, get back on your knees." He commanded. You did as he asked. Now level with your face, he started undoing his belt. You could see the bulge in his pants and your mouth started to water. You love it when he lets you suck him. It’s your favorite way to please him. He pulled his cock out of his pants and started stroking it slowly.

"Open." He commanded, and you did so immediately. Enthusiastically.

"So eager." He teased. "What a good girl." He put his hand on the back of your head and guided his tip into your mouth. You moaned at the familiar taste of him. He slowly pushed his length in to your mouth until his tip touched the back of your throat. You gagged and he pulled out a little. Then he repeated the process. After a few thrusts, he shoved his cock as far in as he could get it. You sputtered around him, spit dripping down onto the sheets. His head fell back. "Fuck." He exhaled. Then he suddenly pulled all the way out, leaving you empty. He knelt down and kissed you deeply.

He then walked around the bed, removing the rest of his clothes, and aligned himself with your entrance. Your heart quickened with the anticipation.

"Are you ready, baby?" He asked, rubbing his tip up and down through your wetness. You nodded. "Tell me." He said.

"Yes please." You said, shyly. "I’m ready. Please." You begged. He grabbed your hips and slowly pushed all the way inside you, until his hips were touching your ass.

"You feel divine, kitten." He moaned. But, he didn’t move. He stayed still for a moment and let you adjust to his size. You kept clenching and unclenching around him.

"Minho.." you moaned, pleading.

"What is it baby?" He answered.

"Please.." was all you could say.

"Okay, honey." He said sweetly, rubbing up and down your back. He grabbed your hips again and started thrusting in and out. His pace was slow and hard. He thrusts were powerful, his fingers digging into your skin, surely to leave a bruise. You didn’t mind. You loved it when he marked you.

"Fuck." He moaned, quickening his pace.

You were a moaning mess beneath him. He leaned down, wrapping his hand around your throat and pulling your head back.

"Does that feel good, baby?" He whispered in your ear.

"Yes!" You moaned.

"Do you like it when I fuck you?" He breathed.

"Yes! Yes!" You answered.

"Yes, what?" He ordered. "Say it, baby. You like it when i fuck your sweet little cunt?"

"Yes, sir!" You moaned. "Feels so good."

"My cock drunk little slut, takes my cock so good." He said, thrusting harder.

He released you with a grunt and you fell forward onto the mattress, he spanked you, hard. "Mmm"he growled., and spanked you again. "I love it when your pretty ass turns red, baby." Spank. "You’re such a good girl letting me use you like this." Spank.

"Oh my god." You moaned.

"That’s it baby." He said, thrusting into you. You could feel your orgasm building.

"Minho.." you whimpered.

"What baby?" He asked, sweetly. "Are you going to cum?"

"Yes please, sir."

His thrusts were getting sloppier, his breathing ragged. He was getting close too. "Go ahead baby. Cum on my cock."

You clenched around him, squeezing so tight. "Fuck!" He yelled.

An intense orgasm hit you then. "Thank you!" You moaned. "Thank you, sir! Thank you. Thank you."

"You’re welcome, sweet girl." He said. "Keep milking my cock. Do you want my cum, baby?" He asked.

Still convulsing, you managed to moan out a "yes, please." And with a growl, he released inside of you. He buried himself as deep as he could and froze, riding out his orgasm and emptying himself into you. He leaned down and kissed your back, then your shoulder.

"Are you okay, baby?" He asked, breathless.

You nodded, unstable to speak. He kissed your back again and then straightened. He slowly pulled out of you, leaving you empty and a wave of sadness came over you. You could feel his cum leaking out of you and onto the bed. He knelt down so his breath was hitting your tired pussy. He used his finger to scoop up his cum and put it back inside you. You moaned into the sheets. He kissed your thighs, kissed the red handprints on your ass, and then licked your clit quickly before sticking his tongue in your dripping hole. He licked your walls and you shivered around him.

He pulled away. "Both of our release taste so good when they’re mixed together." He licked his lips. He untied your ankles and rubbed where the rope had been. He kissed each ankle before crawling on the bed next to you and untying your wrists. He kissed those as well before pulling your limp body close to his chest, squeezing you tight. You kissed his muscled chest.

"I love you." You said, your voice muffled against his skin.

"What baby?" He asked, pulling back and looking down at you softly.

You looked up into his eyes. "I love you." You repeated quietly.

"Oh, baby." He pulled you close again, your face in his chest. His smell in your nostrils, tears leaking from your eyes. You loved this man, so much. It hurt. He kissed your head.

"I love you, kitten." He said into your hair. "My sweet, sweet baby."

You sniffled, still crying slightly. He looked down at you again, using his thumb to wipe your tears.

"Don’t cry, honey. You promise you’re okay? Did I hurt you?" He asked, concern in his voice.

You shook your head no. You willed yourself to stop crying. This was pathetic, crying because you’re so in love. You needed to stop before you chased him away.

He hugged you tight without another word and rubbed your back softly with his fingertips. He kissed your head occasionally, humming a soft song until you fell asleep in his strong arms.

🚨reminder: this blog is 18+ only. i’ve been getting a lot of new followers (which i greatly appreciate) but if there’s no age identifier on your blog, i’m blocking you no questions asked. (for my own sanity and peace of mind.) ik some people don’t actually go to my page to read the warnings, so im going to start attaching a warning at the bottom of all my posts. thanks for understanding. 💕

#stray kids #stray kids smut #stray kids lee know #stray kids lee minho #lee know skz #lee know x reader #lee know x you #lee know x y/n #stray kids x reader #stray kids x female reader #stray kids x you #stray kids x y/n #hyunjins orange slice too

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niennanir · 1 month ago

Text

It is Two Days to Christmas and I am in Walmart.

I hate Walmart. I'm not getting into cultural or economic ground here, it's an actual physical problem for me to be in a Walmart. I'm not just hyper observant, I'm hyper perceptive and Walmart assails the senses in a way that borders on the debilitating. The is too much stuff, piled to the ceilings on rows that are engineered in a way that cuts off sight lines, there are too many colors, too many people, and the smells, they're overwhelming and conflicting. The lights are too bright. The lights are too loud. The HVAC and the coolers in frozen foods are also too loud and I can hear all of them in dissonance.

I will avoid Walmart if I can. The longest I've managed to stay out is four years. My schedule used to take me to parts of town where I had more options but my schedule changed this year and now the easiest option is to go the four miles to Walmart rather than the fifteen to somewhere less offensive to my own personal brand of crazy.

It is too days to Christmas and Walmart is three times worse than it is any other time of the year.

I only need a half a dozen things and I zip from aisle to aisle as fast as I can, skirting around shoppers who look dazed beneath the yellow green glow of the humming florescent lights. I slither past a man trying to figure out where he left his wife and rapidly start scanning at the nearest self checkout. I can feel my anxiety ramping up but it's fine, I can get out of here in a few minutes, out into the fresh air and the warm Florida sun. It's fine.

I reach into my bag for my phone, my hand closes around it as I remember that I can't use my phone at Walmart. I use Apple Pay for nearly all my groceries. The less I fumble with my wallet in a crowded store the better. But I can't use it here. I let go of my phone and dig down for my wallet.

My wallet isn't there.

I open my bag wider and stare into its depths. There is an iPhone, a tiny drawing pad with a stub of a pencil. A grape chapstick. My car keys. My sunglasses. And no wallet.

I jiggle my bag ineffectually, hoping for a Christmas miracle that will summon my wallet from the back pocket of my favorite pair of jeans. My favorite pair of jeans is hanging on the back of the bathroom door. I wore them last night to look at lights, and I put my wallet in my back pocket after I bought hot chocolate.

I could walk out of course. I want to. But there are so many people in line waiting, trying to get home to their other tasks. I flag down the nearest self checkout monitor.

"You're going to have to clear my transaction." I say "I left my wallet at home"

"Oh dear, are you sure?" she replies. "I can save the transaction and you can go get your wallet and come back, then at least you won't have to collect everything again."

"It's eight miles there and back in heavy traffic," I say with a sigh. "It would take a miracle to get back here before the frozen vegetables thawed."

"Ma'am, did you forget your wallet?"

I turn at the sound of the man's voice. He's a little older than me, an everyman type. Polo shirt shorts and docks, the standard Florida grocery shopping uniform.

"I did," I say with a sigh.

"I do that all the time," he said sympathetically. I'm about to reply that unfortunately that doesn't make me feel better.

"Would you let me buy your groceries for you?"

I freeze.

It's rare that I don't know what to say. I always have a quip or a comeback. But in that moment all I can think of is the eight mile drive, the whine of the lottery ticket machine the way the fourth florescent light from my left is flickering, the fact that I should have been back to work ten minutes ago.

It's only $35 dollars. I have $35. What I don't have is another trip to Walmart in me today.

"Hey!" the self checkout monitor says cheerfully. "You got your Christmas miracle from Santa!"

"Thank you," I say to the man. I can feel my throat closing up as he reaches over and runs his card.

"I do this all the time," he says, shaking his head. "This is the only place I can't use my phone."

"That's how I got in trouble," I admit.

He nods, knowingly. "You have a Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas to you too!"

By the time I've gathered my bags he's disappeared in the crowd.

I couldn't pick him out of a lineup right now if my life depended on it. I notice everything, but he was so unassuming there wasn't a lot to notice. Just a guy, in Walmart, two days to Christmas.

Making the world a little better $35 at a time.

#o christmas comes but once a year #be the change

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cierraonline · 3 months ago

Text

A Short Elf Apocalypse

Chapter three - 01x02 Light Bulb

Warning - none

masterlist | previous | next

“So, how's your first week going so far?” asked Viola Banks, the fifty-year-old mother of the twenty-three-year-old eighth-grade teacher.

“The exact answer I gave you when I was attending the school as a student,” Siren commented, opening the heavy front doors to the building of her workplace—and nightmare. “Nothing has changed, and nothing ever will, Mom.”

“Well, something did change. You aren’t a student anymore,” the optimistic voice of the older woman rang through the speaker of the teacher's iPhone. “I’m sure this feels a little like being a superhero in the dark pit hole you call a soul.”“You read through my 10th-grade diary again, didn’t you?” Siren stopped in her tracks, recognizing the reference in her mother’s words.

“Hey, I’ve got to get some mothering in, now that you’ve moved out to live with your wife…who you’ve been married to for two years…why did you wait to move in with her again?”

“I like going at my own pace, not the standard,” Siren rolled her eyes. “But if you really want an update on how life as a teacher has been, here it is: So far, I've got this annoying little elf always trying to talk to me and make me part of her clique with her and this wannabe Sheldon.

“Who, Janine and Jacob?” Her mother cut her off. “They’re nice people. You should befriend them! I like them better than your current friends, whose only goals in life are smoking the devil’s evaporation (hookah) and shaking their tail feathers as if they’re having seizures (twerking). Janine and Jacob are the kind of friends you need.”

“Janine and Jacob are the kind of friends an Alzheimer’s patient needs, so they can forget they ever met them.” As Siren walked down the hall toward the lounge for her morning coffee, her attention was drawn to a random little girl holding her hand while staring up at the flickering lights. “And now, thanks to this crappy building, we’ve got flickering lights recreating ‘The Shining’, and I have a random child holding my hand.”

“Sounds like a beautiful day at Abbott to me,” her mother’s smile was audible through the phone.

“Yeah, so why don’t you come back?” the teacher sarcastically responded.

“Oh no, I’m packing for the Bahamas. I’m going to enjoy my retirement. Tell Barbara and Melissa I’ll have a bottle of imported wine and fine cheese waiting for them when I get back.”

“You mean that cheap wine on your kitchen counter and sliced block cheddar cheese?” Siren deflated her mother’s fancy image with reality.

“Shoot, $8 for a bottle and $5 for some cheese—it’s fancy to me. Love you, baby, have an inspiring day.”

“Love you too, Mommy.” With that, the call ended.

“You call your mommy, ‘Mommy’, too?” The girl still holding Siren’s hand looked up with wide eyes.

“Girl, don’t you have lights to be scared of?” Siren snarked.

“Oh yeah,” the little girl, probably in second grade, turned her terrified gaze back to the lights.

“Guys, the lights in the back hallway have been out for weeks,” Siren heard Janine’s squeaky, annoying voice as she entered the teacher’s lounge.

“Thank you for the update.”

“What are you wearing?”

“And we need to do something about it. Okay?” Janine stayed focused, ignoring their side comments. “Uh, Melina, from your class… Yeah, she was afraid to come to school this morning. Said it looked like ‘The Shining’, and I don’t even get how she knows that reference.”

“She loves ‘The Shining.’ It's a classic movie,” Jacob added.

“You mean her?” Siren made her presence known, holding up the hand of the girl who refused to let go.

“Melina, I thought I walked you to class already?” Janine turned to the little girl.

“But then I had to pee!” Melina exclaimed in a childlike voice. “Plus, she looked scary, so she can scare away the monsters,” she pointed to Siren. Bending down to meet the girl’s eyes with an intense stare, Siren tilted her head and said, “Boo,” nonchalantly.

“Ahhh!” The student screamed, letting go of her hand and running out the teacher’s lounge.

“Siren!” Barbara scolded her goddaughter, to which she received only a shrug in response.

“This isn’t okay, alright? And I already talked to Mr. Johnson, and he said there’s nothing he can do,” Janine brought the attention back to her concern.

“What do you want us to do about it?” Barbara asked the naïve teacher.

“It can’t be hard. It’s just screwing in a few new bulbs.”

“So why don’t you do it?” Siren walked over to make herself a cup of coffee, adding sweetened almond milk and dropping in a caramel hard candy. “Why does it have to be a group project?”

“Because we’re a team,” Janine smiled.

“And you’re the only one on the team complaining about the lights,” Siren pointed out.

“Janine, just worry about what can be controlled,” the kindergarten teacher emphasized.

“Exactly. On a hot day like this, all we can do is our own jobs anyway,” Melissa added.

“I know that’s right!” Ava walked into the lounge. “Why is it February and hotter than the devil’s bootyhole outside?”

“Climate change,” Siren and Jacob said in unison.

“We’re living in the middle of its disastrous effects,” Jacob continued. “The permafrost in Russia—”

“Nerd,” Ava fake-coughed into her fist.

“Ava, can someone from the city come and check on the back hallway lights?” Janine turned to her.

“Girl, no. Do I look like the Kool-Aid Man? I don’t have enough juice to manipulate the inner workings of City Hall,” Ava retorted. “They’ll probably come in the summer.”

“In the summer?” Janine was disheartened.

“Tough break.” Jacob walked over to the upset teacher with a container of breakfast food. “Want some egg white bites?” he offered as Melissa and Barbara left after the principal.

“No. I don’t have time to eat,” Janine replied, giving him a look up and down.

“They’re just egg white bites. You microwave them,” he called after her, before turning to the only teacher left in the lounge besides him. “Want some, Siren?”

“You got hot sauce?” Siren asked, not even looking up from her TikTok feed, filled with WNBA coverage and tattoo artists’ work.

“No,” Jacob shook his head.

“Then no.”

XXX

“Alright, I let you guys eat your breakfast and freshen up—it’s my time now,” Siren declared, walking into her classroom to see her students scattered around, sitting and ready to learn. “First lesson of the year that doubles as your English and History. Half of the class will read “The Diary of a Young Girl” by Anne Frank, and the other half will read “Chains” by Laurie Halse Anderson.”

“Why are we reading two different books?” Mason raised his hand, confused, as teachers usually had the class read the same book.

“So we can get through the reading material the board wants you to read faster and move on to the better stuff. Plus, for your first History lesson, you’ll use your assigned book as a primary source and other books in the school’s library as secondary sources for your first Socratic seminar. You’ll debate which event in history was worse: holocaust or slavery.” Siren walked behind her desk, bringing out two stacks of newly purchased books, ten of each.

“Do we get to pick which book we want to read?” Candace asked from the couch area.

“Nope. When you’re older, whether it’s for college research papers or if you want to be a lawyer, you won’t always get to defend the side you want. This will also help you knock out biases.” Siren took the first stack of books and handed them out to ten of her students at random. “This assignment will take two weeks. One week to read and gather research, and the second week to prepare your arguments and anticipate counterarguments. During English, you’ll be reading, and during History, you’ll conduct research in the library.”

“Are you going to be the judge?” Jahmil asked.

“There will be two judges—me, and a teacher I can slightly stand.”

“What are the rules?” Javon raised his hand.

“The rules are: One, no profanity. Two, no sharing argument points. Three, do not take this lesson outside of class and start harmful debates. Four, actually listen to what each side has to say.”

“Siren,” Kyle raises his hand.

“Yes, Kyle.”

“Can I talk to you outside the classroom?” The boy looked around at his peers with a nervous stance.

“Sure,” Siren nods. “In the meantime, all of you get started. First period starts now. As you read, take notes; that’s how you will be graded in the English portion.” As the class got started on their assignment, in which they were actually excited to partake, the teacher and student stepped outside for a private discussion. “What’s wrong, Kyle?”

“I–I don’t feel comfortable doing this assignment… because you know, I–I’m…”

“White?”

“Yeah.” The student nodded his head.

“Okay, let me ask you a few questions,” Siren took a seat on the hallway floor, and the student followed. “Were you there during slavery?”

“No,” Kyle shook his head.

“Were you there during the Holocaust?”

“No.”

“Do you agree with those who promoted those horrific events?”

“Of course not,” Kyle looked at the teacher as if she were crazy.

“Do you agree with modern interpretations or developments of those ideologies?”

“Huh?” He looked confused.

“Do you agree with the mindset of those who are racists or follow Nazi ideology?” Siren rephrased.

“Oh, no.”

“Then you have nothing to feel uncomfortable or guilty about due to the color of your skin. In fact, that’s why I gave you “Chains.” There’s more to being white in a classroom of predominantly Black students—there’s an opportunity to be an ally. Because one day, your classmates right now are going to be in your position, where they might be the only Black student in a predominantly white class.”

“My grandparents voted for Trump. Does that mean I’ll also have to vote Republican?” Kyle asked.

“What’s your grandparents’ favorite cereal?”

“Raisin Bran… it’s so not cool or good.”

“But you see how they might love it, but you don’t. Opinions work like that. The beautiful thing about opinions is that we’re not supposed to agree on everything, or life would be boring. They can try to force their opinions on you, but as long as you keep that big brain of yours working, your opinions will always be yours.”

“Thank you, Siren,” Kyle smiled, feeling better than he had before the conversation.

“You’re welcome. Now go inside and get started on your reading,” Siren directed him, and he got up from the floor and headed back into the class.

“Ha! And you said teaching wasn’t meant for you,” a feminine voice pulled Siren out of her concentration.

“How long have you been sitting there?” Siren squinted her eyes at the senior teacher.

“Long enough to see the student become the teacher,” Barbara smirked, looking down at her goddaughter. “You might not have wanted to do this, but you’re really making an impact on those kids. It’s been two days, and they haven’t even given Ava trouble yet. Teaching is a calling, and you unknowingly answered. You didn’t do it because your mother forced you; you did it because it’s in your blood and heart. It’s like watching a flashback of me and your mother when we first started. I’m proud of you,” Barbara said in her saintly voice.

“Why does it feel like you’re still teaching me?” Siren tilted her head.

“Because the teaching never stops, no matter how old you are.”

XXX

The classroom was at peace. The kids were engrossed in their reading materials, while a soft, chill playlist from YouTube played in the background. Everything was going smoothly while Siren prepared for the math lesson scheduled in thirty minutes. And then disaster struck—the lights went out. Siren had a good idea who the culprit was.

“Oh no! It’s the apocalypse!” Javon jumped from his seat and started running around, pulling down the shades and looking for a flashlight.

“Javon, the power just went out; nothing serious,” Siren tried to calm the boy. “If anything, it’s just a short ‘elf apocalypse.’” Siren stated, standing up from her seat. “You guys stay here, take a break from reading, and I’ll go try not to kill an elf.” With that, she exited the classroom and headed down two flights of stairs.

“Where is she?” Siren stomped in her leather heels like Ursula, as if the sea itself parted to let her walk through in terror. In fright, everyone in the hall pointed to the shorter teacher. “You just couldn’t help yourself, could you? You just had to put your little kid hands on anything so it fits your idea.”

“I–I just wanted—”

“I don’t care what you wanted,” Siren cut her off. “I care about what you interrupted. The light wasn’t bothering anyone besides one student who’s a little kid. Of course flickering lights scare her because it’s connected to a horror movie. All you had to do was walk her to class and follow your training on what to do when a little kid is scared: distract from the little details and look at the big picture.”

“I–I…”

“You don’t get to talk anymore because soon you’re going to make your next move, try to fix your mess, and make a bigger mess.”

“Alright, Siren, that’s enough. I’m sure Janine understands that what she did was very foolish,” Barbara tried to reign in her goddaughter’s wrath. “Listen up, everybody…”

“Listen to Barbara, y’all!” Ava shouted, frantically shouts while shaking the wooden ladder Janine was gluing herself to.

“Are you kidding me?” Janine clutched onto the ladder as she was afraid of heights.

“I should push it. Maybe you’ll break your leg, and that’ll stop you from Janine-ing up the place,” Siren glared at the frightened woman.

“This is what we’re gonna do… Everyone without power, please head to the gym,” Barbara directed the teachers.

“Head,” Ava emphasized.

“We’ll conduct classes there until this is all fixed. It’s not ideal, but it will work.”

“You heard her. Let’s go,” Ava nodded.

“Guys… I just want to say, I’m sorry, everybody,” Janine tried to apologize. “I just thought if I could get up here and get this done, then we wouldn’t have to wait and…”

“And look where it landed us, baby girl.”

“Yeah, how’d that work out for you?”

“Everybody, please, head to the gym,” Barbara announced. “We’ve got bigger fish to fry now.”

“Oh, Jesus! My branzino!” Melissa’s realization hit, and in the next second, she was running down the hall to the teacher’s lounge. “Everybody out of the way! Out of the way!”

“If someone could please help me?” Janine called out. “I feel like I’m one wobble away from death.”

“A–Alright. Okay. I got you,” Gregory moved to help but was beaten by Siren pushing one side of the ladder, causing it to fold. Janine fell a couple of feet to the floor, sprawled out.

“There,” Siren muttered before walking away.

“Thank you,” Janine whimpered in pain. “I don’t think she likes me much.”

“That would be an understatement,” Gregory added.

taglist @jules19sstuff @babytakeittothehead @calibabyyyy @crybabysdeadbunny @toxicslut-1 @starstruckdinosaurcandy @delulu-lesbian @notmeellaannyy @mystical-april @severia21 @hwh-dawn @bone-app-the-teeth @casualfoxwitch @lordfarquad-k @honeypiperpizza123 @gwendolinechristierulez @pinkininja @oculusalien @zendayasredbottoms @tacoboutstuff @jules19sstuff @siyuziii @christiniawcb @riddlette13 @thebignunfun @xxloveralways14 @lordfarquad-k @rhearipley-69 @danversrailme @amberg1998 @zzzz-zzz1 @htttpcasti @lidiyabest @wwelovergirl @lesbianpoetess @jamiemundy7773 @pixelorange06 @steampunkprincess147 @brbblog123 @h3artss44le @harajukub4rb1e @billiesrighthand @natasha29romanoff @deathvidal

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things-arent-what-they-seem66 · 2 months ago

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aww i really like the idea that Adam speaks so sexually and is called the dick master, but in reality he knows nothing about sex and is basically an un-official virgin. i just find it so funny that he puffs his chest out and talks about a sex position or kink without really knowing what it is.

“Shit! That is what it is!!”

After his chat with Angel Dust, Adam plopped onto his bed, wrapping himself in his thick, cozy quilt like it was his personal fortress of solitude. The soft glow from his iPhone screen cast strange, flickering shadows across his face, making him look like a character from a cheesy horror movie. His eyes widened with increasing horror, like a deer caught in the headlights, and his cheeks flared a bright crimson. What on earth had possessed him to dive into a topic he hadn't touched in centuries? What a brilliant idea that was! He groaned, burying his face further into the quilt, as if hoping the fabric could somehow erase his shame.

"Why on earth did I think challenging Lucifer was a brilliant idea?" he muttered under his breath, the weight of his own poor judgment sinking in like a ton of bricks. He let out a harsh grunt, flopping back onto the bed as if the very thought of it might physically knock him out.

"I'm so dead..." he groaned, his voice a mix of self-pity and sheer panic, as if he could already hear the ominous sound of his impending doom echoing in the distance.

Adam poised and looked at his poor-poor backside. “Gal, I’m gonna miss you…”

He’s not going to have an ass after this brilliant idea…

hahaha it cracks me up every time.

Ha! I love it every time. Thank you!

#adamsapple #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lucifer #ask

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justabigoldnerd · 9 months ago

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For the WIP tag game, I have to know more about number 16, the Soviet Russia Memes Incident, please!

AKHDJSSKHDJ Okay so I was inspired by these memes:

And started writing a modern crack fic where Solo and Gaby torment Illya with them 😅

Here's a snippet, under the cut!

"So," Waverly started, leaning back in his chair, "Would either of you like to tell me exactly how this happened?" He gestured between the two men vaguely.

Solo moved the icepack he was holding against his swollen eye to glance over at Illya. The Russian wasn't in much better shape; blood was drying around his nose, and a colorful bruise blossomed along his jaw. He was sitting up perfectly straight, his arms crossed and a frankly pissed expression on his face. Solo rolled his eyes and flexed his sore knuckles.

"I….may have misused the work group chat."

"'Misused,'" Illya scoffed under his breath.

"Misused, how?" Waverly prompted.

"In my defense," Solo drawled as he wrangled his phone from the inner pocket of his blazer, "They were hilarious."

A crease formed in Waverly's brow as he accepted the phone, but as he scrolled through the seemingly endless number of messages, his confusion gave way to annoyance. "To be perfectly honest, Mr. Solo, I am impressed at just how many of these you were able to find."

"I made a few of them myself," he preened, "I'm particularly fond of the 'in Soviet Russia, its not iPhone, its OURPhone' one."

"Is not funny," Illya grumbled.

"Right. Mr. Solo, I believe some sensitivity training is in order. However, I don't believe the onslaught of memes warranted an assault. So, in lieu of a harsher penalty, I'll just have you apologize to each other."

Solo huffed, and looked to Illya, who mirrored his indignation.

Waverly leaned forward again and clicked his pen threateningly, "Or would you prefer paperwork only for a month?"

With a sigh, Solo shifted in his chair to half-face Illya, "I'm sorry for sending you a hundred Soviet Russia memes, Peril."

"One hundred and thirty five," he corrected through gritted teeth.

"You counted?"

"When messages keep you up all night, nothing else to do but count."

"It wasn't-" Solo tried to protest, but a pointed look from Waverly made him stop short, "I'm sorry for sending you one hundred and thirty five Soviet Russia memes."

Illya's glare didn't waver in intensity, even as he tipped his head to the side and held Solo's gaze. He was silent for a few moments, then took in a deep breath and muttered, "I am sorry for punching your face. Might have been overreaction."

Solo chewed the inside of his cheek, unable to conjure much anger when he was faced with Illya's ridiculously adorable head tilt, and he had no right to be that attractive with blood smearing his face.

"I didn't break your nose, did I?" he asked before he could stop himself, in a soft tone that made him curse inwardly. Maybe Illya had concussed him.

In a fraction of a second, something flickered behind Illya's murderous stare, and he turned away with a shrug. He cleared his throat and stared at a missed spot in the freshly polished tile. "Doesn't feel broken."

"Good," Solo nodded, an extremely unfamiliar feeling of awkwardness churning in his stomach.

"Well then," their boss cut in, sounding more like a middle school principal than the commander of an international espionage force, "Now that's all settled, Mr. Solo, I expect you to be front row at next week's sensitivity seminar. Otherwise, you're both dismissed."

"Thank you, sir," Solo beamed bitterly as he stood, "Looking forward to it."

Illya mumbled a similar acknowledgment and slunk out of the office. Once Solo shut the door behind them, he sighed and mused, "Now the only question is how did Gaby get out of this one."

"No idea," Illya shook his head, "Even screenshots I took were altered. Without my knowledge. Couldn't even track changes."

"She's getting too good at this game," Solo tsked, a bit of pride swelling in his chest nevertheless.

"Da. We make her pay."

"How do you suggest we do that?"

His partner's fingers drummed against his leg, and the muscle in his jaw jumped as he considered their options. "We take engine."

"The whole thing?"

The corner of Illya's mouth quirked up in a poorly hidden smile, "Is just bizarre enough to be good payback."

"She's gonna be pissed," Solo laughed quietly, "Hide it in rendezvous three- no, two. The storage rack in there is taller."

Illya nodded along, mischief washing away the anger in his eyes, and checked their surroundings before giving Solo's chest a pat, "Come on, Cowboy. Let's go steal an engine."

#tmfu #the man from uncle #tmfu movie #illya kuryakin #napoleon solo #napollya #gaby teller #fanfiction #fanfic #wip title game #tag game

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bagopucks · 2 years ago

Text

Blurbs

Jamie Drysdale x Reader

It’s 3:30 am. I woke up in the midst of a storm. So I figured I’d post a storm request I finished.

✄————————————

“She‘s right here, mom.” I peeked up from my phone to see Jamie turning his own in my direction. I waved at his mother on the face time call.

“Oh, hi, honey! I was just asking to make sure you were okay. I know Anaheim’s under a tornado watch right now.”

I frowned at the reminder, and slowly looked back down at my book.

“Mom.” Jamie scolded quietly, as if I wouldn’t be able to hear him from across the couch.

“Right, sorry. I forgot.”

“Do you mind if I hang up? I can’t stay on the phone with you all night.” Jamie spoke in a joking tone, but I knew he was antsy to get off the phone so he could charge it in the case that the power went out. And anybody with an iPhone knows how hot they get when on a call and charging at the same time.

“Yes, Jamie. Be safe, okay? And make sure you have a lot of blankets, and flashlights around. Does your apartment complex have a place to go to at times like these?”

“I think so. People have already visited and let us know where to go if the sirens go off.” Jamie stood up, and my eyes trailed him as he left the living room and walked into the dark kitchen.

I hated thunder storms. What I hated more was tornadoes. I hadn’t lived through one and I didn’t want to. But the threat of one in an area where they weren’t uncommon made me incredibly nervous. Every flash of lighting and loud crack of thunder woke a new wave of nerves. I hated it, but what I hated even more was how calm Jamie seemed.

“Right.. I love you mom.” Jamie returned with a bottle of water in his hand.

“Tell my sweet future daughter in law that I love her too!”

I smiled to myself, and I spared a moment to look up from my phone again, specifically to catch the blush on Jamie’s cheeks before it disappeared.

“I love you too Mrs. Drysdale!” I shouted across the room, and Jamie ended the call quickly after.

“She is so set on you being the girl I marry.”

“And you’re not?” I teased as I looked back down. Jamie quickly got settled on the opposite end of the couch again.

“I am, but she’s been like that since day one.” He shook his head in disbelief, reaching up to push back the dark hair that fell over his eyes.

The light flickered, and for a moment neither Jamie nor I said a word. We both looked up at the ceiling, as if somebody was messing with the lights there. Perhaps we jinxed our own power, because the next thing I knew, there was a loud rumble of thunder and the power completely cut out.

“Great,” I heard Jamie mumble out.

“Jam.” I stretched my legs out across the couch, the tip of my toes just barely grazing his thigh.

“You good?”

“Should we go downstairs?”

“Babe, we’re fine. There’s no siren or anything. Just a loss of power.”

I turned my phone off and set it down. Jamie’s flashlight turned on, and he set his phone down with the light facing upwards. I could see him. It made me feel safer. A flash of lightning lit up the room, far brighter than Jamie’s light. I tensed in anticipation of the thunder, but the loud boom still caught me off guard. My entire body jolted, and the only sound to soothe me had been the sound of Jamie’s laughter.

“What’s so funny?” I asked, pulling my blanket up over my shoulders.

“You.”

“Me?”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of.” Jamie brought his hand down to rest on my ankle.

Another rumble of thunder made me gasp.

“Babe, really.” Jamie insisted. “Come here.” His smile slowly faded into a look of determination. I crawled out from beneath my blanket and moved over to Jamie’s side of the couch, curling into his side. “I’ve got you, alright?” He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and I rested my head on his shoulder.

“You’re safe with me. I’ll never let anything happen to you.” I closed my eyes and nodded slowly. When I opened them, I looked back to the window, wincing at another flash of lightning. I felt Jamie pull me into his chest more, both of us anticipating the thunder, but he was more so worried about me jumping again.

When the thunder did rumble, I pressed deeper into his side. Jamie kissed my head and rubbed his hand up and down my arm in a soothing manner.

“Babe.” Jamie spoke sternly. “Stop thinkin’ about it.” He moved his free hand forward to rest beneath my chin, tilting my head in his direction. I sighed softly. “Don’t think about it.” Jamie leaned forward to press his lips against my own. He put up a good argument. He made for a great distraction. As he pulled away, my I allowed my body to relax against his side. The lightning flashed, but I tried to remain focused on Jamie. He’d get me through this.

“See? That’s not so bad. Gimme another.” Jamie pressed his lips to my own once again, earning a quiet laugh from me before the thunder rumbled. My body tensed, but I didn’t jump.

“You’ll be okay.” Jamie reminded gently against my lips.

#jamie drysdale #jamie drysdale imagine #jamie drysdale x reader #jamie drysdale blurb #nhl imagine #nhl x reader

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f0rlorn · 1 year ago

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flicker in the dark → coral

coral!tbosas x reader

notes → in which you meet the tribute you will be mentoring, and she turns out to be something you never would’ve expected. feminine intended reader though i do not know if pronouns are brought up.

warnings → y’all, she is so over the top ooc… (i molded her character after vi from arcane lol 🙈) not edited & uploaded via iphone!! i also haven’t written in months lol

trailing behind your fellow mentor and dear friend, lysistrata vickers, you couldn’t help but grow anxious of the impending meeting with the tribute you had been assigned. nearing the zoo where the tributes were being kept in this year, your heart rate sped up. the practice of mentoring a tribute was something that had never been done before, so nerves were on edge. and on top of that, the thought of the twenty-four district children being kept on display in a monkey house was enough to make you shiver with disgust. though, it was not much better than the horse stables they had been kept in prior to this year. if you were lucky, your tribute would be willing to cooperate with you like coriolanus’ girl, lucy gray, had. thoughts swamped your brain as lyssie dragged you to the front of the cage, about to part ways with you to find her respective tribute, the hulking district twelve boy.

“y/n, you have nothing to lose here. we’re simply here to help them get through this as easily and… painlessly as possible,” she said, muttering the last phrase with underlying bitterness. both lysistrata and yourself were not fans of the hunger games. the prospect of dehumanizing and stripping the rights, as well as dignity, away from children your own age was safe to say, unappealing. with the war long over, shouldn’t the killing have ended by now too?

“i know, lyssie, i just…” you paused, averting your gaze, “don’t know if i’ll be able to face her knowing what she’s about to go through. to think she’s our age, too… it’s… i don’t know how i can even help her.” you couldn’t find the words to accurately form your thought, but lysistrata understood.

“i get it, i do. just show her what you brought her.” lysistrata patted you on the back and wandered towards the side of the enclosure that her tribute resided in. it didn’t take long to spot your tribute, who’s name you learned to be coral. her fiery red hair could be pinpointed from a mile away.

you sighed, slowly walking up to the metal bars of the enclosure. “coral?” you tried, catching the attention of some tributes sitting closer to the bars, but not coral. pausing, you pursed your lips and tried again, calling out for her louder. this got the attention of her district partner, mizzen, who nudged coral. she looked up at mizzen and he nodded towards you. unsure of what exactly to do as they both glared at you, you waved sheepishly. coral gave a look to mizzen, then stood, striding over to where you were standing.

as she reached the bars, you had to shift your gaze upwards to look her in the eye. “and who might you be, doll face?” she asked, her tone condescending as she eyed you up and down.

“hi, i’m y/n, i’ll be your mentor for the games.” you stuck your hand through the bars to her and attempted to introduce yourself, but realized that the hand you had offered was holding the bag of items that you had brought for her. you quickly placed it down for a second to properly shake her hand, only for her to ignore the gesture and continue to stare expectantly.

“mendor, huh? so rainbow girl was right after all.” you nodded in agreement, assuming she was referring to lucy gray. “so what are you gonna do for me?” you paused, thinking of the best way to put it.

“i’m going to try my best to help you win. and take care of you, of course.” the look she gave you made you think you had three heads, and you shrunk under her gaze.

“i’m sorry, sweetheart, but how are you going to help me?” she almost laughed.

“well, my job as a mentor is to introduce you to the public, to make you more appealing so that people will want to watch the games.” you explained.

“appealing, huh. am i not already?” coral asked mockingly, criticizing your choice of words. she moved forward to grip to bars and stooped down boldly to be eye to eye with you. you stuttered, quickly looking away in embarrassment.

“i mean- yes- but that wasn’t what i meant, really!” you quickly tried, but she simply laughed at you. regaining her posture, she glanced at the bag you had set on the floor.

“and what’s this?” she queried, urging you to pick it up and show her.

“i brought you some food!” you offered, “you should really eat if you want to make it into the arena with enough strength to fight.” you tried, which was a dumb, obvious statement, but it seemed like a safe bet.

“i appreciate the sentiment, sweetheart. but you don’t know what i need and don’t need.” despite the nickname, her tone was brimmed with hostility. you didn’t blame her for refusing the food, your very essence reeked of privilege, and you could tell she wasn’t one to accept pity favors. the stark contrast of your ironed uniform and manicured nails next to her unwashed attire and nails covered in dirt was off putting. you could not imagine how she felt being here, being forced to play a losing game. and on top of that, the ones who had put her in this position claimed to want to help her. the war was hard for everybody, but your family had managed to pick itself back up off of it’s feet. on the other hand, families in the district had to pay the price for lives they did not take.

“i’m just trying to help, coral, really. these games are- they’re horrible. if i had a choice i wouldn’t participate. but i don’t. so the least i could do is help you get through them.” you spilled your opinion to her in hopes that she would accept the sustenance. picking the bag up off of the ground, you unzipped it, allowing her to take a look at the food you had brought.

stuffed full of homemade chicken and cheese sandwiches, as well as some other miscellaneous foods sitting closer to the bottom, it was evident you had spent time trying to organize food for her to have. she glanced at the bag, then whipped her head around towards mizzen, calling him towards her. he approached and she showed him the arrangement of foods. you saw his eyes light up and you couldn’t help but feel helpful, as small a gesture as it was.

“i don’t know if they’ve fed you or not, but…” you trailed off, allowing them to take a few of the sandwiches and an abundance of fruit, as well as a hardboiled egg or two. peering around at the rest of the tributes, some of which had been staring at the bag of food, you realized that if you were to give them the whole contents of the bag now, others would try to steal some. and while that was not necessarily a bad thing, considering your guilt for them in this situation, you had made these strictly for coral, and mizzen was just a part of the package. “coral, maybe you should eat these now. i don’t think it’s the greatest idea to hand over all of the food right now.” you suggested. she quickly realized what you meant and plopped down to the floor, egg in mouth and mizzen close behind. as you looked down at her sitting criss-cross in shock, she gestured for you to take a seat as well. it was like a picnic of some sorts. the odd, repulsive sort of one, but a picnic nonetheless.

the pair made no effort to make conversation as they chowed down their food, and you couldn’t blame them. you twiddled your thumbs in silence for a solid twelve minutes before anyone had spoken up. scoping out the rest of the tributes, you realized that coral was a very strong contender compared to some of the other girls. the thought that the odds may be in her favor brought a smile to your face. “thanks, cupcake.” coral was already on her feet before you could even process the statement. you stood, dusting the dirt off of your uniform before smiling at coral.

“it’s what i’m here for. i’ll try to check in as much as i can. there’s some events that the gamemakers are planning, too. they want to hold one on one mentor-tribute interviews, a tour of the arena, as well as an additional interview that will be aired to panem.” you informed her and mizzen, who made sure to stand close by.

“so this won’t be the last i see of you?” she asked.

“most definitely not.” you confirmed, nodding.

“good.” she winked, turning away with mizzen in tow. from the interaction, she proved to be quite the enigma. despite her circumstances, she still had a confident, collected, and enticing aura about her, leaving you in awe, if not more.

#coral #coral tbosas #coral tbosas x reader #coral thg x reader #coral thg #coral x reader #thg #the hunger games #thg x reader #the hunger games x reader #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes x reader #thg fanfiction #tbosas fanfiction

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nolovelingers · 16 days ago

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CALL ME ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ nathan young

⋆ ★ when you’re found vandalizing a nearby alleyway it isn’t just police officers you steal the attention of.

cw ᝰ.ᐟ sfw ,, swearing ,, fem!reader ,, alcohol ,, running from the cops ,, nathans not slick at all

PURPOSELY LOWERCASE 🎧 &&. written on iphone , sorry if funky format !

the alley was narrow and dank, the kind of place where the sun rarely pierced the gloom. the walls were covered in a patchwork of graffiti, the once-vibrant colors now faded and dull. the air hung heavy with the stench of rotting garbage and stale piss. empty beer bottles and crumpled fast food wrappers littered the grimy concrete, crunching underfoot with each step.

at the far end of the alley, a single flickering streetlamp cast a sickly yellow glow, barely illuminating anything. the sound of distant traffic and muffled laughter from a nearby pub drifted in, a stark contrast to the eerie silence that permeated this forgotten corner of the city.

brick walls loomed on either side, their jagged edges crumbling and sharp. the uneven cobblestones beneath your feet were slick with a mixture of rainwater and god knows what else, the slick surface glinting under the yellow glow of a single flickering streetlamp.

your heart raced as you scrawled a crude, lewd drawing on the wall with a can of spray paint, tongue poking out the side of your mouth in concentration. the harsh, acrid scent of the paint filled your nostrils, making your eyes water. you were just putting the final touches on your masterpiece when the sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the alley.

two burly, uniformed figures emerged from the shadows, their silhouettes growing larger and more menacing as they approached. your breath caught in your throat as one of them, a beefy man with a thick mustache, barked out a command.

"oi, you there! what d’ya think you're doing, you little tart?"

your instincts screamed at you to run, and without a second thought, you dropped the spray can and bolted. your heart hammered against your ribs as you sprinted down the alley, hair whipping behind you.

the cops gave chase, their heavy boots pounding against the ground, growing louder and closer with each passing second. your lungs burned as you ran, chest heaving with the effort. you could hear them shouting behind you, their voices tinged with anger and frustration.

your heart pounded like a drum in your ears as you tore out of the alley, lungs screaming for air. the cool night breeze whipped past your face, moving strands of your hair across your eyes. you blinked away the obstruction, gaze fixed straight ahead as you raced along the dimly lit sidewalk.

the bustling streets of london blurred past you, the neon signs and flickering streetlamps a kaleidoscope of color. the distant wail of a police siren sent a jolt of fear through your spine, spurring you on to run faster. your feet slapped against the pavement, the sound echoing in the narrow gap between towering buildings.

up ahead, a tall, lanky figure leaned against a wall, his posture casual and relaxed. he was dressed in a tattered flannel, his curly brown hair disheveled and falling into his eyes. as you sprinted closer, he glanced up, his gaze flicking over to you with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

nathan watched the girl racing towards his direction, her face etched with panic and fear. he could hear the heavy footsteps and shouted orders of the cops hot on her heels. a slow, mischievous grin spread across his face as an idea took shape. he pushed off from the wall, falling into step beside the fleeing girl.

"oi, love," nathan called out, his voice tinged with a thick Irish accent. "looks like yer in a bit of a pickle, yeah? need a hand?"

he gestured to a narrow alleyway branching off the main street, hidden in the shadow of a crumbling brick archway. "there's a way out back there, if ye want it. might be a tight squeeze, but it beats getting caught by those blokes." he jerked his thumb back towards the alley, his grin widening. "fancy a detour?"

y/n’s eyes flicked to Nathan, taking in his disheveled appearance and the mischievous glint in his eyes. you hesitated for a split second, heart still pounding wildly in your chest. the sound of the cops grew louder, their shouts more insistent, urging you to make a decision.

biting your lip, you nodded jerkily, a flicker of relief and gratitude in your eyes. "aye, alright then. lead the way," you gasped out, words punctuated by ragged breaths.

nathan's grin widened. "right this way, miss," he spoke with a note of mocking formality in his voice. he led you down the narrow passageway. the alley twisted and turned, a labyrinth of shadowy corridors and hidden nooks. nathan navigated it with ease, clearly familiar with the secret paths and shortcuts. you followed close behind, heart gradually slowing as the sounds of the pursuing cops faded into the distance.

finally, after what felt like an eternity, you emerged into a small, walled-off courtyard. a single streetlamp cast a feeble glow over the space, illuminating a few rusted metal chairs and a overturned crate that served as makeshift seating.

nathan turned to face you, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. "there we are. safe and sound." he cocked an eyebrow at you, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

"cheers," you panted out, a hint of a grin on your face. "i owe you one."

the boy raised an eyebrow, looking you up and down, taking in your disheveled appearance and the adrenaline still sparkling in your eyes. "aye, you do," he agreed. "so, what's a pretty little thing like you doing, getting yerself into trouble with the coppers? guessing it's not yer first time, yeah?"

you held your breath. you could feel the heat radiating off his body, could smell the strong scent of cigarette smoke and something uniquely him.

you leaned against the rough brick wall, catching your breath as you eyed nathan warily. you werent in the mood for idle chatter, especially not with a complete stranger. all you wanted was a moment to collect yourself.

nathan, however, seemed undeterred by your look of lack of enthusiasm. he didn’t wait for you to reply, instead taking a step closer, his gaze roaming over you appraisingly. "you've got a pair of lungs on ye, sprinting like that." he chuckled, a low, gravelly sound.

you rolled your eyes, pushing off from the wall and moving to brush past him. "cheers for the help, but im not really in the mood for a chat," you muttered, voice still slightly breathless.

nathan matched your stride easily, falling into step beside you. "aw, don't be like that, love. just trying to be friendly." he grinned, undeterred by your cool reception. "names nathan, by the way."

he extended a hand towards you, waiting for you to introduce yourself in return. "and you are...?" he prompted, his tone laced with curiosity.

“not interested.”

nathan's grin faltered slightly at your blunt refusal, but he quickly recovered, a stubborn glint entering his eyes. he was used to people pushing him away, but something about this girl intrigued him. maybe it was the fire in your eyes or the way you carried yourself with a defiant tilt to your chin.

"ouch, not interested, eh?" nathan said with a dramatic clutch to his chest. "well, can't say i blame ye. im not everyone's cup of tea." he shrugged, his grin returning. "but still, a bloke can try his luck, can't he? especially with a bird as pretty as you."

he took another step closer, invading your personal space. up close you could see the flecks of gold in his green eyes and the dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks. "come on, don't be like that," nathan cajoled, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "i saved yer sweet little arse, didn't i? the least ye could do is tell me yer name. unless..."

he trailed off, his gaze dipping to your lips before flicking back up to meet your eyes. "yer hiding something? got a price on yer head or something?"

his tone was playful, teasing, but there was a hint of something else beneath the surface. a glimmer of genuine curiosity.

your eyes narrowed and you crossed your arms over your chest. "im not in the habit of spilling my guts to just anyone who comes along," you said, voice sharp and clipped.

nathan had the decency to look mildly offended, but the gleam in his eye never wavered.

"oi, im not just anyone," he protested, his tone playful and mocking. "im a hero, remember? i saved you from the clutches of the law." he struck a dramatic pose, one hand over his heart, the other outstretched as if to ward off an imaginary foe.

you snorted, rolling your eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn't get stuck. "a hero? is that what you call it?" you scoffed. "i call it a bloke with too much time on his hands and a penchant for pissing people off."

his grin only widened at the insult, clearly amused by your demeanor. "guilty as charged," he admitted, not sounding the least bit repentant. "but still, i think that earns me a wee more than a curt 'not interested'. don't you, love?"

he cocked his head to the side, studying you with a critical eye. "tell you what, how about a drink? i know a cracking pub just around the corner. my treat, of course. what do you say, fancy a pint?" he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, indicating the direction of the establishment.

you hesitated, biting your lower lip as you considered the offer. a drink did sound nice, and it would give you a chance to relax. plus, there was something about this guy that both irritated and intrigued you.

"fine," you relented with a put-upon sigh. “but dont think this means anything, yeah? i just need a minute to get my head together."

nathans grin widened into a triumphant smile, his eyes sparkling with amusement and a hint of something more intense. "scout's honor," he declared, holding up a hand in a mock salute. "i won't read too much into it.”

he added with a wink, “well, maybe a little.”

he stepped back, gesturing for you to lead the way out of the courtyard. "ladies first, of course. can't have you tripping and falling into my arms." his tone was teasing, but there was an undercurrent of sincerity in his words.

you rolled your eyes, but a reluctant smile tugged at your lips as you brushed past him. "cheeky git," you muttered under your breath, but the insult lacked its usual bite.

as you emerged onto the bustling london street, nathan fell into step beside you, his long strides easily matching your quicker pace. the pub he'd mentioned was indeed just around the corner, a cozy-looking establishment with a warm glow spilling from its windows and the muffled sound of conversation and laughter drifting out into the night.

nathan held open the door for her, a gallant gesture that seemed at odds with his rough exterior. "after you, my lady," he said, a note of mock formality in his voice.

you hesitated for a moment before ducking inside, the warmth and noise enveloping you like a blanket. the pub was filled with an assortment of patrons, from the after-work crowd still in their suits and ties to the more casual regulars who looked like they'd been there since opening time.

nathan led you to a small table in the corner, the worn wood smooth and slightly sticky beneath your fingers. "what's your poison?" he asked, signaling the barmaid with a jerk of his chin.

you thought for a moment before answering. "whiskey, neat. double."

nathan raised an eyebrow but nodded, relaying the order to the barmaid. a few minutes later, two tumblers of amber liquid appeared on the table, the glass warming in your hands.

he watched as you took a swig of your whiskey, eyes watering slightly at the burn. he couldn't help but chuckle, shaking his head. "bloody hell, yer a proper little firecracker, aren't ye?" he remarked, taking a swig of his own drink. "most birds can't handle the hard stuff."

you shot him a withering look, but there was a glimmer of amusement in your eyes. "im not most birds," you retorted, voice sharp. you finished your whiskey in a matter of seconds, purely determined to prove him wrong.

nathan leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. "no, you certainly are not," he agreed, his gaze roaming over you appraisingly.

you felt a blush creep up your neck at his bold once-over, but you held his gaze steadily. "and you're a right cheeky bastard," you shot back, voice laced with laughter. "do you always talk to girls like this, or am i just lucky?"

nathan's grin widened, his eyes glinting with mischief. "oh, yer lucky, alright," he said, his voice a low murmur. "not every girl can handle my particular brand of charm."

he leaned forward, invading your personal space just a little. "but yer not like other girls, are ye, baby?" his voice dropped to a husky whisper on the last word, his gaze dipping to your lips before flicking back up to meet your eyes.

you rolled your eyes, but a smirk tugged at the corner of your mouth. "you're bloody right I'm not," you retorted, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms. "im not one of your little airheads who fall all over themselves for a pretty face and a silver tongue."

nathan gasped, a hand clutched to his chest. "pretty face? i thought you said I was a right cheeky bastard," he said, a note of playful indignation in his voice.

you snorted, shaking your head. "cheeky and pretty. dangerous combination.”

his grin widened. "dangerous for who, love? cause i have to say, yer not exactly a shrinking violet yerself." he finished his whiskey, his gaze never leaving yours.

he signaled the barmaid, pointing to your empty glasses and holding up two fingers. you watched as she nodded, disappearing to fetch your refills.

turning back to you, nathan leaned forward, his elbows on the table and his chin propped up on his hands.

you matched his grin with a smirk of your own. "takes one to know one," you shot back, eyes sparkling. "besides, im not the one who dragged a complete stranger through a dodgy alley and then invited them for a drink."

nathan held up his hands in mock surrender. a laugh escaped him. "but in my defense, i didn't drag you. you came willingly."

you shook your head, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips. "aye, because you gave me no choice," you said, but there was no real bite to your words.

he leaned forward, his elbows on the table, face mere inches from yours. "ah, but that's the thing. you had a choice. you could have told me no. yet you chose to come with me. why do ye think that is?" his voice was a low murmur, his eyes searching yours.

a sudden flush crept up your neck and spread across your cheeks at nathan's intense scrutiny and the low, intimate tone of his voice. you werent used to men looking at you like this, with such blatant interest and something more. something you couldn't quite put your finger on. it made you feel flustered and off-balance, two things you hated being.

"i...shut up," your voice came out more breathless than intended. the barmaid returns with the drinks, placing them down on the table and you quickly took another gulp of your whiskey, hoping the burn would hide the sudden heat in your face.

nathan's grin widened at your flustered reaction, and he leaned back in his chair, looking far too pleased with himself. "thats not very polite, love," he teased, his eyes dancing with amusement. "here i am, being all charming and witty, and ye want me to shut up?"

you glared at him, but the effect was ruined by the blush still staining your cheeks. "youre impossible," you muttered.

he just laughed, the sound rich and warm in the noisy pub. "aye, but you like it," he said, a note of smugness in his voice.

he reached out, plucking your glass from in front of you and taking a deep swig of your whiskey. you watched, eyebrows shooting up.

"cheeky bastard," you muttered, but there was no real heat behind the words. you reached for your glass, only to find it empty. "hey, i was drinking that! you’ve still got your own, dickhead."

nathan shrugged, a look of feigned innocence on his face. "looked like ye needed a top-up," he said, his tone placating. he reached out, grabbing his own glass this time and swiftly finishing his beverage in one go.

you snorted, shaking your head. "i don't need you to tell me what i need," you retorted, but you couldn't quite suppress the smile tugging at your lips.

nathan’s grin widened, "no, i suppose ye don't," he agreed, pushing the empty glass towards you. "but im more than happy to provide, if you'll let me."

he waved his hand once again, gesturing for a refill. “like, how ye definitely need a third drink.”

the barmaid appeared with a fresh round, placing the glasses on the table with a friendly smile. you eyed the liquid, knowing you should probably slow down. but the warmth of the whiskey and the buzz of the conversation had you feeling more relaxed than you had in a long time.

you picked up the glass, swirling the liquid around before taking a sip. the alcohol burned your throat, but you welcomed the sensation, letting it chase away the lingering adrenaline from your narrow escape earlier.

nathan watched her over the rim of his own glass, a thoughtful expression on his face.

you could feel his gaze on you, heavy and intense. you glanced up to find him watching you, eyes dark and unreadable in the dim light of the pub. a faint blush colored his cheeks, a rare sight on a man who seemed to wear his confidence like a second skin.

the moment stretched between them, the noise of the pub fading into the background. your heart stuttered in your chest, a sudden fluttering sensation that caught you off guard. you werent used to this. the way nathan looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

"what?" you asked softly, voice barely above a whisper. "why are you looking at me like that?"

nathan blinked, seeming to come back to himself. he shook his head slightly, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "like what?" he asked, his voice a low murmur.

you shrug, taking another sip of whiskey to hide your own sudden nervousness. "i don't know. like you're trying to figure me out or something," your gaze dropped to the table.

he was silent for a moment, and you could feel the weight of his stare on her face. "maybe i am," he said finally, his voice thoughtful.

glancing up at nathan, your brows furrow slightly. "and why would you want to do a thing like that?" you asked, with a note of genuine curiosity.

the curly haired boy was silent for a long moment, his gaze never leaving yours. when he spoke, his voice was low and earnest, a stark contrast to his usual teasing tone. "because you’re not like anyone ive ever met before," he said simply.

you felt a fierce blush spreading across your cheeks at his earnest words, the heat of it making you suddenly warm. you werent used to such straightforward compliments.

fustered, you drained the last of your whiskey and set the glass down with a slightly shaky hand. "i...i should probably go," you said, standing up abruptly. "its getting late."

nathan's brows arched slightly at your sudden movement, but he stood as well. "late? its not even midnight yet," he pointed out, a note of disappointment in his voice. "i thought we were getting to know each other."

you shook your head, grabbing your jacket and slinging it over your shoulder. "aye, well, im not used to staying out this late," you said, avoiding his gaze. "i have an early start tomorrow."

it was a lie, and they both knew it. you had no plans for the next day, but you suddenly felt overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. by the way nathan was looking at you with those dark, unreadable eyes. you needed to get some distance, to clear your head and make sense of the strange fluttering sensation in your stomach.

the brunette was silent for a moment, a flicker of something indecipherable in his gaze. then he nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "alright then," he said, his voice a low murmur. "let me walk you home then, yeah? cant have ye getting into more trouble without me around to bail you out, can i?"

with reluctance, you accepted his offer, nodding your head appreciatively. you, after all, would never object to having company during a walk at night.

as you stepped out into the cool night air, nathan fell besides you. the streets were quieter now, the after-work crowds long gone and the late-night revelers yet to emerge.

"well, this is cozy," nathan remarked, glancing around at the narrow, twisting streets. "i feel like im in a bloody episode of sherlock holmes or something."

you snorted, shaking your head. "aye, welcome to the real london," you said, a smirk tugging at your lips. "not all glitter and glamour like in the movies."

he laughed, a rich sound that seemed to echo off the close-set buildings. "no, but there's a certain charm to it," he said, a note of sincerity in his voice. "a gritty, unpretentious charm."

you walked on in comfortable silence for a few moments before nathan spoke again, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "you know, i never did catch your name earlier," he said, a teasing lilt to his voice. "only fair, since ive dragged you halfway across london."

you rolled your eyes, but you couldn't quite suppress the smile that tugged at your mouth. "its y/n," you said, a hint of reluctance in your voice.

"y/n," nathan repeated, trying out the name on his tongue. "pretty name for a pretty girl," a grin spread across his face. "im glad i saved you tonight, y/n. among other things."

you couldn't help but blush at his flirtatious words, ducking your head to hide the sudden heat in your cheeks. "aye, well, im glad you were there too," you admitted, a note of grudging honesty in your voice.

you continued walking, the night air cool and crisp against your skin. nathan couldn't help but steal glances at you as they strolled, admiring the way your hair caught the faint light.

"so, tell me something about yerself, y/n," there was genuine curiosity in his voice. "besides your knack for getting into trouble and your impressive whiskey tolerance."

you thought for a moment before answering, a wry smile on your face. "im an artist," there was a hint of pride in your voice. "i paint, mostly. landscapes and portraits, that sort of thing."

nathan's eyes widened in surprise, a note of admiration in his voice. "an artist, eh? thats impressive," he said, a grin spreading across his face. "id love to see yer work sometime. maybe ye could paint me, capture me rugged good looks." he winked, a teasing lilt to his voice.

shaking your head, you responded. "and i suppose you want me to paint you as some sort of brooding, byronic hero?" you shot back, a smirk playing on your lips.

nathan racked his brain for a response as you walked on, but your curiosity beat him and you glanced over at him, a curious expression on your face. "so, what about you then?" you asked.

nathan was silent for a moment, considering your question. "well, as you can probably tell, im not exactly yer average bloke," there was a wry smile on his face. "ive got a bit of a...gift. call it what you will, but it's made my life a right bloody adventure."

he paused, glancing down at y/n with a mischievous grin. "but im not supposed to talk about it."

just then, they turned a corner and your flat came into view. you want to press further but decide against it. you stop abruptly, pointing to the modest brick building. "there we are," you said, a note of finality in your voice. "home sweet home."

nathan looked up at the building, a slow grin spreading across his face. “nice gaff," he complimented, a hint of approval in his tone. "not bad for a birdie who likes to play fast and loose with the law."

he turned to face you, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. "well, this is where I leave you, love," there was a note of reluctance in his voice. "unless...ye want to invite me in for a nightcap?" he winked, a teasing lilt to his tone.

"i don't think so," you spoke finally, shaking your head. "but..." you paused, a mischievous glint in your eye. quickly, you reached into your back pocket and pulled out a sharpie, grabbing nathan's arm before he could protest.

with a few swift strokes, you scrawled your phone number in bold, graffiti-like font across his forearm, followed by the words "CALL ME" in capital letters.

"there," a smirk visibly showed itself on your face. "now you have no excuse not to ring me up and take me out properly."

nathan glanced down at his arm, a grin spreading across his face as he read the words. he looked back up at you, a note of admiration in his eyes. "well, well, well," he said, a chuckle escaping his lips. "i thought ye wanted to get rid of me, not give me an excuse to see ye again."

with a final wink, he stepped back, giving you a small bow. "until next time then, love," a grin played on his lips. "watch yerself, yeah?"

and with that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing alone outside your flat, a blush on your cheeks and a sudden flutter of anticipation in your chest.

` ੈ˚ ★ a / n : me writing this for me and the remaining 11 nathan young fans left ….. it’s ok i mostly wrote this for myself 💜💜

started 1.15.2025. finished 1.17.2025.

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