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coffeeshades · 1 month ago

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credits to the gif maker!

LOVE IS COMPLICATED - PART XI

—this must be the place

summary: two idiots who got their shit together and now love each other unconditionally.

pairing: pedro pascal x actress/singer!reader.

word count: 3.3k

warnings: 18+ (minors dni). filthy smut, p in v, unprotected sex, lots of fluff, cursing, age gap, mentions of alcohol. no use of y/n, if i missed something please let me know!

a/n: hello besties, dual pov so watch out for that, and reminding everyone this is a work of fiction so just sit back and relax and enjoy! but if this isn't your thing, move along :)

masterlist!

January 18th, 2024

Los Angeles, CA

January was a whirlwind. Awards season came faster than either of you could’ve anticipated. After years of grueling work, both of you were at the pinnacle of your careers. The Golden Globes were just the beginning, and somehow, you found yourself receiving best actress nods at every award show that followed. Each time your name was announced, you were stunned—as if each award was a surprise gift wrapped in disbelief.

Pedro? He was right there beside you, proud, beaming, like he’d won every accolade himself.

And in a way, he had.

The Emmys came next. Pedro was dressed like a hot English teacher—a title you bestowed on him while posing for photos on the carpet. He blushed at your words, but his imagination clearly ran wild through the entire ceremony. You’d catch his mind drifting, the corners of his mouth twitching with thoughts you could only guess.

But when the time came, he lost his category. You turned to him with an exaggerated sad face, eyes wide, and before he could even fake another mournful look, you took his face between your hands and whispered in his ear, “You might be an Emmy loser, but you’re my Emmy loser, baby.”

He chuckled softly, a mix of amusement and adoration, his hand resting on your thigh, fingers tracing absentmindedly. “Maybe we can celebrate the loss later,” he teased, and you grinned, your shared laughter barely masked by the applause surrounding you.

February 25th, 2024

Los Angeles, CA

Pedro wore Prada that night. A crisp white button-down shirt, half the buttons undone, his chest peeking through like a prince stepping off a ship in some romantic novel. His hair was so much longer, curling softly around his ears, a curl decorating his forehead, and when you both arrived, you couldn’t take your eyes off him.

“You look dreamy,” you’d whispered, your hand lingering on his arm.

You shared a tequila shot for luck before the ceremony, a ritual that seemed to work for both of you. When Pedro’s name was called, you watched in awe as he walked up to the stage, shock evident on his face. He was adorable, overwhelmed, and completely unprepared, but still effortlessly funny.

"And thank you to my love for being my biggest supporter," he said during his speech, eyes finding you in the crowd. "I love you."

The audience roared with laughter as he joked about having a panic attack. You covered your face with your hands, laughing with him, but your heart swelled with pride. When your category came not long after, you got up there, thanked everyone, and finished with, “And last but not least, thank you to now SAG Award winner Pedro Pascal for also being my biggest supporter."

Later that night, you posted a picture of the two of you holding your statuettes, captioning it, “a couple of winners,” a nod to the moment and your shared triumph.

March had rolled faster than anticipated. The Oscars themselves were here, and there you were, sitting in the middle of Hollywood’s most glamorous circus, your name announced as a Best Actress nominee. The whole thing was surreal—like, pinch-me-I’m-dreaming kind of surreal.

Pedro sat next to you, gripping your hand for dear life. He had been holding it for the last half hour, unable to let go, which made you wonder if he was comforting you or himself. Maybe both.

You gave him a quick glance. He was calm on the outside, but you could tell by the subtle way his thumb kept moving over your knuckles that his nerves were bubbling underneath too. You squeezed his hand back, your silent way of saying, Hey, we got this, right? Though, in truth, you weren’t sure who “we” were anymore. You hadn’t breathed since they started announcing the nominees.

And then it came—the moment. The envelope opened, the pause, the suspense that felt like it dragged on for an eternity, and then... someone else’s name. Not yours.

The applause in the room felt both deafening and distant, like you were watching it all through a fog. You let out the breath you’d been holding since they called your name and tried to steady yourself. You smiled, clapping for the winner because, hey, they deserved it. But inside, you were thinking, Well, damn.

Before you could even process the mix of relief and mild disappointment, Pedro turned to you. His eyes were gentle but mischievous, the exact combination that both made you feel better and also a little nervous. He tilted his head, looking at you like he was about to drop the world’s most important line.

“You might be an Oscar loser,” he said, grinning that cheeky grin of his, “but you’re my Oscar loser.”

It took everything in you not to burst out laughing, because of course he would say that. But he leaned in and kissed your forehead, so sweet and sincere, that you felt your heart melt just a little. Leave it to him to make losing feel like a win.

You rolled your eyes, more at how much you loved him than anything else. “Nice one, P. I feel so much better now,” you teased, shaking your head.

"You did the same to me; I had to."

"That's just cruel."

You elbowed him, laughing despite everything. Because at the end of the day, you realized something—you hadn’t lost at all. You were sitting there with the person who made you laugh when you needed it most, who held your hand through the stress and teased you when you least expected it. And that, as far as you were concerned, was the best kind of win.

•••

The next few months were filled with so much love and so much laughter. Pedro went with you to every concert you had scheduled, sitting backstage or in the crowd with your friends, watching you command the stage. It became your new routine, traveling to different cities with Pedro beside you for each show.

June arrived, and with it, Pedro’s filming schedule kicked back into full gear. This time, though, it was a little different. Instead of the usual months of long-distance calls and late-night texts across time zones, he was filming in New York. That meant he came home every night to your shared brownstone.

It felt wonderfully domestic.

One evening, you were curled up on the couch, the windows open to let in a soft breeze. You could hear Pedro moving around in the kitchen, humming to himself as he tried to figure out what to make for dinner. He had arrived early today and insisted on taking care of it. The scent of garlic and olive oil was already beginning to fill the room.

You smiled to yourself, getting up to join him. “Need some help, Chef?” you teased, leaning against the doorframe as you watched him stir something in a pan, his brow furrowed in concentration.

He looked up, a grin spreading across his face when he saw you. “I’m handling it. Don’t worry, I’ve got everything under control.”

You raised an eyebrow, walking over to peek into the pan. “Uh-huh, that’s what you said last time."

“Okay, first of all, I told you that was ‘blackened’ for flavor,” he shot back, pointing the spatula at you. “And second, tonight’s different. I’m on it.”

You laughed, moving closer and slipping your arms around his waist from behind, resting your head against his back. “Mmm, smells good though. Maybe I’ll give you a pass this time.”

He leaned into your embrace, his free hand coming up to hold yours around his middle. “Only a pass?” he teased, turning his head slightly to catch your eye. “I was aiming for full marks.”

“You’ll have to earn that,” you replied, your voice playful as you squeezed him tighter. “What’s on the menu tonight?”

He twisted around in your arms to face you, a mock-serious expression on his face. “You are looking at a masterful creation of... stir-fry.”

“Fancy.”

“Very. It’s gourmet,” he said with a grin, pulling you closer. “It’s got vegetables and everything.”

You couldn’t help but laugh; the ease between you was just so comfortable.

It wasn’t about the food or the dinner itself—it was about the quiet rhythm of life you’d found together, the simple joy of these little moments. The kind of comfort that only comes from knowing someone so well and loving every bit of it.

As the food sizzled away on the stove, Pedro pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his hand still resting on your back. “I like this,” he murmured.

“What, my expert critique of your cooking? Because I can keep going."

He laughed softly. “No, I mean…this. Us. Coming home to you every night. It feels right.”

A smile spread across your face as you tilted your head up to meet his gaze. “It does, doesn’t it?”

He nodded, his eyes soft as he looked at you. “I could get used to this.”

“Well,” you said, grinning as you stood on your toes to kiss him, “good thing you’re stuck with me.”

He kissed you back, his lips warm and familiar, lingering just long enough to make you lose your train of thought. “Best decision I ever made,” he murmured against your lips, pulling you closer.

You smiled into the kiss, feeling the warmth of him seep into you, grounding you in the moment.

“Alright, mister. Let’s eat before your gourmet stir-fry turns into another ‘blackened’ creation.”

“Noted,” he laughed, turning back to the stove with you still wrapped around him.

July 25th, 2024

San Diego, California

The morning had a slowness to it that Pedro liked.

The two of you were still wrapped up in the sheets, limbs intertwined in a comfortable, familiar tangle. The sunlight crept lazily through the curtains. He felt your body stir next to his, your warmth pulling him further out of sleep. His lips found the curve of your shoulder, soft kisses trailing across your skin, while his fingers lazily traced patterns on your back.

"You nervous for today?" you asked, your voice still sleepy but carrying a smile that he could hear.

Pedro groaned slightly, his morning voice raspy. "A little," he admitted, his face half-buried in the pillow.

"You’ll be great. They’re going to eat you up," you said, teasing but reassuring, your lips brushing his neck. "Anything I can do to help?"

He smirked, his eyes still closed as his hand found its way down the small of your back, pulling you closer. "Actually, yeah… I’ve got a couple ideas."

You laughed, straddling him, your hair falling over your face as you leaned down for a slow, lingering kiss. The kind of kiss that promised more, the kind that was a language only the two of you spoke. Pedro’s hands moved with familiarity, tracing the lines of your body as if he were memorizing you all over again.

He discarded yours and his clothes too. Your perfect breasts in his face as soon as you straddled him again, knees on either side of his thighs as you sat down on his cock. His head fell back on the soft pillow as you dug your nails into his broad shoulders.

For a while, it was just your steady breathing as you rode him, smooth and constant. Your moans—a delicious symphony to his ears—filled the room, mingling with his own groans of pleasure. And then both of your movements became more urgent, and he held you down to his chest, his lips finding yours in a hungry kiss.

"Fuck," he cursed, his hands gripping your back tightly as he pushed himself deeper inside you.

"Need-need you deeper."

He heard you say, and with a low growl, he complied. "Lay down."

You quickly got on your front, head turned to the side, ass in the air, and he entered you from behind. He filled you, slowly, centimeter by centimeter, stretching you in the most delicious way.

"Yes, yes, yes."

It fueled him to see you and hear you so fucked out and desperate for more.

"Goddamn," he breathed, pulling out before gliding in again, this time a little harder, a little deeper. He repeated the motion several times, each time pushing you into the bed harder and harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. It's filthy. His hands dug into your hips. Your moans grew louder—consuming him, matching the rhythm of his thrusts.

You were close; he could tell by the way you were clenching around him. He cannot take it anymore. It's stupidly, brilliantly too good. Too intoxicating. He leans forward, chest pressed against your back, skin slick with sweat. "Come for me, baby."

He sees your eyes go blank as you reach your peak, your body shuddering with pleasure. The sight of you unraveling beneath him pushes him over the edge, and he follows right after you, his hips turning erratic, heat spreading inside him, and his release mixing with yours.

You don't move, and neither does he. He stays buried deep inside you, both of you trying to catch your breath and come back down from the euphoric high you just experienced together. The only sound in the room is heavy breathing and the occasional whisper of a kiss against your skin.

•••

Later, the chaos of Comic-Con surrounded him, but Pedro was good at playing it cool, even if he didn't really feel like it. He’d been in the industry long enough to know how to handle the intensity of the spotlight, but today, something felt a little more electrified. It could’ve been the crowds, but as soon as you arrived and caught sight of him, you couldn’t resist teasing him.

“Oh my god, what did Marvel give you?” you said, grinning up at him with a mischievous glint in your eye. “You look ten years younger—I’m scared.”

Pedro chuckled, turning a little and glancing down at himself. “It’s all smoke and mirrors, babe. You know that.”

"Right. Smoke, mirrors, and a little bit of Marvel magic."

You stole a quick kiss. "I'll be right here when you're done, P."

He loved how you could always ease him with just a few words. No matter the situation, no matter how chaotic or overwhelming things got, you had this way of cutting through the noise and grounding him. It was something he never took for granted, especially in moments like this—before the whirlwind, when he needed to remember who he was underneath it all.

"Now, get out there and win them over, handsome."

•••

Summer turned into fall; life became a blend of filming and fleeting moments of domestic bliss.

Pedro’s schedule took him to London for Fantastic Four, and you had your own projects to attend to, which meant falling back into the familiar rhythm of long-distance. It was tough—long nights filled with texts and video calls, stolen moments across time zones—but somehow, the two of you made it work. You'd promised you would.

One night, as you lay together in bed before your next trip, he whispered, “I’d rather have you 3 days a year than anyone else all the time.”

You smiled.

Weeks later, Pedro went back to New York after a short break and found solace in the little routines.

He loved coming home to you.

He found himself doing little things for you. He’d never been much of a "chores guy," but there was something solid about washing dishes while you hummed in the next room, or folding laundry. It made up for the time he spent away, the guilt he sometimes carried for being gone so much. Doing these little things felt like his way of making sure you always knew how much he loved you, even when he wasn’t physically there.

One night, after a particularly long day for you, you flopped into bed. He was finishing brushing his teeth in the bathroom. As he walked into the bedroom, he noticed the exhaustion in your eyes. You were sprawled out on the bed, your blouse slightly rolled up. He pressed a knee against the edge of the bed and hovered over you.

You looked up at him, your voice a soft whisper. “You’re the only calm thing in my life.”

Pedro’s heart swelled at that, his mouth instinctively forming a smile. “And you’re the best kind of chaos in mine,” he teased, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. But beneath the joke was something deeper—a truth he felt in every fiber of his being. You had become his home.

He crawled back down slowly, peppering you with gentle kisses along your neck and sternum. You unbuttoned your blouse as he continued to trail kisses down your body. Each one a promise.

He bit your hip playfully, leaving a faint mark, and when the red faded, he did it again.

You laughed, the sound light and full of affection. “Always leaving your signature.”

“All part of the service."

•••

As fall settled, Pedro found himself reflecting on everything that had led him to this moment—this life he had built with you. All his lonely days, all the times he had doubted whether love like this would ever find him, seemed like a distant memory now. Everything he had been through had led him to this.

And there wasn’t a single part of him that wasn’t grateful.

As he watched you move around the London flat he had rented, his home for the next few months, catching you mid-laugh or lost in your own world, he felt whole. Complete. Every piece of his life had finally fallen into place.

And he knew, without a doubt, that there would never be a time when he had enough of you. You were his everything, and he would always come back.

Always.

a/n: the end!! sad because i'm gonna miss them so much :( but happy to have finished this the right way. thank you everyone who reads, likes, reblogs and leaves a kind message <3

#pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #love is complicated fic #pedro pascal fluff #my writing #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x you

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grapejuicestyless · 1 year ago

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The Grudge

Harry Styles x fem!reader

The second part to You’re The Winner.

ANGST

Summery: based off of the song The Grudge by Olivia Rodrigo!!

Some nights I still wake up wet from my own cold sweat and salty tears. I rework the script I’ve perfected until my pen runs dry and the pages are crinkled. I scribble out each word and fix it until the cut is so deep it cuts more than just through the page, but to the reader.

I was never someone who believed in doing things so they were merely good enough. No, I always thought things through until they were at their very best points. Each sentence rephrased to make the viewer understand the concept of the conversation but to catch the deeper meanings and let it make more and more sense with each rewatch.

Now I lay awake, terrified of never being enough. Is my success nothing more than a false ego I have in my head? Do these awards that sit on my shelf hold any value if nobody could recognize them? If earning these doesn’t elevate me do they even count as a prestigious award?

I never had these issues, I displayed everything proudly. Aware of how lucky I was to be able to accept these awards so graciously. Body draped in the finest pearls and hair styles to perfection. I was excited to tell the stories when people would ask. Tell them about what I was working on, encourage them to follow their hearts. My insecurities were always just that, small thoughts littered in my head meant to make me doubt my self worth. Now they felt like more.

More than just metaphorical daggers stabbing into my body and mind. I wake up in distress from more than my own voices but his. I still hear Harry’s voice after all these months. It’s the sound of the insults I throw at myself, at everything I’ve done. It’s his voice I hear every time I think I am not enough. And what he had to say about my passions and how I execute them still lingers like a scar. I hold onto every detail of what he thought of me like my life depends on it and I break myself over and over again by finding deeper meanings in his playground insults.

The trust that he betrayed, confusion that still lingers. He took everything I loved, my confidence and my pride and crushed it in between his fingers. He could run circles around me with all his money and resources. He knows it too, be both knew it. I just never believed he would use it as a way to take stabs at me.

I still stay awake fantasizing about his little fucking sorry. How he was in tears when I finally pulled away. The shocked look on his face. I feel tough in the privacy of my room. Able to beat him up in my head and make him feel guilty but never to his face. I try to understand why he would do this all to me. I make up situations to lessen the blow. The fact it was unsolicited and simply something he chose to do for fun. Still, I can not let it go that easily. Not until every ounce of doubt is scrubbed from my mind and the voices in my head no longer belong to him.

……………………………………..…………………………………………

Sitting at the Oscar’s I find my place beside Greta Gerwig and Emma Stone. I feel out of place. I’m friends with them, I know them and their secrets. They’ve led me through the obstacles and the difficulties that come with trying to get into film making. They have been nothing but kind and reassuring over how great they think I am yet I can not push down the feeling that when the cameras flash to us I will be labeled the place holder to make the crowd look more full. No matter how lavish my gown is, no matter how nice my hair is I will never shine like the women who sit beside me. I will never stand out and make my name be known and it is something I can not come to terms with.

To rub salt in the wound I sit there and compare each category I am placed in to everyone else. I read out the nominees on the pamphlet they hand out like we are watching a youth theatre production of a marvelous broadway play. I barely make the cut for best assistant director. I read the names beside mine and I try not to get myself worked up.

I am not Greta Gerwig, I am no Christopher Nolan. I am Y/n Y/l/n. I am a woman who dreams bigger than she can possibly ever achieve. And I try not to get in over my head, but I always do. I strive to be the best and still I get trampled over.

I read the names over and over, flipping through the pages. I read the names under each category. Billie Eilish, Taylor Swift, Adele…I think about if I should’ve taken up music. I can’t sing very well but I have so much to write about. I have so many feelings and so many things to argue that I simply can not relay through film. Not at my level anyway. Joe releasing it must be to put a pen to paper and just write whatever you feel because the darkest emotions write the best songs.

It’s the sickest joke the way the names continue to go down the line. The eleven letter name in bold italics with an invisible circle around it and arrows pointed to make sure I see it. Harry Styles is up for best original song. Not only that, but I’d heard it too. Stayed up with him while we wrote it. He was so sure it wasn’t good enough and I sat there supporting him.

I stayed awake comforting him while he cried over his million dollar piano. Tears ruining the ivory and the clear shine. How idiotic I was to have been so kind to someone who so easily tore me down like I was nothing more than a pawn to remind him of his greatness. I knew the song was beautiful. His name was golden among the others competing for such an important award. One that would recognize his talent and secure his name in Hollywood. A lump formed in my throat. If I didn’t believe him then, I did now. I wasn’t some prophecy. I didn’t have a title to my name to prove. I was someone who got lucky once. My work was nothing compared to his.

………………………………………………………………………………….

They called the nominees for each category, listing off the winners one by one. We grew closer and closer to the major categories that would have the TMZ headlines buzzing by the morning. When it was my turn to be called, I couldn’t help but feel jitters and anxiety pass through my veins.

I’d heard about everyone else. All of their movies staples in my Friday movie night routines I had continued even without Harry there to occupy a portion of the couch. I laughed, I cried, I thought deeply about each movie. I couldn’t help but feel nervous that I was up against people so much stronger than I was.

My picture on the screen showcased my much more recognizable friends shaking my shoulders. We were unprofessional and excited to see how I could be recognized. They made me feel that even if I didn’t win, it was well worth it because the academy, as rigged as we all secretly knew it was, had chosen me of all people to list along with a handful of others. It was an honor for me to be here, beside my best friends and my hero’s.

The name that rang through the microphone didn’t match mine. It wasn’t even close, yet I felt fine. The hands slipped from my shoulders to clap along with the crowd. My photo minimized to showcase the woman who had rightfully won over me. Still, my shoulders were heavy and my heart sunk. How nice it could’ve been to go home with that. Be able to hold it up to the sky and thank my brothers and sisters for helping me get there.

Greta and Emma tried to make me feel better. Nothing hurt worse than working up an excitement only to have it ripped away from you. It worked, for a minute. How blissfully unaware I was that the categories grew closer and closer to the one that involved the one man I couldn’t bare to think about now. I barely registered the way they prepared the stage to announce his category until the talking turned to whispers and the softest sniffles echoed.

He looked handsome on the big screen. His hair was darker than I remember it being, I assumed he dyed it for tonight. His shoulders were broad in his suit and his face was cleanly shaven. If his eyes could speak they would be a jumble of words that expresses different emotions. He bit his lip and toyed with his rings. I caught him picking the skin by his thumb. I wanted to yell at him to stop, it was a bad habit we tried so hard to break. But he wasn’t mine anymore. I no longer existed as a best friend to him, someone else could place their hand over his and silently relay their own thoughts to him.

The sour feeling in my heart curtailed like milk when his picture took up the entire screen. The way he stood and hugged the people around him. He was surrounded by friends and family alike that supported him in ways I used to. If it were a few years ago, that would’ve been me beside him. His plus one to an event I was already attending simply because he was everything to me.

Watching him accept that award was the final straw. How he walked up to the stage in no rush, fixing his coat on the way and running a hand through his hair. He had a lazy smirk on his face that would make anyone weak in the knees. He looked confident and yet so grateful for everything happening to me. I felt confused by his attitude. How cocky he was in private, he was so good at masking the real Harry when it came to keeping a good public image. It was some kind of pathological lier type of bullshit that made my throat close and heart pound.

In his speech he thanked his mom and his dad. He thanked his sister and his friends. His ex-Bandmates and his producers. A full list of names, he went on and on and yet my name never came up. He thanked people who didn’t even know him on the crinkled piece of paper shaking in his hands. They didn’t know his favorite color, how he preferred his eggs. He didn’t like celery but he loved peas. Mushed, soggy, fresh. He would spoon them onto his plate like a mad man. They didn’t know he slept with his socks on because he felt scared something might try to grab at him at the end of the bed even now. He was childish in a mature way. Fears he carried form childhood that he couldn’t shake, they didn’t know that and yet they got the credit I deserved. I couldn’t do it then.

I could sit there and pretend to be tough, but I wanted to scream. I could sit there and say I was fine to everyone, be my professional self but I couldn’t act like it was okay anymore. To tear me down, to rewrite your past to fit the people who chose you based off fame and not on who you are, to get rid of what we once cherished was too far. I could put aside his harsh words for the sake of the night but his blatant disregard for my feelings after he’d cried over my leaving said enough.

When he left the stage I made my exit, mumbling something short of having to use the bathroom. My dress was short enough to not have to gather it between my fingers. I could walk quickly down the aisle and look at my feet on the way. I couldn’t make eye contact with anyone, even though they didn’t know me I felt that the look on my face would reveal it all.

The door opened harshly but had stoppers on it to silence any amount of force pushed on it. It made any angry outburst look accidental. The only indication that the door had been opened was the sliver of light the slipped through the opening of the main lobby and the dimly lighted theatre that held the greatest minds of film alike.

My feet hit the expensive carpet hard, heals digging into each design I wondered if my aggression would permanently dent the fabric, ruin the art in it.

It was colder outside of the room that I sat idly in, more free. The only people out here at this time were the few paparazzi permitted and stray employees cleaning up for the night. Flashes took my vision and I could see the headlines now.

How I would be bashed for simply showing my emotions. How they would paint me as a bitter sore loser who couldn’t even keep it together and act fine. I couldn’t blame them really. How would the world even know of how their favorite pop star had taken a hold of my heart and ruined any perception of love I had for him in a few short months.

The air outside was chilling. My skin was bare and in a way, in my artistic side of my mind I could pretend it was the literal way the world was showing how I felt. Tiny stabbing wounds across my arms creating goosebumps running up and down each exposed part of my body.

My car wasn’t there. I was out so early without warning, I became stranded not only mentally but physically. I didn’t care then. If I had to walk the streets of Los Angeles in high heals and an expensive gown. If I got mugged of all my belongings on my way home I didn’t care. I couldn’t be near anyone anymore. I couldn’t hold it together and I certainly wouldn’t fall apart for everyone to see.

Footsteps slapped against the pavement so quickly, I didn’t process the splashing of puddles or the heavy breathing approaching me. With my luck, I would already become a victim to a robbery before even turning the corner.

The hand on my arm came next. It wasn’t rough but it was firm enough to catch my attention. More than that, it was so familiar, so warm.

I felt the roughness of fingertips brushing under my bicep and the contrasting softness of his palm resting on top. His rings were warmed from his skin already, smooth against my body. I knew who the hand belonged to immediately. It was one I had held, toyed with and admired for years. One attached to a body that I adored, looked up to like a hero.

Turning, his eyes met mine. They were a darker green. I couldn’t see if from how far I was before, but he looked more tired, more sad. His eyes were dark not from anger or all the drinks I had hoped he was downing so he would forget about me, but because something was bothering him. Something heavy. He carried a lot of regret and sadness in his eyes that were once so free and careless. He seemed more calculated in his choice of words, more precise than his usual mess of sentences that came straight from his mind to his mouth.

“You didn’t have to chase after me.” I broke the silence, he was still catching his breath. He shook his head, looking down to gather himself. His pants were wet at the bottom from the pavement and his hair was falling in front of his face. I wanted to reach out and brush it back, but it wasn’t my place. I didn’t have a place in his life anymore.

“I wanted to.” He confessed, searching my face. In my head I’d like to think my expression was stone cold. One that was heartless, expressionless. I didn’t care in my head, but in my heart I did. I felt my lip quiver, I felt my eyebrows furrow. I was an open book for Harry to read.

“Why? So you could fix things? Fix us?” I escalated things quickly. I didn’t want to play his mind games. He was brilliant, people didn’t give him enough credit for it. If I allowed him to sit here and apologize while I was already feeling vulnerable, it wouldn’t matter how sincere it was. I would accept it and cave and by the morning I would hate myself for letting my heart take over my brain.

“No, don’t do that. Y/n, you were the one who walked out on me. I tried to get you to stay, and I regret not trying harder and if I could go back I would’ve begged on my knees but that doesn’t change the fact that you still left. I care about you, Y/n. You’re my best friend.” His voice was sharp, desperate. It felt so real, everything he was saying. I trusted him completely. I understood what he was feeling. Some nights I wish I had stayed. I had just put up with it. It was all the talk of my undying love that I held for Harry. A friendship that may have turned into a small crush in my head without me realizing. My undying love, now, I hold it like a grudge. The reason that forgiving and forgetting is so hard.

“Do you think I deserved it all? Harry tell me, please. Is that what you really think of me? As someone who deserved to be built up just so you could watch me fall? Is that what I was for you?” I begged him to understand what I meant. What I endured was verbally abusive, toxic, venomous. It killed me to know that my best friend thought so low of me. So poorly of the girl he swore to protect with all his heart.

“You know I never meant to.” He tried to defend himself, his hand loosened on my skin, falling down to hold my hand. His fingers intertwining in mine felt like tiny flames bursting out across my hand. It was so soft yet so hard, my body started to shake from more than just the cold.

“You are so selfish.” I shook my head, breathing in to look at the same bewildered face that looked back at me all those weeks ago. I remembered all the arguments I had won in my head against him. In the shower, in the car, in the mirror before bed. I remember all the things I didn’t say that I wish I had, all the ways I could’ve made him hurt like I had. It would’ve made me the smaller person.

The fact he looked lost about where I was coming from made it so much more difficult to not spill my guts to him there on the sidewalk. He made it so hard to not want to rip him apart with his oblivion and gaslighting tendencies. I doubt he even though about all the damage that he did.

“I just-I can’t wrap my head around how anybody could do the things you did so easily? You have everything and you still want more! You must be insecure, you must be so unhappy! I know it more than anything, I’ve lived it. Harry, hurt people, hurt people. We both drew blood but man, those cuts were never equal!” I didn’t touch him but to both of us it felt like I had slapped him in the face. Acknowledging his actions and mine that led us here made it so much more real, the end was so much more destined for our story. I tried to be tough, I tried to be mean, but still standing there after pouring out my heart and feelings I couldn’t help but crumble. A single cry tumbled from my lip. I shook my head and looked to the sky. Harry made no movement.

It was pathetic to be so torn after so much time apart. He should’ve held no weight in my heart, but he always would. He was the most important opinion in my life, even when he wasn’t present. When reworking scripts and giving direction, in the back of my head it became a constant question of if Harry thought it was enough. If it was good enough.

“You could’ve at least given me credit, you know I deserved that much.” My hand ripped from his viciously. It burned the way we separated so quickly. His eyes were stuttering over mine, his mouth tried to move, hand digging through his pocket.

I no longer had time for him, not then not ever. He could pick me apart, rip my heart out and stitch it back together, point daggers at my deepest hurts but he would no longer get these reactions out of me.

My escape was the same as the last. Quick and panicked. My feet hit the pavement harder than before and my arms swung with so much force, I was pushing myself forward with each step. Farther and farther, I couldn’t find the courage to look back like before. I couldn’t stand to think about him crying again. My hatred for his actions could never compare to the love I would always hold for Harry. If he didn’t deserve me, that would be okay. But I could not live with myself knowing I made him cry again. Not even after what he did.

………………………………………………………………………………….

“You could’ve at least given me credit, you know I deserved that much.” Her hand ripped from mine so quickly that it almost burnt my skin. It was like a fresh wound opening to feel her leaving not only mentally again, but physically. How her touch would never be in mine again. How she no longer belonged to me, I no longer belonged to her.

Her words set in after a hesitating moment. She meant my speech. God, how could I have been so stupid? To not realize how hurt she must’ve been to be erased so easily from the narrative. Like the nights spent together and the laughter and tears meant nothing. The piano ruined and her shirt soaked by my tears. The shirt that was really mine. I wondered if she still had it after all this time. It always did look better on her than me. I would give her everything if I could.

I dug through my pockets quickly to find it, the crinkled piece of paper with all the names on it. All the words I wanted to say but knew I would stumble over in my own nerves if I were to win. My hands were shaking so bad, I couldn’t grasp it in time. She was gone.

Something about this time told me that she wasn’t coming back. She wouldn’t stop. Not even the most guttural cry could make her look back. I had hurt her over and over again. Still, I wanted to apologize. I wanted to tell her how sorry I was until the word held no meaning and sounded odd coming from my lips. Like it was no longer real. She owed me none of her time.

So I stood there by myself, in the light rain that fell over Los Angeles, wet and alone. My paper was wrinkled in my hands, creased and bent messily. I looked down at the handwriting that didn’t really look like mine. How even in my excitement to be nominated, the loss of Y/n was so heavy it was hard to do anything. The pen was too heavy. I couldn’t do anything I once loved without her support. I looked down at all the names. My mother, my sister. They weren’t even first on the list. The first name I had written down, Y/n Y/l/n. My best friend.

I hadn’t read it out because I thought she wouldn’t want me to. I didn’t want to take away from an important night for her. Steal the spotlight from her award I was certain she would win by placing her name onto mine.

I was so sure she would win. She would be happy and we could reconnect. I had watched the movie, I watched all of her movies. She was the best of us. Always a talented writer, always having a new idea to jot down. Her napkins were sketch pads and her notes app was a dictionary of her favorite books and inspirations for shots. I know nobody with a mind like hers, one as creative and brilliant. I’m not sure why I tore her down all those days. Made her feel worthless when she was one of the best things in my life.

Even after all of this, she was and would always be everything to me. I could try and try and try to forget her and erase her from my life but she would always carry a piece of me around with her. I would always have hints of her in my home, in my wardrobe. She was everywhere without even being there.

She was my best friend.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles #fine line harry styles #oscars #hslot harry #yn x harrystyles

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scifrey · 1 month ago

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FANFICTION MASTERPOST

Hob Adherent Series

(The Sandman, extended Gaiman-verse)

Hob Gadling is a clingy bastard, and he’s not ashamed to admit it. He clings to life. He clings to hope. He clings to his love of humanity. He clings to his Stranger. He also, unfortunately, has a habit of clinging to his name.

Which means that when the BBC is looking for a new pet history expert to appear in their educational docudrama series “Elizabethan Manor,” they’re overjoyed to find a professor who (according to their meticulous research) is actually descended from the Master of the National Trust building they’re filming in - Gadlen House.

Only Hob knows how right they are.

Cling Fast

Carpe Diem

Hold Tight

Keepsakes

The F-Words Series (the Rovai-verse)

(Loki, MCU; based on the art of @alicerovai)

Loki has fallen for false promises, fallen for Odin's lies, fallen off of a bridge, fallen into the wrong hands... can he let himself fall into the arms of a potential rescuer? Or will he just end up falling for another trick?

Fall

Fold

Fight

Flirt

Forgive

To A Stranger

(Sherlock, Performance in a Leading Role by @madlori)

Here - for the first time - is the screenplay for the unexpected and sizzling hit which swept awards shows; was lauded in Time, Variety, and major publications the world over; snagged a Best Actor Oscar for first-time nominee John Watson; heralded a revolution in LQBTQA+ cinema; and was the catalyst for the incredible romantic journey of two of the greatest actors of our generation.

The Heart of the TARDIS

Rose: Feels to me like a temper tantrum because it can't get it's own way.

The Doctor: It's scared. Come on, you were a kid once.

Rose: Yes, and I know what kids can be like. Right little terrors. I've got cousins. Kids can't have it all their own way. That's part of being a family.

The Doctor: What about trying to understand them?

Rose: Easy for you to say. You don't have kids.

The Doctor: I was a Dad once.

Rose: What did you say?

--"Fear Her"

Respected

(Stargate: Atlantis, Torchwood)

Ianto Jones only wanted a nice, quiet beer. And maybe some damned respect, already.

Tobogganing Series

(Stargate: Atlantis, Casper)

When Johnny Sheppard was ten years old, he begged his father for a toboggan for Christmas.

He Kissed Me First

(Stargate: Atlantis, The Farm in Iowa-verse by @sheafrotherdon)

"Rodnies? Rodneys? Rodni? How do you conjugate the plural?" John wondered.

The Once And Future Kingdom

(Stargate: Atlantis, Merlin)

"I am Prince Arthur of Camelot!" the boy in the chainmail said. For a small, infinitesimal moment, Rodney considered losing it.

"Right, Prince Arthur, the Prince Arthur," Rodney scoffed instead. "And I'm Merlin."

The dark haired boy that stood a few paces behind his golden Prince cleared his throat. "Uh, no," he said, shifting uneasily from foot to foot, "Actually, I am."

Right, of course. Because this totally was Rodney's LIFE.

The Driver

(Agent Carter, Captain America, British Royalty RPF)

“What?” Dum Dum asked, prodding his seatmate in the ribs with his meaty elbow for the umpteenth time. “Seriously, Falsy, what?”

“Squirfle,” the Brit said, or something like it. His face, under the mustache, had turned an amusing shade of puce that was rapidly verging on the alarming.

“Yeah, buddy, I know she’s pretty, but she’s just a dame, ain’t she?” Dum Dum said. He jerked his head at their driver. She was just a short brown-blonde coif from the back, though from his position against the side of the transportation jeep, Dum Dum could make out a smooth, pale cheek, an archly-painted eyebrow, and impeccable red lips.

The Nihongo Series

(Stargate: Atlantis)

In Japan, it is not too much to say that a great deal is about appearances. It is a habit cultivated over a life-time, and not one easy to break.

This is just a partial list of my most popular fics. Please visit my A03 and FF.NET profiles for the full list of fics.

You can also find a master post of my original fiction here.

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agospei · 10 months ago

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Ryan Gosling’s reaction to the Oscar nominations for Barbie

“I am extremely honored to be nominated by my colleagues alongside such remarkable artists in a year of so many great films. And I never thought I’d be saying this, but I’m also incredibly honored and proud that it’s for portraying a plastic doll named Ken.

But there is no Ken without Barbie, and there is no Barbie movie without Greta Gerwig and Margot Robbie, the two people most responsible for this history-making, globally-celebrated film.

No recognition would be possible for anyone on the film without their talent, grit and genius.

To say that I’m disappointed that they are not nominated in their respective categories would be an understatement.

Against all odds with nothing but a couple of soulless, scantily clad, and thankfully crotchless dolls, they made us laugh, they broke our hearts, they pushed the culture and they made history. Their work should be recognized along with the other very deserving nominees.

Having said that, I am so happy for America Ferrera and the other incredible artists who contributed their talents to making this such a groundbreaking film.”

#film #movie #barbie #oscar #oscars #oscar nomination #oscar nominations #ryan gosling #greta gerwig #margot robbie #barbie 2023 #oscars 2024 #ken

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zyonsay · 11 months ago

Note

Hi i’m the one who made the long request (sorry if it was too long).

if you still want to write it the reader’s job is the same, but the request is lando x male reader (smut) where the reader receives an award (oscar or grammy you can choose) and they come home partying in their way

thank you so much and sorry again if the previous request was too long :)

Viva Valentino Baby! LN4

Fem aligned people may read but not f3tishize my work!!

Summary: You and Lando celebrate

Reader: Male

Warnings: Smut, Pet name: Star/Baby

Now playing: 'West Coast' by Lana del Rey

AN: Hey love! Im sorry for taking so long! I hope you like it :] Also i just figured out how to nicely put pictures into a post and i'll be re-formatting all my fics later, wish me luck! (Nvm i fucked up, does anybody know how tf to do that?)

“And the grammy for Album of the year goes to…”, the man looked around the crowd while slowly unfolding the envelope in his hands. The ten nominees anxiously looked around, amidst them were you, gripping onto the edge of your seat. Your nails basically dug into the cushioning.

“Y/n with the album ‘Viva Valentino’!”, your heart stopped. The masses of people around you turned their heads to look at you. It all became a blurry mess but a hand on your thigh pulled you out of your haze. To your right was your boyfriend Lando, who was cheering and pumping his fist in the air. He pulled you into a quick kiss before motioning you to go on stage. You smiled at him before hurrying to collect your award. What you didn’t see was that Lando’s eyes had tears of joy in them. He clasped his hands together and smiled while watching your award being laid into your hands. Quickly patting the pockets of his pants, he fished out his phone to take pictures or a video. With tears welling in your eyes, you approached the microphone. “This is crazy.”, your eyes danced across the crowd. Loud cheering erupted and the giant LED screens behind you displayed various pictures of you from concerts and your latest tour. “I thank each and every artist on this planet.”, once again the masses of people interrupted your speech with clapping and cheering. A sweet laugh escaped your throat as the tears finally left your eyes. “Thank you all for keeping art alive!”, you held your grammy skywards and now the cheering got more intense and roamed through the whole crowd.

The celebrations took longer than expected, but here you were. Straddling Lando in his 765LT Spider who was already parked in the garage. The atmosphere was burning and the only sounds ringing through the car were occasional whimpers and heavy breaths. His hands laid firmly atop your hips as he gently grinded up into you. With a few gasps in between kisses you sucked sweet blackberry hickeys onto his neck.

“Baby let’s get inside. The car’s a bit small for this.”, you could feel the grin in his voice. With a soft hum you slid back to the passenger’s side. Once you and your boyfriend had exited the car he put a hand on your hip and pulled you inside the house. Lando was known for his short patience, he didn’t want to walk all the way to the bedroom. As if.

He made quick work of his shirt and pants, leaving him in his navy boxers. Tossing them aside he pushed you onto the couch. Kneeling before you he fiddled with your belt while gazing up at you. “Take that shirt off.” A warm sensation ran over your skin as you threw your dress shirt over the backrest of the designer couch Lando had bought earlier this year. Maybe it was champagne or maybe it was the dim light, but his eyes looked like they were glowing. His pupils were blown out but there was still a beautiful green ring around them. His hands ran over your now bare legs while he tugged your briefs aside, revealing your already leaking member.

With gentle hands he slowly stroked it, earning a groan from you. “I’ll spoil you today, my star”, he licked a long stripe from the base of your cock to the tip and licked away the salty pearl of precum. With a heaving chest and trembling hands, you brought a hand to his hair, tangling your fingers with his soft curls. “Don’t tease me Lan”, your voice was quiet, but dangerous. He let out a light chuckle before taking centimeter by centimeter into his mouth. He gagged lightly as it hit the back of his throat. A light tug at his hair motivated him to begin moving. With a fairly slow pace he bobbed up and down the length of your cock. He ran his tongue along the veins and gripped onto your thighs with both hands. With the firmness that he was holding them he’ll for sure leave bruises, but you didn’t mind. The warm feeling in your stomach began stirring and boiling. “Faster”, you tugged on his locks again while you whispered sharply. Lando wasn’t one to deny your order and obeyed with tears pricking in his eyes. The warm feeling spread over your stomach to your back and down your limbs. You gently bucked into Lando’s mouth as he increased his pace. Now all the heat ran up your limbs, over your back and to your stomach- “Swallow.” - and with that, think ropes of creamy cum spurted down Lando’s throat. You held him in place with your hand, making him swallow every last drop. He sighed happily, caressing your thighs with his hand. With a gentle ‘plop’ he released your length. He licked his sweet lips and got up from the floor. In a quick movement he got rid of his, now wet, boxers. Carefully straddling you, he connected his lips to your neck. “Let me take care of you, star.”

#male reader insert #male x male #f1 fanfic #f1 x male reader #male reader #f1 x reader #reader insert #x reader #x male reader #male!reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando norris #ZyonsRequests #gay

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http-alexademie · 2 years ago

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Bonjour🫧

vanityfair

liked by emrata and 100,583 other

vanityfair If the future of Hollywood is in the hands of Oscar nominee y/f/n, then it’s a very bright future ahead!! Young Hollywood actress Miss y/f/n is now a two time Oscar nominee, whom not only are we rooting for but are also very excited to see what she will be wearing at this years ceremony!

view all 1,861 comments

y/nfan101 istg if she doesn’t win this year then the oscar’s are officially rigged

y/i/nfan69 my queen better not get robbed of this award again

randomfan5 boring.

timmyfan2 i am praying her and timmy go together

y/nfan777 same, my life will be complete 😃

timotheefan56 not even a big fan of y/n but i’m low-key rooting for her

y/nfan90 let’s talk abt how hot she looks…

y/nfan25 fr like vanity fair rlly knows what their doing

randomfan00 i have never seen this women in my life but she is fineee

y/i/nfan7 i’m in love with her…

timotheefan052 i think we can all agree that y/n deserves this award so much like her acting is just top tier😫

tchalamet added to their story!

y/i/n

liked by drewstarkey and 2,009,777 others

y/i/n I can’t even belive how lucky i am to even be nominated for a second Oscar. Thank you all so much for supporting me along the way, i love you with all my heart xoxo-y/n <3

view all 13,768 comments

y/nfan555 omg we love you so much y/n you deserve this so much❣️

y/nfan6 this is why you y/n will always be my favourite celebrity

timmyfan90 thanks for the timmy content, this is why we love u

y/i/nfan69 fuck…you are so goddam hot

y/nfan82 this is so real

randomfan5 u smoke??

florencepugh so proud of you my star 🥲🥲❤️

y/i/n love you 😏❣️

timotheefan775 give me your talent😫😫

timfan19 omg my man

y/i/nfan72 live laugh love y/n <3

y/nfan777 mother

bellahadid omg my baby’s all grown up😓genuinely so proud of you y/n <333

y/i/n love you sm babe😫❣️

randomfan09 i’m not a major fan of y/n but i’m so glad she’s finally getting the recognition she finally deserves!!

timfan3 overrated🥱

y/nfan16 since when tf was she overrated ??

y/i/n added to their story!

enews

liked by fatherkels and 21,777 other

enews Here she comes…Miss y/f/n 👏🏻looking amazing as always #Oscars. (📷:Getty)

view all 5,892 comments

y/nfan00 her outfit did not fail at all

y/nfan555 i will never stop loving this women😭

timmyfan06 okay i get why timmy’s dating her now

y/i/nfan69 i physically cannot

timfan25 a tear ran down my leg…

y/nfan1 so real for this

randomfan89 bit scandalous

y/nfan61 she’s so pretty omg, she never fails

y/i/nfan17 istg if this bitch doesn’t win

timfan12 omg did u see timmy being a little fan boy😭😭

timothèefan557 yes omg he’s actually so cute

y/nfan09 their defo the best couple on the internet

y/nfan89 ughhh she’s so gf

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waratah-moon · 1 year ago

Note

oh my god this sounds soo good

"What were you thinking?" "To be honest, I wasn't" (Eddie does something stupid that puts both your names on every single tabloid in the city)”

“I may be an idiot, but I'm your idiot.” Pairing: Rockstar!Eddie x Famous!Reader WC: 1.8k Warnings: set in the 90s, alcohol consumption, mentions of Pam & Tommy, lil magazine cover edit at the bottom for vibe purposes only. masterlist / send me a message 💌 / other prompt drabbles

This was not Eddie’s most sober moment. In the process of waiting for their final category to be announced at the 37th Annual Grammy Awards ceremony, he’d downed three Jack and Cokes and taken one too many shots. In his defence, they’d performed their biggest single earlier in the ceremony and he was still chasing the adrenaline high that came from a lengthy round of applause. They’d also won Best Metal Performance; not that he cared about that too much.

Corroded Coffin was no stranger to Grammy awards. They’d won two Grammys the first year they were nominated. One for Best New Artist, which was a shock to everyone as it had never been awarded to a heavy metal band before, and one for Best Metal Performance for their debut album. That had been a years ago.

Eddie didn’t care about winning awards. To him the fun part was making the music and performing it. The only opinions that mattered to Eddie were those of the fans. And maybe some of his fellow musicians. But in the end the Grammys for the rock and metal categories were ultimately voted on by people who didn’t even understand the genres, so to Eddie their award didn’t matter. But now they were nominated for one of the big categories; Record of The Year. That meant a little more.

He felt you place your hand on his knee, it must have been bouncing because he suddenly felt it still.

“Nervous?” Your voice was quiet beneath the chatter of the theatre, but he heard you loud and clear.

“Never,” he responded, his signature lopsided grin making an appearance on his face.

“You’re fidgeting.”

“I’m always fidgeting.”

“More so than usual,” you took his hand in yours, twisting the silver signet ring you’d bought him for your one year anniversary. That seemed like a lifetime ago now. “I’m so proud of you.”

“What if we don’t win?”

“I’ll break up with you.” You saw confusion pass over his face and you laughed. “If you don’t win, you don’t win. Doesn’t change anything, Eds. You already have three Grammys, I’m not sure we even have the room for another one.”

“You’re right, the space on the mantel is saved for your Oscar.”

You rolled your eyes, but your chest warmed. You went to speak but Garret hushed you as “Record of The Year” flashed on the screen behind the stage.

Eddie couldn’t breath as he listened to the presenters read out the nominees, his heart felt like it was pounding out of his chest. He gripped your hand tightly, his toes fidgeting in his shoes. Suddenly people in the seats around him sprung up, hugging and cheering each other.

"You did it, baby," Eddie felt you kiss him quickly before Garret blindly led him through the audience.

The band made their way to the stage for the third time that night, energy buzzing around them. Garret thanked the presenters and pushed Eddie in front of the microphone for the acceptance speech. the applause died down as the crowd listened to Eddie speak.

“Uh, wow. To be honest I don’t think any of us know what to say right now. Bands like ours never win this award so none of us were expecting it. Thank you for thinking our music is good,” he went to step away from the mic when Jeff said something to him, pushing him back to centre stage. “Oh shit, yeah. We’d like to thank our manager John, Tim and Suzy at Columbia, and Joel who worked his ass off in the studio.” Eddie’s eyes were hazy but they still managed to find you in the crowd. “Finally I need to thank my favourite girl. My muse. My beautiful wife. This is your song, baby. None of it would be possible without you,” he raised the award in the air while his band members shook his shoulders and clapped him on the back.

The rest of the night was a blur. You ended up at some after party hosted by god knows who, but you spotted some familiar faces. Pamela Anderson was in the corner watching after her brand-new husband as he did the drunken rounds pestering other guests. Eddie had told you he’d never liked Tommy, but you both loved Pam. You left Eddie’s grasp as he chatted away to some producer and headed for the blonde.

“I hear congratulations are in order,” you smile.

“I could say the same for you,” Pam pulls you into a hug which you return with a squeeze. When you pull back she takes your left hand in hers and inspects it. “No ring?”

You frown, “huh?”

“You got married and you didn’t get a ring?”

Your eyes widened. What? “Married? Who said I got married?”

“Eddie… When he… wait,” she blinked, her eyes travelling from Eddie back to you. “He called you his wife in his speech, everyone’s talking about it. Honestly I’m just upset I wasn’t invited.”

You flashed back to the ceremony, trying to remember what Eddie had said but blanking on everything past him calling you his “favourite girl.”

“We didn’t get married. We’re not even engaged,” you tell her. Your eyes wandered over to Eddie who had his arm over Garret’s shoulder and was laughing at something Jeff was saying. You’d been together for three years now with them being the happiest of your life. You had no doubt that he was the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. The two of you had talked about your future together before, both of you certain that you had one together, but he hadn’t popped the question. Yet. “Everyone’s talking about it?”

“Yeah, but don’t worry, I’m sure everyone will forget about it by tomorrow. Come on, let’s get some drinks, I have to tell you about my wedding.”

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

You woke up the next day with a headache and an answering machine full of messages.

“Bitch you got married?!”

“Sweetie, I’ve spoken with a lawyer and we can get this annulled, please call me back when you get this message.”

“Darling, we need to talk about media strategy, the tabloids are having a field day with the shotgun wedding headline. I can get you on the Tonight Show tomorrow.”

It was past noon when Eddie sleepily entered the kitchen, oblivious to your tense state as you sat at the kitchen counter, hunched over a magazine, a half eaten muffin on the plate beside you.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Did you make muffins?” His voice was muffled as his face was pressed into the crook of your neck.

“Nope. Carla dropped them off. Along with this,” you held up the cover of the magazine.

A red carpet picture of you and Eddie was splashed across the cover alongside the title: AMERICA’S SWEETHEART AND ROCK AND ROLL BAD BOY GET HITCHED.

He took the magazine from your hand, holding it closer to his face, “rock and roll? Corroded Coffin is heavy metal.”

You groaned, “that’s what you’ve taken from this? Eddie, everyone thinks we got married.”

He hummed thoughtfully, dropping the tabloid back on the counter. He broke off a piece of your muffin and tossed it in his mouth. “Not that I mind, but why do they think that?”

You spun the barstool around to face him, his hands finding purchase on your hips. “You don’t remember what you said last night, do you?”

Eddie tilted his head to the side, thinking. You could see the dark circles under his eyes, his hair mused from sleep. “No. What did I say?”

“When you won the grammy, after you thanked everyone, you thanked me.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, his thumbs stroking the skin of your hips.

“You called me your wife.”

He squinted, trying to force his words to appear in his mind but failing. “Oh.”

“What were you thinking?”

“To be honest, I wasn’t. I was drunk, baby. It must have just slipped out.”

You covered his hands on your hips with yours, eyes wide as you watched his expression. “How does that just slip out, Eds?” He was chewing his lip now, trying to think of a way to defuse the situation. “Do you think of me as your wife?”

“Want me to be honest?”

“‘Course.”

“I love you. Our entire lives are intertwined. In all the important ways, you’re already my wife.”

Butterflies erupted in your stomach and suddenly your face felt hot. “But you haven’t asked me.”

“Do you wanna get married?” Yes, yes, yes.

“You have to ask me properly.”

He huffed, dropping his hands from your hips and as he kissed your forehead. “Wait here.”

As Eddie disappeared from the kitchen you allowed yourself a moment to silently scream, fanning your cheeks. You were overwhelmed; too many thoughts raced through your mind as you tried to figure out what on earth was happening. It didn’t help that there was certainly alcohol still buzzing through your system. You swallowed the rest of the coffee that was sitting on the bench and pinched your wrist in an attempt to wake yourself up. Your mind still felt cloudy.

When Eddie finally returned, your eyes fell to his hands; he was fiddling with something small and velvet. “I was planning on doing this somewhere romantic. Maybe the lookout on Mullholand, but that doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is you and me.” He knelt down on one knee, opening the small box in his hand to flash a sparkling ring. “Baby, you’re the only person I want to go to sleep with, wake up with, spend my days with. You’re my favourite person. You’re my heart, my soul, my everything. You’re it for me, sweetheart.”

“Eds,” you felt your eyes getting wet as you watched the man you loved on his knees before you.

“Will you marry me?”

You were nodding before you got the words out, “yes, of course I will.” Your hands went to his cheeks and you leant down to kiss his lips.

“Here, put this on before I drop it,” he took your left hand from his cheek, slipping the ring on your finger. You held your hand out, watching as the light bounced off the stone, making it sparkle. It was huge.

“Jesus christ, this weighs a ton.”

“Metal makes money, baby. Do you like it?”

“I love it. It’s perfect. How long have you been hiding this?”

He pondered the question, “I bought it last year.”

“Last year? We could have been engaged since last year? You’re an idiot, Eddie Munson.”

“But now I’m your idiot.”

“You’ve always been my idiot.”

4 months later...

note: Yes, that's JLo's 2000s Ben Afleck ring bc I think it's the height of celebrity extravagant rings lol not my style but sooooo 90s/00s.

taglist: @geekyfifi @livsters @bailey1212@babyfrosty@becca-alexa @munsonology @celestialuna13 @69your-best-night-mare69 @unknowniteminthebaggingarea @micheledawn1975 @neewtmas @silky-luxe @lokis-little-fawn @starrthemushroom @eddies-puppet

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie #famous!reader #maggie writes #stanger things

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thecrownnetflixuk · 11 months ago

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Fond Farewells Mark the End of an Era for The Crown.

Pt 2 of Season 6 Accedes to the Next Generation – But Reigns Most Triumphant Saluting Its Sovereign.

Review & gifs by L.L @The Crown TV

I wasn't sure what to expect from the final 6 preview episodes of The Crown. Part 1 gifted us with a season-defining performance from Elizabeth Debicki, but such intense focus on the tragedy of Diana and Dodi's deaths was heavy-going. How to move forward?

Not many TV shows stick the landing, but I believe The Crown does, mostly by putting Queen Elizabeth front and centre. In four different ways! But Part 2 takes a while to forge ahead and reign triumphant.

Ed McVey and Meg Bellamy make shy William and swotty Kate believable as a young couple who meet at university – or earlier, as per a flashback with (not Ghost!) Diana. I still found it hard to invest in their will-they-won't-they relationship (we already know they do.)

Instead, it’s sisters Elizabeth and Margaret who have long been the emotional heart of this show; at every stage of their lives.

Former Oscar-nominee Lesley Manville (alongside Queen Imelda Staunton) is truly magnificent in Ep 8 as Princess Margaret, though it's painful watching this vibrant lady struggle as her health worsens.

Memories of the 1940's are a delight. However, I wish we'd seen more of wide-eyed teen Lilibet let loose (Viola Prettejohn) and carefree Marg (Beau Gadsdon) before older Margaret says her final goodbye.

Staunton saves her best for last, bringing dry humour, vulnerability as well as leadership to Ep 10. The 70+ min epic finale 'Sleep, Dearie Sleep' has its shaky moments, but beautifully completes Queen Elizabeth's story when it counts, bringing near-perfect closure. That alone elevates Season 6 beyond Season 5.

Warning - MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD. This is my final *EVER* review (might be extra long!)

S6 is NOW ON NETFLIX - WATCH THE EPISODES before reading.

Images: courtesy of Netflix

Starting with less good news; the first couple of episodes of Part 2 were my least favourite. Ep 5, 'Willsmania', feels transitional, and a little stuck in the past. Following his mother's death, Prince William (Ed McVey; taking over from younger actor Rufus Kampa) turns inward as he struggles to cope with public attention and grief.

It's an understandable reaction to losing a parent, but Part 1 already spent nearly half a season on Dodi and Diana. It felt like we grieved in real time. As a result, whenever the subject of Diana crops up again in Part 2, it tends to weigh down both pace and narrative.

Ep 6 brings a welcome change of topic. This being The Crown, I'm sure there are critics poised to be offended by Queen Elizabeth's nightmare about Prime Minister Tony Blair being crowned king, but to me, his 'coronation' was hilarious, as was the choir boy singing Blair's cheesy Labour pop anthem.

It felt like deliberate tongue-in-cheek humour, an absurd reminder why monarchy might still be better than populist elected leaders.

I really wanted this episode to work, but it didn't go anywhere, and themes like tradition-vs-modernity were covered more effectively in episodes such as 'Marionettes.' Bertie Carvel has Tony Blair's voice down but suffers from comparisons with Michael Sheen, who was uncanny as the Prime Minister in 3 earlier Peter Morgan projects.

^ PM Tony Blair. The Women's Institute weren't fans of his grandstanding.

The Crown: The Next Generation fully arrives during Ep's 7, 9 & 10. Some will love it. Those who prefer more historical episodes with broader scope may be disappointed, as the show follows William and Kate through University life in the early 2000's.

The newcomers do bring fresh energy to the show. It helps that they cast Ed McVey and Meg Bellamy, who make a sweet couple as Will and Kate, even if William sometimes comes across as petulant.

Unlike Ed McVey as William, Luther Ford doesn't bear much physical resemblance to Prince Harry, other than red hair. Ford does however put in a good performance as Harry becomes increasingly reckless.

The Crown doesn't hide either Harry or William's bad behaviour. The brothers seem to get on well at the start, but it later seems like they're more at odds. Underneath a lot – a LOT – of boozing, both boys appear quietly screwed-up over their mother's death. Neither of them seem to enjoy playing happy families with Charles, either.

The show mostly concentrates on William and Kate, but there aren't many episodes left to develop a genuine romance. They have potential, but it feels fairly surface level. Suddenly, they rush to move into a house share together when we've barely seen them kiss. They (and we) needed more screen time to really get to know each other.

There's a bigger issue here with Kate's mother, Carole Middleton (Eve Best.) Pushy parent Carole is keen to play matchmaker between her 'commoner' daughter and the young eligible Prince, keeping tabs on William. Carole isn't as conniving, but ... didn't we just watch a similar storyline with Mohamed Al-Fayed/Dodi/Diana in Part 1?

^ Kate 'n' Will. Her Mum would frame this picture.

Ep 8 'Ritz' plays like a standalone film. Margaret's final story is touching, but upsetting, at times; I was a fan of Diana, yet sobbed as much for Margaret as the credits rolled, even though her eventual death isn't shown. In fact, her final goodbye is sensitively done and stands as a fitting tribute to the princess, as well as to the Queen.

Lesley Manville makes Margaret's predicament so real as her health slowly breaks down. She bounces back from one stroke, then another hits. How awful too for Elizabeth to watch a much-loved sister deteriorate, though it was wonderful to see Lilibet read Margaret a bedtime story. It brought out the warmer side of Staunton's Queen.

The scene where Margaret scalds her feet in the bath is genuinely horrifying. I've suffered from ill health and loss of control myself and this was so much worse. I could feel her pain. That poor woman.

Human moments are where The Crown excels; through this episode, this working-class lass from a council house could somehow relate to a Princess in a palace. Peter Morgan has surely done more to humanise the royal family than any P.R team ever could.

^ Fans of Margaret (and Lesley Manville) prepare yourselves for her sad final journey.

Onto the big reveal: when I mentioned at the start there are FOUR ways Queen Elizabeth appears – this is what I meant:-

^ Newcomer Viola Prettejohn plays teenage Princess Elizabeth.

^ & there's Olivia Colman & Claire Foy alongside older Queen Imelda Staunton.

Satisfyingly, all 3 of The Crown's leading ladies return to close the show. Olivia Colman and Claire Foy each have an additional scene, too (I won't spoil the entire finale, as it covers a lot of ground in over 70 mins, but Olivia and Claire aren't back as 'ghosts.')

As we get older, the ghosts who speak loudest are our own; the former versions of us we berate ourselves with. Not everyone may warm to the Queen (sort of) talking to herself, but personally, I was thrilled to see these talented actors on screen together.

Foy's scene with Staunton is particularly effective, as the younger Queen gives her older self an old-fashioned dutiful talking to. It's somehow also credible that they're aspects of the same person.

It reminded me of Peter Morgan’s 2013 (extraordinary) play, ‘The Audience', which inspired this series, and included scenes where Helen Mirren shared the stage with young Elizabeth. That play is also why this theatre-fan started watching The Crown to begin with, and later went on to create this website.

When Ep 10 finished playing, my Netflix returned itself to Season 1. 60 episodes over 7 years! I will miss the grand scale of The Crown, but appreciate the legacy which remains. Now feels like the right time for this story to end. A full-circle moment in more ways than one.

**Majestic thanks for reading, and to every person who has liked, reblogged, messaged, supported The Crown TV for all these years.

💎♕You each deserve a Crown of your own!♕💎**

N.B: These are my humble opinions at this point in time. No offence is intended. Agreement = lovely; not compulsory. Disagreement = happens; kindly coexist. Ta!

#the crown #queen elizabeth ii #imelda staunton #princess margaret #lesley manville #tony blair #bertie carvel #william and kate #ed mcvey #meg bellamy #viola prettejohn #claire foy #olivia colman #reviews #articles #season 6 #pt 2 #gifs #the crown spoilers

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2manythoughtz · 10 months ago

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Is Barbie A Joke To Critics?

Just a week ago I wrote an article about the Barbie movie and how it was not only misunderstood but also overlooked when it comes to its deep meaning. We’ve had people like Jo Koy mocking the movie and comparing it to Oppenheimer which is a movie inspired by real events of our past, not only that but the winning song was I’m Just Ken, that alone should show just how little critics care to take what the movie teaches us and use it in the real world.

And we’re back at it. As you know, the nominations for the Oscars have been released. You’d be surprised to see that neither Margot Robbie (the main actress who interpreted Barbie) nor Greta Gerwig (the director of Barbie) got nominated in their categories. Speaking of the directors’ category, Greta is not new to being snubbed by the Oscars, it had already happened with Little Women. The only difference is that in 2020 there were no women nominated as best director, this year we have a female director who’s been nominated and that’s Justine Triet with Anatomy of a Fall, which is not bad. What’s laughable is the fact that Barbie has won the Golden Globes Award for Cinematic and Box Office Achievement and yet its director is not taken seriously.

And we’re not even talking about any film, to this day Barbie has made 1.45 billion U.S. dollars worldwide which makes it the best movie debut for a female director.

Margot Robbie didn’t get nominated as best actress although her performance as Barbie was absolutely iconic, she really brought Barbie to life in a unique way that not many actresses could’ve achieved. If you thought it couldn’t get any worse, let me tell you that Ryan Gosling (the actor who interpreted Ken) got nominated as Best Supporting Actor. That is fair, Ryan did an amazing job at portraying Ken, he really made his character funny and entertaining, he earned his nomination and I’m sure everyone is happy that he was one of the two nominees for Barbie.

But fans were not the only ones who were disappointed, Ryan Gosling himself commented on the matter and showed his displeasure. Here are his words:

“I am extremely honored to be nominated by my colleagues alongside such remarkable artists in a year of so many great films. And I never thought l’d being saying this, but I’m also incredibly honored and proud that it’s for portraying a plastic doll named Ken.

But there is no Ken without Barbie, and there is no Barbie movie without Greta Gerwig and Margot Robbie, the two people most responsible for this history-making, globally-celebrated film.

No recognition would be possible for anyone on the film without their talent, grit and genius.

To say that I’m disappointed that they are not nominated in their respective categories would be an understatement.

Having said that, I am so happy for America Ferrera and the other incredible artists who contributed their talents to making this such a groundbreaking film.”

As Ryan said, the only woman who got nominated is America Ferrera who had an impactful role in the movie, her monologue about women and every hardship that they have to face because of society has become viral. Her character represents women, any women, and she did an outstanding job that earned her the nomination for Best Supporting Actress. The only shame is that she’s the only woman who got the privilege of being nominated for a movie that talks about feminism and how women don’t have the same treatment as men.

The Oscars proved Barbie right once again.

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blurredcolour · 2 years ago

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If You'll Be My Bodyguard | Part Seven

If You'll Be My Bodyguard, I Can Be Your Long Lost Pal Masterlist

Summary: Circumstances beyond your control separate you from Austin and leave him vulnerable to attack. The outcome not only results in injury to him and Ari, but a realization of just what you and Austin mean to one another.

Pairing: Austin Butler x Female Bodyguard Reader

Warnings: Language, Mentions of Firearms, Austin Butler Does Not Win the Oscar - Just Like Real Life, Mentions of Reader’s Mother Being Attacked, Mentions of Reader’s Mother Being Injured, Discussion of Parental Mortality, Discussion of Automobile Accident, Discussion of Attempted Homicide With An Automobile, Austin Butler Injury, OC Male Character Injury, Austin Butler Hospitalization, Austin Butler Pain, Austin Butler Recovery, Reader Acting As Caregiver, Home Invasion, Attempted Shooting, Dog Bite to Intruder, Shots Fired, Minor Reader Injury, Allusions to Handcuff Kink, Mature/Explicit Themes [manual stimulation – m/f receiving, oral – m/f receiving, face sitting, sex while injured, multiple orgasms, condom, penetrative sex] – 18+ Only.

Credit: Mark Seliger

Author’s Note: And so we’ve reached the final chapter! Honestly, it is actually two chapters worth of material but I didn’t feel like adding another part of making y’all wait. So, strap in, there’s a lot to come!

Word Count: 8726

You were quite certain you had never seen someone lose more graciously. From desperately clinging to Angela Basset’s hands to surging to his feet to cheer on Brendan Fraser as he made his way to the stage, face wide with excitement for his fellow nominee and now Oscar winner. You were thankful to be standing beneath the shadow of the balcony box above as your heart fell through the floor and you were positive that you looked exactly as crestfallen as you felt.

Taking advantage of the time afforded by Brendan’s acceptance speech, and the Best Picture category, you managed to ruthlessly stomp down your disappointment and assemble your expression into a warm, kind, neutral mask before moving to join Austin once the broadcast came to an end. It took nearly an hour for him to make his way from the auditorium – there were simply that many people who wanted to snag a photo or offer their condolences. When you finally reached the doors, he looked to you and swallowed tightly.

“Let’s just go to Ysabel.” He murmured into your ear, and you nodded, sending Ari a message to meet you around the side, away from the press, to make a quick exit to the Warner Brother’s party.

While the Governor’s Ball would be lavish, with food and drink fit for royalty, it was undeniably biased towards celebrating the winners and you could hardly blame Austin for not wanting to go through that. Especially not when, waiting at the private party were people like Polly, Xavier, Kelvin, and Luke. As the car pulled up, you opened the door for him, looking up to his face as he held out a hand to help you in. You smiled softly and slid in carefully, moving across the backseat to the other side so he could climb in immediately after you. Though he did so chuckling and shaking his head.

“I coulda gone around, you know Betty.” He smirked softly and closed the door against the noise outside, leaning back against the seat as the silence of the car wrapped around the pair of you.

Ari carefully navigated his way to West Hollywood, and you politely watched the darkened streets flow past the window. The outcome of the evening was not sitting well with you. It felt like the wrong ending. Like the writer had made a terrible mistake and it just needed a brutal treatment by an editor. Unfortunately, real life did not work that way.

At the brush of his fingers against yours on the seat between you, you looked to him quickly, swallowing tightly as he took your hand and squeezed tightly.

“Thank you, Betty spaghetti, for helping me make it through the insanity of awards season. I’m sorry we’re not on the winning team tonight…” His voice waivered a bit and your fingers tightened around his. “But we’re on the living team and that’s in no small part to you…”

You shook your head, a touch violently, and took an unsteady breath as your heart clenched in sympathy.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Mr. Butler. What you have accomplished is truly extraordinary…d..did you hear them? Every time a presenter came on stage they referred to them as a nominee…you will forever be Academy Award Nominee Austin Butler. And not to mention Golden Globe Winner Austin Butler, and BAFTA winner Austin Butler, and Virtuoso Award Winner Austin Butler, and whatever Palm Springs gave you…” You trailed off and he gave you a laugh, with tear-filled eyes, as that definitely took some of the power out of your speech. “But regardless, this is just the start. Your opening act.” You nodded firmly and gasped as he pulled you into a crushing embrace, burying his face into the crook of your shoulder.

“Thank you, Betty…I really needed to hear that…” He whispered, voice fragile against your neck and you could feel the undeniable dampness of tears on your skin as you slid your arms around him tightly in return, holding him firmly for as long as he needed to be held.

“You’re welcome” You murmured softly into the expensive fabric of his tuxedo jacket, neither of you aware of the fact that Ari had parked around the corner from the restaurant a good five minutes ago until he politely cleared his throat.

“Sorry to interrupt but I believe a photographer may have spotted us.” He said quietly from the front seat and Austin quickly straightened, wiping at his face.

You pulled back with similar speed, tugging your dress into place before sliding out from the car to walk around the perimeter and open his door. Walking together, he entered the party to a hero’s welcome, which brought a small smile to his face.

Being swarmed by those who had seen firsthand what it had taken to achieve the artistry captured on film for eternity acted as a balm for Austin. You found the tension and concern leaving your own body a little as he relaxed and seemed to enjoy himself. And when Jerry Schilling showed up? Austin’s smile only grew. You had to chew on the inside of your cheek to keep from beaming as they huddled close on a bench in the courtyard, swapping stories and kind words. Austin’s instincts to come here had definitely been correct.

He ate a somewhat proper dinner and once buoyed by their love and support, made his way to you a little over an hour later.

“We should go meet the stylists at the house to get ready for the Vanity Fair party.”

You nodded quickly, having been eyeing the time and trying to wait as long as possible to allow him to soak in as much of their presence as he could.

“Ari is waiting exactly where we left him.”

While he went upstairs to change, you took advantage of the quiet moment to eat some dinner yourself, sitting at the island as you carefully enjoyed some leftovers with a tea towel draped over your chest. Biscuit was dozing at your feet, somewhat used to the odd hours of awards season, but still not entirely awake. The pair of you lifted your heads at the click of his heeled boots on the kitchen tile as he returned now dressed in a treacherously low-cut silk shirt and black suit. You were grateful that you remembered how to swallow the food in your mouth rather than letting it tumble out, slack-jawed. But only just.

“That still smells good, Betty, gimme a bite…” He leaned in and you carefully loaded a forkful before sliding it past his plush lips. You paid far too close attention to the way his perfectly straight, white teeth scraped the food from the metal fork tines before his lips seal shut as he began to chew.

He made the tiniest noise of pleasure and your eyes flicked up to watch his eyelids fall shut as he nodded with enthusiasm.

“We did a really good job on that one…” He smiled once he’d swallowed, squeezing your shoulder as he licked his lips. “I promise I won’t keep you out too late, you must be tired.”

You tugged the tea towel free of your body, not missing the way his eyes flit to the plunge of your dress. His height and your seated position surely giving him an eyeful before he yanked his gaze away forcefully. You slid from the stool to put your dishes in the dishwasher as goosebumps prickled in the wake of his stare.

“We are going to a party for you to have fun and celebrate the fact that this insanity is over. We will stay exactly as long as you would like.” You replied stubbornly and left Biscuit with dinner before leading him out to the car.

In the dark of the vehicle, you retrieved the tube of lipstick the makeup team had left you from your dress pocket and carefully reapplied some, trying to ignore the sensation that he was watching you.

In the ranking of afterparties, this was certainly the most press intense. There was also a rather breathless moment where Austin’s ex-girlfriend happened past him while he was in conversation with Sharon Stone. Mercifully, everyone did an excellent job of playing blind and after an assault of photography flash and shouted commands, you were inside the party.

There was mixing, mingling, drinking, and nibbling. Kate, Baz, Catherine and some of the Elvis cast also appeared. At one point Austin was pulled aside to have some photos taken by Mark Seliger. There was no shortage of toasts in his name, and when Brendan Fraser arrived he immediately sought Austin out to hug him close. Smiling fondly, you felt your phone begin to vibrate in your pocket and rolled your eyes playfully thinking Maddie was going on another tirade. Given the time, she really ought to be in bed.

You could barely contain your confusion when your father’s name displayed on the screen and felt a cold trickle of panic drip down your spine to settle in the pit of your stomach. Your father never called. Let alone in the middle of the night. You forcefully pushed the answer call button and lifted the phone to your ear, eyes casting about for somewhere quieter but also flicking back to Austin – torn between the urgency of this call and the importance of your duties.

“Hey dad, I…What’s up?” You found yourself half-shouting as you cupped the bottom of the phone to hopefully capture as much of your voice as possible.

Only select words were audible above the din of the crowd and the throb of the bass from the music.

“….mother….town….mugged….hospital….ok….”

Austin was making his way over to you excitedly talking about a private island in the Bahamas that someone had offered for him to relax upon as you felt all the blood drain from your face and extremities, the snippets of your father’s words making your hands clammy and shaky.

“Daddy, just wait I can’t…” You glanced around frantically now, vaguely registering the change in Austin’s countenance.

His arms wrapped around you, hands gripping your hips as he easily navigated through the crowd to lead you out onto the patio. He did not stop walking until he reached the very edge of the party and continued to shield your body from the curious glances of the other attendees you had passed, caging you against the fence as you could at last hear yourself think.

“I’m outside now, what happened?” You tried again, feeling yourself swaying a little on your feet as he relayed the full story of some local troubled youths who had decided to mug your mother and her friends on their monthly night at the theatre in town.

You clutched at the lapel of Austin’s jacket, desperate for some stability as the entire universe seemed to be off kilter.

“Your mother’s friend, Cynthia, well she fought back and it…didn’t end well. Everyone is…well they’re hurt but the hospital discharged them all same day, today…well tonight.” You could hear the exhaustion in his voice. “She’s just gone up to bed, told me not to call you but…”

You shook your head quickly and swallowed roughly, trying to find your voice.

“No, no thank you for calling me I…she’s really going to be ok?” You asked quietly, feeling all of six-years-old despite the fact that you were standing in a gown at the Vanity Fair Oscar’s After Party wrapped up in Austin Butler’s protective embrace. “I…tell her I love her ok, Dad? I’ll…I’ll talk to my boss…No I…Dad. Dad, I want to see you guys I…thank you for calling. Love you too. Bye.”

You let the phone drop from your ear but made no move to stand fully, rather preferring to hide against Austin’s chest and ignore the outside revelry for as long as possible. You leaned into him, the crown of your head settling against the hollow of his throat as his arms slid around you fully, supporting you more than you would care to admit as you tried to take steady breaths.

“Betty, I would like to give you time, I just need to know you’re not going to keel over on me here…” He murmured gently into your ear. You nodded quickly, rocking back on your heels and straightening so quickly he looked briefly startled before resuming a patient and supportive expression.

“Some little shits decided to jump my mom and her friends on their way home from a play tonight.” Your gaze was unfocused as you were picturing the faces of the known delinquents.

“Oh Betty…” His voice broke as he gripped your shoulders tightly to help steady you on your feet.

“My mom…she’s not like me, she’s a lady. She does lady things like get her nails done, and bake, and go to the spa and the theatre and…This is not how tonight was supposed to go. She was supposed to have fun with her friends watching some local people do a Tennessee Williams play and get a little tipsy and come home….and you were supposed to win because you deserve it so much. You put everything in that role, which was incredible by the way” you dropped the wall of professionalism for the first time, “and you’ve dragged your ass around in this dog and pony show, performing tricks for them for weeks only for them to give it to the other guy and now here you are putting on a brave face and watching me fall apart at an after party…” Your cheeks were wet and you’d started sniffling somewhere in the middle of your tirade against awards season, though you weren’t quite sure when.

“Oh, my darling Betty…sweet Betty spaghetti don’t waste your anger on this frivolity. We’ve spent months on this empty preening for golden statutes and here you are staring down the things that really matter and you’re spilling your priceless tears over me…” his hands cupped the sides of your head gently as his thumbs swiped at each traitorous tear that stole down your cheek. “Let’s get you home, ok?”

You gripped his wrists and looked up to him, brow furrowing.

“But I’m ruining your night…” You protested weakly as he shook his head.

“You’re reminding me of what really matters, come on.” He slid his arm around your shoulders protectively, guiding you back through the crowd of attendees.

You kept your head low, certain your makeup must be ruined, arranging for Ari to meet you at the side door. Austin helped you into the car and pulled out his own phone once you were settled.

“You find a way home, I’ll call Scott.”

You looked to him startled.

“Like…right now? I meant…I meant once you were on your vacation or something…”

“Now, Betty. You’re going home, home. Now.” He nodded firmly and dialed Scott before you could utter another word in protest.

Swallowing tightly, you pulled out your phone to make travel arrangements to get home as soon as possible. He went upstairs to change when you arrived back at his house, and you went into his office to pack but he found you fifteen minutes later, still standing in the doorway dressed in your gown, staring at your empty suitcase open on the bed.

“C’mere…” He said gently and pulled you close into the soft hoodie he now wore. “Facing the mortality of our parents is a truly foundation-shaking experience.” He murmured into your hair, and you nodded speechlessly.

He helped you fill your suitcase with some clothes and useful things, sending you to the washroom to change into something more practical for travel. You wiped the makeup from your face and blew your nose a few times before collecting your things.

“Are you sure about this, Austin? I could always delay…”

He cut you off with a shake of his head, gently pressing his lips to your cheek.

“I’ll be fine, you go take care of your family.”

In your fragile state, you had been easily seduced by his words of comfort. Fooled into believing that, despite all evidence to the contrary, he would be perfectly fine in your absence. That there wasn’t a psychologically unstable woman out there hellbent on killing him for the spiritual transgressions she so strongly believed he had committed.

It had been the right thing, for you personally, to go home. It felt good to be in the embrace of family, to gather with the people you loved and support one another after such a scare. It had admittedly been far too long since you had been home, regardless, and you made a vow to not let it be so long in the future. On Wednesday, Maddie and her mother came by with a casserole and you took is to the kitchen to allow them a chance to visit with your parents – to let them relax in the living room.

The shot of the coastal highway on the TV screen in the corner of the kitchen caught your eye as you began to assemble a salad to balance the richness of the casserole. It screamed for your attention, despite its anonymous, sundrenched beauty. Grasping the salad bowl tightly, you reached out to turn up the volume, your eyes skating over the variety of emergency vehicles assembled at the scene…the automotive debris scattered across the asphalt. That’s when his name splashed across the screen.

Austin Butler in Critical Condition

“The award-winning actor was transported by rescue helicopter to Cedars-Sinai Medical Centre where he is listed in critical condition. His driver was taken by ambulance to a nearby hospital in stable condition. The female driver of the vehicle suspected of running him off the road was pronounced dead at the scene. The FBI is now confirming that she was their primary suspect in a string a threatening letters sent to the actor…”

You had not even noticed the heirloom crystal bowl slide from your fingers and shatter against the kitchen tile until Maddie called your name sharply from the doorway. You glanced down through rapidly blurring eyes and swore thickly, crouching down to quickly pick up the scattered shards. Shock had stolen all sensation from your fingertips, the countless nicks on your skin marked only by red blossoms of blood.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Maddie shouted and yanked you back at which point you collapsed against her sobbing. You had failed him. You had left for selfish personal reasons and now he was clinging to life alone in a hospital room.

Several Band-Aids and a cup of tea later, you were once again packing your suitcase. The gut-wrenching reaction to his accident had equalled that you’d felt for your own mother. And was hanging around like a bad penny, filling you to the brim with nervous energy. There was no possible way you could deny what Austin meant to you any longer. You would only be lying to yourself. To him. And he deserved better than that.

“You’re gonna make it to LA ok?” Maddie asked quietly as she zipped up your suitcase and you sighed heavily.

“I’ll do my best, Mads…thank you…” You hugged her tightly before saying proper farewells to your parents and heading out.

It was well past visiting hours when you arrived at the hospital, but you’d called Scott on the way and he was there waiting to lead you up to Austin’s hospital room.

“He’s been upgraded to stable condition, you’ll be relieved to know.” He informed you as the doors to the elevator closed.

“Scott I’m so sorry I…” You looked to him as you rose floor by floor.

He looked to you startled.

“What on earth…sorry you weren’t there to get hurt? There’s nothing you could have done to prevent this. Nothing you could have done in that car but increase the list of injured or worse. Thank hell you weren’t there…How’s your mom?” He asked quickly and you smiled just the hint of a smile.

“So much better…I…it was good to see her.”

“Good.” He nodded firmly and led you to the room where an armed police officer watched the door. He introduced you to the man as Austin’s bodyguard, all pretense now dropped in light of the story having gone public since the accident, and quietly led you into the room where Austin lay. “I’ll leave you to it…” He whispered and nodded before stepping out.

Because the unit was a higher level of care, the door remained open to the nursing station to allow them to keep an eye on him, but he otherwise had the spacious room to himself. The bed and monitoring equipment only served to make him look small. You pressed your fingers to your lips, trying to smother your shaking breaths as they seemed to thunder in the otherwise quiet room. The only other sound was the beeping of his heart rate monitor – reassuringly steady.

Your eyes scanned across his face and down his body, taking stock of marks that would bruise and numerous abrasions. The image of him beneath the stark white, antiseptic blankets began to blur and you sealed your hand over your mouth as you tried to focus on the expanse of the city lights out the window beside him, tried to regain your composure, when you heard him rasp your name.

You moved closer to the head of the bed, leaning in to see his eyes made glassy from pain medication trying to focus on your face.

“Austin, I’m here…” He reached out with his left hand and you took it carefully, trying to wipe your tears away quickly with your other.

“Oh Betty, there you go wastin’ those tears again…” He murmured and you couldn’t help but laugh.

He chuckled briefly before wincing with a groan and you frowned deeply.

“Jus’ some broken ribs, I’ll be all right…”

“Shit…I shoulda been there Austin…I’m so sorry…” You whispered, fresh tears spilling from your eyes.

He reached with his free hand, grunting in pain as he wiped at your face, only making your lip wobble, sobs building in your throat.

“I have to resign.” You choked out suddenly and his eyes flashed to your face.

“What jus’ because you weren’t here?!” He asked incredulously, words slightly slurred.

Shaking your head, you took a deep, fortifying breath.

“I’ve gone and done something I shouldn’t.” You whispered.

His brow furrowed as he looked at you quizzically.

“I’ve fallen in love with the client.” You confessed, holding your breath as you were only brave enough to risk glances at his face before looking back for your entwined hands.

“Oh, thank god” he exhaled after what felt like an eternity and released your hand, cupping the back of your neck to pull you close.

You braced your hands on other side of the hospital bed, not wanting to jostle him, to cause him any pain, as you brushed your lips against his gently.

“You’d better give me a better kiss than that…” He teased, mouth moving against yours as he held you stubbornly close.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Austin…” You protested, feeling the rough edges of the abraded side of lips against your own.

“I’ve been dyin’ to kiss ya since you threw Marwan into the floor in Palm Springs…please….” He whispered.

“How much medication have you had…” You hissed, half playful, half mortified, still hovering above his lips.

He whined your name, completely washing away the last of your resolve and you slotted your mouth against his firmly, shifting your weight onto one hand to slide the other into his hair on the uninjured side of his face. He hummed against your lips eagerly, fingers curling into the skin at the base of your neck as his lips moved against yours needily. You sighed deeply, warmth spreading through your entire body, until a politely rapping on the door frame had you quickly pulling back from his lips.

“So sorry to interrupt…” The nurse could barely contain her grin as she came in to check Austin over, noting his vitals in his electronic chart, before leaving you two alone.

“Guess I don’t get a vacation…” He pouted playfully and you shook your head, pulling up a chair to settle at the head of his bed.

“One day at a time, Austin…Let’s get you home first, ok? And for that to happen, you need to sleep…” You smoothed his brow with your thumb, fingertips stroking his curls.

“Just wanted to go to the beach while the groomers got Biscuit ready for our trip…the car came outta nowhere…They said Ari is ok, he’s really ok, right?” He rambled sleepily.

“Yes, at a hospital in Santa Barbara, stable just like you.” You reassured him gently.

“You’ll be here when I wake up…? You’ll stay?” He whispered with open fragility.

“Yes, I’ll be right here Austin…rest…”

“Love you, too…” He breathed.

You smiled softly as he closed his eyes, quickly falling asleep, clinging to your other hand.

Sleeping in a chair with your hand trapped in his grip was hardly comfortable, nor were the frequent interruptions by the nurses to check his vitals and administer frequent cognitive tests – you surmised the reason was a concussion he had neglected to share with you, restful. But there was honestly no other place in the entire world you would have rather been. Daylight brought the arrival of his father and you moved to step out, but Austin insisted you stay.

He held his hand out to you once he’d settled back into the bed following a nurse assisted bathroom trip. You shyly avoided the knowing smile of his father, sliding your fingers through his. The attending physician arrived not long after and delivered the full litany of Austin’s injuries. You clung to his hand silently as his father asked the follow-up questions, doing your utmost to fight back the urge to let the guilt overwhelm you once more.

“We anticipate that Mr. Butler will be able to head home tomorrow but he will absolutely require assistance in his home, including supportive devices, and physiotherapy as he recovers.”

You heard Austin’s father suck the air between his teeth, knowing he had a life and responsibilities of his own back in Arizona while you? Well, you were recently unemployed and more than willing to take the time off to care for the man you loved.

“I’ll be happy to take care of everything.” You swallowed and looked to Austin. “If you’re ok with that?”

He looked to you, face softening.

“I am more than ok with that, you beautiful woman…” He sighed lovingly and lifted your hand to kiss the back of it gently.

“Wonderful, I’ll send in Occupational Therapy to help you prepare for his homecoming.” The physician departed just as Kate appeared, looking fresh off the plane from somewhere tropical. She even smelled of coconut suntan lotion.

Though he was still quite medicated, Kate worked with Austin to determine the loose parameters of a press release before she set up in the corner of the room, calling her team to hammer it out. Austin’s father pulled you into a grateful hug before making a trip to cafeteria for coffee and food for the three of you and you remained at Austin’s side as he still refused to release your hand.

Once everyone was fed, the nurses insisted Austin needed his rest. Kate took Austin’s father home while you met with OT in a nearby conference room, arranging for the necessary items to be delivered. You gave Trey a call to make sure he could let the deliveries in, before creeping back into the room to doze some more in the chair. As visiting hours came to a close, you left a pouting Austin for the night, placating him with the knowledge that you were going to his house to set up for him to come home in the morning.

You were struck by the scent of flowers when you stepped into the house, every surface on the main floor covered in floral arrangements from friends, family, colleagues, and acquaintances. The second thing you noticed was a very enthusiastic Biscuit who was surely very confused and lonely but looked very good from her well-timed trip to the groomer’s.

Austin’s father already had a head start when you arrived, setting up the shower chair and the supportive pillows on the bed. The last thing that had to be done was taking the mattress from the murphy bed in the office to lay on the floor of Austin’s bedroom so that you could be close by to assist him in moving around. You made up the beds with fresh sheets before passing out for the night with Biscuit in your arms, alarm set for six the next morning.

You showered and ate the breakfast that Austin’s father generously prepared for the two of you before you got the discharge call from the nurse. The pair of you headed over in Austin’s car to pick him up, greeted by a beaming, lanky man in a wheelchair whose mood was utter elation at being released. In a group effort, the three of you got him to his feet and into the front seat of the car, buckling him in and closing the door before taking him home.

The next few weeks were entirely devoted to getting Austin well. His father was able to stay for a few days, cooking all the meals and filling the freezer with food. At first, Austin mainly rested, but you insisted he spend some time on the main floor and outside, keeping him moving to avoid any negative complications. His physiotherapy appointments began after a few days and they carefully taped up his ribs which went a long way to improving his comfort level. His bruises slowly transitioned through the rainbow as they healed, and his abrasions smoothed out. The many kisses he insisted upon helped you to confirm this.

Scott arranged for the FBI to present their findings on the case to Austin at home, and the entire team breathed a sigh of relief when it was confirmed that the deceased driver was indeed the woman responsible for the threats and letters. With the case now closed, the contract with Lane Protective Services was ended and you found yourself alone in the house with Austin. His sister, Ashley, made a weekend visit, but on the whole his home was one of peace and solitude. One in which your rather young relationship blossomed.

As his strength increased, you began to take him on short walks with Biscuit, choosing to still carry your firearm. It would take some time, it seemed, for you to shake that habit. On a particularly warm day at the beginning of April, at Austin’s request, you settled out on the pool deck in bathing suits to soak up some sun. You found yourself smiling as you looked over his torso.

“You can barely see your bruises.” You remarked softly, fingers brushing along his side gently, well aware that he still had healing ribs beneath.

“Must be thanks to you, sweet Betty, taking such good care of me…” He grinned, hand grasping your wrist to lift your fingertips to kiss each one.

Your tongue darted out to wet your lips before pulling your lower lip to sink your teeth into it as he pressed his mouth to your palm.

“If my body wasn’t still broken…” He groaned against your skin.

“S…s..sorry.” You apologized quickly, accidentally licking your lips again.

He growled a little and cupped to back of your head, pulling you down for a hungry kiss. His lips had barely pressed against yours before his tongue was licking into your mouth, seeking yours eagerly. Sinking onto your knees on the pool deck, you braced yourself on the arm of the lounger, trying desperately to keep your body weight off of him as he seemed to be sucking the strength from your body, turning your bones into molten metal.

He pulled back with a grunt, gasping for breath as he wasn’t able to hold deep breaths just yet, but immediately moved to trail his lips down your neck, punctuating his kisses with gentle nips of his teeth that had you trembling above him.

“Austin…” You panted. “You gotta be careful…” Your warning was choked off into a moan as he sealed his mouth over your pulse point and began to suck at your skin making your control waiver.

You pushed yourself back from him, chest heaving, terrified as you’d almost crashed into him.

“Come back…” He pouted huskily, licking his lips.

“Austin…fuck I almost fell on you this isn’t safe…” You rasped, voice obviously affected.

You watched as he pulled and chewed at his lips for a moment before carefully pushing himself to sitting and then to standing.

“Come on…” He held out his hand and you took it carefully, following after him suspiciously, but also unable to deny the heat of desire pulsing through your veins.

He made a brief detour to the kitchen, setting up Biscuit with a puzzle toy before taking you upstairs, closing the bedroom door behind you.

“Lay on the bed beside me? Then you can’t fall?”

“What if I move too much?”

“I’ll tell you if it hurts, sweet Betty, I just need to touch you so badly…” He whispered heatedly as he cupped your cheeks, stealing the breath from your lungs, before leaning in to press his lips to yours in a scorching kiss that easily erased any and all reason from your mind.

He carefully walked you over to the bed, sliding up onto the pile of pillows, looking back to you expectantly once he was settled. You gingerly crawled onto the bed next to him, laying on your side as you shifted closer until you were within his reach. He pulled you close, mouth latching onto your neck once more, pulling another ragged moan from your throat as one hand came to knead at your hip and butt cheek.

Moving slowly, you slid your leg over his, giving him ample time to protest in pain before your thigh pressed against the growing bulge between his thighs. When no outcry of pain reached our ears, only a shuddering sigh against your damp skin that sent goosebumps racing down your neck, you applied subtle pressure and friction, pleased when his lips crashed into yours once more. Burying one hand into his golden curls, you allowed the other to skim down the muscles of his chest and abdomen, tracing the hard planes beneath his smooth, soft skin.

You felt his hand shift to cup between your legs, your hips bucking into his touch involuntarily as he stroked at your folds through the thin fabric of your swimsuit with his long, elegant fingers, confirming your long-suspected hypothesis that he was indeed very good with his hands. You tore your lips from his to cry out eagerly as his skilled digits pushed aside the inconvenient fabric to touch your bare skin, immediately seeking your sensitive bundle of nerves. His head shifted lower to kiss and nip at your cleavage before huffing against your chest in frustration.

“Can you take off your suit for me?” He pleaded hoarsely, looking up to you with blown pupils, only a tiny ring of blue iris now surrounding them.

Licking your lips you nodded, carefully disentangling your limbs from his to shift back, sliding from the bed to work the suit from your body. You could feel the heat of his gaze as he watched you expose your body, the moisture evaporating from your mouth, making it impossible to swallow as you climbed back onto the bed with him.

“You are unspeakably gorgeous…” He breathed, reaching out to pull you close to him, lavishing kisses along every inch of exposed skin he could now access as his fingers resumed their torment of your clit, the pad of his thumb circling and pressing at your entrance.

“Ahn! Austin!” You whimpered, bending the knee of your top leg and planting your foot between his calves to give him more room to work, admittedly greedy for his touch.

“Sweet girl you’re positively drenched…” He breathed against your breast before sealing his lips around your nipple, sinking a finger into the heat of your cunt.

You wailed and arched against him at the dual assault, fingers tugging at his hair before holding him to your breast needily. Rocking the heel of his hand against your clit, he began to rhythmically work his finger in and out of your heat before adding a second, growling hungrily against your skin at the eager gush of arousal your body rewarded him with. He withdrew his hand from between your legs, making you whimper at the loss, eyes flashing open only to be treated to the sight of him devouring every drop of your nectar from his hand.

“Oh, please I need to taste you…” He pleaded, hooded eyes burning into yours. “Can you get above me?”

You did not need a second invitation. With legs like jelly, it was more challenging than first anticipated, but with the assistance of the frame around the top of the bed you were able to kneel on the pillows on either side of his head before sinking down onto his eagerly waiting mouth. He barely gave you a moment to breathe before his wicked tongue was working through your folds, his lips slurping up your arousal, filling the room with an obscene mixture of noise as you moaned helplessly. He suckled at your clit before burying the pointed length of his tongue deep into your cunt, hooking his good arm over your hip to pull you down and encourage you to grind your bundle of nerves against his nose as he rocked his head from side to side. You pressed your face into your bicep as your thighs began to shake, eyes clenching shut as you could feel yourself just on the precipice.

One hand moved to cup your breast, massaging and pinching at your nipple as you gave in and rocked dock against Austin’s face, earning a deep moan from the man below you. The vibrations ricocheted through your body and sent you surging forward, tumbling into your release with a harsh cry of his name. Slumping forward against the wall, wave after wave of shuddering pleasure flowed through your body as you felt him avidly lap up all your body had to offer until you had to pull back, climb off him, as it was just too much – you were too sensitive.

Settling onto the mattress beside him, you leaned in to kiss Austin warmly, giggling a little at his face was soaked. He just grinned at you proudly. Rolling over, you found some tissues on the nightstand and gently wiped at his cheeks and chin before tossing them into the bin on the floor beside him, the prominent outline of his hard cock beneath his swim trunks catching your eye.

“Would you like some assistance with this?” You asked, sitting at his hip and running your fingers along the waistband of his suit.

His teeth sunk into the plush pink of his lower lip as he nodded, and you worked together to slide the bathing suit off his hips and down his legs. It was not the first time you had seen him naked – you had been helping him shower, towel off, and change since his return from the hospital, but this was different. And not just because his sizable length lay hard and angry against his abdomen. The intention set the tone, this was about pleasure, and you allowed yourself to enjoy the full expanse of his sun-kissed, freckled skin.

“Unspeakably gorgeous, was it?” You breathed and reached up to cup the tip of his length, collecting the precum that pooled there before wrapping your fingers around him, stroking his cock and delighting in the way it made the muscles of his abdomen flutter.

“Oh fuck…” He hissed, writhing against the duvet.

Licking your lips, you slithered down onto your stomach, planting an elbow between his legs and laying your chest across his uninjured hip as you licked a broad stripe from base to tip, grinning as his hips jerked towards your mouth. His whimper reminded you to be merciful and you gently began to sink your mouth down onto him, taking as much of his cock as this angle would allow, leaving your lips parted to allow your saliva to flow freely over his rest of his length and further down between his thighs.

He moaned your name as you wrapped your hand around the base of him before you began to work up and down, hollowing your cheeks and tracing the prominent vein on the underside of his cock with your tongue. He whimpered and rambled, fingers gripping the back of your head. You hummed in sympathy, and he writhed beneath you, length twitching against your tongue.

“Please! Oh, please get back up here I wanna kiss you when I cum, wanna pretend I’m inside you…” He pleaded and you pulled back, releasing his cock from your mouth with a pop, before laying on your side.

His lips crashed against yours as you slid your leg over his, hand resuming the rhythm of your mouth. His hand gripped your ass and his hips rocked in time with the strokes of your fist. You found yourself grinding your still-damp core against his thigh, earning a ragged groan against your lips.

“Gonna…gonna…” He panted and you opened your eyes to take in as much of his face as he could, his breath panting into your open mouth before he gave a sharp cry and spilled his climax against his stomach as you continued to gently stroke his length to prolong his pleasure.

As the tension left his body, allowing him to sink into the mattress, you kissed the corner of his mouth softly and retrieved a warm washcloth to clean him up. You helped him into his pajamas, frowning as he gave tiny hisses of pain, but the lopsided grin never left his lips.

A pathetic awooo from the hallway alerted you to the fact that Biscuit was well finished with her puzzle toy and now aware of her locked-out status. You quickly slid on your own pajamas before scooping her up from the doorway to settle her at Austin’s good hip to allow the pair to settle in for an afternoon nap.

He only continued to get stronger as his bones and ligaments healed, yourself and Biscuit joining him in bed nightly by the end of April. And while creative solutions were keeping the pair of you satisfied enough, when Austin’s physician finally cleared him for more strenuous activity, both of you admittedly had the same thought.

The evening began innocently enough, with a nice dinner the two of you made together, with a delicious wine now that Austin was no longer on pain medication. You talked for hours, still in the beginning stages of your relationship where there was more to discover about one another, before cleaning up the kitchen. Yet it ended with you on your back, legs hanging off the side of the mattress, propped up on your elbows as you salaciously watched him indulgently stroke his cock a few times before carefully rolling the condom down his length.

Chest heaving, cunt throbbing from the orgasm he had just wrung from you and the promise of him inside you at last, you chewed your lip impatiently.

“Don’t you go damaging those plush pretty lips, sweet Betty, I like kissing them far too much.” He leaned down carefully to prove his point, the wet muscle of his tongue twining with yours until you were both humming with need.

He straightened, guiding your hips to the very edge of the bed before sliding his length through the slick of your folds, gathering as much as possible while teasing your clit before shifting to slowly begin sinking into your wet heat. Your eyes rolled back in your head as you dropped back onto the mattress, keening softly as you gripped his wrists while he stretched and filled you impossibly full.

“Oh my…fuck you feel so good…” He hissed above you, his fingers curling into the flesh of your hips.

“Oh yes…” You panted in return, rocking your hips against his experimentally, a chorus of moans falling from both of your lips.

It was all the motivation he needed to pull his hips back before immediately sinking back into your demanding warmth. And while you wished he were closer, wished you could be wrapped up in his arms, it was amazing to finally feel so connected to him, completed by him.

“Austin!” You exclaimed, too overwhelmed to put the emotions swirling in your chest into more words beyond his name.

“I know….I know…” He panted between thrusts. “I love…you too…” He moaned your name raggedly and rocked harder, thrust faster, pushing you ever closer to release.

“Love…you…” You whimpered in return, feeling your walls starting to clamp down around him.

“Oh, fuck yes…” He quickly reached for your clit, circling it in a way that he knew after weeks of practice would make you cum, and growled happily as you did just that, scratching at his forearms a little as you clenched around his length through wave after wave of climax. “Yes!” He barked out triumphantly before thrusting erratically once, twice more, joining you in release.

You could feel him sway on his feet, recognizing that though the position had kept pressure and impact from his body it had demanded tremendous physical effort of him. You quickly shifted back to slide his length from you before guiding him to sit on the bed. Peppering his face with kisses, you rid him of the condom and then helped him into his pajamas, noticing the winces.

“Would you like heat or cold for that?” You frowned, guiding him to lay down.

“Heat please…” He sighed a little. “So worth it though…” he smirked, and you rolled your eyes playfully before kissing him gently.

“Well, it’s a good thing I left the mattress on the floor. Biscuit and I will let you have the bed tonight.” You teased before getting him some over-the-counter pain killers and a heating pad.

Tucking away the stairs that helped Biscuit access the bed, you and the dog curled up on the mattress on the floor beside him, kissing the tips of his fingers as he dropped his hand down while wishing you a good night before his slow, steady breaths filled the room.

Biscuit’s low growl startled you awake some hours later and you lay perfectly still, trying to locate the source of her upset. The less-than-subtle sound of footsteps thundering up the stairs not seconds later provided you with a very clear answer and had you surging to your feet. Your firearm was locked in a small safe on the other side of the bed and based on the speed of the approaching intruder in the hallway, you did not have time. You shook Austin awake as you launched yourself over the foot of the bed just before the door flew open, the metal of a gun barrel flashing in the glow of the streetlights from the hallway.

You surged up, under the intruder’s arm to push the muzzle upwards as he pulled the trigger, sending the bullet into the ceiling in a shower of drywall and paint chips. Biscuit was barking at a ferocious pitch you had never before heard as you struggled with the shadowy figure’s bulk, trying to wrestle the gun free. Another shot was directed into the hardwood floor before you were able to claw the gun from his hand. His elbow snapped back, slamming into your nose with a sickening crunch. A gush of warmth down your face and the coppery tang of blood filled your mouth – an oddly nostalgic sensation that took you right back to a Judo match.

The intruder let out a sudden wail and jerked back, and you felt something fluffy dart past your legs. Biscuit had scored one for the home team. The gun now fully in your grasp, you threw it into the ensuite bathroom before taking down the freshly bitten man with a Judo throw while he was distracted by the pain. You knelt in the middle of his back, pinning his arms behind him.

“Austin, I need something to tie him!” You cried out, listening to his footfalls as he made his way from the ensuite, where he must have been hiding, to the nightstand, and then over to the foot of the bed where you were.

He procured a pair of silver handcuffs and you looked to him in slight disbelief, before gesturing with your head for him to secure the assailant’s hands.

“I’m going to put him in the chair, don’t want to compromise his airway any longer….he’s probably going to say terrible things…”

“I’m ready, Betty.” Austin said through gritted teeth and you hauled the incapacitated man to his feet before forcing him down onto the chair of the built-in makeup stand that Austin’s former girlfriend had designed. “Turn on the lights?”

Everyone blinked rapidly to adjust to the sudden brightness, and you swore under your breath as you recognized the dog-walking, brick-throwing, psychopath-loving man who was supposed to be in prison in Santa Barbara.

“Gabriel.” You muttered in shock.

“You fucking godless whore bitch!” He spit at you and you didn’t bother moving, not wanting to loosen your grip on him.

You had Austin call the police on speaker phone while you strapped the man to the chair with a series of belts, as he continued to spew hate and vitriol at both you and Austin.

“Betty you’re bleeding…” Austin whispered at one point, trying to wipe at your face.

“Later…” You whispered back, not wanting to take an eye off the man.

“The love of my life is dead because of the two of you! She was a righteous woman! How is she dead and the two of you are alive! You do not deserve to walk this earth!”

The police, thankfully, showed up rather quickly and took the man back into custody. They collected the man’s firearm from the ensuite, as well the bullets from the floor and ceiling, before taking your statements and assuring you that these charges would keep the man locked up for a much longer time than throwing bricks.

You allowed Austin to pull you into the bathroom once they’d left, sitting on the counter patiently as he gently cleaned the blood from your face before testing your nose.

“I don’t think it’s broken…”

You shook your head carefully.

“Just a solid whack. I’ll have a nice pair of black eyes tomorrow, most likely.”

He frowned deeply and kissed your forehead.

“Oh, Betty I’m so sorry…”

“I’m not. That bastard deserved worse than Biscuit gave him…We should get her some extra treats.” You smiled weakly as he snorted into your hair.

“I’m going to get the ice and then the three of us are booking that damn vacation to an island far away. Deal?”

You nodded your acquiescence and it was less that thirty-six hours from the time you confirmed the booking, snuggled up against him with an ice pack pressed against your face, to the time you were sitting on a private island in the Bahamas. Biscuit was darting back and forth between you on the sand, chasing a tiny crab, making the pair of you laugh.

“Terrifying little guard dog…” Austin smirked and shifted to sit next to you, sliding an arm around your waist.

“Invaluable asset, she is.” You nodded with a grin; your black eyes hidden beneath a pair of sunglasses.

“Betty spaghetti, I love you, you know that?” He kissed your temple, making you smile softly.

“Yes, I do, Mr. Butler.” You grinned. “Love you, too Austin.” You pulled him in for a kiss.

“I’ve been meaning to ask though…” You smirked when he eventually pulled back to allow you both a chance to catch your breath and he raised a curious eyebrow. “…about those handcuffs in your nightstand…”

If You'll Be My Bodyguard, I Can Be Your Long Lost Pal Masterlist

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