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leclerc-hs · 6 months

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lucky pt. 2 - cl16

Pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader Summary: in which you and your childhood best friend, are most definitely in love, but it's too complicated (or is it?) Warnings: most french edited by @softtdaisy (shoutout to her!!), SMUT, angst, 18+, not proofread Word Count: 2,695 Author's Note: I absolutely loved writing this!! I know I said I would wait for the poll to end but I think we can just do bonus scenes in the future if wanted!! xoxo PART 1 BONUS

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“Imbécile,” Idiot. Arthur throws a piece of his balled-up napkin, hitting you right in the face. “Maman wants you there, pas d’excuses.” No excuses.

It had been almost two weeks since you and Charles last spoke. The both of you far too stubborn to bring up the argument you last had. Instead, you ignored the problem at hand. By not seeing each other. Sunday dinner at Pascale’s was a weekly occurrence. One that you failed to attend last week, and it was shame on you if you missed another because of Charles.

You release a heavy sigh, acknowledging that you’re about to yield and head over to Pascale’s. After all, it’s not entirely her fault that her son seems to be obvlious to certain things.

“Il est fou amoureux de toi!” He is in love with you! Arthur exclaims softly as he notices your eyes won’t stray from the icy window of the café you are both seated in. You felt your throat tighten at the phrase.

“Ce n’est pas grave, Arthur,” It doesn’t matter. It didn’t matter. Him being in love with you wasn’t always enough, or so you thought. He could barely commit to his ex-girlfriend. Could he commit to you? You couldn’t handle losing him if it didn’t work out. It was a recipe for disaster to begin with.

The two of you didn’t realize how dark it was already getting. Meaning you were for sure late to Pascale’s.

“Tu viendras avec moi?” Will you come with me?

“Bien sur.” Of course. You couldn’t not go. One, because you knew nothing but seeing Pascale will put a smile on your face. Two, Arthur wouldn’t let you leave this café without dragging you to his Maman’s first.

It was a short drive from the café to Pascale’s place. The limited size of the principality made the journey quick, allowing you to take in the charming scenery along the way. As you approached Pascale’s home, a smile graced your lips at the sight of the festive decorations adorning the steps.

Pascale’s touch was evident in the small Christmas trees, their lights casting a warm glow that sparkled beside the front door. The holiday spirit infused the air, creating a sense of coziness and anticipation.

The warmth of Pascale’s home enveloped you as Arthur swung the door open. His hand gently found its place on the small of your back, guiding you inside with a gesture that spoke of familiarity and care.

He assisted you in shedding the layers of clothes you wore. Your scarf and jacket were in his hands, swiftly finding their place on the nearby coat rack. Amidst the exchange, laughter bubbled up, a spontaneous reaction to the slightly comical struggle Arthur faced in unraveling the scarf from your neck.

The sound of shared laughter echoed through the entrance and into the home, allowing the others to become alert of your presence.

“Que se passe t’il?” What’s going on? You felt your laugh stop almost instantly.

Charles’ question hung in the air, and for a moment you were caught off guard. The warmth of Pascale’s cozy home surrounded you, but the sudden seriousness in his tone made you pause. You looked into his eyes, searching for any hints of the playful banter that usually characterized your interactions.

He stood not too far away, a soft white hoodie and a casual pair of jeans on. You felt your heart clench with want. You missed him. You wanted to hug him and never let go.

“Rien, juste une journée un peu folle,” Nothing, just a bit of a crazy day. You replied with a sheepish smile. Your attempt to brush off the question with a casual response didn’t escape Charles notice. He studied your face for a moment, trying to decipher your emotions.

Arthur, sensing some tension, guided you towards the living room and past Charles. As you both settled into the inviting cushions, the crackling sounds from the fireplace filled the room with a soothing rhythm.

Pascale entered the room carrying two glasses of wine. “Ma fille,” My girl she says, a term of endearment feeling much like a warm embrace to you. Pascale handed you one of the glasses with a tender smile, sealing the gesture with a gentle kiss on your cheek.

Charles’s unease didn’t go unnoticed as he took a seat on the sofa across from you and Arthur. The atmosphere seemed charged with tension, and Pascale’s seemingly casual question carried a weight that went beyond mere curiosity.

“Est-ce que tu vois quelqu’un?” Are you seeing anybody? Pascale asked, her tone gentle but perceptive. The question, on the surface, appeared to be a routine inquiry about your romantic life. However, the underlying context hinted at a concern born out of a missed dinner and deviation from the usual routine.

The atmosphere in the room shifted as you became acutely aware of Charles’s intense gaze beside Pascale. Seated on the couch, his eyes bore into you with an intensity that seemed to pierce through the very core of your being. His eyes, like embers, conveyed a myriad of emotions – curiosity, intensity, and perhaps a touch of scrutiny.

“Maman, laisse-la tranquille,” Leave her alone. Arthur speaks before you can. A sense of relief filling you up as you take a large gulp of the red wine in your glass.

Pascale scrunches her eyes at Arthur, poised to deliver a retort that only she knows. However, before any words escape her lips, the timer in the kitchen interrupts the moment. “Arthur, viens m’aider.” Come help me. Arthur gives you a sympathetic look before leaving the room following Pascale.

Lost in thought, your gaze fixates on the flickering flames within the fireplace. The dancing firelight casts shadows that capture your attention, creating a mesmerizing display that seems more captivating than acknowledging a brooding Charles, seated across from you.

“Tu ne peux pas m’ignorer éternellement,” You can’t ignore me forever. His voice interrupts your train of thought, gently pulling you back into the present moment.

The solitary sentence prompts an immediate eye roll from you. How dare he? How dare he pretend that you’re the only one at fault?

“Ne lève pas les yeux au ciel en me regardant,” Don’t roll your eyes at me. The atmosphere shifted as he rose from his seat on the couch, undoubtedly making his way to occupy the now vacant spot beside you. However, the nature of his touch became more intimate than you anticipated. His hands ventured onto your thigh, traveling higher than the boundaries of a typical friendship would permit.

In a disconcerting turn of events, his other hand gripped your jaw, redirecting your gaze to meet his. The sudden change in physical proximity and the assertiveness of his actions left palpable tension in the air.

“Vas y,” Make me. You provoked him deliberately, seeking to burrow beneath his skin, much like he had already done under yours.

“Viens chez moi.” Come home with me. It wasn’t posed as a question; rather, it was a firm demand – one you were aware you would yield to. You didn’t need to articulate your response; he could discern it just by the slow flicker of your eyes to his. Without another word, you withdrew your chin from his hands and stood up, making your way into the kitchen, and leaving him behind.

“Nous avons des choses à discuter.” We have more to discuss. You hear him say loud enough for you to hear but low enough for no one else to hear before you cross into the threshold of the kitchen.

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

Discuss.

You laughed mentally at the word. You and Charles were indisputably not engaging in anything resembling a discussion, that much was certain. Unless you consider the dirty phrases, he’s whispering in your ear a discussion.

“Tu es tellement sexy,” You’re so hot. Charles moans into your mouth as he pushes you onto his unmade bed, falling with you in the process. Both of your clothes were long gone— strewn along the pathway you took from his front door to his bed. “Faite pour moi, putain.” Fucking made for me.

He didn’t know where to look, darting from your thighs to your lips to your unforgettable eyes. His jaw flexed as he let out a soft growl deep in his chest as his finger hooked into the band of your delicate silk panties and ripped them from your body. “Je t’en achèterai advantage.” I’ll buy you more.

He was so impatient. Couldn’t even wait until he tossed your panties to the side before his mouth was on your center. You gasped as his lips enveloped your sensitive clit and getting a full taste of you. He moaned, dipping his tongue inside of you.

You really believed you could die right here and now. He pulled away momentarily just to look at you, glistening and moaning beneath him. It was a sight he wanted to burn in his memory forever.

“Tu me rends fou." You drive me insane.

You couldn’t stop moaning. You wanted to tell him that he was the one who drove you insane. That the feeling was more than mutual. But you were incoherent with pleasure. Incapable of words.

He curved two fingers inside of you, almost instantly rubbing your g-spot. “Yeah?” He edged you on. His words alone pushing you to the threshold of your orgasm. “Tu aimes ça?” You like that?

His words were nearly as perilous as his touch. He was smirking above you like the cocky motherfucker he was. You felt delusional as his fingers stroked your g-spot continuously that when he flipped you over and pulled you up to your knees, you let out a shriek of surprise.

You felt your orgasm closing in as he refused to let up on the assault of your clit. Your orgasm came so fast, you couldn’t even warn Charles before you were trembling all over his fingers.

“Oui, soak me.” Your orgasm was explosive, you could feel your legs shaking. Before you could even recover from the last orgasm, Charles was bringing his fingers that were coated in you to his mouth.

“J'ai vraiment besoin de toi,” I really need you. You muttered softly. The confession so raw. It made Charles heart clench with need to ravish you completely. To ruin you for anybody else.

His grip on your hips tightened as he slipped himself inside of you, eliciting a loud groan. “Mon dieu,”My God. He moaned. “Tu me fais me sentir si bien,” You make me feel so good.

Your pussy clenched tightly around him at his words. His breaths were jagged and heavy in your ear as he took you harder and harder.

“Ma salope,” My slut. He groaned, bottoming himself out. “My lucky.”

He could tell that you were there already again, the way you were squeezing him so tight and the clench of your hands trying to support you on the mattress.

“C’est si bien que ça?,” Is it that nice? “Gonna come for me?”

You did. Your eyes wet with tears from the intensity as his hands squeezed your hips, leaving bruises. He didn’t stop the assault on your pussy, kept pounding into you. He was ruthless.

He threw his head back with a string of curses before pressing soft kisses to your back. He didn’t bother to pull out. He wanted you full of him. In all ways, shapes, and forms. He was selfish. You were thankfully on the pill. He held himself there for a few moments before pulling out and rolling you over to your back so you could face him. He buried his face into your neck, leaving small gentle kisses as you both caught your breath.

Eventually Charles was able to find the strength to stand and clean you up, pressing a warm cloth to your center as he peppered small kisses to the inside of your thighs. You felt your heart flutter as he tossed the cloth into the hamper and joined you back in the bed, pulling you into his chest under the covers.

You could feel his mind was running a million miles a minute as he traced small circles on your skin. He wanted to ask if you went on any other dates. But he couldn’t handle if you said yes.

“Qu’est-ce que tu as en tête?” What’s on your mind? You asked.

You were preparing for yet another fight. There was no escaping it any longer. The only sound that filled the air was both of your breathing.

“Je veux que tu sois mienne.” I want you to be mine. As you lay on his chest, you sensed his heartbeat quickening. In response, a soft laugh escaped you, uncertain of how to reply. The weight of your reaction hung heavy in the air, adding more pressure.

You had to put a stop to this. You felt the panic constricting your throat. You couldn’t continue down this path with him. As you tried to sit up and distance yourself from Charles, his hand swiftly seized your arm, compelling you back towards him. He was determined to make you stay, refusing to let you escape from this conversation any longer.

“Non, arête de fuir le sujet,” No, stop running away from it. He insisted, urging you to stop evading it. “Il sait déjà que tu m’aimes,” I already know that you love me. He declared, his words rushing out of him uncontrollably. It was as if he couldn’t halt the flow, a sense of panic palpable in his voice.

You loved him; it wasn’t a secret. Fear held you back. The thought of losing him permanently if things didn’t work out was too daunting. So, you’ve tried to maintain a distance, but it was futile. It was as if he had become your vital source of oxygen – indispensable. You found yourself inextricably linked; your souls entwined.

“Je ne veux pas te perdre!” I don’t want to lose you. You felt the words rush out of your mouth in a frenzy. His touch, his stare, this conversation was all too much to handle.

“Je t’aime!” I love you! He repeated it over and over. He wouldn’t stop. You could see the anger forming in his face with each proclamation he made. He was angry. Why wouldn’t you listen? Why wouldn’t you believe him?

“Je suis bien avec toi!” I feel good when I’m with you!

“Tu me plait!” You make me happy!

“J’ai envie de t’embrasser!” I want to kiss you!

“Sans toi, je ne suis rien!” Without you, I am nothing!

“Tu es l’amour de ma vie!” You’re the love of my life!

“Je veux passer ma vie avec toi!” I want to spend my life with you!

“Mon dieu, I even breathe better when I’m with you.”

Tears spilled from your eyes, but he persisted, like a broken record playing an urgent message. His need for you to understand was palpable. He laid bare his soul, expressing that if it wasn’t for you, it would be no one. The pain in his chest mirrored the intensity of his emotions.

His hands held you tightly, rendering you incapable of moving. He needed you close. In response, you brought your hands to his face, swiftly pressing your lips against his.

You felt him grab your face during the kiss, his thumbs brushing the tears from your eyes in the process.

“You’re mine. My lucky,” he broke the kiss. “You’ve always been mine.”

Your gazes locked, and you held each other’s eyes for an extended moment, as if attempting to decipher the entirety of each other’s thoughts through this intense connection.

“Oui?” He asked softly, seeking confirmation. He needed to hear you say you were his, a moment he had been waiting for his entire life. He knew he had you now. But he wanted your words.

You recognized there was no longer an option to escape. You belonged to him, and it wasn’t up for discussion. He possessed your heart and soul entirely. You knew that you needed to take a risk. A risk for him.

You nodded your head slowly, “Oui.”

TAG LIST: @harrysdimple05 @rachyroo-99 @rana030

#charles leclerc x reader #f1 imagines #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc smut #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc #lucky

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theostrophywife · 1 year

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be my baby.

if you know how to by my lover, maybe you can be my baby hold me close under the covers, kiss me boy and drive me crazy

author's note: happy valentine's my loves. in honor of this day, please have this sweet, toothache inducing fluff of our favorite bat boys. the lil cas cookie cutness is dedicated to my darling @writingsbychlo to hold her over until i finish a smuttier cassian piece 😈 song inspiration: be my baby by ariana grande

The High Lord tapped his fingers.

The Illyrian general narrowed his eyes.

The shadowsinger crossed his arms.

The three brothers watched one another in quiet contemplation, waiting for the others to break the silence.

In true Cassian fashion, the male sighed and succumbed to his impatience. “So, what’s it going to be?”

Rhysand’s fingers hovered over his ornate desk, scanning the room. “It appears that we find ourselves in a conundrum, brothers.”

Azriel nodded as his shadows curled over his shoulders. “We have to make a decision soon. The day of hearts is coming up.”

“Well the solution is obvious, isn’t it?” Cassian stated. “One of us should just ask her.”

“Yes,” Rhysand agreed, “But which one?”

“Since I’m the one who even introduced her to you two idiots in the first place, I should be the one to ask.”

The High Lord crossed his arms. “Just because you met her first doesn’t give you some sort of claim,” Rhys objected. “Besides, it’s obvious that we have the most chemistry. Did you see the way she looked at me during dinner?”

Azriel rolled his eyes. “Everyone was looking at you, Rhys. Who wears a godsdamned cape to a restaurant? You looked like one of those bloodthirsty vampyrs from the north.”

Cassian snorted in response while Rhys glared at him. “Like you were any better, Cas! Don’t think we haven’t noticed that all of the sleeves on your tunics have suddenly disappeared. We get it, brother. You have biceps.”

The shadowsinger bit back a smile. “It was a bit exhibitionary for my taste.”

“Not all of us can be dark, brooding, mysterious pretty boys, Az.”

“Did you just call Azriel a pretty boy?” Rhys mused.

“That’s besides the point!” said a frustrated Cassian. “Who is going to ask Y/N to be her date for the day of hearts? All three of us obviously like her so how are we going to decide?”

“Maybe we don’t have to,” Azriel mused. His brothers inched closer, eager to hear the shadowsinger’s solution. “It should obviously be her decision. Each of us will come up with our own strategy to ask her out this week. Once she chooses, then we put this rivalry to rest.”

Cassian nodded thoughtfully. “That works for me.”

Rhysand smirked, pleased by the challenge. “May the best male win, then.”

Azriel raised a brow. “I intend to.”

Rhysand was the first of his brothers to try.

It was early in the week when he invited you for a day out in the city. Never one to turn down brunch and a shopping spree, you found yourself walking down the sunny, cobblestone streets of the Palace of Thread and Jewels. You squeezed the High Lord’s arm as you strolled side by side along the Sidra River, throwing your head back in laughter.

“You’re absolutely vicious, Rhys,” you chastened in a teasing tone. “You almost gave our poor waitress a heart attack from all your shameless flirting.”

Violet eyes twinkled with mischief as he recalled the eventful breakfast. The two of you had indulged yourselves in pancakes, eggs, bacons, and bottomless mimosas, laughing and joking as you regaled each other with your most expensive purchases. Not unlike yourself, Rhys had a penchant for the finer things in life, often splurging on expensive silks and luxurious velvets. The most exorbitant of which was a shirt made of spider silk, which cost nearly a month’s worth of your wages.

Still, Rhysand had nothing on you. One of your shoes had diamonds the size of a fist encased in a transparent heel and the High Lord’s eyes had widened at the damage it had inflicted upon your coffers. It was worth every penny. As the drinks flowed, the more boisterous the both of you grew. The tables around you kept casting amused glances in your direction and your waitress, a pretty little nymph, had nearly fainted as Rhys sent her an apologetic smile.

“It’s not my fault that females find me irresistibly charming,” he retorted with a wink.

“And unbelievably humble, too.” You retorted dryly, “Is there anything you can’t do, High Lord?”

“Pull off a cape, apparently,” Rhys exclaimed with an exaggerated sigh.

You burst into a fit of giggles. “It was an interesting choice,” you mused, earning you a fond eye roll. “But you should really run your more experimental ventures by me first, Rhysie.”

“I won’t make the mistake of not seeking out your expert fashion advice again,” his lips quirked and an easy smirk spread across his devastatingly handsome face. “Though I know you prefer me shirtless and sweaty.”

His words drew the attention of the crowd around you, making you blush. You lightly pinched the inside of Rhysand’s arm. “Silver-tongued Rhys,” you said with an incredulous shake of your head. “One of these days that wicked mouth of yours will get you into trouble.”

“Trouble is the least of what this wicked mouth can get into, darling.”

You rolled your eyes in response and tugged him into one of your favorite stores. Tease or not, you weren’t about to let Rhysand distract you from the goal of this outing. You fully intended to shop until you dropped today. Luckily, the High Lord was more than happy to oblige.

The shopkeeper had a rack of the newest arrivals waiting for you at the back of the store. You were a frequent and loyal customer to the point that the female sequestered the largest dressing room for your use every time you dropped by. Today was no exception. Although now another rack filled with elegant suits and sleek shoes sat beside your own.

You plopped down on the cushioned seat in the middle of the dressing room, swirling a glass of champagne in your hands. “No capes this time, Rhysie.”

The High Lord rolled his eyes before picking out a few choice pieces and disappearing behind a thick privacy curtain. You perused through the dresses the shopkeeper had laid out for you, running your fingers through the fabric and setting aside the clothes that you were most excited to try on first.

Caught up in the beautiful garments, the sound of the curtain being drawn back registered a beat too late. You turned, mouth gaping and hand clenching around the stem of your champagne flute at the sight before you.

Mother save you.

Rhysand emerged from the dressing room clad in a lavender silk shirt that brought out the color of his eyes. The cut of the garment was seamless, accentuating every delicious inch of him. As was his custom, the High Lord left the first few buttons undone which granted you a generous view of his golden brown skin and the intricate tattoos swirling through his chest and shoulders.

Your mouth suddenly felt as dry as the desert.

He cocked his head to the side, waiting on the answer to a question you couldn’t recall hearing. A devious smirk spread across his face as he crossed the room. Rhys pressed something into your hands, his fingers brushing against your palm.

“Would you be a doll and finish me off, darling?”

You were pretty sure that your face was as scarlet as the famous locks of the Vanserras. “W-what?” you stammered.

Rhysand raised an amused brow. “The tie, dear.” You looked down at the slip of fabric in your hand. “I’d love it if you tied me up. You were always better at knotting than I was, if I recall correctly. A most useful skill to have.”

“Charming,” you muttered in bewilderment.

The arrogant, attractive, delicious…stop. You took a deep breath to center yourself before approaching the smug male before you. Rhysand was grinning as you looped the tie around his neck, focusing on the intricate knots. He watched as you worked, his fingers caressing the inside of your wrist. The touch was distracting and you had to re-loop the damned tie three times before you finally got it right.

“You’re quite good at that,” Rhysand mused. “I wonder if it translates to other uses as well.” You tightened the bow around his neck while glaring at him for making you blush so furiously. The High Lord only laughed.

“I’d stop your teasing if I were you. I’m half tempted to cut off your circulation.”

Rhys winked. “Who says I’m not into that, darling?”

Before you could respond, he strolled through the dresses you set aside and picked out a stunning, silver number that glittered against the light. “Shopping for something special?”

You swatted him away and grabbed the dress from his hands. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Rhysand sprawled out on the velvet settee, sipping on champagne and watching you over the lip of the glass. The scrutiny of his gaze awakened a horde of traitorous little butterflies to erupt in your stomach. Flustered, you drew back the private curtain and busied yourself with putting the dress on.

“I am curious,” Rhysand said from the other side. “The day of hearts is coming up, you know.”

As if you could ever forget. You’ve only been fretting over it for the past month. Mor was convinced that Rhysand was going to ask you to spend the holiday together and while the thought was extremely flattering, you couldn’t say yes. Not because you didn’t like Rhysand. Quite the opposite, actually.

But you’d also grown fond of Cassian and Azriel, which only served to complicate the situation. The last thing you wanted to do was get in between the three brothers. You valued their friendships too much and it would break your heart to lose any of them.

The safest route was to establish clear boundaries. You were friends. Just friends—even if a part of you craved more.

You slipped on the dress and straightened, reminding yourself of the same motto you’ve been drilling into your mind over and over again for the last thirty days. Just friends.

Rhysand’s head darted up as you exited. Your heart dropped as soon as your eyes met. The way he was looking at you…that wasn’t how friends looked at one another.

You wrung your hands together, turning your back on him and surveying yourself in the mirror. Attempting to busy yourself, you absentmindedly tugged at the zipper of the dress. It snagged halfway up your spine.

“Here,” Rhysand said softly. “Let me.”

The room fell silent as he stepped behind you. His reflection was one of hesitance, but he gingerly swept your hair over your shoulder and gently pulled the zipper up. Your breathing was shallow as he worked, the back of his knuckles brushing against your skin as your eyes met in the mirror.

“You’re stunning,” he breathed, twirling you around. The dress flared around your ankles like soft dusk and the diamonds embedded into the fabric glittered like stars as you swayed across the plush carpet.

Rhysand smiled. A bright, genuine smile that caught you completely off guard.

Beautiful.

Rhys was so beautiful.

“Have you gone into shock, love?” he asked with a low chuckle. You blinked, unable to speak. The High Lord tucked a stray strand of hair behind your pointed ear, his thumb caressing the juncture between your neck and shoulder. “No one would blame you if you did. I am quite irresistible.”

You snorted, swatting his hand away. “Careful, Rhys. If your ego grows any bigger, you won’t be able to fit that fancy little crown of yours.”

“Then take me down a notch,” he said smoothly, sliding his hands inside those perfectly fitted trousers. “Be my Valentine and spend the day of hearts with me, love.”

Eyes widening, you stilled as panic seized you from within. You wanted to say yes—so, so badly, but you couldn’t. You wouldn’t. It would be utterly selfish considering how you felt about Cassian and Azriel.

Plastering on a half-smirk, you turned towards Rhysand and cocked your head. Boundaries. You had to draw boundaries. “As enticing as that would be,” you said softly, “I already have plans for that day.”

If Rhysand was disappointed, he didn’t let it show. Instead he gave you a sly, easy smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Oh? Anyone that I know?” His tone was casual, but you could hear the curiosity that he was trying to reel in.

“No.”

It wasn’t a complete lie. You planned on spending the day cooped up in your flat while reading one of the steamy romance novels that Nesta had lent you and Rhysand technically didn’t know the brooding silver-haired elf prince on the cover.

“Well, whoever it is,” Rhysand drawled, his gaze meeting yours in the mirror, “I hope he knows that he’s a very lucky male.”

The afternoon passed quickly after that with you and Rhysand indulging in more shopping and champagne. With your pockets lighter and your head swimming, the two of you strolled side by side along the Sidra River as you walked home. Like a true gentleman, your friend insisted on carrying your shopping bags for you though the starlight dress wasn’t among your many purchases. Mostly because you couldn’t get that look on Rhysand’s face off your mind and you realized that you didn’t want to wear it if you didn’t get to see the twinkle in those violet eyes of his as you twirled.

The High Lord bid you goodbye and kissed your cheek. Before he winnowed from your quiet street, Rhys handed you your bags and departed with a wink.

You didn’t think much of it until you were putting away your purchases. Tucked underneath the skirts and corsets that you’d splurged on was the starlight dress. It was neatly folded and tied with a lavender ribbon. A note with familiar handwriting snagged your attention and you bit back a smile as you slowly unraveled it.

It would have been a shame to leave this at the store. Promise to wear it out even if I’m not there to witness it. A beautiful dress like this deserved to be worn by an equally beautiful female. Go outshine the stars, darling.

Yours,

Rhys

The smile that spread across your face remained even as you turned in for the night.

Cassian’s plan was foolproof.

The Illyrian general approached the task of asking you to be his Valentine with a well-thought out strategy, considering the pros and cons of each idea with the perspective of a battle hardened warrior. In the end, he settled for a simple yet effective plan.

“You do know that the goal is to actually bake the cookies, right?” you stated, batting Cassian’s hand away from the bowl of cookie dough.

Your flat was filled with the sweet smell of chocolate as you whisked the mixture in your hands. For all his preaching about maintaining a balanced diet, Cassian had devoured nearly half the bowl of cookie dough and you hadn’t even decorated the first batch.

He snatched the mixture from you and stirred faster, his strong arms flexing with each movement. “Says the female who devoured half a cup of chocolate chips when she thought I wasn’t looking.”

You gasped, feigning an affronted expression. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that it’s rude to shame a female for her eating habits? Someone should really teach you some manners, Cas.”

Cassian smirked. “I’d like to see you try, sweetheart.”

Rolling your eyes, you snatched the bowl back and hip checked the Illyrian general as you rolled out the dough. Cassian fell into place beside you, watching intently while you worked. Despite his sweet tooth, he managed to stay on task and follow your instructions. It was highly amusing to watch the large, heavily muscled warrior squint in concentration as he rolled the dough between his rough, calloused hands.

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as Cassian’s brows furrowed in concentration. The two of you had always shared a love of cooking, having met at a master class in the city. The instructor had assigned you as partners and by the end of the night, you and Cassian managed to prepare a six course meal and strike up an instant friendship.

You’ve been crushing on him since then.

There was something endearing about his gentle manner, the softness that came out when he was doing what he loved. It was the complete opposite of what you’d expect from a battle hardened warrior, but it made perfect sense at the same time. You watched with a fond smile as Cassian leaned over the counter, his wings pressed tightly across his back, a pastel pink apron tied around his midsection, his shoulder length hair haphazardly thrown into a half bun with a few strands framing his ruggedly handsome face. Rich, hazel eyes were laser focused on icing the cookie in front of him.

You hadn’t realized how intently you’d been staring until Cassian looked up at you. He lifted a brow, the slit in the middle rising as he shot you a smirk. “See something you like, sweetheart?”

You stuck your tongue out, making Cassian chuckle. “Actually, I was critiquing your piping methods. It looks a little sloppy if you ask me.”

“No one’s ever complained about my piping before,” he said with a suggestive tone, “But you’re free to correct my form if you’d like.”

Heat crept up your cheeks, but you weren’t about to back down now. Not with the challenge dancing in Cassian’s molten gaze. “Let the professional show you how it’s done, Cas.”

Before you could think better of it, you grabbed his wrist. You tried not to gape at the obvious disparity of your hands, the way your fingers barely covered his palm, the roughness of his skin against your own, the warmth of his touch as you directed the piping bag over the surface of the cookie.

With shaking hands, you drew a sprawling shape with the red frosting and Cassian chuckled behind you as he beheld your creation. “Wonder what that could be,” he mused.

The rendering was a little off, but that was to be expected thanks to Cassian’s effect on you. Under the conditions, you thought you’d done a rather great job at imitating those giant wings of his.

“Looks awfully accurate,” he continued. “Been thinking about my wings quite a bit, have you?”

“It’s kind of difficult not to when they literally take up half the room.”

“I’ve been told they’re bigger than average.”

Fire snaked across your belly. “But not the biggest, right?” you said with a smirk. “I believe that honor belongs to Azriel.”

Cassian scoffed. “My brother has yet to prove that claim. Az refuses to measure.”

You giggled as your friend took the bait. “He doesn’t have to,” you said with an innocent smile. “Az just has big wing energy, you know?”

“Big wing energy?” Cassian repeated. His confusion made you burst into uncontrollable laughter. He rolled his eyes once he realized that you’d been toying with him. “You’re devious, you know that?”

“Perfectly aware, thank you very much.”

The Illyrian general chuckled to himself as you returned to your own pile of cookies. Pink, red, and white frosting were spread out across the marble countertop and the two of you worked in silence, wrists flicking in the air as you drew hearts, arrows, and other decorations befitting the upcoming holiday.

“Do you remember when Varian asked us to teach him how to bake a cake for Amren last year?” you asked, adding frills to your sugar cookie.

Cassian snorted at the memory. The Prince of Adriata was good at a lot of things, but baking was not one of them. With Amren’s newfound ability to actually consume food, he wanted to gift her with something of his own making. Though he did purchase a diamond the size of Cassian’s fist in case the cake went horribly wrong, which it did.

It would’ve been fine had Varian not insisted on making the entire thing by himself while the two of you watched. You had suggested something easy like a plain vanilla cake with strawberry filling, but the Prince was dead set on a molten chocolate lava cake, which was considered a generally advanced bake.

In the end, the desert that he had presented to Amren looked more like a heap of ash than anything remotely edible. Cassian had to give it to the Tiny Ancient One, though. She limited her grimace to two side eyes directed at the both of you before fixing her expression into a reluctant smile. You nearly wet yourself from laughing so hard.

“I honestly thought we were done for,” Cassian remarked. “Amren looked like she wanted to stick us in the oven after that first bite.”

“It’s not our fault!” you exclaimed, “Varian was adamant about doing everything by himself.”

“This is why the nobility have private chefs and cooks. They’re all helpless when it comes to cooking. No offense, duchess,” he added with a smirk.

You scrunched your nose up in distaste. While the noble title had technically passed to you upon your parent’s passing, you rarely used it outside of your emissary duties. “You know I hate it when you call me that.”

“Not as much as Amren hated eating that cake,” he responded dryly.

The two of you doubled over in laughter. Wiping your tears away, you chuckled softly. “Love makes you do strange things, I suppose. Either way, it was a day of hearts that Amren will never forget.”

“Speaking of which,” Cassian said, training his voice into a casual tone, “The big day is coming up. Do you have any plans?”

He kept his eyes on his own cookie, the writing almost finished as he placed one final loop over the question. Cassian angled it towards you, the culmination of his plan coming to fruition. This was it. The big moment. The final play.

“I—um, well I—”

That was not a good sign. Cassian perked up at the hesitation in your voice. In all the time that he’s known you, you’ve never faltered. You were sure, decisive. It was one of the many qualities that he found incredibly sexy about you.

But now you looked like a deer caught in faelights.

Retreat. Fall back. Abort mission.

“Well, I’ve actually already got plans,” you declared in a rushed whisper.

His heart clenched in his chest. Of course. Of course he’d been too late. One of his brothers probably already asked and you’d said yes, which would explain why you looked so uncomfortable.

Cassian’s eyes widened as your gaze landed on him. He immediately looked down at the cookie and the silly question he’d carefully frosted over its surface.

Be my Valentine?

The pink and red cursive of his own handwriting mocked him. Cassian had to get rid of it. Now.

You stepped closer to him and any second you might look down and see his pathetic little question. Cassian only had one choice to make.

The Illyrian general stuffed the whole cookie into his mouth.

You stopped in your tracks, eyes widening at your friend’s sudden outburst. “Cas?” you asked incredulously. “What the hell are you doing? You’re gonna choke on the damned thing!”

Cassian coughed, wincing as fragments of the cookie scratched the back of his throat. Still, the embarrassment he felt in this moment paled in comparison to what he would’ve felt if you’d seen the writing.

He smiled sheepishly. “I was hungry,” he said, swallowing the last bits of his botched plan.

You furrowed your brows in concern before Cassian wiped his hands on the front of his apron. He grinned, elbowing your side. “So, you’ve got plans, do you?” he said even though pain lanced through his chest at the words. “Whatever you do, don’t bake him a molten lava cake.”

The two of you broke out into another conspiratory grin before you looked down at the cookie before you, angling it away from your friend. The wings you drew earlier flared out with the help of your magic and as they fluttered, you flicked your wrist to wipe away the doodles that you added.

Tiny pink and white hearts that matched the striped apron Cassian was wearing.

Unlike his brothers, Azriel didn’t see the need to resort to gimmicks.

The shadowsinger had always been meticulous about every goal he set his sights on and asking you to be his Valentine wasn’t any different. His best chance would be during your weekly meetup in the city and he was fully prepared to execute his strategic ten step system until he’d walked through the coffee shop to find you seated at your usual table.

Then you looked up at him and smiled and he forgot all about the damned system and nearly tripped on his feet trying to get to you. Before he knew it, a half hour had passed and he still hadn’t built up the courage to ask you the pressing question, but instead rambled about the mystery novel he’d just finished reading.

Not that you minded one bit.

One of the things you adored most about Azriel was your shared love of reading.

While the shadowsinger was by nature a silent male, he came alive when you talked about books. You loved listening to him talk passionately about a new novel he’d discovered, watching as those brilliant hazel eyes glowed golden, his shadows darting excitedly around his shoulders as though they too, found the change in his reserved behavior entirely enchanting.

That was the Azriel that greeted you in the cozy alcove of your favorite coffee shop, his beautiful face animated, his hands gesticulating as he explained the plot twist of his newest read, his normally cool, dark voice filled with warmth and excitement. Your friend was a brand new male and you were grateful to be able to witness such a breathtaking sight.

Azriel cocked his head, a smile toying at his lips. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

You shook your head, forcing yourself out of reverie. “Nothing, you’re just cute when you’re passionate.”

The shadowsinger narrowed his eyes. “Cute? I’m the High Lord’s Spymaster. I can rip a male’s spine out without blinking.” He crossed his arms, clearly affronted. “I am not cute.”

“Yes, yes, you can be quite terrifying, shadowsinger.” He pouted as you reached across the table and tapped his nose. “It doesn’t change the fact that you’re absolutely adorable when you get excited like this, Az.”

The Illyrian male playfully flicked your wrist. “You’re lucky I like you, angel. No one else would dare to speak to me like this.”

You rolled your eyes, snorting. “Just drink your damned hot chocolate before I hex your nose off.”

Azriel stuck his tongue out, but did indeed take a sip of his hot drink. It was a little known fact that the shadowsinger had a vicious sweet tooth, which was yet another similarity that you bonded over. You’d won him over by inviting him to Deja Brew, a little hole in the wall coffee shop tucked into a quiet street at the Palace of Hoof and Leaf.

The shop was quaint and homey, part coffee shop, part bookstore, complete with the most delicious hazelnut latte you’ve ever tasted and a collection of books that rivaled your own shelves. By far its best feature was its privacy. Within its walls, you never had to worry about being viewed as the shadowsinger or the emissary. You were simply two friends eating, reading, and laughing without worrying about garnering unwanted attention. No one even looked at you twice in here.

And the silence—comfortable, glorious, silence enveloped you like a warm hug.

You basked in it and you knew Azriel did too. As much as you loved your friends, the two of you were introverts at heart. Sometimes all you wanted to do was sit in a quiet room and read until the sun disappeared over the horizon. Thus, Deja Brew became a sacred haven for you and the shadowsinger.

Once a week, you had a recurring date to simply sit in silence and read. Most days, you barely spoke a word to one another aside from the initial greeting. It didn’t matter who arrived first. Your designated spot underneath a hidden alcove towards the back of the shop was supplied with the usual. For you, a hazelnut latte and an almond croissant. For Azriel, a hot chocolate and a cinnamon roll the size of your head.

The elder dryad who owned Deja Brew brought another refill of your drink, her kind eyes appraising you as she set the latte down. “Thank you, Esme,” you said with a smile.

Esme grinned back. “Anything for my two favorite customers.” She set a heart shaped danish between you and Azriel, a knowing look on her face.

“I don’t think we ordered this,” Azriel murmured.

“It’s on the house, dear.” Her eyes flickered over his face as a deep flush turned the tips of his ears pink. “In celebration of the day of hearts. I’m experimenting with some of my recipes. If you two don’t already have plans, you should stop by during the holiday and try some of the other pastries I have in store.”

It was your turn to blush. “That’s quite sweet of you, Esme. We’ll keep that in mind.”

As the dryad winked and disappeared beyond the alcove, silence settled between you and the shadowsinger. A different type of silence. A tense, adrenaline inducing silence that made your body crackle with electricity. Hazel eyes darted towards your direction and suddenly, your mouth felt as dry as hay.

Azriel gave you a lopsided grin, shrugging his shoulders in such an endearing way that you were almost tempted to close the gap between you and kiss him right then and there. But you didn’t.

Instead, you reigned those feelings in and focused on your book instead. Except you couldn’t focus on a single word. Not with the way Azriel was looking at you from across the table.

Hiding behind the safety of your book, you allowed yourself to sneak a glance at the shadowsinger. Azriel’s cheeks were a lovely rosy color, warm from the heat of the crackling hearth, its hazy red glow kissing the elegant planes of his face. His scarred hands, as beautiful as the rest of him, toyed with the spine of his book as the bright emerald green and soft earth of his irises swirled to combine into the most stunning color. The golden flecks in his eyes gleamed brighter as his shadows swirled around his wings.

They were moving about excitedly. One curled around his ear to whisper something. Azriel’s head snapped up, smiling as he found you openly staring at him.

It was one of those rare Azriel smiles. A smile that had taken you months and months to coax out of him. The force of it would have knocked you off your feet if you had been standing.

“I love it when you look at me like that,” Azriel said quietly. His voice was barely a hoarse whisper, but the words reached the depths of your soul nonetheless.

“How do I look at you?” you asked, curious.

The shadowsinger held your gaze. “Like you see me. All of me.” Something unreadable flickered in his expression. “And you’re not afraid of what stares back.”

You grinned, feeling your chest tighten with emotion. “I could never be afraid of you, Az. When I look at you, I think about books and cinnamon rolls and comfortable silence. I think about our secret little spot, away from the crowds, away from the noise. It makes me feel…safe.”

So much for containing your emotions. The revelation settled between you, but you didn’t regret saying them. Azriel deserved to know. He needed to know what this friendship meant to you.

The shadowsinger’s expression softened. He stared at you, weighing his words. “And should I expect to see you in our secret spot for the day of hearts?”

Your heart fluttered at the question, but you quickly tampered it down. First Rhys, then Cas and now Azriel. Every rejection felt bitter in your mouth, but you had no choice. You were not going to let your selfish desire ruin the wonderful relationship you had with each male.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to miss out on Esme’s new creations,” you said with a small smile. “As I’ll be indisposed during the holiday.”

Azriel’s expression revealed nothing, just mild curiosity. He smiled back, but it wasn’t like before. It was guarded, masked. Hiding layers of emotion that you couldn’t decipher.

“Very well, then.” Azriel stated in a cool, even voice. It might’ve made your stomach twist into knots had he not followed it up with a sly grin. “That leaves more sweets for me.”

Grateful to settle back into the comfortable silence, you spent the rest of the night reading. At least, you attempted to. You weren’t sure you retained any of the plot of the novel in your hands as you and Azriel walked through the empty streets of the quiet market square. While you usually would’ve winnowed while Azriel flew back to the House of Wind, neither of you seemed keen to end the night quite yet.

It was only when your flat building came into view when Azriel bid you goodnight. You stood on your tiptoes and kissed his cheek, thanking him for—well, everything. For being him.

He descended down the stairs leading up to your front door, turning back at the last step. With his wings spread across his back, he looked at you over his shoulder.

“Y/N?”

“Yes, Az?”

Azriel pinned you with his gaze. “You make me feel safe, too.”

With that, he shot into the skies, flying across the city of starlight and taking your heart with him.

On the day of hearts, the three brothers gathered.

Azriel, Cassian, and Rhys agreed not to reveal your choice until the morning of the holiday. The Illyrian warriors gathered at Rhysand’s office in the House of Wind, surveying each other with quiet contemplation.

This was the moment of truth.

“So?” Cassian prompted, “Which one of you did she say yes to?”

“Not me,” Rhysand said, his violet eyes shifting to the shadowsinger.

“It isn’t me, either.” Azriel declared.

A brief silence settled through the office. Cassian paced, his expression twisting into confusion. “If it’s not any of us, then who is it?”

“Maybe someone from the Day Court?” Rhysand theorized, “She was helping Helion out with his nobles during her last mission.”

“It can’t be,” Azriel said. “My spies would’ve reported any activity, friendly or otherwise, with the nobility.”

“Maybe it’s someone from Velaris, then.” Cassian interjected.

“Do you think she’s meeting up with him in the city?”

Rhysand tapped his fingers against his chin, a devious glimmer in his eyes. “There’s only one way to find out, brothers.”

“What?” Cas sputtered, “You mean spy on her?”

“We can’t do that,” Azriel argued.

“Why not? You’re the Spymaster, Az. It’s literally your job.”

The shadowsinger rolled his eyes at the High Lord. “I said we can’t, not that I can’t. You two are about as stealthy as two bulls in a china shop. I’ll scope out the situation and report back with my findings.”

Cassian snorted. “There’s no chance in hell that we’re staying back while you spy on Y/N. We want to come, too.” He cocked his head to Rhysand, who nodded in confirmation.

Azriel sighed in resignation. There was no use in arguing. His brothers would make a right mess of things if they attempted this on their own.

That was what the shadowsinger repeated to himself as the three of them staked out your flat from the rooftop across the street. Just a glimpse, Azriel thought. A glimpse of the male so he could go home and research every single fact about the poor bastard while sharpening his beloved dagger.

Rhysand and Cassian seemed to hold the same sentiment as they leaned over the railing, surveilling the empty street below. One misstep and his brothers would be hurtling towards the cobblestone steps. Azriel rolled his eyes.

“Cas, if you lean any further you’ll tip over,” Azriel said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And Rhys, stop pacing back and forth. You’re giving me a headache.”

“Wait!” Rhysand declared rather loudly. Clearly, the High Lord was not at all used to fading into the shadows. “There he is. Walking up to her door, right now.”

The three Illyrians hunched over, watching as you opened the door. You greeted the male with a bright, cheery smile. He seemed to be carrying a present of sorts. You gladly took it and Azriel waited for you to invite the male inside, but instead you placed a gold coin into his hand and bid him goodbye.

The shadowsinger moved, watching as you plopped down on the couch and tore open the box. He clenched his fist, only to release it a few moments later when you produced an array of food. Azriel recognized the logo of your favorite restaurant written on the takeout boxes.

“Is she…eating?” Cassian asked in confusion.

Rhys blinked. “This doesn’t make any sense. She said she had plans.”

You curled up on the couch, an egg roll in one hand and a romance novel in the other.

“Maybe she’s waiting for her date?” his brother said, scratching the back of his head. “Maybe he didn’t show?”

Azriel snorted. “If a male stood her up, do you really think Y/N wouldn’t be on her way to tear him to shreds rather than laying on the couch?”

Rhys chuckled. “Az is right.” He tapped his chin, “Besides, she never actually said she had plans with a male. We all just assumed. There must be another reason why she turned us all down.”

Cassian crossed his arms. “Well I’ve had enough of sneaking around. I say we go in there and ask her ourselves.”

“What?” Azriel asked incredulously, “You mean to march in there and demand answers from her? She’ll hex the three of us into the next century.”

Rhys grimaced. “You may be right brother, but at least we’ll know.”

“This is a terrible, horrible, idiotic idea.” Azriel grumbled his disapproval under his breath, but followed his brothers across the street.

He came to a stop behind Rhysand, who was watching Cassian knock on the door with a wary expression. A few moments later, you came to the door and gaped at the three males gathered outside of your flat.

“For the record, I tried to stop them.” Azriel announced in greeting.

Your gaze flickered from Cassian to Rhys to Azriel before you sighed in resignation as though you were expecting to face this exact situation. “Come in, boys.”

The three Illyrian warriors followed you into the cozy flat, settling into your couch. Rhysand crossed one ankle over his knee, Cassian sprawled his long legs in front of him, while Azriel leaned against the cushions, watching you.

“So,” you started warily, “I assume you’re all here for a reason.”

“We…were just stopping by,“ Cassian started. “Scoping out the mysterious plans you had for the day.”

You raised a brow. “By that, you mean you were all spying on me from the roof.”

Azriel groaned. He knew his brothers would give them away.

“We weren’t spying, darling.” Rhys said, cowering a bit when you glared at him. “We were simply satiating our curiosity.”

“I’ll satiate more than that if you don’t wipe that damn smirk off your mouth, Rhys.”

Cassian snorted. You turned on him with narrowed eyes. “Don’t even get me started on you, Cas.”

“And you,” you said, settling over Azriel’s calm expression. “I expected more from you, Az.”

He sighed. “Trust me, I have no idea how I got roped into this either.” Azriel offered you an apologetic smile. “Despite our questionable methods, we really just wanted to make sure that whatever lucky male you decided to spend the holiday with was respectful.”

“Imagine our surprise when you decided to ditch us for egg rolls and an elf prince,” Rhysand teased, nodding to the romance novel on the table.

You rolled your eyes. “At least elf princes don’t spy on me.” Pacing the living room, you pinned the High Lord with a withering glare. “Give me one good reason not to transform you into a slug.”

Cassian chuckled. “You wouldn’t dare. You like looking at our pretty faces too much.”

At that, you cracked a smile. “Idiot,” you said fondly, smacking Cassian’s knee. “You’re lucky that I have a soft spot for foolish Illyrian warriors.”

“Speaking of that,” Rhys said, segueing into the reason why they gathered here in the first place. “Why did you reject all of our offers? Though I was banking on myself as your favorite, I thought you’d at least choose Cas or Az once you turned down being my Valentine.”

You sighed. “It’s…complicated.”

“Try us, angel.” Azriel said softly.

“I said no because I wanted to say yes.” The three brothers exchanged a confused look, but waited for your explanation. “I wanted to say yes to all of you. Because I like all of you, but obviously I could only pick one and…I can’t. You all mean so much to me, in different, unique ways and I couldn’t bring myself to choose.”

Rhysand stared at Cassian and Azriel, seemingly conveying a mind to mind message. Cassian grinned while Azriel nodded in confirmation.

“Who said you had to choose?” Rhys said with a wicked smirk.

“W—what?”

“We all like you, too.” Cassian provided, “And we all want to make you happy. Nothing should stand in the way of that.”

“I don’t understand.”

Azriel grabbed your hand and caressed your knuckles with his thumb. “What Rhys and Cas are saying is that we’re more than open to explore between the four of us.” A mischievous smirk slid across that handsome face. “Besides, we’re all quite good at sharing, aren’t we?”

Rhys and Cassian grinned. The Illyrian general pulled your other hand while the High Lord twined his arms around your waist, enticing you in.

“What do you say, darling?” Rhys asked, his violet eyes flashing with desire. “My brothers and I are all on board with the idea, but the choice is up to you.”

Cassian nodded, tracing soothing circles on your palm. “Think about it, sweetheart. This way, you can have your cake and eat it too.”

You shivered as his words snaked down your spine. “How would this even work?”

Azriel chuckled, his gaze settling on Rhys. “Like this.”

You watched in suspense as the shadowsinger leaned in and pressed a hungry kiss against Rhysand’s lips. The High Lord responded with equal fervor, twining one hand through Azriel’s hair while the other gripped your right hip.

Not one to be left out, Cassian winked at you before palming Rhys through his expensive trousers. He twisted and kissed Cassian’s neck, eliciting a low growl from the Illyrian general.

Azriel chuckled as you bit your lip. “What do you say, angel?”

Rhys pulled you between his legs. “Make us the happiest males and be our Valentine, darling.”

Cassian brushed your cheek with his thumb. “Put us out of our misery, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Yes, I’d like to be your Valentine.”

The three males smiled at you, but it was Azriel who tugged you into his lap and tilted your head back to give you a proper view of Cassian and Rhys as they continued kissing.

"I think you'll find that all three of us are more than generous Valentines."

A shiver went down your spine and you laid back as Azriel, Cassian, and Rhys pounced.

taglist: @viradeity @moony-thoughts @i-opened-the-chamber-of-secrets @demirunner @swansworth @heart-defendor @momlo @mali22 @roselensage @searchingford@nessianxgwynriel@azriels-angels@brekkershadowsinger@morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog @mattte-black @marina468 @lillithathecathecat @highladyofillyria

#hehehe i love bat boy fluff #i want them all to kiss #azriel #rhysand #cassian #azriel fluff #rhys #rhysand fluff #cassian fluff #azriel fic #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #rhys x you #cassian x you

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plus-size-reader · 12 days

Text

Matt's Stupid Mistake

Foggy Nelson x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2080 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Foggy finds out that their mutual best friend already knows Matt’s secret, even though he just found out himself.

—————————————————————————————————

Foggy was having a tough time.

The news of what Matt had really been doing all those times he’d called and gotten sent to voicemail wasn’t exactly easy to swallow. It was crazy that he was some kind of masked vigilante, and you weren’t here to argue that.

You knew that it was insane.

Honestly, you knew that better than anyone by this point.

It wasn’t like you were thrilled when you learned about it in the first place yourself. You hated that Matt did all that to himself and that he took so many unnecessary risks, but that was a bridge to be crossed another day.

Right now, you just wanted to see your two best friends talking again. It was driving you crazy that they were fighting, and you wanted it to stop.

Whatever you had to do, you were desperate.

The three of you hadn’t gone this long without spending time together since the last year of college and you didn’t exactly want to break that streak after so many years. Especially not because of some mistake.

“Fogs, I know you’re home. Let me in” you called, knocking on his apartment door over and over again, in what you knew was a desperate and likely futile attempt at getting him to open up.

You had been standing here for fifteen minutes without a peep from him, and at this point, you were having your doubts that he would ever open the door. Which, just wasn’t like him.

Foggy had never been the silent type, and you weren’t sure that he’d ever gone this long without talking in his entire life. He was a passionate person, he felt things very deeply, and when he got upset, he talked.

It just was who he was.

On every day except for this one, apparently.

In all the time that you’d known Foggy, he had never been this way with you. He always put you first and never iced you out, even on the rare occasions when he and Matt got into spats.

He always made time for you.

Still, it was becoming more and more apparent that this thing with Matt was weighing on him more than he wanted to admit. You understood that, and you weren’t here to blame him or ask him to forget it.

That was the last thing you wanted.

He was worried about his best friend, worried about one of the only people in the world who had been by his side and it was really affecting him.

“Come on Foggy, I just want to explain” you sighed, practically begging. You had deflated now, your forearm propped up against his door, your forehead resting against it.

You felt like dirt.

The last thing you wanted to do was hurt him. Not that telling Foggy that was going to lessen the sting of betrayal at all. In some ways, this was just as much your lie as Matt’s and you knew that but you couldn’t just leave it at that.

It wasn’t like you had intentionally kept this from him.

You hadn’t even meant to find out.

It happened in a situation not dissimilar to when Foggy had, though under vastly different circumstances. It wasn’t a day unlike any other, and you had no reason to think anything was going on. You were just dropping off some takeout.

That was it.

You had gotten dinner for yourself and on the way home you passed Matts’ apartment and decided to leave him with the leftovers. Foggy had always been a little better about taking breaks, going out with Karen to Josies, or ordering in when working late.

Matt didn’t.

If left to his own devices, he would just keep working on whatever case they’d taken on and only feed himself after the nagging in his stomach became too much to ignore.

That was it.

It wasn’t your fault that by simply using the spare key Matt had given you, and letting yourself into his pitch black apartment, you had blown open his biggest secret. Though, in your defense, you weren’t exactly expecting to find him bleeding out on the couch.

It was quite literally the last thing you could have hoped to see, but that was what happened.

Would Foggy have made a different call if he’d been in your place? You didn’t think so. Not to mention the fact that if he’d been keeping this secret all along, you would have done whatever you had to in order to protect him too.

That was just what you did for each other, even though it had gotten out of hand this time.

It wasn’t like Matt was completely guilty in this either if you were being honest. He was arrogant and misguided, sure, but his heart was in the right place. He wasn’t trying to hurt Foggy either.

You just hoped you could try to make him understand.

That was why you’d come here, after all.

You hoped it would be a little easier to swallow coming from someone who wasn’t Matt. This had been hard for you too, from the moment you found out, the secret had just been eating you up.

Now that someone else knew, you wanted to explain.

You wanted to talk about it.

The whole thing was so important to Matt that you couldn’t be honest about how genuinely frustrating and taxing it was for you. How nerve-wracking it was to be caught between one best friend in constant danger and lying to the other.

It was awful, but this was the thing you dreaded the most. Every day, all you could think about was how much you wanted to tell Foggy and how much it was going to hurt him when he inevitably found it.

…but your hands were tied, weren’t they?

You just had to hope that he would understand if he ever gave you a chance to talk to him about it. Which, as the minutes continued to tick by with no word from him, you doubted would ever come.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I thought about it every day, but it wasn’t exactly my secret to tell” you huffed, giving up almost entirely, your voice nothing more than a faint expelling of air now.

It was no use.

Foggy was mad, he was hurt, and there was nothing you could do to change that. What had happened was really unfortunate, and it was far from how Matt would have wanted him to find out, but again, it was out of your hands.

There was very little you could do about any of it without somehow betraying one of them, and you made the best call you could knowing that.

On one hand, if you kept Matt’s secret, you were knowingly deceiving Foggy and the lies were bound to pile up. However, on the other hand, if you spilled Matt’s secret and the wrong people got ahold of it, there was no telling what could happen.

So, you made a call. Maybe it was the wrong one, but you couldn’t have known that before.

For better or worse, this was just what it was now.

“Okay well, you know where to find me if you want to talk” you finally decided, resigning yourself to accepting his silence. Clearly, if Foggy felt like talking about it, he would have done it by now.

You had nearly given up when you heard the soft sound of the latch on the other side of the door click out of its place.

It wasn’t much but it meant that at least Foggy had been listening to you. He’d heard what you said and that was more than you could have hoped for leading up to this moment.

It was probably more than you deserved.

He should have hated you for keeping something like this from him, for lying to him and potentially putting yourself in danger for Matt, but Foggy wasn’t irrational. He understood that you didn’t really have a choice.

Matt’s secret wasn’t one that you could have shared, because it wasn’t yours. If anything, he was just glad that the other man had someone who knew the truth, even though he didn’t.

“How long have you known?” he asked weakly, the door hardly even open before he started to speak. It wasn’t something you were prepared to answer right off the bat, but luckily, Foggy was in no mood to split hairs.

He didn’t seem to want exact details or long-winded, complicated answers. He just wanted to know the truth and he wanted you to be the one to tell him.

“I don’t know. A couple of months” you guessed, if you were being honest, it could have been years by now and it wouldn’t matter. It felt like time had been slipping through your fingers here lately.

Since you learned the truth about what happened in Hell’s Kitchen after dark.

Foggy considered that for a few moments, mulling over the implications of that. That you had been lying to him every day for months and never once felt the need to give him any clue as to what was going on.

That you had potentially been putting yourself in danger and he didn’t know. That Matt had been putting you in danger in the first place.

“I never wanted to hurt you”

There was an earnestness in your voice that made Foggy’s heart clench, but he couldn’t rightly let you know that. Not until he knew exactly how much had been going on without his knowing, and just how deep you and Matty were into this.

Foggy just looked at you for a second, taking in your disheveled appearance and clear distress before ultimately loosening up a little.

He was still pissed, of course, but it wasn’t right for him to make you pay the price for Matt’s stupid mistake.

“Come in” he prompted, swinging the door wide, only catching it just short of it slamming into the wall opposite.

There was a softness in the suggestion, an admission of sorts, that let you know that the two of you would be okay eventually. Right now, you weren’t sure what the future looked like, and for the first time in a long time, you weren’t sure if Matty would be a part of it.

…but if nothing else, you knew that you had Foggy.

“I’m so sorry Fogs” you hummed, your voice almost entirely muffled by the fabric of his hoodie as you hugged him.

He knew.

Of course he knew, but ultimately this was about so much more than a lie. This was about you, and him, and Matt. This was about what you had chosen to do, and what your friend had been doing all this time without considering how it would affect everyone else.

This was about how Foggy felt about the two of you, and how far he’d have been willing to go for either of you if it came to that.

How did Foggy feel about you? In this moment, holding you in his arms like his life depended on it, he felt like he knew but like everything else, that was too complicated.

It always had been.

“I’m sorry too, for getting upset with you” he muttered, finally cooling down enough to realize why blaming you had been such a bad idea in the first place.

None of this was your fault. You had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time and if he’d been in your place or you’d had a secret you needed him to keep, he would have done it in a heartbeat.

You just nodded in reply, not pulling away from him, even though you were sure that this would be quite the sight for his neighbors if they happened to come home now.

You both stayed like that for a while, trying to figure out what more there was to say. It felt like there was so much more, and the issue was far from resolved, but every time you went to speak, you came up empty.

What words could say more than you already knew? What could ever even come close to smoothing something like this over?

You had no idea.

All you knew right now was that Matt has some major explaining to do, and as much as you loved him, today was the day you’d have to stop covering for him.

#marvel #marvel x reader #marvel x plus size reader #marvel x ps reader #marvel imagine #daredevil #daredevil x reader #daredevil x ps reader #daredevil x plus size reader #daredevil imagine #foggy nelson #foggy Nelson x reader #foggy Nelson x ps reader #foggy Nelson x plus size reader #foggy Nelson imagine #franklin nelson

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therainscene · 7 months

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Crazy together: Byler, Cthulhu, and cosmic horror

Cthulhu is a queer horror film from 2007 that I've always been fond of. I rewatched it recently and was struck by some of its similarities to Stranger Things: small town vibes, conformity themes, cosmic horror as queer allegory, a gay protagonist with a childhood best friend slash love interest named Mike...

The film has an ambiguously villainous ending for its main character, Russ Marsh, and it's an ending that suits this story pretty well, imo -- so given how much it reminds me of Will's story, I thought it would be interesting to compare the two.

[Content warning for rape and (bloody) attempted suicide, both depicted in the movie and mentioned below the cut.]

youtube

👆 [That's the entire movie available for free on YouTube, courtesy of its director. You don't need to watch it to understand this analysis tho. Spoilers ahead.]

Cthulhu is a (very) loose adaptation of The Shadow over Innsmouth, a cosmic horror story about an outsider who arrives in a small fishing town and unearths a cult that interbreeds with immortal sea-dwelling monsters. He ends up making the horrifying discovery that he's descended from the cult's founder and thus doomed to turn into a monster himself.

The film uses this premise to talk about queerness: As an openly gay man, Russ has always been an outsider and was never going to participate in his hometown's, uh, traditions. Unfortunately, his father is the cult's leader and his sister is infertile -- Russ must participate.

[Yes, that's Cara Buono. If you enjoyed her portrayal of Karen as a loving but deeply conformist family member who does a better job of supporting the status quo than supporting her loved one, but just wished her character was more one-dimensional -- then this is the movie for you!]

Russ doesn't actually know much about the cult at the start of the film -- he fled to the city in his teens and dismisses his father's proselytizing as "Joseph Smith frontier horseshit" -- so it isn't until he returns for his mother's funeral that he begins to unravel the truth.

It's a good metaphor for how it feels to look back on a bigoted or abusive upbringing and realize: wow, that was a lot more fucked up than I thought it was.

As you might expect from cosmic horror though, this isn't a healing or empowering process for Russ.

Rather, he just keeps running into brutal reminders of how powerless he is in the face of the town's overwhelming, ingrained homophobia: at one point he's raped to satisfy his father's need for an heir; at another he's falsely jailed for the rape and murder of a boy he was trying to rescue from the cult.

It's similar to the torture Will endures in S1 and S2: he's kidnapped and symbolically raped, reflecting Troy's coded "killed by some other queer" comment, then bullied for having the audacity to survive it. He even stands up to a literal eldritch monstrosity and is rewarded for his bravery with yet more loss of autonomy.

You might be wondering if these stories even count as cosmic horror. Cthulhu only ever vaguely hints at the existence of, well, Cthulhu, and Stranger Things (which deliberately tweaks its genre every season) reveals that the Mind Flayer was basically just some guy all along.

But I think it's a bit of a misconception that cosmic horror is about star-sized masses of eyeballs and tentacles that drive you insane with their inhuman incomprehensibility.

Really, cosmic horror is about powerlessness, inevitability, and comprehending all too well. To know that horrors exist beyond the everyday facade of human existence -- whether they take the form of unknowable monstrosities from the void or of violent bigotry in an otherwise pleasant town -- is to know that your existence is nothing more than a delicate soap bubble floating in a vast, uncaring universe made exclusively of sharp edges. Even if you return to the everyday world, you can never return to blissful ignorance.

And that’s what drives you insane.

Will has something of a knowledge motif following him around: He's a wizard named Will the Wise. He illuminates. He has True Sight. He's a super-spy. He's part of the hive mind. He was studied in the lab. He was violated at school and in a library. His neck prickles when Vecna is close. He knows what Vecna is thinking.

It's too much cursed knowledge for one little boy to bear.

But he doesn't have to bear it alone.

Will is lucky to have a bunch of loving friends and family, and their support does a lot to help him cope... but even his fiercest supporters, Joyce and Jonathan, tend to be absent for long swathes of time. There's only one character who can be consistently found by Will's side through the majority of every season, and that's the boy who promised to go crazy with him.

[Strictly speaking Mike wasn't by his side in S1... but he fought hard to bring him home the whole time they were apart. Tomayto tomahto.]

Russ has a Mike too. (Literally -- his name is Michael Shields lol.) His childhood best friend reconnects with him soon after he arrives back in town and pretty much immediately becomes his sole trusted confidant as Russ falls down the cultist rabbit hole.

A quick aside -- Russ's past with Mike is a glimpse into a possible future for Byler.

Russ and Will have both been saved by their Mikes from giving in to the despair of being treated so brutally by their towns: Russ's Mike caught him mid-suicide attempt when they were teenagers--

--and Will's Mike, of course, helped rescue him from the Upside Down and sat patiently with him the whole time he was possessed.

Unfortunately, both Mikes are also conformists who are unwilling to leave the safety of comphet. Russ ran away to a more liberal environment where he could exist in peace, but Mike stayed behind and married a woman. This could easily end up being Byler's fate too.

So while Russ and Will might be alive thanks to their Mikes, they now have to live the rest of their lives without the love of the boy who gave them the drive to face it in the first place.

And it isn't as though the boy doesn't want to love him back.

The jury is officially still out on Byler, but Russ's backstory is very much not about a sad gay boy having to get over his sad gay crush on his straight best friend -- it's about a pair of would-be lovers getting torn apart by a town that refuses to let them be themselves.

I want to emphasize that both of these pairings consist of a visibly gay guy and a straight-passing guy.

In both stories it's typically the visibly queer one who actually interacts with the horrors, while the straight-passing one tends to observe from a position of relative safety, either escaping before anything too nasty happens to him, or more often, simply learning about the horrors second-hand from the visible one.

(There's one key exception at the end of Cthulhu -- but we'll come back to that.)

This is such an important dynamic that it's even unsubtly foreshadowed in Byler's first scene together:

This informs the way the characters support each other. We've already seen the obvious the safe one acts as a mental tether for the endangered one so he doesn't go insane with despair dynamic, but there's a reversal too: the authentic one inspires the conformist to join him in what was never really insanity so much as a different way of looking at the world.

Russ doesn't have any designs on seducing Mike -- much like Will, all he expects is some support from his best friend -- but his dogged questioning of the town's status quo still leads directly to Mike breaking out of comphet and admitting to what he's always really wanted:

[Learn from your elders, Byers: this is the proper way to respond when your love interest says that home just isn't the same without you.]

But Cthulhu's protagonists are confident adults who know how to quickly resolve their romantic tension. Byler are frightened kids in a five-act coming-of-age story -- their version is a little messier.

Mike has always been inspired by Will, right from the very first episode -- he decided to risk looking for him in the woods because he figured that's what his brave and kind friend Will would do.

The first two seasons thus show us Byler's dynamic at its best: an endless feedback loop of Will's strength and insight inspires Mike and Mike's devotion supports Will. (Very cleric and paladin of them.) But they're still children at this point, and don't really notice the blossoming queerness in their relationship yet.

S3 adds puberty to the mix and oh boy do they notice the queerness now. Too scary no thank you cancel unsubscribe uninstall. Will's bravery falters. Mike devotes himself to the grim duty of having a girlfriend. The loop breaks under the pressure.

They fight about it in the same location that introduced us to their dynamic and call each other out on failing to hold up their respective ends of the bargain:

"Why aren't you there for me anymore?"

"Why are you refusing to face reality all of a sudden?"

Note that Will's knowledge motif makes a return here -- just before the fight, he dresses up in his Will the Wise costume in an effort to inspire Mike again. But the tone of the scene is silly and cringey -- as correct as Will is to point out that they don't need to abandon their childhood dynamic just because they're growing up, pretending that it isn't going to mature as they age is, um. Unsustainable.

Deep down, Will knows that he'll eventually have to address the terrifying truth that keeps tapping insistently at the back of his neck.

By S4, Mike is starting to come around -- he's still deep in comphet, but he at least recognizes that it's making him unhappy, so he reaches out to Will the Wise for advice. Unfortunately, Will learned the wrong lesson in S3, and all the advice he offers is designed to push Mike back into the arms of comphet.

By the end of the season, Will has even orchestrated a grand heterosexual love confession in the foolish hope that sacrificing his heart on the altar of heteronormativity might finally make the horrors go away. (How's that working out for you, Byers?)

And so we've arrived at that ambiguously villainous ending.

By the climax of Cthulhu, Russ has uncovered the awful truth: his mother was murdered by his father to lure him home, extract offspring from him, and trigger the apocalypse. It's already begun; there's no stopping it. Shambling horrors -- his ancestors -- emerge from the rising sea. Russ is expected to become the immortal leader of this sunken new world.

He and Mike make plans to flee town together, but Russ runs into his father. He's brought to the shore to admire his kingdom before being handed a weapon and commanded to make sacrifice to Cthulhu:

Russ glances between Mike and his father, assessing his options. Soon even the cities will be consumed; he can't Smalltown Boy his way out of this again.

He raises his weapon--

--cut to black, roll credits.

All too often, queer villainy is shown from a straight perspective, presenting queerness as inherently threatening. This is the type of villainy embodied by Vecna: he's a vengeful and predatory outcast who forces his version of reality on others (especially children) and refuses to compromise his dangerous nature.

Cthulhu shows us queer villainy from a queer perspective. Russ, like Will, is harmless: he's kind, has no interest in vengeance, and just wants to live his life in peace. What drives him to villainy is the temptation to throw queerness under the bus in the twisted belief that appeasing the majority is the key to escaping homophobia.

Of course, there is no escape. Sacrificing the man who trusted him to guide him gently into the reality of queerness just means he's succumbed to the madness and become a homophobe himself.

S4 concludes with Will in a similar position to Russ: teetering on the precipice of madness as he helplessly watches the world fall apart at the hands of the villain who would stop at nothing to force him to join his cause.

But where their situations differ is in what cause that villain represents.

Russ's antagonist is a straight homophobe, representing societal homophobia -- far too powerful a force for one man and his lover to have any hope of defeating. But Will's antagonist is that offensively queer-coded-for-straights villain, representing internalized homophobia -- all along, the prickling at the back of Will's neck has been his own instincts warning him of what happens when you allow bigots and abusers to have a say in how you define yourself.

True love can certainly defeat that.

Unlike Russ, Will hasn't reached the end of his story yet--

--and unlike his older namesake, Mike isn't kneeling on the sacrificial altar, but standing by the side of the boy he promised to go crazy with, ready to face the horrors of Hawkins -- together.

[@bylerween2023 day 4 🐙]

#bylerween2023 #day 4 #psychological horror #cosmic horror #cthulhu #stranger things #byler #will byers #mike wheeler #my analysis #tw self harm #tw rape

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eksvaized · 6 months

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>>> John "Soap" MacTavish x Reader

>>> one-shot

>>> heavily inspired by Nelly Furtado's song 'Promiscuous'

“The feeling that you’re giving really drives me crazy.” Johnny whispered into your ear. His hand slid down your back, sending a wave of shivers up your spine. You turned your head and faced him. A smirk tugging on your lips.

“You expect me to just let you hit it.” You rolled your eyes at him but didn’t move away. He groaned, yet a cheeky smile still crept across his face. “But will you still respect me if you get it?”

You and Johnny were teammates. You were both aware that relationships among squad members were absolutely prohibited and frowned upon. However, you tried not to dwell on it, and if someone pointed out that you were getting close, treading on the dangerous line, about to step over, you used the excuse that always seemed to work: we are just flirting.

That might have been the case at first. Johnny was a confident man who loved to tease you, and you were having too much fun to turn him down. You enjoyed the attention, the compliments he would send your way, and the indiscreet glances he would attempt to steal, which you would always catch him doing. He didn’t care that you had caught him, though, and even when your eyes met, he refused to turn away.

“What’s the problem? I don’t see no ring on your hand.” He’d always point out, letting your fingers intertwine with his while he fiddled with your hand.

Even if it was simply holding hands, his touch drove you wild; you could never get enough of it.

Deep inside, you knew that what you two were doing was wrong.

After a mission, when you returned to the base, you and Johnny, and occasionally others too, liked to grab the bottle of the cheapest alcohol and finish it in one sitting. It was your way of unwinding, and it was much easier to fall asleep when you were intoxicated and couldn’t think about anything other than how fast the world was spinning.

“You already know that I’m all yours.” You replied and leaned into him, allowing your body to relax into his embrace. Your back was pressed against his chest. His arm curled around you, his other hand trailing up and down your side.

“I can’t keep my mind off you.” He confessed after taking another shot. You couldn’t see his face, but his head was dipped, and his eyes explored your body, trying to imprint the image of you laying in his arm in his memory. “I was at a loss for words the first time we spoke. You seemed so innocent, and I was curious about you.”

You giggled when he said innocent. You may have appeared to be a naive girl, young and eager to join an elite team, but as it was quickly revealed, you were far from innocent. The way you carried yourself, the fact that you never turned down Johnny’s banter and seemed to love flirting with him, the brightest smile would paint your face whenever you would see him... that’s what drew his attention.

He still wasn’t brave enough to admit to himself, you or anyone else, but he wished he could have you all to himself. He didn’t want to share you or your attention, and he was envious anytime you flirted with someone else. He knew it was stupid to feel jealous of someone who was only a friend, yet he couldn’t help himself. Those feelings would constantly reemerge, no matter how hard he tried to keep his cool.

“Let your guard down, ain’t nobody gotta know.” You raised your head and looked at him. You were the one who constantly tested the waters to see how far he would let you take things. However, no matter how hard you tried or how persistent you were, he was always the voice of reason and gently turned you down. “We can keep it on the low.”

Johnny took a deep breath, his gaze fixed on you. You were laying on his chest, so you could feel his heartbeat quicken. This increased the size of your grin. You hoped that one more push would send him over the brink and make him screw all the rules against fraternising with teammates... and then screw you.

He shook his head but wasn’t able to say no to you. He realised he had to change the topic before he caved in, so he tugged on your shirt, arching his brow.

“I can see you’re with my t-shirt on.”

You nodded. It had become a habit of yours to steal his clothes and never give them back. They were bigger on you and more comfortable, and they smelt like him.

“I can see you with nothing on.” You didn’t want to stop taunting him, so you proceeded with your little game after checking around to make sure no one was paying attention to you two. “Feeling on me before you bring it on.”

“Bring that on?” He cocked his head to the side. You rolled your eyes at him, your tongue running across your bottom lip.

“You know what I mean.”

“You shouldn’t say those things.” He replied, adjusting himself and then sliding his body lower.

You sat up and took a shot. The bottle was almost empty. You both knew that once you finished it, you’d part ways since you couldn’t continue to be together. Drunk and desperate were not a great combination; you were well aware that neither of you could keep your hands to yourself if you’d be left alone.

#cod #call of duty #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #writing #johnny soap mactavish

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mooodyblue · 1 year

Note

could you write some sub austin? maybe he had a kinda stressful day and he's not up for topping and the reader takes over. 🙏

y'all know smut is not my forte but ill always give it a shot, anything for sub!aus 🤭 also, made this plus sized!reader bc there aren't enough of those on this side of tumblr 💔

still tired? | austin x plussized!reader

wc: 1.3k

warnings: 18+ minors dni p in v(unprotected), sub!austin, mentions of body image insecurities, slight nipple play?? idk

masterlist

there was something so comforting about coming home to you after a rough day. austin could have the most miserable day possible but just the reminder that you'd be sitting at home waiting for him was good enough to get him out of a rut.

and today was one of those days.

the sight of you greeting him at the door made all his troubles from the day disappear, a wide smile on his face. you wrapped your arms around his neck as he tossed his things, wrapping his arms around your waist. "i missed you today." you pouted.

he gave you a quick peck on the lips, "i think i missed you a little more." he sighed.

"rough day?" you frowned.

"very."

you followed austin into the bedroom where he vented to you about his day, another exhausting day on set where he just could not get his lines right. despite his sudden newfound fame, that fear of being randomly replaced in a film still always lingered in the back of his mind. you sat on the edge of the bed as you listened to every word he said, chiming in every once in awhile. he came out of the bathroom with a heavy sigh and his hands on his hips. "am i just being dramatic? am i just worryin' for nothing?"

"oh baby, of course not." you pat the empty spot next to you on the bed. he sat next to you and rested his hand on your thigh. "it was just bad day. maybe you just need to take a small break, you've hardly had one in the last few months."

austin's hand wouldn't leave your thigh, he caressed it softly, occasionally squeezing at the soft, gentle skin throughout your conversation. he'd always been very touchy with you, never missing a chance to get his hands on you. it wasn't always in a sexual way but sometimes it just drove you crazy.

there was a specific look in your eyes, austin saw it too. you gazed at his lips then back up at his eyes, searching for permission before bringing a hand to his jaw and meeting your lips with his. he needed this.

he didn't realize how bad he needed you until your hand began to trail up his thigh, but he was tired, afraid of not being able to fully give you what you wanted. "wait-" he pulled away from you, breathless, his cock getting harder by the second. he wanted this, you wanted this too, but he just didn't want to disappoint you. "i don't-" he rubbed the back of his neck, "i want to, but i'm just not all there today."

"let me take care of you." your hand trailed up higher, dangerously close to the hard, outline in his pants. "if that's okay with you." you made sure to add.

austin was always the more dominant one when it came to sex, which you didn't mind. as much as you loved the endless nights of him pounding into you, there was still that part of you that was slightly insecure about the few extra pounds that were on you. it wasn't something that bothered you often, but you had to wonder if you not being on top for once was because of your weight. austin's blown out pupils said enough, "please."

your lips crashed into his as you both began undressing eachother, austin's hands feeling every part of your body as you pushed him back on the mattress, straddling him. even though you had offered to do the work tonight, you refused to fully put all of your weight on him and he took notice, placing his hands on your hips and forcing you onto his. "don't hold back, baby." his hands caressed up and down your sides, the curves of your body driving him even more crazy.

you pulled away to catch your breath, cupping his face. "what do you want?" you asked, feeling his cock twitch underneath you as he bucked up his hips to yours.

"god-wanna be in you. please-" he begged.

you wasted no time, sliding his briefs down and sliding your fist up and down fully hard cock, earning a few moans from austin. he moved his hands to your breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze. you took his hands and moved them down to his sides, "don't touch."

"but baby-"

"i said, don't touch." hovering your hips his, you aligned him with you, sinking down slowly as he dug his fingers into your hips, completely ignoring your demands from a few seconds ago. you let it slide and rested your hands on his chest, riding him at a teasingly slow pace as he threw his head back.

all his worries from before, the insecurities and doubts that were running through his mind, were replaced with the pleasure and love he felt from you. the warmth from being inside of you leaving him in complete bliss. "faster baby, please-fuck, you're so tight." he gripped tighter on your hips as you rode him faster. your nails ran up and down his chest, the brush of them on his nipples causing him to suddenly press his hips up against yours. "oh-!" he gasped. "oh my god."

you let out a breathy laugh, "that's good to know." you brushed against his nipples again, a wave of pleasure running through his body again, he quickly grabbed your hands to pull them away from his chest. "keep doin' that and i won't last long." he groaned.

"maybe that's the point." you teased. you leaned down to kiss him again, groaning into his mouth as you continued to ride him, feeling yourself getting closer and closer, but it wasn't enough. you needed more. you lifted yourself up and slammed down against his hips, bouncing up and down and gripping at sheets as you leaned over to kiss him.

more whimpers began to leave his mouth as he held onto you tighter, "so good baby, so so good." he groaned. "fuck, i need more-" he sat up quickly and kept you close to him, feeling himself reach deeper inside of you as rocked his hips against yours. he kissed all over your neck, kissing and nipping at all the right areas. you threw your head back as you felt that sensitive bundle of nerves rub against up with every roll of your hips.

the sight in front of austin was driving him crazy. the way your breasts bounced as you continued to move up and down on him and the moans leaving your mouth only bringing him closer to the edge. you slammed your hands against the wall behind austin as he hit that spot inside of you, "ohmygod ohmygod, right there-"

"fuck, can i cum? 'm so close baby" he whimpered, his fingertips surely leaving bruises on your hips. "gonna let me cum inside you? been so good for you."

"god, austin-yeah. yes, please. fill me up, baby. cum for mama." you moaned, moving at a faster pace as you felt your own orgasm bubble up, "oh my god, austin."

his hips stuttered against yours, throwing his head back and letting out the prettiest noises you've ever heard as he coated the inside of your walls. was that a smart idea? most likely not, but you'll deal with it later. you're too fucked out to even think about anything else. with a few more rolls of your hips, your orgasm hit you shortly after, your own juices coating his cock.

with him still inside you, you cupped his face and pressed your lips against his before pulling away to give him a warm smile. "was that okay?"

he placed his hands on your wrists, caressing your skin with his thumbs. "more than okay, should do this more often actually."

you raised an eyebrow, "really? i wasn't too-"

"baby, you're too hard on yourself. loved seein' you on top of me. even now-god. you're so fucking beautiful."

you felt your cheeks heat up and moved your hands to his shoulders as you the sudden twitch in your walls, a reminder that he was still inside you. "still tired?" you grinned.

"i think i could go for one more."

#austin x reader #austin butler x reader #so bad at writing smut still yall im so sorry #also no tags bc i need to go through and sort out smut tags on the taglist form lol

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penmansparadise · 2 years

Text

Billy Hargrove ~ A Simple Car Ride

*I DON’T OWN THIS GIF* *CREDIT TO GIF OWNER*

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Fem Munson!Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Mild language

a/n: This was a requestfrom my Wattpad. It's just some fun protective big brother Eddie and a little bit of Billy being a good boyfriend. I mention the song Lunatic Fringe by Red Rider in here. It's a good one, so go check it out. It's actually off the Vision Quest soundtrack, which is a good 80s movie. Typical teenage angst movie, but still good nonetheless. Another good song that I didn't mention but that is also on the Vision Quest soundtrack is Journey's Only the Young (my personal favorite song by them). So, check that one out too.

I have slowly piecing together things for The Adventurer and the Dungeon Master. I will say that I will probably release a playlist before I do anything. Just to get you all in the mood lol. Well, anyway, my next post will be Steve and Billy smut *insert eye emoji here* so be ready for that! As always, thank you for all the support!!

Billy’s fingers traced the stitching of your jeans up the sides of your thighs. He leaned his head into the crook of your neck and nibbled a little on the soft skin there. You let out a little sigh as his fingers crept under the hem of your shirt and tickled the bare flesh on your waist. The warmth of his Camaro against your back was a stark contrast to his cold fingers. Your insides clenched. The combined sensations were driving you crazy. This wasn’t out of the ordinary for the two of you. Ever since you and Billy started dating, there were few things he enjoyed more than publicly showing you just how much he was into you.

You and Billy had been dating for a few months, but you had Billy chasing you for far longer. When he and Max first moved to Hawkins, he was like a hot commodity. Every girl wanted to be with him. He would flirt with them, and they would all swoon until they were putty in his hands. That was every girl, except you. Billy tried to hit on you once, and you publicly humiliated him when you rejected his advances in front of everyone. For anyone in their right mind, they would have given up. But Billy clearly wasn’t taking “No” for an answer. He just kept going back to you. Day after day, he would try and epically fail with his advances. Little did he know that he was slowly winning you over. You just weren’t letting him in on it.

It became a sort of game between you and Billy where he would approach you every day with something new. One day it was chocolate and a flirty pick-up line. The next day it was a stuffed bear and a sweet love note. You loved it, and soon, after several long months, you gave in and finally agreed to become Billy’s official girlfriend. But there was one person who made his dislike toward you and Billy very clear, and that was your brother, Eddie. He never liked Billy, so when you started dating, he couldn’t help but express his disapproval.

“He’s like a walking STD, Y/N,” Eddie had said one day while driving home from school.

“So, you’re telling me you’re thinking about my sex life?”

Eddie’s eye widened to the size of dinner plates.

“What!? Oh, God, no,” he said, gagging, “why would you even say that?”

Needless to say, that was the last time your brother discussed your relationship with you again.

Billy’s lips moved up your neck and over your cheeks until they connected with yours. You smiled into the kiss, then pulled back enough to look him in the eye.

“People are watching, Billy.”

Billy rolled his eyes before looking around the parking lot at the several onlookers.

“And?” He said, sliding his hands into your rear pockets and squeezing a little, “Let them. I want everyone to know your, mine.”

You chuckled.

“First of all,” you said, grabbing his forearms and pushing until his hands were off your ass and on your hips, “you don’t own me.”

He moaned as a smirk pulled at his lips.

“Hm, I love when you get feisty.”

“I bet you do,” you said, leaning forward a little before placing a swift kiss on his lips.

You tried to pull back, but Billy’s arms wrapped around your waist as his lips started attacking every exposed piece of skin he could find. Loud bouts of laughter bubbled out of you until you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You turned your head to see Eddie standing at a safe distance with his hands in his pant pockets. His eyes were trained on the asphalt in front of him, and he was rocking on the balls of his feet. He peeked up through his hair, and when he noticed you were looking, he fully raised his head.

“Are you ready, Y/N?”

You nodded, then turned back to Billy.

“I’ll see you later, babe,” you said, then planted another peck onto his lips.

“Okay, princess,” he said, and as you turned to walk toward your brother, he leaned to the side and said, “Nice to see you too, Eddie.”

Eddie gave him a tight-lipped smile, but when the two of you started moving toward Eddie’s van, his smile fell.

“Nice to see you too, Eddie,” he said in a mocking tone.

You rolled your eyes.

“Really, Eddie?”

“What?” He asked, hands going up in defense, “I didn’t say anything.”

You just scoffed and, when you reached the van, hopped into the passenger side.

“You know, I don’t know why you don’t like him?”

Eddie groaned as he tossed his backpack into the back.

“This again?”

“I’m serious,” you said, turning in the seat to face your brother. “I don’t know why you don’t just give him a chance.”

Eddie fished his keys out of his pocket and said, “Sorry if I don’t like the idea of Hawkins’ new bad boy parading my sister around.”

He shoved the key into the ignition and turned it, but the car just sputtered.

“He’s not parading me around,” you exclaimed, eyes narrowing.

Eddie stopped turning the key in the ignition and looked at you.

“Then what would you call it?”

“Being a proud boyfriend.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and then tried turning the key in the ignition again, but the van still did not start.

“Son of a bitch,” Eddie muttered before rubbing his hand along the steering wheel. “Come on, baby. Don’t do this now.”

Eddie turned the key again, and still nothing.

“Shit!” He shouted.

He let out a long groan and then placed his head on the steering wheel, repeatedly turning the key in the ignition. Your eyes went from your brother to the hood of the van and back until you started noticing smoke seep out the sides of the hood.

“Uh, Eddie?”

“Not now, Y/N. Please,” he said, forehead still resting on the steering wheel.

More puffs of white smoke began pouring out, and your eyes widened.

“No, Eddie,” you said, trying to slap his arm but too afraid to move your eyes from the smoke, “seriously.”

He sat up abruptly.

“I got this, okay? She’ll start up any second.”

Any second, the van could burst into flames, and you really didn’t want to be sitting in it when it did.

“Eddie!”

“What!?”

His hard stare was on you now, and you just pursed your lips and pointed out the front windshield.

“It’s smoking.”

Eddie’s head slowly turned to where you were pointing, and his face fell.

“Oh, fuck,” he said before struggling to unbuckle and get out of the driver’s side door.

You followed his lead and hopped out. But, just as you joined your brother, he popped the hood, and a large plume of smoke swallowed the two of you.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Eddie said as he waved his hands around frantically to clear the smoke.

You crossed your arms over your chest.

“I thought you got Uncle Wayne to look at this thing.”

Eddie turned on you.

“Y/N, I,” he stopped, shutting his eyes and pushing out a stream of air through his nose before looking at you again. “He’s been a little busy lately.”

You threw your arms into the air as Eddie moved to look under the hood.

“So, what now? You don’t know anything about cars.”

“Yeah,” Eddie grumbled, “I know that, Y/N.”

You stared at your brother as he aimlessly grabbed things under the hood until a loud car pulled up beside you. You would know that sound anywhere. The low purr of a 1979 Camaro. It was Billy. You turned to see him leaning out the driver’s side window, eyebrows furrowed.

“Hey, princess. You guys alright?”

A burst of tingles ran through your body. You knew that he could tell you weren’t alright. You were standing outside of a smoking vehicle, for crying out loud. You just shook your head.

“No,” you said, exasperated, and used your thumb to gesture back toward Eddie, who was still smacking things around under the hood, “my genius brother neglected to get our uncle to look at his van, and now it won’t start.”

Billy put his car in park.

“I can check it out if you want.”

“Yes.”

“No,” Eddie said at the exact same time.

You shot Eddie a look, and he reciprocated it, but before he had the chance to send Billy away, you turned back to your boyfriend with a saccharine smile.

“We’d really appreciate it.”

Billy got out of his car, and you followed behind him to where Eddie was standing by the van. He didn’t waste any time going to check under the hood. When he stood back up, sweat was beading on his forehead, and he had oil on his hands. You watched as he rubbed his hands down the length of his thighs, and at that moment, you so wished that you were not stranded in the school parking lot. He brushed his blonde hair from his face and sighed.

“Well, I figured out what your problem is. Your gasket is blown.”

You and Eddie both looked at Billy befuddled.

“So, what does that mean?” You asked, shaking your head a little.

He grinned and let out a breathy laugh, looking down at his feet and then back up at you.

“It means unless you want your van to catch on fire, you need to get a tow.”

Eddie ran his hands over his face and groaned.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” he mumbled.

Billy quirked a brow at you, then said, “Hey, I can give you guys a ride home.”

“Really?” You asked, and even you could hear the relief in your voice.

Billy walked over to you and wrapped his arm around your waist.

“Of course, baby. Anything for you.”

You turned to face Eddie, who looked visibly repulsed not only by Billy but also by the idea of him driving you two home. But it only took a minute of you staring daggers at him to realize that Billy was the only option. So, he just nodded at you before gathering both of your bags and following you to the passenger side. Eddie opened the door, and you went to climb into the backseat, but he grabbed your arm, stopping you.

“Woah,” he said, “what are you doing?”

You narrowed your eyes at him and looked at the backseat, then back at him.

“Getting in the backseat with Max.”

Eddie leaned a little closer to you, lowered his voice, and whispered, “But he’s your boyfriend.”

“And?” You asked before yanking your arm from his grip and sliding in next to Max.

Eddie grumbled something to himself before getting into the passenger seat and shutting the door. Billy double-checked that everyone was in the car, cranked his radio, then sped out of the parking lot.

Lunatic Fringe by Red Rider shook the car as Billy drove down the road. The windows were down, and yours and Max’s hair was a twisted and tangled mess from the wind rushing through it. Eddie continued to look from the radio to Billy and back, and you smiled. If there was one thing that would connect your boyfriend and brother, it was going to be music. Billy finally caught on that Eddie was staring at him, and he laughed.

“What?” He shouted over the music.

Eddie shook his head.

“Nothing. I just didn’t think you liked this kind of stuff.” He pointed to the radio.

“What?” Billy asked, “Good music?”

The two of them started laughing, and you could feel your heart warming at the sound. You never thought you’d see the day when your brother and Billy were actually getting along. A smile pulled at the corners of your lips, and you looked at Billy through the rearview. It took him a second, but when he finally looked back at you, he sent you a wink before turning his attention back to the road. You bit your bottom lip and then leaned forward onto the center console.

“Hey, babe, did I ever tell you that my brother is also in a band?”

Billy chuckled.

“You may have mentioned it before.” He looked at Eddie. “Guitar, right?”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up.

“Yeah,” he said slowly, “you play?”

“No, no,” Billy said, shaking his head, “but I’ve come to appreciate a good guitar solo.”

You could tell that Eddie was impressed and trying to contain his excitement. He picked at the fray on his black jeans and said, “You should come watch us play sometime.” He lifted his head to look at Billy. “We, uh, we play at The Hideout every Tuesday night.”

Billy smiled at him and nodded.

“Yeah, man. I’ll stop by.”

For the rest of the car ride, no one spoke. The only thing filling the dead space was the music blasting from Billy’s speakers. When he finally reached the trailer, he came to a stop. Eddie grabbed his bag and hopped out. You gave Max a side hug and then shimmied out of the back. You leaned over the passenger seat and gave Billy a quick kiss before grabbing your bag and rushing off toward Eddie.

“So?” You asked as Eddie pulled out his house key.

“So, what?”

“He’s not that bad now, is he?”

The two of you entered the house, and Eddie tilted his head back and forth before turning to face you.

“I guess he’s…alright.”

But he shot you a goofy grin, and you knew he thought Billy was more than alright. You laughed as Eddie headed back to his room, shutting the door behind him. You plopped onto the couch, a feeling of elation filling your entire body. If all it took for your brother to finally warm up to Billy was a car ride, you would have slashed the van’s tires months ago. You laughed to yourself at the thought as you relaxed, knowing that they may not be friends quite yet, but at least they were on talking terms now.

Tag List: @violetrainbow412-blog @pastel-abyss-x

#Billy Hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove imagines #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x you #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fandom #stranger things imagines #stranger things imagine

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tracksidequeen · 2 years

Text

Fading Smiles to Burning Love

Summary: Toto, the eye capturing unapproachable guy. You, a girl too busy to even think you could ever cross someone else's mind. What connects you? One dream, one passion; one offer changing your life. The truth has a way of unraveling in ways you could’ve never expected.

Pairing: YoungToto!RacingInstructor x Reader

Words: 3.2K

*****

“Marcus, hurry up we’re already late!” you shout without any affect. “Calm down, calm down. Jeez!” At his own pace he undoes his seatbelt, straightens his coat and opens the car-door. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” With one leg out of the car he looks back at you with a confused look on his face, and slowly slides back in.

“Thank you sis,” he mumbles awkwardly and he pats your leg.

“No, idiot! Your backpack!”

You turn in your seat to grab it from the backseat and mutter under your breath. “Here,” you shove it in his hands. “Now go, I’ll try to find a parking-space.”

Marcus hops out of the car and puts on his backpack which was filled with his racing gear, the size of it so out of proportion with his height. He turns around with a sour face, but nonetheless waves you goodbye as he enters the racetrack-facility. As much as you hate him, you love him double that amount; not that you’d ever tell him that.

With your parents working abroad half the time, you going to college and Marcus being taken care of by his au-pair, you try as much as you can to be there for him. To stand by his side with the things that make him happy. To cheer him on in his passions. To make him feel like he has somewhat of a family. Even if that means spending the weekends at the racetrack, while your friends are out partying. Yet you wouldn’t change it for the world.

‘Lechner Racing School, where the good become legendary’ reads the sign above the canteen-entrance as you enter it to grab yourself a drink before you dare to take on the summer heat - sitting outside in the burning sun on a boiling plastic seat is not one of your many joys in life. “Two bottles of Ice tea please, and a kilo of ice while you’re at it,” you joke at Lex whose been tending the bar since forever, and has seen many young talents come and go. “I’ll keep the ice coming!” he says as he grabs the bottles from the fridge. “No don’t bother, I’ll be outside watching him.” The wrinkles of the forty-something year old become prominent after your remark when his head pops up from behind the bar. “In that heat?! Dear, that’s not healthy!” You shrug your shoulder, “I know it makes him happy seeing me up there in the stands and I like seeing him in his element.”

“He’s is a rocket, that boy,” he says with an exuberant smile while turning around. “Here, at least wear this.” He places the team-cap on your head and hands you the drinks. “Have fun out there and just give me a call if you need more drinks, I’ll bring them up.” “Thanks, Lex!” He waves you off, “anything for our VIP’s.”

The sound of roaring engines in the background, the smell of tarmac and burning rubber in the scorching sun, the instructor shouting over the noise, it feels like home. One way or another. Up until now it is the one thing you and Marcus have truly bonded over. For hours on end you hear his stories, and you’d ask him questions, which would result in more stories. About how he overtook someone, how his instructor thought him a technique to break later than the rest, about how nasty someone was driving but he still had the upper-hand. They could never bore you, and the smile it put on his face was invaluable. A smile you remember you used to have, until life came crashing down.

There he is! All suited up he walks up to his go-kart and follows the lead of his instructor. He hops in, closes his visor, and you know it’s go-time. It’s practice, not even a race; it’s him not even you; yet you feel jitters in your stomach. Every time he goes on track there is pride and fear battling inside you. You know there’s risk involved, and some might call you crazy for supporting a 12 year old in motorsport - your parents at least have - but you vouched for it, standing behind Marcus’ passion. Yet anytime you see him enter the track you’re not so sure if you made the right call. But then he flies off into the distance and you know there’s a reason for everything.

“I don’t understand how those kids survive in that heat! Damn, I know I can’t.” Claudia, the mother of one of Marcus’ teammates, takes a seat next to you and offers you a drink. “No thanks, already got some.” “Smart. They really need it out there though. Poor kids” They’ve been driving around doing practice-starts for the past 15 minutes and in the meantime the wind has settled, leaving behind a humid, thick heat. Now imagine sitting in one of those karts with the fired-up engines. Claudia slaps her thighs with both hands, “this is not good, I’m going to-” “Look they’re being called back,” you interrupt her the moment she wants to stand up.

“EY, goddammit, watch it, you know the rules when entering the pit!” A thick Austrian accent echoes over the roaring engines as he nearly watches a collision before his eyes and your eyes capture the moment at the intesity of his scream. The karts stop and he immediately walks over the driver. “That was unnecessary and fucking dangerous, get up,” he says firmly while slightly grabbing the shoulder of the boy’s racing suit. The boy does as he’s said, he gets up in his sticky race suit and that’s when you notice it was Marcus being scolded. “Adamos, this is the last time it happens, okay? Everyone is slowing down and you’re just ramming through. For what?- Open you visor when I’m speaking to you!” Marcus does as he’s told and apologises politely without any word of resistance. “Good,” he turns to the rest. “Everyone go change, we’ll do some track-walks. And don’t forget your water!”

As the boys waddle off he checks his phone, and looks up at the stand where you were sitting with all the parents. With a bounce in his step he walks over to the stand, his long brown hair sticking to his forehead, and his once light grey shirt now completely soaked in sweat. Clumsy he climbs onto the metal bars and leans over it to be in speaking-range. “Toto, what’s the plan? I’m not spending my entire salary on them just playing around.” A charming smile appears on his face, “no worries mister Müller, I’m simply going to throw some things around, but still make it useful. Going to do some track-walks and explain race-line strategies.” “Okay then-” “So no money lost on me, sir!” “That’s how I like to hear it.”

He jumps off the metal bars to leave but before he does so he turns around, “Oh and Miss Adamos,” he says with a finger pointing at you, capturing your attention. “I’d like to have a word after the session is done, if you don’t mind?” His soft brown eyes were a stark contrast to the sharp features of his face, and the lingering eye contact felt like an eternity, until the moment you realised he asked you a question. “Yes-yes, no worries at all,” you stutter and you feel yourself melt away of embarrassment on the overheating blue seat.

The boys return with screeches of laughter as one of the guys made a stupid remark back in the changing room. “C’mon boys, allons-y!” Toto claps his hands together for them to put a higher pace in their walks, but with the high temperatures he’s not getting much out of them. From afar you see him shake his head and just decide to walk ahead of the pack until they catch up on track. Suddenly Marcus runs towards Toto and yanks at his arm making Toto lean down so he can hear him, and they start talking for a good minute until the rest catches up. He looks up at you from a distance, and simply nods his head ‘yes’ at you.

The parents that surround you have a gift of making every little thing seem so big. Everything they can find, they’ll nag and nitpick about. About the way their kids race, about the way they’re thought, about their jobs, about each others’ jobs. Can’t they just sit here is peace, watch their child, and realise they are providing them the gift of their dreams. They should be grateful, thankful, and proud of being able to put their kid in such a fortunate position. They remind them so much of your own parents, always complaining about everything, about your life decisions, about Marcus’ hobbies. And every time you say ‘but just watch him race, you’ll think totally different about it.’ Yet they never have. They continue to throw money at him though, probably to buy his love, yet they never seem to have even an ounce of care in their bodies.

They walked a full lap around the track, as you see the pack re-appear around the corner. Toto shirtless by now because of the heat, exposing his toned muscles under his glistening skin making him look like a sculpted Greek god. He’s pointing and waving his arms as he’s explaining something which the boys listen to attentively. With his shirt dangling in the back pocket of his shorts he tells the boys training is done, and to get a soda on the house, “you boys really deserve it after today! Now go - Go!”

The kids run inside to their parents, who gave up and went inside minutes after the track-walk started, making you the only one sitting outside without realising it. You were too lost in your thoughts.

“Catch!”

Your eyes jump up as you see a bottle flash before your eyes and hits your shoulder. “Shit sorry, didn’t mean for that to happen!” A giant of a man walks up to you nonchalantly, blocking the sun with his naked torso. “What did you expect,” you laugh as you grab the bottle of water off the floor. He looks at you with a sarcastic face, “well, that you’d catch.”

Toto took a seat beside you, nearly burning his leg and his back on the hot plastic. “Well, now we know one thing for sure, the racing-gene was not passed on to you,” he jokes, but you just stare at him. “I mean, you have to have good reflexes- as a racing driver- and you didn’t- you know what, never mind.”

“First you throw a bottle at me, and then you call my reflexes insufficient, you must really hit it off good with the ladies.” He cheeks turn slightly red, and shakes his head with a laugh at your remark. “Trust me, I’m A-mazing with the ladies.” There’s a hint of sarcasm in his voice, but it can be mistaken for cockiness as a smug smile appears on his face and he winks at you.

“Oookay.. What’s up,” you say to quickly change the subject. “Is it about Marcus’ behaviour earlier, I can talk to him about that-” “No, no, it’s not that, actually the opposite.” He looks at you with a grin on his face, his brown eyes glint in the sun and you notice the razor burn on his clenching jaw. “Marcus is a great guy, and an even greater driver; I truly think he’ll make it far. And I want to do anything in my power to help him progress.” The cockiness and smug attitude he carried just moments ago was replaced with sincerity.

“What do you mean?”

He looks at you, with one eye closed squinting in the sun, “you wanna go inside? It’s getting a bit unbearable out here.”

You took his lead and followed him down the stairs. All the while you stare enchanted at the dancing muscles in his back with every movement he makes. His slightly slanted shoulders, wondering what happened to them. An accident? A fight? The droplets forming on his his back, making their way down, shimmering and shining on his tanned body. He looked nothing like the other 22 year olds you were surrounded by in college. There was something so strong and powerful, yet so caring and respectful about him. Maybe this is what your mother meant when she said you needed to find a true gentleman.

After putting his shirt back on Toto sat you down in the canteen and continued his conversation with in the background talking parents and the shouts and laughter from the boys. “Look, what I meant was that I think he has a lot of potential, and that we’re not getting everything out of him with only two trainings a week.” You look at him confused, “so, he needs more training?”

“Well- more training means a team promotion- and before you say anything, what you saw today, with the little incident, that’s all because he needs more of a challenge and he tries to find it in anything. Sometimes he just picks the wrong places. But I know he can-” “Okay, yea, I’m in... if that’s what he wants.” His eyes light up with delight, “amazing! The thing is though, I’ve only ever seen you here, and you know that for any promotions there need to be given consent from a guardian since he’s under-aged. Do you think your parents will give it?”

Of course your parents won’t give it, given how hard it was half a year ago when another instructor offered the same deal. More training, more money, more hours driving him to practice, more expensive gear, more danger and risk. You shake your head ‘no.’ “You have to understand the things he can accomplish-” “No, Toto, you don’t understand, our parents-”

*BOOO*

All the hairs in your neck stand up from the jump-scare and you fling you hand back to slap Marcus, but he’s too quick. “Stan told me to do it!!” he giggles as he runs back to his friends. “Asshole,” you mutter under your breath and you look back at Toto who’s chuckling under his breath. “Ugh guys and their weird sense of humor.” He laughs, “having a brother must be fun.” “Yea, so- much- fun,” you say with a petty smile.

“You were trying to say something about your parents before Marcus came.” He looks at you inquisitively. “Yes, no, no worries, I’ll talk to them, see if we can work something out.” You pushed that sentence out of your system with difficulty because you know how difficult it will be. Communicating this, getting this across to them. And as if Toto can read your mind, “you know, if you need help with anything- the strategy we have for him, school assistance, financial aid- I’m glad to help. I truly mean that.”

“You really care about him, don’t you?” A slight smile forms on his face, “yes, he’s a special one, I just want to see him succeed and not waste his potential.” It’s odd realising how good of a relationship Marcus and Toto have. The countless stories you heard about Toto teaching him this, Toto telling him off about that, Toto jokes this and that, an endless cycle; yet this is the first time you actually had a proper conversation with him. After practice or during the social events he always seems so to himself, with the capability of seeming isolated in a group of twenty people, yet carrying the charisma that people were honoured when he did speak to them.

“It just reminds me of my sister and I,” he says after a long silence which you filled up by drinking the glass of water Lex gave you. “What does?” you ask him. “You and Marcus.” He looks down at his hands on the table, which were fiddling with a sugar-package. “The way you show up for him, how you let him have the experiences in life that you never had. It can be difficult. I know that firsthand, and it feels unfair most times. But then you see the smile on their face when they succeed at what they love, because you were there helping them along the way. That smile makes it all worth it.”

He looks up at you after he finished talking, as if trying to hide the fact that he just opened up to you. But his eye contact felt so personal, as if he could read your mind and you look away time. “I just hope his smile never fades like mine did,” you say softly. “Come on now, I know yours didn’t fade,” he replies with a disagreeing tone. “You just started seeing the world for what it is, but trust me that smile will return.” A cheerful smile paints his face trying to not let the mood down, and somehow it works. “How are you so sure?” you ask him challenging, and he lifts his chin with pride. “My mom told me, smiles always come back.”

“Your mom told you?” you repeat. “Yea, and she Never lies,” he says factually, yet sounding like a 5 year old boy trying to prove a point. “Such a dork,” you laugh. He slaps the table and points his finger at you. “A-HA see there’s a smile! I knew it!”

“Toto likes a gi-irl, Toto likes a gi-irl!” The boys sing in unison interrupting your conversation and you see Lex secretly enjoying the public humiliation they are inflicting on you and Toto. “Okay, okay that’s enough guys, nothing to see here.” Toto stands up from the table and walks over to the guys joking with them that they secretly have a crush on you. “Yikes no! Absolutely not.” The moment Toto then accused them of having a girlfriend brought up a whole other shouting match with their denial. Marcus pulling at Toto’s arm as he was picking at him, saying how he’ll ask you about all Marcus’ secrets.

The way Marcus was laughing with ease made your heart warm, the innocence he carried with him, and the lust for life and curiosity. At some moments it felt like you were living through him.

“Come on, let’s go Marcus,” you say as you walk up to the group minutes later. “Nooo we’re all playing a game, I can’t leave now.” A sigh leaves your mouth, “Marcus c’mon, don’t start now please. I have to go, I also have a life.” “Fine, then go, but don’t ruin mine,” he shouts without a filter. Tears prickle in the back of your eyes out of frustration, because even though he doesn’t know the meaning of his words, and he probably doesn’t mean it, they do hurt. How could you be ruining his life when you gave up half of yours for him.

“Marcus please, just-” “if you want I can also drive him back later today, just tell me where and at what time,” Toto said hesitantly as to not overrule your authority in the situation. Even in the moment he was trying to help he was doing everything in his power to be considerate. “Yess, see Toto will drive me home!” Marcus says joyful. After some arguing back and forth you cave in and exchange numbers with Toto so he can contact you if anything happens.

“Okay, bye Marcus!” you wave him goodbye. “Yea, yea.” He runs off without acknowledging you. Toto looks at you with a soft smile and a tilted head, “bye, see you later.”

-------

I know it wasn’t filled with a lot of plot, but I’m just setting the scene and dabbling into the whole young Toto vibe. I hope you liked it nonetheless. Let me know if you want more <3 Feedback is always helpful, especially after having been away for such a long time (don’t come for me hahah)

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TagSquad: @ricciardosheart @wetforwolff @panic-on-the-disco @black-repunzel99 @totowlff @f1thirsttraps @totostanxxx @tony-stank3 @fxshernoizu @sunsetwolffs @smoothoperator55 @mysticalnightenthusiast @oliviahoneymoon @purplewis44 @vroom-vroom-bitch @dr3-fangirl @the-lazy-leprechaun @nomnomnibblenibble @laura-naruto-fan1998 @lilozg-123 @lewisdidthat @thicc-matthews34 @orchestratedemotion @intotowetrust @totonator555 @pandasansoni93 @totosbitch @totoscharm @formationlapsz @fede18 @fuckyeahhangman @oneafterdark @misswolff @wetforwolff @eclairfromleclerc

#Toto Wolff #toto wolff fic #toto wolff x reader #Toto Wolff x you #driver x reader #driver x you #F1 #Mercedes F1

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kahluamystery97 · 2 months

Text

Satellite Part Three (HS X OC)

Harry punched the address to Maggie's house into his navigation system in the Range Rover. He literally accomplished nothing today. Unless you counted stalking Maggie Dunne on the internet an accomplishment.

He was nervous. Harry didn't get too nervous with women. It felt natural to speak to them. So used to their company between his Mum, his sister, his friends and his fans. Maggie had him a little on edge though. She either didn't know who he was or barely knew him and he weirdly liked that. Maybe Maggie was on the internet today too. That made his stomach tight.

Harry was so busy worrying about which Daily Mail headlines Maggie might have read about him that he passed her house. No one was behind him so he hit the brakes and reversed the little yellow sports car. He texted her, "Here." like she asked him to.

A minute or so later the garage door opened. Maggie stood fresh faced, long blonde hair loose, short frayed denim cutoffs and a white button down shirt, cuffed and French tucked. She stood against the wall and waved his car in. Harry worked on focusing on driving and not Maggie's tan legs that seemingly went on forever.

He parked and pulled a canvas tote from the passenger side as he stepped out. "Hello." He grinned. The deadly sexy dimples popping.

"Hi." Maggie returned the smile. Then she couldn't think of a single thing to say. Not one. She wondered what his full pink lips tasted like though.

“I love this neighborhood. You are so tucked in here.”

Right, yes. This is small talk. Please get with it Maggie, she scolded herself. "It is. I love it here. Come on upstairs. I set us up on the deck."

"Wow. This view." He whistled.

"The house is only like 1700 square feet. I solely bought it for the deck and the views. Downtown obviously." Maggie pointed. She pointed up, "Hollywood sign. Then over that way, Griffith Observatory." She legitimately loved her house, her little piece of heaven and safety in L.A.

"Killer views. Nice size house for one person. I honestly have too much space."

"It discourages long term visitors. Works for me. I like my own space. Liza and Alex have big houses so they host the family." Maggie noticed the canvas bag. "Can I take that for you?"

"I brought some wine and some Gatorade. Wasn't sure which you were up for." He cocked his head looking for an answer.

Maggie took him in. He was wearing tan trousers, white vans, a ribbed white tank with a colorful short sleeve shirt unbuttoned over it all. His muscles rippled beneath the cotton. The black ink she saw in photos was just barely visible under the thin tank. His hair was perfectly tousled. Like he had the window open on the way over. A single curl sat on his forehead. Her fingers tingled as she fought the urge to brush it back.

Maggie felt slightly crazy. I think I want to fuck this guy because he brought over gatorade. Am I that easy? Oh my God I am such a loser.

"Wine it is." She made a decision. "So I realized I never asked you for your dietary restrictions. I got sushi and salads. I was hoping it was a safe bet."

"Perfect. I really don't eat any meat besides fish and seafood." Harry shrugged.

Maggie nodded. She hated talking about food, food allergies, diets, trainers. These topics consumed everyone she knew. They consumed Maggie too but she would never let another soul know that. Maggie knew her brand was big white, happy smile, carefree, body positive. The world knew she was nearly 300 lbs at 5'6 in high school and it actually almost destroyed her career. She had to take many bikini photos for magazine covers. Maggie learned to surf so the paparazzi could take pictures of her shredding the waves and then walking around with her toned, golden abs on display. No one wanted to know she had been hungry for more than a decade. No one wanted to know that the loose skin had been cut and pinned. A long painful recovery followed. No one wanted to know that she was watched by studios and producers and directors and costumers like a hawk. Like at any minute she would balloon up and ruin it all. Everyone around her just wanted her to smile and pretend a well balanced diet and lots of activity kept her so trim. Lies. Maggie mostly subsisted on coffee, black market diet pills aka light speed/amphetamines and exercise. Yoga, pilates, rowing, running, biking, hiking, weight training, hiit classes. Her church was Barry’s Bootcamp followed up by Barre classes.

Maggie motioned to the bar cart. "I’m pretty sure it’s your turn to serve me a drink. I'll bring the food out."

"I'm on it." Harry busied himself opening the safe bottle of white he brought. His ears perked up at the music. He hadn't noticed it before. What was this? He liked it. So she listened to music. Just not his music. Jesus Styles. Get over it, he chastised himself. This is not the time for your narcissism.

Maggie reappeared with a tray that she placed on the long table. Harry put the wine down. Maggie took a seat next to the head of the table and pushed the seat next to her out with her foot. She put out plates, flatware and chopsticks. They helped themselves to some food and clinked their wine glasses.

"So do anything today?" Maggie asked. "It doesn't seem like you nursed a massive hangover."

"No hangover. I had some business to take care of. Nothing exciting. You?"

"Went for a run. Googled you. Downloaded your album. Totally normal pre- hangout stalking." She admitted freely as a blush spread across her cheeks.

Harry laughed and raised his hand. "OK. Guilty. Same.." He appreciated her honesty. They clinked glasses again this time to celebrate their awkward honesty.

"I'm super embarrassed that I didn't recognize you lasst night. I do actually know who you are. You have different hair now. I’m also pretty certain we met at an SNL after party? And I really love your song.”

So she did know who he was. His stomach was flooded with warmness. He couldn't resist asking, " Which song?"

"Sign of the Times. First time I heard it I was in traffic and literally burst into tears. Which maybe isn't what you intended but it hit me here." She put her hand to heart. "And you should know I don't cry. I am just not a crier. Well, unless you pay me to cry on film."

"Wow so that’s a big compliment."

"You take pride in making ladies cry do you, Styles?" She noticed how quickly his lips turned down. Shit. She wasn't trying to be insulting. Quick change the subject. "So clearly you aren't from LA?"

"What gave it away?" He asked as he bit into a piece of sushi. "Grew up a few hours North of London. I split my time now between here and there. You?"

"From New York. Upstate. A small suburban city. Mostly blue collar." She sipped her wine. “I do not split my time. I’m all in on LA.”

"And your sisters live here now too." He said, prompting her for more.

"So we totally googled each other and here we are still doing this part. Aren't we cute?" She smiled as she chewed her cucumber slowly. Always chewing everything at least one hundred times.

"I think this is what normal people without a Wikipedia page do." He raised an eyebrow shoveling California roll into his mouth.

Fuck it. She was going to expedite the getting to know you before I bed you portion of the evening.

"But we do have Wikipedia pages. Ok so I know you were in a singing competition. You were in a wildly successful boy band for a few years. You are on hiatus?" She said unsure and searched his face.

"Oh do go on..." He wanted to hear more. Harry sat back with a big toothy grin and sipped his wine.

"Well the gossip is you date models exclusively. Seems like underwear models which you know good on you. Oh and of course your debut album was brilliant. That isn't gossip of course. I told you I downloaded it. I really liked it." She admitted.

"Really? Because generally only underwear models dig it." His eyes sparkled as he joked with her. "Speaking of music - what are we listening to? I like it but I'm unfamiliar. " Harry asked.

Maggie excitedly clapped her hands. "Houndmouth. I am obsessed with these guys lately. I find something I love and then I play the shit out of it."

"Guilty. Same here. Ok my turn. I know you and your two sisters have a production company. You seem to enjoy surfing, volleyball and just generally being in a swimsuit. Or at least that is what the paparazzi photos would have me believe. Oh and maybe you are a nun or really good at that whole discreet thing? Not many pictures of you out with guys."

"You’re so on to me. I'm a nun. I have invited you here to see if you have accepted Jesus Christ as your savior." She said with a straight face and sipped her wine.

Harry nearly choked. "Now that would not even be close to the weirdest thing that has happened to me in LA."

"Oh I believe it. Maybe we can trade horror stories later." Maggie looked down to the dishes around them. "Are you finished? I'll clear and we can have some more wine."

"Let me help."

Harry stacked some plates and followed her in the house. He was impressed. It wasn't overly decorated. It looked like a well curated collection of art and things Maggie loved.

As if reading his mind she said, "All the cool kids have decorators. I'm cheap so it is literally just me buying shit on the internet or on days off I'm scouring HomeGoods. It's home though and I love it."

"No, it’s great. Your art is interesting. " He laid the plates down on the counter and looked out the kitchen door at the walls.

"Nothing too crazy. I know very little about art except what I like. I have a friend who works in a gallery and he keeps me from getting taken."

"Wise. I'm a bit of a collector myself." A bit of a collector was probably an understatement. Harry loved art and spent a lot of time collecting to fill his London, LA and NYC homes.

She quickly rinsed the dishes off and loaded them into the dishwasher. Seeing remnants of old food or meals made her anxious the next day. All remains of any meal or snack had to be tossed or stowed. Maggie didn’t keep fruit artfully stacked in bowls or glass canisters of painstakingly placed oreos or the like. If she didn’t have to see the food then she didn’t have to think of it.

Maggie held up the wine bottle. "Split the last of it?" Harry nodded.

Maggie hauled herself up into a sitting position on the counter. She poured a little of the wine in her own glass. She shook the bottle in Harry's direction. He approached and she poured the cool liquid into his glass.

Harry didn't move away from her. They clinked glasses and never broke eye contact. The room was silent except for Houndmouth belting out 'Darlin'.

Maggie drained the wine from her glass and sat it down on the counter. Harry watched her catch her bottom lip between her teeth. Her blue eyes narrowed in on him.

Harry's pulse quickened and his pants got tighter. Was it this easy? Wasn't this what he came here for? A nice night in the company of a beautiful woman. He drank his wine and set his glass beside hers. Maggie put a long tan leg out and hooked it around his middle. She sat up straight and Harry closed the small amount of distance between them. His hands moved to her waist and pulled her to the edge of the marble counter until she was pressed firmly against him.

Maggie leaned in and pushed her lips against his. The sweet of the white wine, the softness of her tongue taking over his mouth was intoxicating. He pushed harder against her as she wrapped both legs around him. Her hands raked through the back of his hair.

When the kiss broke Maggie pulled her head back a bit to look at his beautiful face. "Too forward?" She asked, biting her lip again.

"Not at all." Harry traced the corner of her mouth with his thumb.

"Let me give you the tour." She slid down from the marble now pressed fully against him. His six foot tall frame casting a shadow over her.. Maggie took his hand and led him out of the kitchen, back through the living room.

"My office," she pointed to a room. "2nd bathroom and this is," This was clearly Maggie's bedroom.

They stood at the doorway for a beat. Maggie dropped Harry's hand and began to unbutton her white shirt. She walked backwards toward the bed.

Harry stood back a minute to watch her. The shirt dropped to the floor. A plain white cotton bra showcased her toned, tan body. He dropped his shirt where he stood. Maggie was working on her shorts as Harry lost the tank and his belt. She pulled him closer and started to unbutton his pants while hungrily kissing him. Harry grabbed a handful of magnificent ass that was peeking out from the cheeky white boy shorts.

Maggie ran her hands over every inch of his muscled back she could reach. She could feel Harry's hands travel up from her ass to roll over her back and finally worked on taking her bra off. Maggie was particularly proud of her breasts. They stood erect braless. Harry groaned when he saw that little bounce once they were free from the flimsy fabric.

When Maggie stood back from Harry to crawl onto the bed she got a better look at his body. The palm fronds she had seen in photos earlier were even more magnificent in person. She reached a hand out to trace one. A low groan escaped his lips.

From there it was a haze. Clothes on the floor. Warm bodies tangled together. Maggie found his facial hair was pleasantly soft against her thighs as his tongue delved into her. After he brought her to her first orgasm she had expertly wrapped him up in a condom. Harry hadn't been this turned on in ages and was scared he wouldn't make a good showing. He pressed into Maggie's wetness. Both of them sighing approval.

After their orgasms they lay quiet. Maggie spoke first. "I'm glad you came over."

Harry was smiling. "I'm glad you invited me after I was a bit of a desperate creep this morning."

"Quite a charming desperate creep though." He laughed and kissed her bare shoulder. Her toe ran up his leg. "I'm going to use the ladies." He nodded.

When she returned she was in a white waffle robe and carrying a glass of water. She offered it to Harry as he sat up. He took a few sips and handed it back. Maggie took a long sip and pressed her lips together.

"Should I go?" He asked. He couldn’t quite read the room.

"Only if you want to. And if you want to I won't take offense. Honestly."

He believed it. She seemed cool. Maybe too cool. He liked her though. She was a bit of a mystery. Was mystery the right word? She intrigued him.

He settled in clearly not leaving. He reached an arm out. Maggie pulled the robe off and slid under the covers. Quickly she had a leg over him and pulled herself up and over him. Looking down she smiled, "I mean if you're staying we might as well."

When Harry woke up he was alone in Maggie's bed. He looked at his phone. It was just before 8am. They had been up past 2am talking and well not talking.

Harry noticed his clothes were neatly laid out on a chair in the corner. He pulled them on and then went to use the toilet. Maggie had thoughtfully left a new toothbrush on her sink.

Once he finally emerged from her room he spotted Maggie out on the deck. She was on a rowing machine, her form perfect. Her skin glistened in the sun with the finest sheen of sweat. She was in a hot pink sports bra and black cropped sport leggings.

Maggie heard the door open and slowed her pace so she could stop. "Good morning." She called.

"Morning. Did you even sleep?" Harry asked.

"I did. Thought I would get a workout in. Let you rest."

"From my workout last night." He sighed as he stretched.

A smile danced on Maggie's lips. "Exactly.”

She got up off the rower and Harry leaned in to kiss her. He had clearly gotten the toothbrush because he was minty fresh. "Careful I'm a bit sweaty."

Harry looked her up and down unashamed. "Mmm, I like it." His deep voice growled. He pulled her flush against him and kneaded his fingers into her supple backside.

While Harry felt exhausted from the night before he also felt that familiar twinge in his pants at the sight of her.

Maggie felt the heat pool between her legs. However she knew she had a meeting in two hours she absolutely had to get ready for. Harry leaned in for another kiss. His tongue warmly licking into her mouth reminding her how it felt to have his mouth on her last night.

She sighed disappointed with the clock running out on this rendezvous. "So this isn't me uninterested but I absolutely have to be at this meeting about a new film in like two hours. This is a big deal sorta thing, my dream project.”

"Oh hey no problem. I get it." And he did. Harry’s work was important to him. He had meetings to keep and a packed schedule. He was certainly not one to judge. He did hope it wasn’t just a tactic to get rid of him though.

"I made coffee though and you shouldn't feel like you have to rush out or anything." Maggie said not wanting Harry to think she was forcing him out.

"You’re excited for this meeting?" He could feel the energy she was giving off.

"Excited and nervous. I just know this project has amazing potential. " She admitted.

Harry smiled. "I'm going to get out of your hair so you can do whatever it is you need to get done today. I had a really great time last night with you." He pulled her in closer if that was possible. Their foreheads are now touching. His arms moved from her ass and now settled on her waist.

"I really enjoyed last night too." She breathed him in.

"Good luck today." He kissed her nose.

"OK now you have to leave because I feel compelled to take all of my clothes off and cancel on my sisters." She said willing herself to be a sane woman.

Harry broke their embrace. He made his way over to the stairs to the garage. "We can’t have that now. Goodbye Maggie." He laughed.

"Goodbye Harry." Maggie exhaled a deep breath watching both his curls and fine ass bounce down the stairs.

Maggie was unsure she would see him again but she was sure the memory of last night could get her through whatever droughts may come.

“Look at this smug bastard. What is up with you today?” Ben Winston asked Harry as he piled a mixed green salad on his plate.

Before Harry could answer Jeff cut him off. “Date with Maggie Dunne last night.”

“Ooooohhhh Maggie Dunne. You stud.” James Corden laughed loudly. “Not gonna share the horny details with your old married mates?”

Harry was having lunch over at CBS Studios in the offices for The Late Late Show. Ben Winston and James Corden being two of his best friends.

“It wasn’t really a date. We hung out. She’s cool.”

“Oh he is really tight lipped. Totally shagged her.” Ben cocked his eyebrow in Harry’s direction.

“Imagine if I went around asking about your sex life?” Harry sighed and sipped at this black iced coffee.

“Oh fuck off will you mate. Just giving you a bit of a hard time. Maggie is lovely. Also, can you get her to do the show? She has some crazy hard on for Conan. He isn’t even on network tv.”James complained.

“Call her agent or hire a hitman to take care of Conan. I dunno. No help from me though.”

Jeff snorted. “Well now that is all sorted. Are you going to see her again?”

Harry sat back thoughtfully. He ran his fingers through his curls and then shrugged. “So we didn’t really establish if we had planned on seeing each other again.”

“How did you leave things?” Ben asked.

“I mean on a good note. We kissed. I said goodbye.” Harry revealed a little more than he wanted. At that moment his phone pinged with a text.

“I bet that is her now. Couldn’t get enough of Young Harold over here.” Corden nudged his arm.

Harry looked at the text and put the phone back on the conference table.

“Bad news?” Jeff asked.

“No. Just Collette.”

“Sort of feels like bad news.” Jeff groaned dramatically. “I thought you were done with that.”

“We’re friends.”

Ben chimed in. “Seems like a bad idea. It has been hard enough for you to move on. Keeping in touch, texting that seems like it is only going to make it harder.”

“Exactly what I’ve been saying.” Jeff offered. “Harry thinks he has to stay ‘friends’ with every girl he ever dated or shagged. Why isn’t your therapist addressing that?”

Harry threw a balled up napkin at Jeff and flipped him off. He knew his friends weren’t wrong. He just didn’t know how to give up his friendship, his ties to her. “Ok you old married sages. What do I do then?”

Corden stood up and slapped his hands down on the table. “You need me to tell you to nut the fuck up and call Maggie?”

"That was really fucking promising." Liza said, throwing her purse into her Infiniti QX80. She was a tall commanding woman. She decided her car should be the same.

'I don't want to jinx it but I think they loved the project." Alex sighed relieved. She leaned her back against Liza's beast of an SUV.

"I mean if we can get this movie made I can die happy." Maggie said and tossed her own purse into her Mercedes convertible. This film was her baby. Making a movie about an iconic plastic doll seemed like a hard sell and an easy sell. However, getting the right team in place, a good script and now financing had not been easy.

"Let's not die for it yet." Liza laughed. "Yet."

"I vote we blow off the rest of the day, drink margs and gorge on Mexican." Alex volunteered. It was very un-Alex like of her.

"Are you feeling okay?" Maggie asked, raising an eyebrow surprised at her sister. The mom of two never suggested getting wild or blowing off the day. If she wasn’t working she was home with her husband and kids.

Liza chimed in, "Pod people got her. I knew it."

“Oh you two are just hysterical. Real comedians.” Alex proceeded to flip them off. “ I just don't feel like working or being a mom just now. I would like to be irresponsible at," Alex looked down at her Rolex, "at 1pm."

"Wait for it because it isn't pod people, it’s Freaky Friday. I'm the tired one." Maggie covered her mouth as a yawn escaped.

Her sister's both looked at her. Alex said, "Probably because you are up at the ass crack of dawn working out. Let me guess running?"

"Rowing." Maggie shrugged. "Also, I was sort of up all night fucking that guy I met at that party."

Liza's eyes shot up. "Which guy? The bartender?"

"What party?" Alex asked.

"That shitty party at Martin Graves house that Liza dragged me to. I was bored out of my mind so I decided to drink five whiskeys apparently."

“You took her to a Martin Graves party? Alex gave Liza an accusatory look. “You have heard what happens to pretty young things there?”

“Al nothing like that happened. I was okay. I agreed to go. Making a move for some last minute funding in case this didn’t pan out.”

Liza narrowed her eyes at Alex. “I would never let anything happen to her.”

Alex reached out and touched Liza’s arm. “I know that, I do, I’m sorry.”

Liza gave her a smile accepting her apology.

"Ok so moving on. You met a hot bartender? Oh Margaret we need all the dirty deets. See, let's go have drinks and you can tell me everything." Alex pleaded.

"He's not a bartender. Dirty deets? Seriously, who are you?" Maggie asked with a shake of her head.

"El Coyote. We are going - now. I'm driving over with Maggie. Sail the yacht over by yourself." Alex mocked Liza's SUV.

Liza rolled her eyes. " Jesus Christ Al."

Maggie and Alex got into the convertible and drove out of the parking garage.

"Why does it kill Liza to be fun now? Remember fun? " Alex sighed.

"Al are you having some weird mid-life crisis?" Maggie asked as she turned right.

"Perhaps. Just feeling like an old woman. Maybe I'm a little jealous you’re picking up hot bartenders or not bartenders and having late nights. If my night is late it is because one of the kids won't sleep. I love my life but some days I want to be young and carefree again. I want to have sex without having to plan it like a mission to Mars."

Maggie reached over and squeezed her sister's hand. "Get Perry to take you out or better yet take you away. Me and Liza got the girls you know that."

Alex smiled. "I know. You guy -"

The phone ringing through the Bluetooth cut her off and startled them both. The screen flashed 'H - Hills Party'. Maggie put her fingers to her lips to shush Alex.

She may have been giddy but Maggie cooly answered, "Hello."

"So..." Harry asked.

"So?" Maggie asked.

"You were quite excited about your very important meeting today. So how did it go? "

"Good, really good." She said enthusiastically. "I'm not saying another word though because I'm a bit superstitious."

"Would you like to celebrate or is that bad luck?" He asked.

Alex was staring hard at her. She started nodding her head and giving her a thumbs up.

"Actually I'm headed out with my sisters to El Coyote."

"No shit?" He asked. "I'm over at the CBS Studios. Maybe I could meet you afterwards?" CBS was conveniently right around the corner from the famed Mexican restaurant.

Maggie was afraid Alex was going to sprain her neck. She was nodding so hard.

"Sure. I'll text you." Maggie offered. Alex silently cheered and then began to make some crude gestures. Maggie nearly burst into laughter watching her grown ass sister act like a twelve year old boy.

"I'll be here." He said.

Maggie disconnected the call before finally giving into the hysterics she was holding in.

"What the fuck?" Alex screeched laughing now too. "I don't care what he looks like. I nearly just nearly made a mess of my pants - that voice. Tell me you have a photo of him? But don't show me if he isn't good looking. In my mind he is amazing.”

Maggie was laughing so hard now. "Oh my God girl you are a disaster. He is very hot actually."

“So wait. Sexy British accent. He is hot. No way you had a fucking orgasm? God doesn’t give with both hands Mags.”

“Try three orgasms.” She looked over the top of her sunglasses at Alex who had her mouth wide open in shock.

“Three? I’m not even sure that is physically possible . Three?”

“Three. Do you think I’m making it up?”

“Course not. Fuck me. I think I need a cigarette.”

“You gave up smoking in the nineties.”

“Yeah well if I had three orgasms in one night I would pick it back up quick. Three. My mind is blown.”

“Mine too.”

Before they could go on she pulled the car into the parking lot and got her valet ticket. Liza was directly behind them.

The three walked into the storied Mexican restaurant. The Dunne sisters were a stunning trio. Maggie the youngest was also the shortest. All three had piercing blue eyes. Liza, the oldest, had long dark hair, plush eyelashes and high cheekbones. Alex, the middle child was as tall as Liza, full figured, long legs. Blonde and blue eyed like Maggie.

“Booth in the back?" The hostess asked them. They were regulars here.

"If you have one." Maggie smiled brightly.

"Of course. Follow me.”

Once the sisters were settled and margaritas ordered Alex piped up. "Maggie is meeting the guy from last night after this. He is some sort of British sex wizard.”

Liza looked up from her phone distracted. "The bartender is a wizard? Only in LA.”

"Oh my God he isn't a bartender. I swear I have said that multiple times. Are you deaf or senile?”

Liza shot her a look. "Maybe a little bit of both. Or maybe I don't care who you bang as long as you don't end up all over social media and gossip rags because he can't keep his mouth shut."

"He's a singer. He’s very well known and he doesn't want to be all over the tabloids either. "

"A singer?" Alex asked. "That makes so much sense. That voice. Wait, what’s his name? I have to Google him."

"What are you going on about?" Liza asked.

"He called while I was in the car with Mags. Super sexy British voice. Maggie had THREE orgasms last night!" Alex announced a bit too loudly.

Maggie flushed bright red as she looked around. “Louder so the staff in the kitchen can hear it. This is totally going to be on Deuxmoi. Anon pls Maggie Dunne had three orgasms with a wizard.”

Alex rolled her eyes and waved her hands, “Oh get over yourself.”

"I know I met this person but I literally have no memory of him." Liza shrugged. “Seriously, three?”

Maggie nodded. Liza smiled and looked down at the menu.

"Ok, give me his name." Alex was poised to type into her phone. Maggie took a beat longer than what Alex was expecting. "What is his name Maggie?!" She yelped even more loudly than before. Some patrons nearby looked over.

The waitress appeared with their margaritas at that moment. "Can I get her a second one right away? Sorry it is sort of a margarita emergency.” Maggie flashed the pearly whites at the waitress and nodded toward Alex.

"Sure. I'll be right back."

“What constitutes a margarita emergency?” Liza asked sipping at her drink and trying not to spill.

Maggie only raised her eyebrows and gestured at Alex as if to say, “This. Her.”

"Sorry I'm really excitable today." Alex said flushed.

"No bullshit here - kid are you okay? Need an edible?” Liza asked as she motioned toward her gigantic Prada bag which always had an edible or ten in it.

"I have no clue what is going on with me. Sorry. Mags diagnosed me with a mid-life crisis earlier."

"Her initials are MD, not her profession." Liza offered with a smile as she sipped the frozen concoction.

"She's not wrong. I haven't even played a doctor yet." They all laughed.

The waitress brought another margarita for Alex and took their order. Unsurprisingly they all ordered the chicken fajita plate. Maggie could pick at the chicken and veggies and not get asked too many questions about what she was and was not eating.

"OK so I'm going to ask you one more time, calmly. What is his name?" Alex gulped the last of her first margarita.

Maggie lowered her voice and moved in closer, "Harry Styles."

"God that sounds familiar. Isn't he in a boy band? How old is this kid? We don’t need that sort of press" Liza asked as she tapped away at an email on her phone.

"He was. He’s a fully grown adult." Maggie said, sipping her margarita.

Alex had her head down scrolling through her iPhone. "Oh he sure grew up. Yum that mouth.”

Maggie looked over with flushed cheeks. “Yeah that mouth.”

“Full service?” Alex questioned.

“Mmm hmmm.”

Alex offered the phone to Liza. She shrugged. “Oh that guy.”

They rolled their eyes at Liza. "So do you like him?" Al asked.

"He's really nice, seems down to earth but I don't really know him. Didn't know if we'd talk again after he left this morning."

Liza looked Maggie in the eye. "So now he's called you. Are you interested?"

"You guys know I don't have a lot of time in my life for that. Casual has always worked better for me. I’m not in the market for a relationship."

Alex was deep into that second margarita. "Can't be casual forever Margaret. Eventually you need your teammate. You deserve some happiness."

"I have my teammates and you both make me mostly happy. Except you with the judgy eyes." Maggie smiled at Liza.

"You know what she's saying though." Liza ignored the rib and doubled down on what Alex was expressing.

"I do. I don't feel lonely and I'm not planning on living a life of solitude or anything. I just happen to like my life right now."

Maggie wasn't lying. She did like her life. She answered to no one. She felt safe behind her walls. She felt like she couldn't be hurt or exploited. Feeling safe was everything to her after some of the dark shit that happened in her past. She understood why her sisters might want her to couple up. Liza and Alex married two of the best men ever created. Maggie was so lucky to have them as her brothers. Along with the girls they took such good care of her.

"I like all of our lives right now. Look at us. We have come a long fucking way." Alex laughed hard. She was definitely on her way to drunk. "Can we get three more of these?" She pointed to the empty glasses.

Liza motioned for two not three. The waitress nodded.

"He dated Taylor Swift." Alex said seriously looking up from her phone. "Oh no."

"Which album? What did he do?" Liza asked seriously.

Maggie said. "1989. Style. Wildest Dreams.”

Liza and Alex looked at each other. "Okay 1989 isn't that bad." Alex said. "I mean it could be worse. Though there is always Clean and Out of the Woods. He is a bad driver! Be careful.”

"At least it’s not Dear John. Remember the time I 'accidentally' spilled red wine on John Mayer. That piece of shit." Liza spat angrily.

"How could I forget?" Maggie cringed remembering John Mayer pulling out all his best lines and Liza dousing him in red wine and pulling Maggie away to a ‘very important call at 11pm’.

"Fine but if you go near John Mayer I will have you put down." Liza said.

Maggie held her palms up. "I am fairly certain he wouldn’t let any of the Dunne’s within a ten mile radius of him after that.”

When the last fajita was eaten Alex looked up and announced. "I'm totally shitfaced. It is 3 in the afternoon and I'm shitfaced." Then she began to laugh and laid down in the round booth.

Liza and Maggie exchanged a look, their eyebrows high on their foreheads. "Holy shit." Liza mouthed.

Maggie was definitely not going to be driving but she wasn't drunk. She should probably let Harry know she was just going to let Liza take her home. When she made that announcement at the table Alex began laughing again even harder.

"What’s so funny?" Liza asked, pulling her upright. “Get it together woman.”

Alex put Maggie’s phone down in front of her. "I texted him. He’s on his way over to pick you up."

Maggie looked stricken. "You texted who? What? Harry? What? What did you say? What did you do?" She opened her phone quickly.

'Had a three margarita lunch. Now is probably a good time for you to pick me up.'

Harry responded, 'On my way now.'

"I am going to murder you." Maggie said through gritted teeth. This only made Alex laugh harder with a snort.

Liza looked around to make sure no one was listening. "Christ the two of you. I know you were joking about Deuxmoi earlier but I am definitely going to get a call on Sunday.”

A few minutes later all three of them looked up to see Harry walking toward them. He was in a plain white t-shirt which displayed all his black ink and rippling muscles. Jeans and black Vans to round his look out. His sunglasses were perched on top of his head keeping his unruly curls back. He smiled a perfectly white, dimpled smile.

Alex took a sharp breath. Maggie took a sip of water. All the blood in her body rushed directly between her legs. She slid out of the booth. "Hi. I didn't expect you to come all the way in."

"Felt sort of rude sitting in the parking lot and texting." He smiled and then looked over to her sisters.

Alex drunkenly struggled to navigate her way out of the circular booth. Harry offered her his hand. She smiled up, dazed and took it. "I'm Harry," He introduced himself as he helped her up.

"I'm married." Alex said with a hiccup. "To Perry. He is very tall. Even taller than you." She looked Harry up and down a few times. "Harry rhymes with Perry." Another hiccup.

Harry looked puzzled but smiled wider. Maggie was flushed red and worried her armpits might start sweating anytime now.

Liza stepped in. "This is Alex. She doesn't normally consume four margaritas midday so if you'll excuse her. I'm Liza." She offered Harry her hand. They shook. Liza then looked him up and down with immediate disapproval just as she had done the first time they met.

Harry felt her dislike for him. Liza wasn't subtle. He was so used to charming people right away. Liza made him uncomfortable and awkward. That people pleaser in him wanted to win her over.

"Nice to meet you both. Can I offer you ladies a ride?"

Alex got a big grin on her face. Maggie gave her a death stare. She knew there was definitely a sex joke about to fly out of her sister's mouth. Alex clamped her lips together.

"I'm the sober sister. Since this one is married to Perry I think I'll take her. I guess you take that blonde one." Liza offered.

"Only seems appropriate." Harry said.

Liza led them out. Alex swayed unsure on her Manolos. Harry offered his arm to her. She wrapped her hand around his bicep. Maggie trailed them.

"I mentioned I'm married to Perry, right?" She asked him.

"You did mention that. Perry is a very lucky man." He said amused by Alex's drunk antics.

"Oh good. He would want me to remember that. And I'm a mom. And I don't really drink. And I'm old."

"Old? No way." He said.

"I mean I'm Hollywood old. I'm 39. Tell him Maggie." Alex turned around to her sister.

"Yes you are Hollywood old. When I'm 39 I'll be playing George Clooney’s mother." Maggie repeated a line she had said many times before.

"Well I'm not from Hollywood. In the real world you are young. Old people aren't this beautiful day drunk on margaritas." He smiled over at Al as they walked down the few steps and out into the parking lot.

"I like you even if you aren't a bartender and are likely a terrible driver. Please be careful with my baby sister." Al slurred. Harry was totally confused. He just continued to smile.

The valet saw Liza and ran for her SUV. Liza spoke to the other valet about leaving Maggie's car. Liza told Maggie she would make sure the car got to her house.

"This is me." Harry motioned to the black Range Rover near the front door. "It was so nice to meet you. Both of you."

"We should do this again sometime." Alex said. "This was so fun. You are fun Harry." Alex gave him a hug. He was laughing now and hugging her back. “Remember what I said about driving safely.”

Liza's SUV pulled up. "Get in the car Drunkerella." Liza said to Alex.

"Bye Bubs. I love you. Drink lots of water ok." Maggie hugged Alex and kissed her cheek.

"Aww I love you my baby. My first baby." Alex kissed her forehead and pulled her in close looking weepy. "Do you know when you were little -"

"Fucking hell Al get in the goddamn car before you start crying." Liza yelled from the driver's seat. Maggie helped Alex in.

"You aren't the boss of me, Liza. I'm not scared of you. I'll kick your ass."

"Goodbye you two. Have a pleasant drive all that way together. Sad I'm going to miss it." Maggie laughed as she shut the door.

Now both Maggie and Alex turned to flip her off. Then they were pulling out onto Beverly.

Harry had tears in his eyes from laughing. "What the hell was that? Your sisters are fantastic. What does she know about my driving? Did she talk to my mother?”

Maggie lightly shoved his arm. He led her to his SUV and opened the passenger door. Harry waved a thank you to the valets and then got in the driver's side.

"So Maggie Dunne, what do you feel like doing?" He asked as he pulled out of the lot.

"Well Harry Styles I have eaten. I have had margaritas. Not sure there is anything better than that."

"More margaritas?"

"And just like that you figured it all out." She smiled over to him.

"A frozen Casamigos margarita by the pool?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Yes please."

"Is my place okay?" Maggie nodded her approval. "So your sisters are hysterical. Oh my God I might love Alex."

"Everyone loves Alex. She's the mom. She's not whoever that lady was. I mean not normally. She is going to be mortified tomorrow but I'm glad she had fun today. You have a sister, right? What’s she like?"

"Really smart. She's sarcastic. Reminds me a lot of Alex when she has had too much to drink. Whiskey not tequila. Like your sisters, she's my best friend."

"Teller of truths? An ass kicker? And she is in England?"

"Yes, exactly. She does live in London. She comes quite a bit to visit me here which is nice. I mean I have to annoy her into it but she gives in."

"It is nice to have that. You know I moved here alone. Broke. I had this dream that I would be on my favorite soap opera. Maybe go to college. I got my role on the soap and then a few months later I got a part in a Scorcese movie. Once my dreams started to become a reality it was hard to enjoy it without them. So they gave up their lives at home and moved here. All six of us lived in my little house."

"No way! Your house you live in now?"

"Yup. It was crazy but still some of my happiest memories were made together there."

Maggie looked around. "You live near the Strip?" They were on Sunset.

"Above." Harry pointed up.

She smiled "Have to be close to the excitement?"

"I did when I bought it. Now it feels a little silly." He said as he pulled at his bottom lip.

Maggie pressed her thighs together feeling aroused just by that simple move. He was effortlessly sexy.

The Range Rover climbed the hills. Harry hit the clicker and a large gate opened. A white three story house with massive windows and glass railed terraces stood before them. He parked just outside of the garage.

They let themselves out of the car. Harry looked Maggie up and down for what was probably the millionth time in the thirty minutes since he had picked her up. She was in a white lightweight tweed Chanel dress with drop waist and black ribbon trim, black tights and black patent heels. The dress had a Chanel signature brooch pinned over Maggie's heart. Her blonde hair was loose and her lips painted perfectly red.

He closed the distance between them. "You look really beautiful today." Harry said.

A small smile danced on Maggie's lips. Harry wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into him.

"Thank you. This is my ladylike business meeting look. Hoped I could seal the deal in it."

Now it was Harry's turn to smile. "Oh you've sealed the deal Miss Dunne."

She rolled her eyes. "Lame Styles, real lame." They laughed.

Harry took Maggie's hand and led her into the house. She looked around at all the dark furniture and tall ceilings. This was an LA bachelor pad for sure. There was seemingly nothing personal on the walls or surrounding shelves.

"I feel you judging me. I was 20 when I bought this place." He said a little self-consciously. "And I know it isn’t homey and warm like your place. I just don’t spend enough time here for that.”

"I'm not judging you. Stop being such a weirdo." She laughed.

"How about I make us those drinks? Then we can go out by the pool?"

"I'm in." Maggie followed Harry to the kitchen.

Harry fussed around making drinks in an oversized frozen margarita maker. Maggie stepped out of her heels. She laid her Chanel bag on the stool of the kitchen island.

"Salted rim?" He asked, looking over as she shimmied out of her black tights.

Maggie sighed relief as she was freed. "Yes please. Sorry I have been dying to take those off."

"Get comfortable. No worries." Harry salted both glasses and poured the drinks.

Maggie slipped her dress off and put it on the back of the chair. She stood clad in her white boy shorts and matching bra. "I mean I can't wear tweed by the pool." She shrugged accepting the drink.

Harry swallowed hard. Then he pulled his t-shirt off and then quickly shucked off his jeans. Now he stood in his black boxer briefs. His palms itched with want to touch her. Maggie let her eyes wander freely.

"You lead the way." Her tongue slowly licked a spot of the salt and then sipped the cold margarita. His memory of her tongue on him last night still fresh. His pulse quickened.

He turned and pushed the large wall of glass doors open.

They made themselves comfortable on a double wide chaise. Maggie leaned back facing the pool. Harry faced her with his legs crossed in front of him pretzel style.

'What sort of torture devices were you wearing?" He asked, looking at the red angry creases in her feet.

She smiled looking down. "Very expensive ones. They're ok." Harry pulled her foot into his lap and began to gently massage. Maggie's eyes fluttered and she bit down on her bottom lip.

"Better?" He asked.

"Are you bad at anything?"

He thought. 'So many things.’ Instead he laughed and kissed the pad of her foot. Then he started on the second foot.

Maggie slowly sipped the margarita and watched Harry. Her body was on fire. Normally she wouldn't see someone twice and even so never two days in a row.

Once Harry kissed the second foot she put her drink down. Then rolled off the chaise and onto her feet. His eyes followed her as she walked to the pool and gracefully dove in.

He took that as his cue to follow her. Harry was not quite as graceful but he launched his long body in. Making a splash he heard Maggie laugh. It was a lovely sound. Before he had blinked all the water from his eyes he felt her legs wrap around his middle.

Maggie pressed her lips to his. He parted them to allow her tongue entry. He had wanted to kiss her from the moment he picked her up today. He wrapped an arm around her waist and gently pulled her in by the back of her neck. She smiled against his lips.

Looking down at her now sheer bra and seeing her pink nipples stand at attention made him instantly hard. Maggie pushed his wet hair back. Her hands slipped down and laid loosely around his neck.

"Thank you for coming to pick me up."

"Well thank you for coming over. If I'm honest I was nervous to call. We didn't really establish any ground rules this morning."

"Ground rules? I think you should know I'm not incredibly fond of rules. I like organization and order. Rules not so much."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Oh a bad girl, a rule breaker." He let his hands run down her back and squeeze her perfect ass.

Maggie let out a surprised squeal. "I'm not sure I'm quite a badass. Just not a fan of rules. What sort of ground rules are we talking about?"

"I guess I just meant when I left this morning we didn't establish if that was a one time thing, if I should call you or you should call me."

"Yeah that. This morning I was so focused on the meeting I was going to. I'm happy you called. I had fun last night." She smiled as she tangled her fingers in the back of his hair.

"You are very easy to have fun with."

"So are you. So let's not overthink it." Maggie leaned back into the water to get her hair wet. Harry quietly groaned at the sight of her nipples straining against the sheer white bra. "How about one ground rule?"

"I'm listening."

"We can call or text whenever we want but no pressure. Busy? Not feeling it? No problems. Keep it casual."

"You have yourself a deal. Should we shake on it?"

Maggie shook her head. "I don't want to shake your hand. I want you to take me inside and fuck me." She said boldly in his ear thanks to tequila.

Harry moved swiftly with Maggie still around him to get to the pool stairs. He kissed her one last time before they untangled themselves. Maggie took the hand he offered her as they rushed toward the house.

More than three orgasms later Harry was letting his hands freely roam Maggie’s body in his post-coital bliss.

“What happened here? Appendix?” Harry asked. He let his finger linger over a small white scar on her lower pelvis as he kissed her shoulder. He was propped up on his elbow, legs tangled with hers. Maggie gave him a small smile.

“Uh no. I had a tummy tuck and up here if you look close enough you can see where my arms were done. After I lost all of that weight I just had too much loose skin. Needed a little surgical help.” She shrugged it off.

“I’m sorry that was rude of me. I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t know.” He stuttered, turning a bit red with embarrassment.

“It’s ok. You didn’t know I was fat or I had cosmetic surgery? Everyone knows I used to be fat. You are a shit google searcher if you completely missed my fat pictures. I mean no matter how many photos are taken of you and your abs in your bikini people will always put them side by side with your fat photos.”

Maggie reached for the sheets and pulled them up a bit self conscious. Harry pulled her in closer by the waist. He leaned in and kissed her mouth as he gently pulled the sheet back.

“Don’t do that. I’m sorry I didn’t know. I’m not trying to embarass or hurt you.”

“Honestly it’s who I am. It’s part of my story. I just thought you knew.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Harry asked unsure if he should drop the topic or not.

“Not much to talk about. I used to be fat and now I’m not. It isn’t that deep.” Lies. Liar. It’s deep. Really fucking deep. You are never getting close enough for that buddy.

He nodded sensing he should leave this alone for now. “Would you object to a shower together and a snack?”

Maggie leaned up and captured his lips between hers. She cocked an eyebrow when she asked, “What sort of snack are we talking about?”

Harry’s tongue trailed down her body until it reached the scar. He marked her there and then soothed it with his tongue. He made his short descent down between her thighs. “Well I actually know what I want first.”

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