Warnings:Non-Con,dark, smut, breeding, bondage, cream pie, biting, discussion of body fluids, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex.
Authors Note: Okay, this Drabble is not like my regular fics. This was a palate cleanser for me: a little change of pace, tone and subject (and character!). I had written a couple of paragraphs of this months ago and saw it in my drafts and thought, why not? It is what it is.
Thanks to @henryobsessed for beta reading and corrections.
He may be the alpha. He may bow to no one. He may rule them all.
But you rule him.
You know it instinctively.
You know it by the way he fights as his wolf takes over. The way he mumbles his apologies as he tears the clothes from your body and the tender way he handles you as he ties you to the bed. You know it by the way he nuzzles at your neck and the scent he gives off as he examines your body. You know it by the way he whimpers when he catches the first scent of your arousal, and by the way he gnars when you twist against your bound wrists and ankles.
He’s between your legs, lapping at you, drinking from you, imbibing your humiliating desire for him.
He growls, caws, and grunts as he gives you his all, trying to win you over. He wants you to relent, for you to allow him to come to you freely like you once had.
His breath is hot and humid, his tongue rough and wet. His bites are gentle nibbles and he pushes you to the brink. You screech and he brays, grinning and watching with delight as he makes you shatter.
“Walter, please,” you implore, “Stop.”
He climbs you over you, shaking his head, his lust cannot wait, though you see the shame in his eyes.
“Need,” he rumbles.
He knows what he is, he knows what you think of him as he takes you like this. But he can’t stop the urges, the ancient itch that scratches without cessation at what is left of his mind.
He fills you, tears you, stretches you, around his brutal girth, howling with rapture as your bodies fuse.
He’s so gone, so swept away in the moment that he sinks his teeth into your shoulder. You feel it between your legs and you tighten around him. You wail, crying his name as you implore him to stop. But Walter isn’t there anymore, his blue eyes are now a vacant black as he begins to rut.
Barbaric, primitive, and feral is his mating, as if his goal is to rip you apart. You had thought you’d be used to it by now, this monthly cycle, he had assured you you would be.
He clings to you, wrapping his arms around you, licking at your neck as if he is your lover not your violator.
He feels the moment you yield, the moment you submit to him and your lamentation becomes supplication. Your hips drive to meet his, your hands grasp at the ropes pulling on them for purchase instead of escape.
He howls as you tighten around him, watches your face as your control shatters. He follows you into ecstasy. With a deep and guttural garr, he releases his seed deep within you.
He holds you when he’s done, licking at your wounds, murmuring his love, seeking forgiveness.
He stays buried within your core for as long as he can, keeping his offering inside. When he falls out he spreads your legs wider, reverently gathering his leaking emission on his finger and restores it to its rightful place.
He wants to breed, and inexplicably at this moment you want it too. You don’t fight as he lays an arm across your belly keeping you still, keeping his potential for offspring alive.
You don’t know how long he waits, how long he takes to recover, but you aren’t surprised when you feel his tongue on you again, lapping at your centre, driving you again to your peak. It doesn’t take long, you come again, and you feel him hard at your centre. As he breaches your defences again, you wonder how many times he will do this, and you find you never ever want it to stop.
Summary:You just moved to a new city to start a new job. At a party, you meet Detective Walter Marshall without knowing he’s your future colleague.
Word count: ca. 3.1k
Warnings:fluff, hinted oral sex if you squint, mentions of alcohol, mentions of homicide (no details). The following parts will require more warnings. Just getting started!
A/N:This story is about a new beginning and how you can get in your own way sometimes. It’s also a story about arriving and two people finding each other.
As far as I can tell right now, it will be an angsty-smutty-fluffy ride and I’d be thrilled if you joined me!
Not beta’d, and English is not my native language, so you’d better be prepared for mistakes. Thank you so much for reading!! Feedback means the world to me, and I’d love to hear what you think!
A content sigh leaves your lips when you put four books on the shelf. Almost there! Your gaze roams the living room as you disassemble the last moving box. Finally, countless boxes are unpacked, your stuff neatly stowed away in the closets and shelves of your new apartment, except for two boxes with winter clothes you won’t need for the next months.
You arrived here three days ago to start over. Again. One might assume you’re used to new beginnings because moving from one city to another was a part of your childhood since… Since that day.
For each beginning bears a special magic that nurtures living and bestows protection. You can still hear your mother’s voice, reciting Hermann Hesse every time you had to move again. There’s some truth in those words, for sure. But in your case, every beginning also meant leaving beloved people behind and meeting new neighbors, colleagues, and other people you may stumble across. And you’ll probably never get used to either. You’re not terribly shy around new people, you never were, but making friends as an adult seems much harder than making friends as a kid. Not to speak about maintaining friendships across thousands of miles and different timezones.
You’re all the more thankful you’re not completely alone here. A smile spreads across your face as you look at one of the numerous picture frames on the wall. One photo shows Mike and you at your college graduation ceremony, arm in arm, grinning proudly. The next picture was taken only seconds after the first one; your faces contorted in goofy grimaces. You met him on the first orientation day, and you became friends almost right away. After completing your paralegal studies, both of you became law enforcement transcriptionists. You spent the next decade working for different transcription companies as you moved from one place to another with your family. Mike moved to this city right after college to start working for the homicide division of the local police department, and he has been here ever since.
When you talked to him on the phone three months ago, you mentioned you desperately needed a change. A change from the city you lived in back then. A change from living with your family. Of course, you love your mother and your siblings to death, and you’ll gladly support them anytime, but living with them seemed to suffocate you more and more. Long story short, Mike had put in a good word for you with his boss, and you will be colleagues in two days. You’re hired to transcribe interrogations and witness statements, mostly recordings, sometimes live.
The thought about Monday makes your stomach feel like it’s in a knot. It’s not that you’re excessively worried about your skills. You know, you’re both qualified and experienced and you have dealt with several homicide cases before. Yet, this will be the first job where every case will be a homicide. Every case will have a victim and a murderer who are someone’s child, maybe someone’s parent, sibling, friend, spouse or lover. You will listen to those people telling their version about the end of the victim’s life, and you will write their stories down. You already know some of these cases will haunt you and keep you awake at night.
But one step after another. You shake your head, smiling when you realize this is also something your mother says quite a lot. And more often than you’d like, she’s right.
You look at your phone, muttering a curse when you see how late it is. Mike and his fiancée Sarah invited you to their backyard bbq tonight to relax a bit and get you among people. You still have 30 minutes until your uber will arrive, enough time for a quick shower. You make your way to the small bathroom to wash away the sweat and dirt of unpacking boxes in an overheated apartment for the whole day. And it’s only spring. Summer will probably be a nightmare here, like living in a sauna. You console yourself with the thought of air-conditioned offices because this is where you’ll spend most of your day.
After your shower, you stand in front of your closet, contemplating what to wear. Spontaneously, you pull out a cute summer dress - because why the hell not - and a warm cardigan to wear later. A little makeup, pretty sandals, your favorite earrings, and you’re ready to go. You grab your handbag and a bottle of wine before you sprint down the stairs from the 5th floor since the elevator seems to be broken again, making it to your uber just in time.
“You’re lucky,” the driver mutters, studying you in the rearview mirror. “Usually, I don’t wait that long here. This area is a real shithole.”
“I know,” you sigh. But the rent is cheap, you add in your thoughts. “Thanks for waiting anyway.”
The rest of the ride to your friends’ house is quiet as you look out the window, watching skyscrapers and apartment blocks fly by, making room for green spaces and single-family houses.
Mike’s and Sarah’s house looks like most people’s dream: located in the suburbs, country house style both on the outside and the inside, and a huge backyard with a pool.
You make your way to the backyard, where Mike greets you with a big hug, making you immediately feel welcome. As soon as he lets go of you, Sarah pulls you into her arms.
“Y/N, you made it,“ she squeals. "You look so lovely in that dress! Let’s sit down, you must be exhausted from unpacking boxes.”
You smile as you let her usher you to a group of chairs, chattering non-stop.
“And that wine looks so good, thank you so much! Mike, honey, could you bring us a corkscrew and two glasses, please?”
“Yes, ma'am,” he grins, bending down to press a sweet kiss on her lips and sending you a wink before he makes his way to the house.
For as long as you’ve known him, Mike has always been a warm-hearted guy who took all sorts of strays under his wing. You haven’t known Sarah for long, but she seems to be just the same kind of person. And there’s no denying that you - new in town, painfully single, without family or other friends here - are their latest stray.
There could be worse, you think to yourself as your gaze wanders across the backyard. Tables and chairs are arranged in several groups, beautifully decorated with lanterns and pots with fresh herbs, more lanterns hanging in two walnut trees - a scenery predestined to be photographed for one of those fancy home and garden magazines. Of course, the grill is huge, and there’s enough food to feed an entire army. And they have invited a whole crowd of people indeed - a mixture of families, couples, and singles; mostly friends, neighbors, and a few colleagues as you learn during the evening. You spend most of the time getting to know everyone, shaking hands and doing Smalltalk, occasionally stuffing your face with the best chicken breast and cobb salad you’ve had in a long time. When it got dark, and a bit chilly, Mike lits a bonfire, and everyone gathers around the fire pit to roast some s’mores and warm up by the fire.
At some point, you excuse yourself for a bathroom break. You try to memorize the woman you sat next to by the bonfire as you make your way to the house: Her name is Jen, she’s in her 60s, and she and her husband live in the same street as Mike and Sarah. She has been very friendly and easy to talk to, and the best is, she’s the assistant of your future boss, so you’ll see her again at work.
On your way back out, you hold on to the banister as you carefully walk down the steps of the back porch. In the backyard, you stop for a moment to let your eyes adjust to the darkness.
You tilt your head back to look at the starry sky, and at this very moment, someone comes around the corner of the hedge with quick steps, crashing right against you. The collision pushes the air out of your lungs, making you huff in shock as you fall forward. You extend your hands, trying to break your fall, but it’s too late. Pebbles crunch as you land hard on your knee, piercing and scratching your skin.
“Oh shit, sorry, I didn’t see you,” a hoarse voice gasps out.
A broad figure crouches down beside you, and you recognize him immediately. Tall, dark unruly curls, scruffy beard, rugged yet handsome appearance. He arrived a bit later than you, alone. Another stray, you thought immediately. His handshake was pleasantly firm as you introduced yourself to him, exchanging only a few words. Also later, when everyone sat around the bonfire, he didn’t say much. Maybe he’s a quiet person in general, but you also noticed how tired he looked, dark circles under his eyes, even visible in the soft light of the fire. Your gazes met a couple of times across the flames, making the corners of your mouths turn up into small smiles. Walter. That’s his name.
“Are you okay?” he asks, concerned.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” you mumble, a bit embarrassed, although he’s the one who knocked you down. Yet you feel your cheeks grow hot, and you’re thankful for the darkness that surrounds you. He carefully helps you stand up, one hand on your elbow, the other one on your hip, loosening his grip as soon as you’re back on your feet.
A sharp pain shoots to your knee when you tentatively shift your weight on your leg, making you hiss.
“I don’t think you’re okay,” he states, grabbing your elbow to support you again. “Are you hurt?"
“It’s just my knee,” you murmur through gritted teeth.
“Let’s go inside, so I can have a look at it in the light.”
“It’s okay. I think I’ll live,” you try to appease him.
“Just to make sure you don’t bleed to death here. Please?” His face is cast in the shadow, but you can hear the smile in his voice.
Running out of arguments, you let him guide you to the house. Now and then, he puts his hand on the small of your back, actually so slightly it’s barely noticeable. Yet something about him draws you in, making you overly aware of his every move, letting your skin tingle at every little touch.
He opens the door for you, gesturing for you to enter first. A gentleman, you think to yourself, sending him a surprised smile as you walk past him.
In the bathroom, he helps you sit down on the edge of the bathtub. Your eyes follow him as he casually opens doors and drawers, gathering several things to treat your wound.
He seems to take up the whole room, reminding you of a rugby player with his broad back and shoulders, and tree trunk legs. The sleeves of his hoodie are pushed up to his elbows, granting you a look at his thick forearms. And you can’t help but look at his equally thick and tight ass when he bends down to get a towel from a closet.
Before you know it, he has already straightened up and turned around, catching you subconsciously biting your bottom lip as you check him out. A smirk spreads across his face while a flush of blood rushes to your cheeks, making you lower your gaze in shame.
He turns towards the sink to wash his hands, but this time you keep your eyes from wandering as you focus on breathing evenly, attempting to drive away the heat in your cheeks.
“Damn,” he murmurs as he crouches down in front of you, taking a closer look at your knee. That’s when you remember why you sit here. You turn your gaze to your knee as well, realizing you scraped it pretty badly, dirt and gravel sticking to the wound, a trail from dried blood running along your shin. The view brings back the stinging pain you had somehow forgotten about, making you wrinkle your nose.
“I need to clean the wound first. Can you turn around so I can rinse it?” he asks, wrinkling his nose likewise as if he too felt the pain.
After a bit of shuffling, you sit astride the edge of the bathtub, one foot on the floor, the other one supported on the opposite edge.
Walter grabs the shower head and starts to rinse your wound. Normally, the cold water would have given you goosebumps, but now it feels like a futile attempt to cool down your overheated body. Of course, the fact that he’s so fucking close isn’t exactly helpful. You feel the heat radiating off his body as his arm and shoulders repeatedly press against you, and his scent invades your senses - a hint of smoke from the bonfire, mixed with a whiff of his cologne and something irresistible. Him.
When the wound is clean, he wets a washcloth to gently wash dried blood and dirt off your leg. Then, he pats your knee dry before carefully applying a thin layer of antibiotic cream.
His head is bent over your knee, his forehead wrinkled in concentration. Meanwhile, you admire the tangle of unruly curls on his head, wondering what his hair would feel like if you buried your hand in it as he buried his head between your legs… For fucks sake, Y/N, keep it together, you scold yourself and your raging hormones.
“Is that better?” You almost jump when you hear his voice.
“Yeah, it almost doesn’t hurt anymore. You do that often, huh?” you manage to reply.
“Something like that,” he smiles as he bandages your knee, his eyes repeatedly flicking between your knee and your face. And what a pair of eyes he has! Blue like the sea on a sunny day with a patch of brown in his left eye, as you notice now.
“There we go,” he murmurs as he secures the end of the bandage.
“Well, thanks for doctoring me,” you answer, tentatively bending and straightening your leg.
“It’s the least I could do after knocking you down, right?”
For a moment, you just smile at each other. You expect him to stand up, but he stays crouched down in front of you, still so damn close. Your smiles slowly fade as you lock eyes with each other, and the air suddenly feels thick to breathe. His gaze wanders to your lips, and then, he slowly leans closer. You can hear your own heartbeat in your ears as his lips brush yours, planting a gentle kiss on your mouth. He pulls back just a tiny bit, his hot breath fanning your face as he looks at you inquiringly, carefully watching your reaction. You almost startle yourself when you lean forward, longingly pressing your lips on his. After a few seconds, a part of your brain reminds you that you don’t know him at all, that you probably shouldn’t kiss a stranger, and the thought makes you pull back slightly. Again, you stare at each other, mesmerized, your faces only inches apart as none of you makes a move to withdraw further. Then, you lean in at the same time and that’s when your mind goes blank. You let your eyes flutter shut as your mouths melt into each other, unable to stop the sigh falling from your lips when he touches your neck, running his thumb along your jaw. You have no idea for how long you’ve been sitting here on the edge of the bathtub, kissing this beautiful stranger, losing yourself in the sensation of his soft lips and his warm hands on your skin.
The sudden sound of steps in the hallway makes you startle apart. Walter hastily stands up while your eyes remain glued to each other, blinking as if you just woke up. Seconds later, Jen appears in the doorway.
“Walter? Ah, here you are! And Y/N, too! Walter, I thought you were already gone, but then I saw your car. Any chance you could give me a lift? My feet hurt like hell. Those damn shoes… Oh boy, what happened here?” she asks, a bit concerned, gesturing at the bandages and towels which are scattered on the floor.
“I was on my way out, but Y/N needed some first aid,” he answers, seemingly nonchalantly skipping the reason why you needed first aid after all.
“Aw, my poor girl! What happened?”
“I stumbled and fell. Clumsy me,” you shrug, your mouth curving into a smile as you send him an amused look, watching in delight as his ears turn red. Cute!
“Of course, I can give you a lift,” Walter hastens to answer Jen without giving her time to answer you, earning another amused look from both of you.
“Thank you so much, dear!” Jen chirps without pressing him further. “Let’s go then. I need to get my beauty sleep before the weekend is over.”
Walter nods, but instead of leaving, he starts to gather bandages and other first-aid utils from the floor.
“It’s okay. I can take care of that,” you offer.
“Are you sure you don’t need help?” Jen asks.
“Of course,” you reassure them, smiling. “It’s fine, really.”
“Leave the wound covered for 24 hours and change the bandage daily, okay?” Walter instructs you, all businesslike.
“Okay. Bye Walter. And thanks again.“
"Bye, Y/N.” He replies as he walks to the door, his expression what can only be described as a poker face. Just before he leaves the room, you see a tiny, conspiratorial smile tugging at his lips and it’s enough to give you butterflies in your stomach.
Before you know it, Jen pulls you into a big hug. “Bye, sweetheart! And take care, okay? I’m really looking forward to seeing you on Monday.“
“Thank you, Jen. I’m really looking forward to working with you,” you reply genuinely, hugging her back. From the corner of your eye, you see Walter stopping abruptly in the hallway.
“Working with you?” you hear him ask her, irritated, as they walk towards the front door.
“Jesus Christ,” you hear Jen sigh, feigning desperation. “Have you been living under a rock lately, Detective? Y/N is the new transcriptionist who starts on Monday.”
Detective… Wait, what?
You can’t hear his answer, but you see him looking over his shoulder, briefly meeting your gaze with the same level of confusion that you feel, before he follows Jen outside.
When the door closes behind them, you take a deep breath.
You slowly shake your head as you wash your hands, scrubbing traces of dirt and blood off your fingers.
You didn’t talk about your jobs earlier, but what you just heard can only mean one thing: You haven’t met one, but two future colleagues tonight. And you kissed him. And damn, what a kiss it was!
You press your cool hands against your hot cheeks as you look at your reflection in the mirror, watching an incredulous smile creeping across your face.
And you will see him again. On Monday.
Maybe… Maybe this beginning really bears a special magic.
The Path of Destiny Masterlist:A-Choose-Your-Own-Adventure story
Summary: Find your way through the Continent; your story depends solely on the choices you make.
Warning: some of the choices you make may result in 18+ content. By reading under the cut, you are acknowledging you are an adult and consent to the content below.
This is so much fun never knowing which of the different outcomes you’ll get .
That’s what I hoped for: you get the same experience as you would in these books but in an online format (with some adult content). I hope you enjoyed it!
A/N: I literally lost track of who asked for what first, so I’m working on a “oooh this might be fun to write today”-basis. Don’t fret, my loves, I’m getting through all prompts and requests as well, mostly because I need the distraction. I am living in HellTMcurrently. Prompt: Y/N works for CIA, who sends her undercover in the FBI. They, in turn, send her undercover in M16 - who then sends her right back undercover in CIA. Her superior is very confused.
Also also, this is probably going to be my first real Dark!Fic, because it just kind of lends itself perfectly for the idea, I’ve been playing with. Just a warning. It’s probably not as dark as I could make it, but I gotta ease into it
Remember, feedback feeds the soul (mine in particular) and my requests – and askbox – are always open – there’s no limits because I am me, and I have none!
Contains: Language, coworkers to lovers (or like, boss to lover) smut (18+ MINORS DNI), non-con, degradation, praise, sir-kink, spitting, impact-play, mentions of blood, p in v, oral (m receiving), fingering, use of a gun, anal with a gun, mentions of vomit, mentions of necrophilia (sorry, but it’s BRIEF), cream-pie, forced orgasm, forced cream-pie, use of a belt, breath-play, actual choking, gagging and probably more than that
W.C.: 5.022 (whoops)
Kiss with a fist
“You want me to do what?” You asked incredulously, staring with wide eyes at Mr. Walker. He raised his eyebrow and crossed his muscular arms over his chest, his button-down straining dangerously at the seams. “I don’t want, I need you to go undercover in the FBI. We’re sure there’s a mole, and important information might get leaked at any point.” “But… I… I’m new.” You said, sagging slightly in your chair. “I have no experience with being undercover, Mr. Walker.” “Which is why you’re perfect for it.” He sighed and leaned over the desk, his elbows resting on the smooth wood. “Listen to me, you’re amazing at what you do. You’re one of the brightest heads here, and you think quick on your feet. I wouldn’t send you unless I was sure, you would be able to handle it.” You nodded. You weren’t getting out of this one. “Alright.”
————
The FBI was very different to the CIA – there was a lot more hustle and bustle, and you tried to blend in as much as you could, giggling at the water cooler with the other women from the office, trying to get gossip that could actually be beneficial. Lucy, the receptionist, had managed to slip during a coffee-break, talking about an anonymous man, who seemed to slip in and out of the office constantly. It was strange, how little people noticed, because he was a tall and broad man, and she had conspiratorially whispered to you, that it was strange that there always seemed to be a case right after his visits.
“I mean, you’ve never seen his face?” You asked casually, tipping your coffee-cup to your lips. She shook her head. “No, that’s the weird part, right? I mean, he just comes and goes, I’m not even sure he work…” She stopped talking when your “boss”, Mr. Jansen, came over and gestured for you to follow him into the office.
“Y/N, I’m going to need your help. You are very skilled at what you do, and I can appreciate you helping from the office, but I have gotten a tip.” You sat down. Jansen was a no-nonsense kind of man, and you were mentally preparing for whatever he was going to say. He never coddled anyone. “I need you to go undercover in M16. I got a tip that someone from there is trying to bring the internal parts of FBI down, and we need to nip it in the bud.” Again? You were going to be a triple-agent, now? “Sir, I…” “It’s not a question, it’s an order. Pack up, you’re doing double-duty.” “Sir, I just started here, and…” “And you have a glowing review. You got this. Now, get.” You stood and walked to your office, trying to make sense of what the hell was happening. You grabbed your phone and debated calling Mr. Walker, but thought better of it; you were undercover, and you couldn’t afford to blow it now.
M16 was a whole different shit-show. You had been thrown into the middle of some serious office-heat, agents on each other like cats in an alley, and you were surprised any type of work was being done around here. On your first day, you had – unfortunately – to give a sweating, large man a kiss with your fist, when he thought it was smart to put a hand up your skirt. Everybody pretty much got the message after that, and most lewd comments weren’t said to your face, at least.
Not that it mattered to you at all, because you seemed to have stumbled upon something bigger than moles in the organizations – it seemed to run a lot deeper, weaving some dangerous webs. You couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed that whoever did this (or helped) didn’t bother to try and cover their tracks.
It seemed to be some sort of manifesto, that had been hidden under layers of coding, and for now, all you had managed to get deciphered was LarkandApostoles, which, granted, didn’t give you much to on, but it did lead you down the rabbit hole. It would seem as if there was a larger ploy at work here, and you were beginning to feel uneasy about it.
A late night – after pushing several men away from your desk with the promise of castrating them with a finger, if they didn’t leave – you finally managed to get through, and you were surprised at how much information lay between the many lines of the manifesto, along with several instructions to both the FBI and M16; The Syndicate seemed to be printed along any and everything, and you felt sick to your stomach. John Lark was the name that kept popping up, along with a simple A., who seemed to be the one giving instructions on how to dismantle several areas of the inner workings of the FBI and M16.
It wasn’t a mole, it was several. And they all worked towards the same, common goal: Destroy a third of the world’s population. You had to admit, the way they talked about it both gave you a case of serious ick, but also intrigue. You weren’t really on any rouge sides, nor had you ever wanted to be, but there was something in the way they described the entire thing… It was overwhelming. Haunting. But beautiful, even though you were well aware that it would be impossible to ever get done.
“Y/L/N.” You screwed your eyes shut and turned before opening them, looking at the very angry face of Porter, your “boss”, who was currently tapping her heeled foot to the ground. “Are you alone in the office?” You nodded. She terrified you. “Good.” She walked with brisk steps to your desk and sat down, pointing at the several folders full of your findings. “I see I’m not the only one, who managed to figure out something was off.” You shook your head. “No, ma’am.” She didn’t need to know that you theoretically had been sent by C.I.A and FBI. “I’m glad someone has a bright head. It’s why I trust you to do this.” She sighed. “How long have you worked here?” “Uh, around six months?” You answered. “Would you be comfortable to be in the field?” “I mean, that’s what I was trained for… Do we have an OP, I’m not aware of?” She shook her head. “No, this is very much between only a few people in the office. It needs to be dark.” “Okay…?” Her eyes bored into yours. “Can I trust you?” No. “Of course, ma’am.” “Good. Now, I need an insider on the C.I.A. I need feet on the ground and eyes on the sky in there.” She pointed to the folder in front of you. “I’m sure I’ve found a link between some of the higher ups in there and John Lark.” You gulped. “Uhm, ma’am…” “I know, it sounds crazy, right? But look at this.” She flipped a few pages and pointed to a signature, along with a few lines of instructions. “That is definitely government speech. I can sense it, and we need to dismantle this shit as quickly as we can. Weed the weeds before they grow roots.” You didn’t exactly want to tell her that for weeds to grow, they already hadroots. “Okay. What do you need?”
————–
Walking back into your real workplace was somewhat unsettling. You had to try and lie your way through why you were back; not that you truly thought it mattered, because nobody would bat an eyelid at you for being back. Well, except Mr. Walker.
“Y/L/N?”Shit. “Hi, Mr. Walker.” He was next to you in two wide strides, brows furrowed and upper lip trembling a little. “What the hell are you doing back here?” In a very unceremonious way, he grabbed a tight hold of your elbow and dragged you to his office, closing and locking the door behind him. “You were supposed to be on intel with the FBI!” You sighed. Time to lie your face off. “FBI sent me on a wild goose chase. I’m sure they’re trying to get the lead buried before I can get to it, and I just needed…” You sighed and rubbed your forehead. “I guess I just needed some sort of normalcy. I think better here.” You said, biting your lip. He stared at you, gesturing for you to sit on the chair in front of his desk. “You came back to think?” You shrugged, sitting down. “I suppose. They’re… Well, it’s a harder job than I expected it to be.” You said – it wasn’t a lie, per se, you were just omitting parts of the truth. In all honesty, at this point, you actually didn’t care who did what, who was behind what, and who or what wanted to blow up a third of the world. You really just wanted to have one damn organization to stick to, thank you very much. He looked at you, clearly searching your face for something – any signs of lies. “What do you know?” He commanded. He stood against his desk, arms crossed, and you realized two things at once; first, that he was very attractive when he was being all demanding and used his “I’m in charge”-voice, and second, that his eyes flickered for a brief second. The smallest of movements, something most – if not all – people would miss.
It was a flicker of fear.
Suddenly, everything clicked into place. The signature of A, the tall, broad man who kept to the shadows at the FBI, the somewhat familiar wording in the manifesto.
“Not much yet.” You lied trough your teeth. “There’s rumblings about someone going in and out of the high office, but not much more than that. A lot of watercooler-gossip, so far, but not anything of note.” You swallowed thickly, and your eyes fell on his pants, where you saw the gun resting against his hip. Well, that and the othergun.
“Hm.” He tilted his head to the side. “And what does the watercooler-gossip tell you?” “That Lucy is fucking her boss.” You said nonchalantly – you didn’t know how to word anything out without giving yourself up. “Apparently, she got some intel from him about something being coded heavily, but that’s the gist of it.” You saw the way his demeanor changed, even before he moved or talked again; there was an unmistakable shift in him, and it made your stomach drop in fear. He sighed and pushed off from the desk, leaning over you, large, thick and muscular arms trapping you in, as his hands grabbed the sides of the chair.
“Y/N. How about we don’t lie to each other?” he said with a dangerous smile. “Sir, I’m…” “Don’t play with me, little bird.” You choked on your own spit at the nickname. “I’m well aware that you’re an incredibly talented and bright woman. It’s really on me, trying to throw you off by sending you somewhere else, digging for leads that wouldn’t get you anywhere.” You swallowed thickly, fear seeping from your pores. The way he looked at you, completely calm and collected, with a small, dangerous smirk on his lips and eyes lit with rage, sent shivers of fear down your spine. “I should’ve known better. See, my problem with you…” He leaned in a little closer, his face closer to yours. “Is that I like you, little bird. Oh, how I liked watching you look at me all attentive, your back straightening every time I spoke the smallest command.” You couldn’t breathe. “It was so easy for me to control what you looked into, what you saw and what you did, when you were right under my nose. You got a little too close, didn’t you? A few months ago, you stumbled on some very bad information, and you…” He smirked dangerously and almost degrading at you. “You ran straight to me, like I would’ve been able to save it. I had to send you off. I needed you away, so you didn’t screw up more for me.” You swallowed thickly. “Sir, I’m… I won’t…” “No, you won’t.” he pushed away from your chair and his eyes glinted. “Go on, little bird, spread those sweet, little wings.” He nodded at the door behind you. It was instant, the way your body kicked into gear; fight or flight was on the tip of your tongue, you could taste metal as you practically jumped the chair and rushed to the door.
You should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy. As soon as your fingers landed on the lock, a strong hand grabbed the back of your neck, pushing you roughly against the door. You exhaled a shaky whimper at the impact; you were well aware that August Walker had killed people with less than a hand on their neck, and for the first time in your life, you were fearful of death. His body pressed against your back, fingers wrapping in your hair and pulling roughly. You were shivering as his torso pressed against you, his breath hot and sticky on your exposed neck. “Oh, sweetheart, why would you think I would make it easy on you?” His lips scraped against your neck, his beard tickling you – you wanted to vomit. “I’m going to make things very hard for you now.” With a single move, he had you turned around, hand still on your neck and in your hair, and he pushed you down to the small sofa in the corner of his office. You grunted when your back hit the sofa, and your head would’ve hit the wall, if he didn’t have a strong grip on you. He slowly, while his eyes were burning into yours, moved his hands until his thick fingers pressed against your throat, cutting off air supply. You tried to struggle against his grip, clawing at his arms, but you were too small, too weak for him to even take notice. His eyes darkened when he took your state in; your hair was coming loose from your bun, your skirt had ridden up on your thighs, your chest heaving, trying to catch your breath, and unshed tears glossed your eyes over. It was a sight to him. “Well… I did have other plans, but I suppose we can make our own fun first.” He mused, his free hand trailing down your body. “Don’tfucking touch me!” You spat breathlessly at him, trying to recoil from his touch. He didn’t take that well. His hand collided with your cheek, the smack echoing in his office, and you felt, more than you heard, the small crunch of your jaw moving slightly out of place. “Don’t test me, you fucking slut. I’m trying to be nice, and that’s how you repay me?” He was seething with rage, and his grip on your throat tightened even more; you gasped, the air leaving your body completely now. He spat at your face, the spit landing on your cheek and nose and he hummed appreciatively at the sight. “There’s a good, little whore.” His thumb caressed your skin, smearing the spit around. You felt the burning of tears in your eyes. “You can cry. I like it when you do.” He said with a dangerous smile, his free hand again moving down your body. You didn’t have a choice, there was nowhere to go, and you wanted to throw up at the feeling of his fingers on you; you ignored the sliver of you that began to respond to him, desperate for your body to shut off. With a flick of his wrist, three buttons on your shirt popped off, and he had a view to your chest. “I always knew I liked you for a reason, Y/N.” You saw black spots float in and out of your vision, and you almost hoped to just pass out. His grip slackened. “Oh no, we can’t have that, can we? You deserve to see, what we’re going to do together, little bird.” You whimpered and tried to clench your thighs together to avoid his fingers dipping in. He chuckled darkly and with the same effort he’d probably use to swat a fly away, he ripped your skirt completely.
You didn’t have the time to react nor say anything, before his large fingers grabbed the thigh highs and tore them down your legs. “So pretty… I should’ve fucking hired you as a secretary, you would have been so much fun to train, wouldn’t you?” he mumbled, mostly to himself, and you realized that this – whatever you had previously hoped or thought – was moving in a direction, that made your hairs stand up. Fuck.
“August, please…” A slap landed on your cheek again, and you groaned at the pain; one more of those, and your jaw would dislocate. “Donot call me that. I am Sir to you. Daddy, if you’re being good.” You whimpered and the tears began flowing freely now, when his strong hands pried your legs open and tore your underwear in half; he wasn’t a patient man, and you had already dragged it out way too much for his liking. He chuckled and his tongue darted out, licking the tears away from your burning cheek. You wanted to recoil from him, but his grip on your throat was a little too tight.
Without warning, he thrusted two thick fingers inside of you. You screamed at the sudden intrusion, hoping someone would hear you and help. He began dragging his fingers in and out of you, spitting down on his fingers as they almost left your body to lubricate them. “Scream all you want, darling, nobody comes in here.” Your tears were rolling down your cheeks now, his thick fingers ripping you apart with every thrust. You wanted to hate yourself, your fucking body for slowly warming to him; you felt it, the way you fluttered around his fingers and the ease, he began sliding in and out of you.
“There’s a good, little whore. You’re liking this, aren’t you? Liking being put in your place; just taken however I want to?” he chuckled again and sped up his fingers. You whimpered, your teeth gnashing on your lips to the point, where you could taste blood. His lips found yours, forcefully kissing you and lapping the blood from your lips, while he fucked you relentlessly with his fingers. “I think… Maybe I’m not going to kill you right away, little one. No, I think my friends would love to meet you.” You whimpered at the thought of it – there was so much laced into the words, and you would rather die. “You’re doing so well, just swallowing my fingers with your greedy, little pussy. Jesus, look at you, you’re such a fucking slut, aren’t you?” You didn’t want to like it. You didn’t, but your body was reacting to everything he did and said, and you felt yourself near a high, that terrifiedyou – if he thought you liked this, what else would he do to you? “Don’t think, you fucking whore, don’t worry. You’ll get yours.” He sped up and pressed his thumb roughly against your clit. You didn’t have time to try and stop it.
You came around his fingers with a choked sob of shame, your pussy gushing for him. “Good girl! Look at you, taking orders from me.” He laughed maniacally and pulled his fingers from you, keeping his grip firmly on your throat, while he opened his pants.
“Be good for me, little bird. Knees.” You tried shaking your head, refusing to fucking do anything for him. He groaned in annoyance and pulled you by your throat to the floor, yanking your hair roughly. “Don’t fucking disobey me again.” He said and pulled his cock out from his pants. It was throbbing and the tip was an angry red, already leaking precum. He was big, and you feared that you might actually choke on it. At least you’d have a chance if you bit him. His grip on your hair tightened and forced you to look up at him. “Try to bite me once and I’ll fucking skin you alive.” You swallowed thickly, and you knew the battle was lost even before it started. “Yes, sir.” He grinned. “There’s my good girl.” He lined his cock up with your lips and you slowly opened your mouth, tears still spilling from your eyes at the thought of what was about to happen. His cock slid against your tongue, and he forced himself as deep as he could go, you gagging around his cock. “Fuck, I should’ve done this a long time ago.” You spluttered around him, spit pooling around your lips and slowly dripping from your chin. You tried to pull away from him when he forced himself deeper down your throat. “No. You’ll take what I give you, and you’re going to fucking thank me for it.” He said, a little out of breath. “Look up at me.” You did what he asked, and he growled at the sight, his thumb wiping a stray tear away. You gagged and coughed around his hard, thick cock as he pushed it further down, and you lost all ability to breathe.
He didn’t let you adjust but began to fuck your mouth and throat as if you were nothing but a toy to him. He held you in place while he snapped his hips, and you spluttered again, trying to breathe – he laughed deviously. “Little bird, you’re not getting out of this. You’re going to be my little whore, aren’t you? So easy to…” he grunted and buried his cock deeper in your throat. “So easy to get on your knees, you’ve been fucking waiting for it, haven’t you? Wanted to suck my cock dry, like a good little pet?” He picked up the pace and you almost passed out when he swelled a little in your throat. He grunted and pulled out roughly, spitting in your face. “You should be my fucking lap-dog, darling.” He caressed your face in a gesture that was both way too intimate and shot fear into your veins. He pulled you up to your feet, and bent you over the desk, forcing your ass to stick out enough for your back to begin hurting. “Please, sir, you’re hurting me…” You mumbled, trying to see if there was a shred of humanity left in him. His hand landed on your ass roughly, and you yelped at the pain. “Good.” He hit you again. “See, nosy fucking bitches like you need to be punished, do they not?” You heard the unmistakable sound of a belt being pulled from loops and your face went white. “Please, no, I’m begging…” You didn’t finish your sentence. The belt hit you hard, hard enough for you to instantly feel nausea creep up on you, bile at the top of your throat, and you cried out. He just laughed and repeated the process. You lost track of time, how many times the belt had hit you, and you were vaguely aware of the trickle of warmth that ran down form your ass to the back of your thighs. He hummed and wiped the trickle with a finger, putting it in your mouth; you tasted metal. “Look at you, so obedient already. You’ll just let me spank you until you’re bleeding and not say a word to it?” You felt something cold press against your folds. “God, you really are a fucking whore, aren’t you? So stupid, so easy to convince…” You felt the cold thing press into you and you yelped, trying to move away. Your entire body was in pain.
He grabbed you by the throat again, and stopped moving whatever he had in his hand, inside of you, while he wrapped the belt – streaked with red now – around your throat, pulling it tightly. You gasped and choked, and he continued the onslaught of your pussy.
“God, getting fucked by my loaded gun does something to you, doesn’t it?” He mumbled and your eyes widened as he began fucking you hard with the barrel of his gun. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t move or even try to as he fucked you with the gun. Your body was reacting to it, growing wetter by the second. “It would be so fucking easy to kill you like this, you know? I could just…” You heard the gun cock. “Press this once and you’d be dead… I could probably still fuck you until you got too cold and stiff for me.” He pulled the belt again, forcing your head back. “Say thank you, sir, for not killing me right now.” You gasped as he loosened the tightness of the belt. “Fuck you.” You spat. He pulled the gun out of you and held it to your temple, his hard cock pressing against your pussy. “No, little bird, fuck you.” You screamed in pain when he entered you in one, fell thrust, filling you to a point, where it hurt. You were barely breathing, your nails had been broken and bled, while you clawed at the desk.
He fucked you as if he didn’t give a shit. He was rough, the gun steady against your face, his cock filling you up and nudging your cervix. “Fuck, you’re so tight, aren’t you? So tight and wet for me, just ready for me to abuse you, huh?” He snapped his hips and buried himself deeper inside of you – the desk scraped against the floor as he rutted hard against you. Your legs were shaking, and you couldn’t think – everything hurt. “Aw, is my poor, little whore sad? You want to cum, little bird? Just cum on my cock, while I have a gun to your head?” You shook your head. You refused. He chuckled. “Alright.” He sped up, and to your relief, he removed the gun from your head. He was groaning behind you, burying his cock deeply in you over and over, and your relief of the gun being gone was shortlived. You felt spit land on your puckered hole, and you wiggled, trying to get away from him, when he pressed the cold, slightly sticky barrel of his gun to your asshole. “Squirm, and it’ll only be worse.” He threatened, his free hand landing on your ass; you felt the blood trickle again and you screamed in pain, as the gun entered you. He was rough. You didn’t have time to think or adjust as he fucked you with his hard cock and let the barrel of the gun slip inside of your ass, moving it in sync with his cock.
Despite your hate and fear, you felt your pussy flutter around him, the familiar, dull ache behind your clit as your orgasm neared – you were fully sobbing now. “Good girl, fuck, you’re going to cum, aren’t you, love?” He sped up and angled his hips, this time shoving the tip of his cock roughly against your cervix. You were screaming in pain, your body trembling. “Cum, whore. Fucking cum, while I fuck you just like this…” he grunted, and you felt his speed falter for a second. “Cum for me, little bird, fucking make a mess out of me.” You couldn’t hold it back, even if you tried.
You exploded around him, the sounds of your wet slick gushing over his cock filling the room. You gasped for air and reprieve, but he was relentless; his cock was spearing you completely and it felt like you were about to split in two, while the fear of him just pulling the trigger for the hell of it, was ever present in your mind.
You sobbed through your orgasm, and when his lips found your shoulder, you had to bite back vomit.
“Yes, fuck, you feel so fucking good…” Everything felt wrong and painful. His speed was faltering, the rhythm leaving him. “So good, taking my cock so well, baby… Oh, I’m going to get so much use out of you.” He grunted. “You want me to fill you? Make you fill of my cum, get your pregnant so you can’t get away from me? Just… Fuck!” he roared as you began to try and claw at him, desperate to get him out of you. “Oh, yeah, I’m going to make you fucking round with me, darling. Oh, fuck, you need to take it all, like a good little whore…” He fucked you with the gun and his cock so roughly, you thought you were about to die. “Please, please, no… Sir, please…” You begged, but he just laughed and slapped your cheek again. Your jaw rattled.
He came with a strangled cry, pushing his cock and the gun as deep as they could go. You felt ropes of cum warm you and this time, you didn’t hold back. You threw up over his desk, your eyes searing with tears as he fucked his cum deeply inside of you. You were shaking and crying. “Aren’t you a dirty little thing?” he whispered as he pulled himself and the gun out of you, letting you go. You collapsed, your body sliding down from the desk and landing on the floor; you saw blood several places on the floor and your skin. You found his eyes and he cocked an eyebrow, while he wiped the gun down, almost caressing it.
“Now, we can’t have a mess, can we?” You didn’t answer. “I think you best clean that up, Y/N.” He pointed to the pool of vomit. “And then I think we’re going to have so much fun with you.” “We?” Your voice was hoarse, and you couldn’t speak above a whisper.
He squatted in front of you with that dangerous smile on his lips, lifting your face with the gun under your chin. “If you think I’m done with you…” he chuckled. “I have my Apostles, sweet bird.” You paled and he licked his lips. “After that? We’ll see if we need some stress-relief around.”
A/N: Another day, another prompt! You guys are getting a LOT of content over the next few days, because I am stressedTMand that means procrastinating like a fool. Best way to do things, I guess. For me, at least. There’s still prompts left, so go to my list and pick one, if you want to!
Prompt: “I love you!” “Wait, what?” “No time to explain, we gotta go!”
I love y’all so darn much. Thank you. Remember, feedback feeds the soul and my requests – and askbox – are always open – there’s no limits, because I am me and I have none.
Contains: Fluff, language, implied smut, a little insecurities, age gap
W.C.: 2.726
Living dangerously
You snuck around the trailers, your hands full of shaving cream and a pie. Joey Batey had not seen the last of you.
See, the set of The Witcher was normally pretty laid back, not much more going around other than the normal amounts of jokes and teasing; but Joey motherfucking Batey had decided that a prank-war was in due time, and he had started with you.
First mistake.
You might be the newest cast member, and you were normally a shy person, but you could not step down from a challenge. It was, coincidentally, also how you got the role of Shani in the show. It had been an open call casting, and your friend had dared you to go, so you did. You didn’t expect a callback, much less a third and then a screen test with Henry Cavill. You were about to pass out, when the casting director brought him in, all smiles and a very firm handshake, to test out chemistry between you; for some reason, the whole “love-interest”-thing had whizzed straight over your head, so you were a shaking mess, when you started testing a very specific scene, where Henry’s warm and large hands cupped your face, while spouting declarations of love. It was a lot, but you managed, clearly, because here you were, on set and with a character, who – if you were to believe the rumors – would be a reoccurring character. Fun.
You didn’t expect a fast friendship growing between you and Henry, though. After the screen test, you had been texting and talking pretty much every day, because you had both realized that you were nerds – you spent a lot of time talking about the world of The Witcher, but also just any and everything. And nothing. It had become a habit to just talk through the night, one of you dozing off while still on the phone. The fact that you had developed a slight (big) crush on the 10-year older man, was your own doing and you did your very best to keep it on the downlow. Especially after you began shooting, and you found out he was a very affectionate guy. Hugs, small touches, lips ghosting over your forehead, when he had his arm slung casually over your shoulder. It didn’t mean anything, you were sure – you were just about 99 % certain he saw you as a younger sister or something like that. He helped you figure out what pranks you could pull without getting fired, and he took you everywhere; if he had a thing to do, you were coming. It was kind of cute, the way he’d timidly ask you to join him for another dinner with some “important” people. The big, strong man, who could literally make you fearful of your life with a single glance, was a giant puppy in real life.
When Joey had started the damn prank-war, he had started easy with salted cookies. That was a dick-move, mostly because you really wanted cookies after a 12-hour shoot. You had retaliated with glue in his hand sanitizer. And so, the prank war was born.
The latest thing was over the line. He had transformed your fucking kitchen drawers into fish tanks, and you were having none of it.
Which is why you were sneaking around the trailers with shaving cream and pie, waiting for the golden opportunity to deckJoey.
As soon as he stepped out of his trailer, his eyes glued to his phone, you saw your chance and ran to him, pie smacking straight into his face, before showering him in shaving foam, giggling like a madman. He was spluttering and coughing out shaving cream, and when he looked at you, you knew it was a question of seconds before he lost his shit.
You ran as fast as you could, ignoring your burning lungs and your thighs literally feeling like jello under you, and sprinted to the other end of the set, spotting a familiar flash of greyish white hair and black armor. He saw you as well, a smile lighting up his face.
“Hey, Y/N, did you get to use the…” “Y/N Y/L/N, I am going to kill you!” Henry’s eyes whipped up to see a very angry-looking Joey stalking towards you. Was that shaving cream?
“I love you!” You said, grabbing his arm and tugging him to follow. “Wait, what?” He looked absolutely perplexed, and in any other situation, you’d pinch his cheek, because he looked stupidly cute like that. “No time to explain, let’s go!” you tugged his arm again, and he finally made his feet follow along, running behind you. He wasn’t even out of breath. “If you need to get away quicker, just get on my back.” He said with a grin, jogging next to you. Goddamned long legs. You scoffed.
“As if you could carry me.” You huffed, trying to keep your breathing steady. “Is that a challenge?” He stopped dead in his tracks. Shit. You glanced behind him and saw Joey – now with his arms full of unidentifiable things, that would definitely ruin your day – move towards you with a dangerous smile on his lips. “Shit. Henry, move.” You tried to force him to go with you, but he was a massive man with a lot of grounding, because he didn’t even flinch. “Nope. If I’m your get-away buddy, I’m insisting that I be your get-away vehicle as well.” “Henry, I… I’ll be too heavy.” You didn’t want to debate this stupid topic, much less indulge in your insecurities with a literal God in human form. “Y/N. If you’re trying to say your weight is an issue, I’m strongly advising you to say literally anything else.” He crossed his arms and smirked. You could see several cans of tomato-soup in Joey’s arms now. “Fuck, fine, just… We need to go!” You screamed, quickly maneuvering yourself behind Henry, who bent down a little to allow you to get on his back. “If you break your back trying to carry me, I will end you.” You whispered, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck, clinging on for dear life. You hated this idea. He laughed at you, hoisting you a little higher on his back and straightened out. “Don’t worry, my back can handle a lot.” You felt heat rush to your cheeks at that. “Henry, do not help her, I swear to God!” Joey yelled out, but Henry just chuckled and waved behind him at Joey, before his arms wrapped around your legs, holding you firmly to his body, and sprinted.
He didn’t break a sweat, and his breathing was weirdly even, despite the speed he was running at, and the added weight on his back. You were bouncing, clinging to him as he ran around the sets, headed to the dense forest that lay just behind it. He didn’t slow down before he was a few good meters into the forest, and he gently put you down next to a giant fir-tree, where you leaned against, clutching your chest.
“Shit, that was more terrifying than being on the back of a motorcycle.” You gasped, trying to lower your heartrate. It wasn’t all because of the running – a lot of it was the fact, that you were so close to him, you could feel his muscles roll under your hands and arms, and his cologne was embedded in your skin now. He grinned.
“Are you telling me you didn’t have fun?” You rolled your eyes and finally looked up at him. He was looking at you strangely. “Y/N…” Oh no, here it goes. You were heavy, he probably dislocated something. “Why on earth did you think you were too heavy?” he asked instead, and you blinked a few times. “Uh…. Because I am…?” you said slowly and groaned at his expression. “I mean, clearly, I wasn’t right now, but like… generally speaking.” He tilted his head. “Darling, I could pick you up with one arm and not think twice about it. You are nottoo heavy.” That sparked some very inappropriate thoughts in your head, that you desperately needed to go away. “I, uh… Sure, Henry.” He stepped closer, his chest almost touching you; the black armor made a delicious sound of leather straining against leather, and you had to will yourself to hear what he said. “You are challenging me, sweetheart.” “Oh, no, not at all.” You could hear how damn bratty you sounded. “I mean, I—humpf.” You shrieked, when you were lifted from the ground by a single arm around your waist, Henry pinning your back to the tree behind you while grinning at you. Your heart did a somersault right in your chest, and you cursed how good he looked with the wig on.
“Okay, fine, fine, you’ve proved your point.” You said, gasping a little. He didn’t let you down but stepped even closer and slotted himself between your legs – by instinct, you wrapped them around his hips. “I have a question for you, Y/N.” He said seriously, his perfect lips mere inches from your face. “Mhm?” You didn’t trust your voice at this moment, so you figured a nonsensical noise would be better to avoid embarrassment. He cocked an eyebrow at you. “Would me buying you a can of shaving cream and a cream pie have anything to do with Joey being covered in white goo?” You laughed and snorted in a very unladylike manner. “Maybe. Maybe not. It’s best for you to stay out of it, I can’t have your life on my conscience.” He laughed a little at that. “I think I’m already involved now.” “Shit, yeah, probably. Uh…” You looked down at your body, ignoring the way your stomach rolled, to see your legs still tightly wrapped around his hips. “Could I, uh, get my feet back on solid ground?” You asked timidly, heat flaring in your cheeks. He thought for a moment, before his grip on your waist tightened. “No. I have another important question.” “Okay?” you swallowed thickly. Don’t think about his cock, don’t think about his cock, don’t think about…
“This is actually a really important question, darling. And I need you to be very honest with me.” His expression changed from jovial to something more serious and something else, you couldn’t quite put your finger on. “Are you comfortable right now?” You furrowed your brows. “I mean… Like right this second?” He nodded. You shifted a little, accidentally rolling your hips. A barely noticeable hiss fell from his lips, which you also decided to ignore. You’d done a lot of ignoring today. “Uhm… I mean, the bark isn’t really super duper soft, but other than that… Yes…? Was that your very important question?” He smiled softly. When did his face come so close to yours? “Not really, no. I just wanted to check in.” “Oh…Kay?” He swallowed and you watched his Adam’s apple bop a little. “I can’t put this out there in an eloquent way, so I’ll just come right out with it.” Oh God. You were getting fired. Maybe. Probably. Your heart sped up and you were intently focused on his eyes. “Is there a reason, you haven’t ever returned any of my sad attempts at flirting?” You almost choked on thin air. “I’msorry?” “I’ve been flirting with you for the better part of six months, love. I mean, I know I’m old and a little rusty in that department, but I feel like at least some of it must’ve come across.” “I…” You didn’t know what to say, and honestly, your brain was short-circuiting at the moment, because his thumb had begun rubbing small circles on your waist. “You’ve been flirting. With me.” It sounded like a statement more than a question. He chuckled. “I have. I don’t talk to just anyone throughout a day and night, pretty much every day. I also don’t touch anybody just for the hell of it.” You thought back to all the small touches, and what you had perceived as just the way he was – in hindsight, you could see that he didn’t do that to anyone else on set. “But… I’m me.” “I would hope you are.” His forehead rested against yours now. “I should’ve said something sooner.” “No, I mean… You’re a literal God on earth, and I’m… Jiggly. And ten years younger than you, I might add.” You said slowly, trying to keep your composure. “Didn’t you tell me a week ago: age is but a number, baby?” “I might’ve.” “Besides, you’re… Perfect. For me, I mean. In my eyes.” He drew a deep breath, his lips twitching a little. “God, the things I’ve imagined doing to you…” You could’ve died right there. “I would happily die, if it was death by your thighs.” You couldn’t swallow. “And I’ve had the filthiest thoughts… Whenever we talked on Facetime, all I wanted to do was reach through the fucking screen and touch your skin… Show you just what I want to do with you.” He licked his lips. “Unfortunately, I am a British man, and we’re stupidly good at being gentlemen, which means my brain has been screaming at me to take you to dinner, and then ravish you.” You squeaked at that, your entire body buzzing. “I didn’t… Uh…” “I’ll leave it be, never talk about it again and we’ll go back to being friends, if you don’t feel even a sliver of something towards me. I’d hate it and I must be honest, I doubt I can continue being your friend.” Your breathing was shallow now, and you move your hands to his hair, toying with the damned wig just to do something. “I can’t say I’m not feeling something.” You admitted. “Why would you not… Be able to continue being my friend?” You asked slowly, your eyes settling on his blue. “Because all I’ve wanted to do for months is this.”
He kissed you softly, lips hesitant and sweet like honey, like he was testing the waters. You were having none of that. It was like a kick of a drug to your system, every nerve and cell standing ready – you kissed him back with ferocity, as if it was your last day on earth, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressed your body even closer to his. You wanted to fucking melt together with him, his lips never leaving yours, because this was probably the only thing you’d ever care about ever again. The feeling of his lips against yours, the way he groaned into the kiss, his eagerness to return the kiss with just as much ferocity as you brought to him, was intoxicating.
It could’ve been minutes or hours before he pulled back, peppering small kisses on your face.
“I’ll take it as you being just fine with this?” he asked, slightly out of breath. You felt something nudge your thigh and you raised your eyebrows. “I mean… Yes.” You rolled your hips against him, and he groaned, closing his eyes and tightened his grip on your waist. “Love, you need to stop that. We have a scene in…” He glanced at his clock. “Five minutes, and I cannot be hard and thinking of the various things, I have to do to you.” You cocked an eyebrow and kissed him again, your tongue sliding against his lower lip. “That would be a bad idea, wouldn’t it?” You whispered against his lips. He nodded, kissing you again. “And I definitely shouldn’t say something that would make your situation worse, right?” “Don’t you dare.” You sighed and hugged him, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered.
“I won’t, then.” You smiled, when you felt him exhale and sag slightly. “I just… Really wanted you inside of me, right here.” You rolled your hips again and was rewarded with the best gasping groan, you’d ever heard. “Darling…” He gripped your hair lightly to force you to look at his eyes, that had darkened significantly. “Don’t test me, or I’ll have to force you to see just how badly I could ruin you.” “Try me.”
And after his scenes, try you, he did. Several times, in fact. Loudly – loudly enough for the crew to wish you both congratulations, when you came out of your trailer, your neck covered in his love-bites and your hair a rat’s nest on your head.
A/N: I’m slowly, but surely making my way through my prompt-list for the month of May! There’s still some left to choose from, so get your cute little butts to the list and pick out what you’d like to see! I hope y’all will enjoy it, because I sure as hell loved writing it!
Prompt: “Did you not notice me flirting at all?” “You’re very hard to read! “It’s been TWO YEARS!”
Remember, feedback feeds the soul (mine in particular) and my requests – and askbox – are always open – there’s no limits because I am me, and I have none!
Contains: Language, fluff, sort of coworkers to lovers, straight, pure fluff to rot your teeth on such a fine Thursday, Henry being an absolute SNACK
W.C.: 2.277
Dirty little secret
It wasn’t that Henry didn’t know he was attractive. Hell, he had even used it a few times to his own gain; a smile, a wink here and there, and he’d mostly get what he asked for. Sometimes even things, he didn’t ask for.
But Y/N had been completely unfazed by him – you had smiled softly right back and looked very confused, when Henry winked at you between sets. That had been two years ago, and he was growing pretty annoyed that you were so hard to fluster. It had become sort of a habit to him to try and flirt – at first, it was just to see if you picked up on it – but now it was a battle of will.
Heliked you. Actually, he had mused to himself during a night-shoot in frigid temperatures, when he saw you hand out homemade hot cocoa from your own thermos to every, single person working that night, he might be in love. You were easy to be around. You always carried yourself as if you were being lifted by gentle winds, your smile was infectious and your laugh, God, don’t get him started on your laugh. It was insane, the power you held over him.
It hadn’t made it easier when you became friends – of course, it was pretty inevitable, seeing as you were both regulars on The Witcher and had been since it started – and you were just… Perfect. You had baked him a birthday-cake, for crying out loud. With not enough candles, which you had told him was to his own benefit, so he didn’t think about how old he’d gotten. You were fucking beautiful, too. In such an unassuming, very unrecognized way. He had told you once that he thought you were stunning, when you wore that damned bottle-green dress to a red carpet, but you had blushed and told him, he didn’t need to lie. You were used to it. He didn’t understand that at all. To him, you were delectable, if he had to chose a word to describe you; round and luscious, curves and thighs that made him want to bury his face in you – all in all, he had to compliment himself on his sheer willpower, when you asked him to held you hook your damn garter-belt back to your thigh high and had hoisted your dress up just enough. His fingers were burning for days afterwards with the memory of your warm, soft skin under the pads of them.
And now, he was staring at you as you laughed your head off with Anya, tears welling in your eyes. He barked a laugh out when your makeup-artist scolded you with a stern face. “Laugh it up, Cavill, you’re the one getting covered in goo.” You shouted at him, and fucking winked at him. He might die from a heart attack these days. “Be careful, or I’ll cover you in goo.” He yelled back, and practically felt his toes retreat into his body. Flirting was normally not an issue for him, but with you, he was reduced to a teenager, apparently. You didn’t mind, throwing your head back and laughed loudly, a cute little snort following. “Sure, thing, darling, bring it on.” He tried not to let the thought of you covered in something else entirely get too much to him.
It was like a dirty little secret, how much he wanted you.
When it came to press-tours, the PR-team had decided that you were the only one who could handle interviews with him. They had been very vocal about the fact that Henry and Joey would be a match made in hell, that Anya and Freya had way too much chemistry to try and separate them; and Kim and Joey were simply perfect for co-interviews. Right bastards, really, because they – especially Joey – had made a very big deal out of a little crush. Joey was constantly wagging his stupid brows at Henry, whenever he talked to Y/N, while Kim gave Henry a stern “dad-talk”, threatening to cut each of his limps off, starting with the one between his legs if he ever as much as curled a hair on Y/N’s head. And then the teasing had begun. You had been none the wiser, simply thinking it was all in good fun, but oh lord, those two were absolute menaces.
So, that’s why you were seated next to Henry in a way too small couch – he wasn’t sure if it was actually small, he was big or he just felt like he was touching all too much of you, when your PR-manager came over. The PR-team had even gone as far as saying that you two had extraordinary energy together, and that had sealed the deal, apparently; Henry wasn’t exactly opposed to the energy you had with him, but he was, however, very concerned about the fact that his heart was beating out of his chest.
“You know, I can hear your gears turning, Henry.” You mumbled, nudging his shoulder. “All good?” “You’re next to me, why wouldn’t it be?” He said with a grin. You bit your lip. “You’re absolutely insane.” “About you, yes.” You rolled your eyes. “Reel it in, Casanova, save it for the ladies.” “Are you not a lady?” He couldn’t help the grin on his face; this was the first time you’d willingly entertained a conversation that started with flirting, although he suspected either it was nerves or you just being blissfully unaware that it was actual flirting. You were about to answer when the interviewer came into view. “I’m so happy to meet you both! I’m such a fan, Y/N, your last independent movie? It was an absolute joy to see.” Henry grinned at you. “Aw, thank you. I’m glad someone likes my weird movies.” The interviewer grinned, and Henry didn’t miss the way her eyes flicked to your arm, which had somehow linked around Henry’s. “Alright, are you guys ready to get the show on the road?” “Sure are.” Henry replied, smiling softly. He didn’t want to think too hard about the way your thumb rubbed circles on the crease of his elbow, or he might lose all remembrance of speech.
The interview was pretty clean, nothing out of the ordinary. He liked hearing your answers, as he always did, and he answered gracefully himself, whenever asked. “So, there’s some rumors going around.” The interviewer said, a wide smile on her lips. “There’s plenty of those, I imagine.” Y/N answered and laughed. “Remember the rumor about Jaskier secretly being a Witcher?” Henry nodded. “Or the one about Yennefer somehow being Ciri’s mother?” henry asked, and you both laughed. “While those are all good, this is actually about the two of you!” The interviewer said, straightening her back a little. “Oh, boy.” You swallowed thickly. You had told him at a wrap-party that you always feared the rumors; you were a little intimidated by the rumor-mill, and, you confided, worried that most of them was about your weight equaling your success and or talent. Henry found it ludicrous; you had more talent in your pinky than he did in his entire body. He untangled his arm from yours, and slowly, almost secretively, wrapped it around your waist, pulling you a little closer to him.
“I don’t know if you’ve seen the many videos about you two?” You both shook your head. “Oh, wow, you need to!” The interviewer grinned. “There’s a lot of compilations of you two, most of them titled something along the lines of Henry being in love with Y/N for five minutes straight and…” The interviewer looked at her cards. “Y/N being unaware of Henry being a lovesick puppy for ten minutes straight.” She laughed a little. “Wow, I didn’t think…” Y/n trailed off, looking to Henry for help. He was happy to do so. “Me neither. I mean, we’ve seen some of the ones with Joey and Anya, mostly because Joey is a narcissist who loves when people talk about him…” Henry laughed. “But we didn’t know people made them about us.” He willed the stupid blush to disappear from his face.
“Well, there’s plenty. I was just thinking, and judging by the videos, so are your fans, is there any truth to it?” You laughed. “Oh, no, we’re just friends.” Henry frowned. “Hey, now, that’s a little presumptuous of you to say.” You quirked an eyebrow at him. “Excuse me?” “Well…” he smiled. “I’m just saying, you can’t really just speak for the both of us.” You chuckled. “Do you have a thing for me, Henry?” You asked playfully, clearly expecting him to laugh along. He supposed no time was like the present. “Yes.” You coughed, choking a little on your own spit, while the interviewer breathed out a oh my God – she was about to hit the damn jackpot with this. “I’msorry?” You stared at him with wide eyes. He shrugged. “Yes. I have a thing for you. Several, in fact.” You spluttered. “But I… Y-wh…. What?” He smiled and turned to the interviewer.
“I think we’ll round out, if that’s alright.” She nodded, dumbfounded, and Henry stood, pulling you to your feet, saying your goodbyes and then dragged you to the green room, where he locked the door behind him.
“Henry, you can’t joke about…” You began. “I wasn’t joking. Why would I joke about that?” He asked as an afterthought. “I don’t know! Just… Maybe to get me… I don’t know.” You grumbled and sat down heavily in the chair next to the desk full of fruits and snacks. “You…Seriously have a thing for me?”
“Well, yes… Did you not notice me flirting at all?” You shrugged. “You’re very hard to read.” He groaned. “IT’S BEEN TWO YEARS!” He said in a loud voice. You looked to him.
“Wait, so… All those weird comments about… Like… Goo and all that, that was true?” You asked with the hitn of a smile on your lips. “Oh, the goo-one… Not my best.” He said, blushing at the memory. “But yeah, all in all.” “Oh, my… So, at your birthday, when you said you’d be happy to grow old, if I was next to you, you weren’t like… Making a weird nursing home reference?” You asked in a breathy voice. “No. I honestly thought that was enough to make you understand what I felt, but you are willfully ignorant, sometimes, my love.” He said, sitting down in front of you – he was kneeling, his large hands splayed out on your thighs. “My best friend calls it romance-selective hearing.” You giggled, your eyes locked on his hands. “Darling, I’m serious. If you had been paying attention, you’d have noticed how much I look at you. Want to be near you. How badly I want to just…” His grip tightened on your thighs. “Anyway, yes, I do feel… I have a thing or a million for you, but who’s counting?” He said with a soft smile. “I cannot. With you. Like… This. Dude, you’ve dated people, who are the size of my wrist.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Is that what you’re worried about?” You nodded once. “Love…” He gently put two fingers under your chin and had to physically restrain himself from attacking your lips right then and there, when your eyes landed on his and a tiny, little, very sensual whimper tumbled from your lips. He would store that information for later use. “I really couldn’t care if you were the size of a tulip or a whale. I like you for you, and I think you’re absolutely beautiful. Seriously. I still dream of you wearing that damned green dress…” he smiled at you. “I mean it, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my hopeful eyes on, and it has been torture to try and get you to understand how badly I want you, when you clearly didn’t care too much for my flirting.” You grinned at him. “I guess you’ve lost your flair, Cavill.” He leaned in, testing the waters; your breath hitched, and he assumed it was safe enough to press his lips against yours softly.
At least, that’s what he intended for it to be, but he was surprised by your reaction; you gasped against his lips and threw your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss instantly. He groaned and stood, simply pulling you with him, until your feet didn’t touch the ground anymore, and you wrapped them around his waist. You kissed hungrily, both of you trying to keep your hands to yourself. It was a public space, after all. You pulled away with a sigh and he lowered you back to the ground.
He never realized just how much he towered over you, until he had to – oh no, how awful – lift your head with two fingers under your chin again, that delightful little whimper coming right back. Your lips were swollen.
“Lost my flair, have I?” He asked, his voice hoarse. You grinned, and that beautiful smile could light up any day, night or life for him.
“I suppose you haven’t entirely… That depends, though.” He kissed you again, holding back, so you wouldn’t end up doing something stupid, like screwing in the middle of the green room. “Depends on what, love?” He kissed your forehead, simply not able to resist having his lips on you in any capacity.
“How much you like pizza, lord of the rings and how well you cuddle.” He smiled brighter than the sun, clasping his hand with yours.
“I am going to snuggle the everloving shit out of you, Y/N Y/L/N.”
A/N: Yeah, you’re getting more – I am procrastinating hard because I hate exams and they kill me. Anyway, I hope y’all will enjoy it, because I sure as hell loved writing it! Also, I’m trying to go as much in order as possible – hopefully, it’s by request, but if I can’t remember which came first, I’ll do them in numerical order of the prompt-list.
Prompt: Y/N is a lingerie-model and she needs help getting some photos added to her portfolio – who better than her hot photographer-neighbor?
Remember, feedback feeds the soul (mine in particular) and my requests – and askbox – are always open – there’s no limits because I am me, and I have none!
Pairing: Photographer!Henry Cavill x female reader
Contains: Language, strangers to lovers, fluff, SMUT (18+, MINORS DNI), fingering, oral (f recieving), dirty talk, cream pie, praise kink, slight degradation kink, slight dumbification, SO MUCH SEXUAL TENSION, p in v, unprotected sex
W.C.: 4.743 (whoops)
You should see me in a crown
You groaned and tried to angle yourself better – it didn’t help, half of your body was either obscured, or your body looked off. It was annoying. Damn this pandemic, having booked up any available photographers for the next four months, when you needed your portfolio up to date by the end of the week.
Apparently, selfies weren’t really a go-to when it came to that kind of thing. You had managed fine with the headshots, but the rest was all wrong and off, and you were shit out of options at this point.
You groaned and pulled your robe on, tightening it around your waist, covering the expensive lingerie you had been sent; it was beautiful, rose-colored and lacy, but you couldn’t capture it right at all.
This called for your favorite: Pizza. Maybe not the best option for you, seeing as you were modeling underwear, but you needed comfort and cheese. Stat. You ordered quickly and poured yourself a healthy glass of wine, when you heard it – your neighbor began playing his music again, and you tilted your head with a smile on your lips, trying to figure out what he was listening today.
You never really spoke to apartment A34. He was nice, but really quiet. He had moved in a week after you, and other than the occasional hey when you spotted each other in the hallway, you didn’t really know him or anything about him. He did have a nice, soft and deep voice, and the smile could melt stone. He wore a camera around his neck almost all the time, you saw him.
The only thing you knew for sure, was that his music reflected his feelings. You had gathered that fact after you ran into a rather uptight-looking woman, who rushed from his apartment, mumbling something under her breath about crazy photographers and their shit and he had blasted Halestorm (and Love bites (but so do I) had been repeated more times than necessary) through the night. You didn’t mind. Then it was Hozier, which only played when it rained, sometimes followed by the smell of apple-pie. He listened to The Beatles on good days, where you could faintly hear him sing along, and on sunny days, he listened to Mother Mother, which, in your opinion, wasn’t exactly sunnymusic, but you didn’t mind. He had good taste, at least.
Today it was something new; it sounded like The Bravery, which you hadn’t heard him play before, and you tapped your foot along to it, as you waited for your food to arrive. You cleaned up a little, trying to pass time, and you sighed gratefully when a knock sounded on the door.
You opened it to your handsome A34-neighbor, who held a pizzabox and a sheepish smile on his face. “Hi, sorry. They, er, delivered this. I’m pretty sure I didn’t order it, so…” He handed it to you. “Thank you. Happens more than I like.” You said with a smile and pointed to his camera, that was dutifully slung around his neck. “Photographer?” You asked. He nodded. “Yep. I, er…” You smiled. “British?” “Yeah, is it that obvious?” He asked, smirking a little. “A little. It’s cute, though. Fits you.” You said, before looking down at your pizza. “I should…” “Oh, of course. Have a good night, A32.” He said with a grin. “You too, A34.”
————–
While you chewed your way through cheesy goodness, you were deep in thought. It might be a shitty idea brought on by copious amounts of wine, or maybe you just had zero self-respect at this point, but the thought of asking A34 for help seemed like a better and better idea by the second.
You decided it wouldn’t hurt to at least ask, so you gathered all your courage and straightened up, fixed your hair, and trudged to his door, knocking softly. You had to knock three times before the music turned down and the door opened to a rather surprised face.
“A32. What can I do for you?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe. His arms were huge, you noted – it sent an involuntary shiver run down the length of your body, and you did your very best to appear very professional and not at all thirsty.
“So, you’re a photographer.” “I am.” “What kind?” “Am I in a job-interview?” he asked with a raised eyebrow and a playful smile on his lips. “I do a little of everything. I’m best with portraits.” You exhaled. “ThankGod. Okay, do you by any chance have time to help me out?” He looked at you with furrowed brows. “Oh, shit, sorry. I’m a model, and I need some shoots for my portfolio, but because of the pandemic, every single photographer has been booked out for months. I have a week.” You said sheepishly. “I promise, I’ll pay you. I just… I won’t get jobs if I don’t have a portfolio that’s up to date.” You finished with a hopeful smile. “Err…” He bit his lip – why was that so damn hot – and glanced behind him. “You know what, I can probably take a few for you.” You jumped in happiness and hugged him – he grunted at the impact, but hesitantly wrapped his arms around your waist. You pulled away with warm cheeks. “Thank you so much.” He smiled. “No problem. I’ll be over in 15.” You turned to leave, when he called out. “Wait, can’t call you A32 forever. What’s your name?” You grinned widely at him. “Y/N.” “Hi, Y/N, good to meet you. I’m Henry.” The way he spoke your name, almost tasting it as it rolled over his tongue, made you clench your thighs together. Shit.
Exactly 15 minutes later (all of which you had spent throwing the mess in your apartment into every, single closet and dresser, while trying to make yourself look presentable and without cheese between your teeth), he knocked on your door.
“It’s open, come on in!” You yelled out, fixing the three sets of lingerie, you needed pictures of on your couch. He stepped inside, carrying a camera in his hand, one around his neck and a case full of lenses in his right hand. You quirked your eyebrow at it. He grinned and carefully set everything down.
“Didn’t know what you needed when it came to focus, lenses and or light. Might as well come prepared, right?” You nodded. “Seriously,thank you. Do you want a glass of wine or a beer?” He hummed. “Wine would be great. American beer taste like straight piss.” You laughed and poured him a hearty glass of wine, handing it over. He took a sip.
“So, what are we shooting? And where?” He looked around your apartment. “It’s cozy, by the way.” You grinned. “Thank you. I try.” You glanced at him – he looked oddly at home in your apartment, both like he had been here several times before, but also – in a strange way – like he belonged.
“You know, I hear your music sometimes.” You said, drinking a sip of your own wine. You didn’t get nervous in front of cameras normally, so why was this guy making you feel like a leaf, holding on against the sheer force of wind on a late autumn day? Maybe, you mused, it was the fact that his head almost hit your ceiling-lamp and he took up a lot of space in your small living room. He was a giant, broad and if he didn’t exude casual energy, you were sure he’d command a room just by stepping into it. “Oh, really? Shit, I’m sorry.” You shook your head and laughed a little. “It’s fine, really. I like it. I can kind of tell what kind of day you’re having with your choice in music.” “Fuck.” He chuckled. “Damn, you know a lot more about me than I know about you, then. I’ll keep it down.” “it’s fine, seriously. I don’t think you’re playing all that loud, the walls are just really thin, and I think that your living room borders my bedroom.” You said with a shy smile. You didn’t want to think about the possibility of that sound traveling both ways, because that meant he had heard some less than savory things coming from you late at night. “Enlighten me, then. What is your thesis on my mood and music?” You shrugged and drank again, feeling a little hot under his gaze. “You listen to If I Fell by the Beatles when you’re stressed. I can hear you banging about when it plays.” He hummed. “Oh, and I’d steer clear of you if you’re listening to Black Label Society. I can hear you stomp around.” He laughed at that. “Damn, I should listen to something new to keep you on your toes.” “I like knowing you like that. It’s intimate.” You closed your eyes in pure shame. “Oh my God, just forget that.” He roared with laughter. “Okay, let’s just… Okay, just, we’re shooting in here.” You said, laughing along with him as you led him to your bedroom – he was easy to be around, which was a definite plus. “Oh, your bedroom?” He asked, swallowing thickly. “Yeah, it’s the best light in the entire apartment. Hope that’s okay…?” You asked, pointing to the ring light you had set up. “I mean, I have this, so the light will be better. The sun’s down, so the natural light is a bust.” He nodded, going into photographer-mode. “Would you mind if I move around a bit?” “Not at all.” He nodded. “Oh, what are we shooting?” He asked absentmindedly. “Well… So, I’m a lingerie-model.” You said with a sly smile. He sputtered. “Sorry?” Your cheeks were burning up. “Yeah. And I need some new things because a few… Uhm, areas have changed a bit.” You said, glancing down at your chest. You had previously thought that boob-growth would stop after your teens, but apparently not. “So… I, er, you need… Me… Er, to..” “Take pictures? Headshots and a few full body pictures? I need a few different sets photographed, because they sit differently depending on what type it is.” You explained, wringing your hands. “Would that be okay?” He swallowed again, his eyes darting to your robe. “Oh, yeah, sure. I just… Need to get the right lenses. And all that jiz…” he caught himself. “All that jazz.” You swallowed thickly. Oh boy, this was going to be hard. “Cool. I’ll let you set up and, uh, I’ll… Get my stuff ready.” Why did he have to be attractive?
You came back to the bedroom a few minutes later, while he was screwing on a lens – he had moved your bed a little out of the way (how he had managed that alone boggled your mind, because it had required you and two movers to put it in place) and he had put up the light where he wanted it. “I was thinking we’ll do some soft light ones, maybe on the bed, and a few full body ones on the stool.” He pointed to a stool from your kitchen, he had placed in front of the only blank wall in your bedroom. “We’ll see what feels most comfortable for you, and just kind of experiment, if you’re up for it?” He was being entirely professional, and you thanked him silently for being able to do it. You nodded and smiled. “I have three different sets to shoot, so could we maybe start on the stool? I’d love to have some standing ones too.” “Oh, yeah, of course. Whenever you’re ready.” “How much am I going to owe you?” You asked, pulling your wallet out. “Oh, about that…” He smiled sweetly at you. “I was actually wondering if you wanted to do a few extra for me? It would be a great way to expand on my own portfolio as well.” “Seriously?” “Yeah. Free of charge, if you’re okay with lending me your body.” He coughed. “For pictures! Pictures, of course.” You bit your lip. “Sure thing, Henry.” You walked to the stool and stood in front of it as he adjusted the lights and the setting on his camera. “Can you take the robe off? I need to see how the light reflects on your skin in the camer…” He stopped talking when the robe fell from your shoulders. The rose-colored set with garters seemed to have left him speechless. You looked at him through your eyelashes – totally unintentionally, of course – and cleared your throat. “Is this okay…?” You asked. He nodded. “Y-yeah, that’s, er, t-that’s great. Just… One moment, please.” He looked through his camera and tweaked a few things. “Would you mind if I put music on? I just feel more at ease like that.” You were lying through your teeth. You would have no issue doing this without music, but you needed something to distract yourself just a little. Besides, you had the perfect playlist in mind.
“Yeah, no, go right ahead.” You jumped off the stool and turned on your speakers, finding your playlist – you had in a bout of inspiration called it fuck me – and put it on. You breathed a sigh of relief as familiar music began streaming and you got back on the chair. “Ready when you are.”
The stool-pictures had gone easily by, him telling you positions that would work best on camera and he even went as far as adjusting you sometimes – every time his warm hand touched your skin, you had sucked in a breath, trying to contain your absolutely inappropriate wetness. When you decided it was enough, you quickly switched to a different set – this one was red, and a babydoll in sheer mesh covered most of you, but you realized that your nipples were very visible through the sheer fabric. You groaned. Fucking shit.
“Let’s do a few standing.” He mumbled, not looking at you. You stood in front of the ring light, and when he saw you through his lens, you swore you heard him mutter a small fucking shit. “Yup, perfect. Right there.” He huffed, biting his teeth together hard enough to make his jaw clench.
This shoot went on just as well as the other, but the tension was insane. You felt like you could barely breathe, while he snapped pictures of you, still adjusting you every which way, sometimes even grazing your hardened nipple. It was too much.
“I’ll… Change.” You mumbled, hurrying from your bedroom as the thumbing tones from E-girls are ruining my life rang out behind you. You were an idiot for putting music on, that would under normal circumstances make you feel wild and slightly horny.
The last set was black and lacy, but sheer as hell. It had a garterbelt and thigh highs too, the fabric of the bra barely covered your chest and the high-waisted thong made you shiver; you knew it looked good, but you were a little worried about wearing so little in front of him. Hopefully his camera wouldn’t pick up on how wet you were.
His eyes found yours in the moment, you stepped inside, and he groaned. “Comeon.” He looked like he was in pain. “Bed?” You asked, and he nodded tightly. You didn’t miss the way he adjusted himself in his pants but decided to ignore it. You were a professional, after all. You laid down on the bed and he snapped a few pictures, before showing them to you. “Wow, I think I got what I needed!” You said happily. “Uh, did you want to get some as well?” You asked softly. He drew a deep breath. “Yeah. If that’s okay.” “Sure thing. Tell me what to do.” He sucked a breath in between his teeth and you clenched your thighs together. Fucking hell, it had gotten hot in here. “Okay, can you lay on your stomach, legs up and crossed? Oh, and take your hair down, please.” You followed instructions and you heard a small, almost inaudible whisper of fuck as you did. “Okay, now… Cross your arms at the elbows, and kind of… Stretch out a little. Elongate your back and push your, er, behind up, please.” You looked at him with a smirk and a crooked eyebrow. “Just trust me.” He grinned. “Alright.” You did what he asked, and you instantly felt why he needed you like this; you felt sexy as hell in this position. You shot him a smile through the tufts of hair hanging down. “Fuck, yes. Stay right there, like that.” He snapped a few pictures. “Okay… Do you trust me?” Weirdly, you did. “Yes.” “Good. Can you lay down on your back for me, darling?” The nickname wasn’t lost on you, and it sent shivers down your legs. He cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah.” You laid on your back, and he let the camera fall to his chest again, hanging from the strap on his neck. “Two seconds. Is it okay if I touch you?” He asked genuinely. You nodded. “Thank you.” He smiled and began arranging your hair around your face, the tip of his tongue sticking out slightly between his lips. You had to seriously contain yourself from sucking it. He began slowly letting his fingers trail down to your arms, leaving goosebumps in his wake, whenever he touched your skin. He slowly, but surely, grabbed your wrists and you sucked in a sharp breath as you felt his fingers wrap around your wrists, before slowly moving your arms above your head, crossing your wrists. You were shaking, when he slowly moved his hands to your waist – letting his fingers trail to your ribs first – and then your hips, grabbing them and angling you a little. You didn’t know what to do with yourself. His fingers were burning on your skin, and there was tension high enough to power a small city between you. His fingers slid from your hips to your thighs and you almost moaned when the tips of his fingers held your inner thighs until they moved to your knees. He grabbed you from the back of your knee and lifted your leg into position. He shot you a smile, his eyes a little darker than before, and then he climbed on the fucking bed.
You didn’t move, when he stood, straddling your shins with wide legs, angling the camera. “Perfect.” He mumbled and you looked straight into the lens. You had never felt anything more sensual than this very moment. “Okay, can you… This is going to sound weird, but can you think of something… Sexy?” “Something sexy?” You could think of plenty. “Like what?” He blushed a little and lowered the camera. “I just need a specific look from you.” “Henry, just say what you need.” He licked his lips. “Think of whatever you want someone to do to you. What you like… What turns you on, anything, really.” You exhaled a shaky breath. No problem.
“You got it.” Your mind flooded with absolutely filthy things. Henry pinning your wrists as you moaned underneath him. Henry between your legs. Henry fucking you deeply, biting your collarbone. Kissing Henry. In reality, you just imagined Henry and that was more than enough. You didn’t even notice him taking pictures, much less the way he shifted a little to alleviate some of the tension in his pants.
“Thank you. I think I got it.” He whispered and pulled you from your thoughts. “Are you sure?” You didn’t want him to leave. “Uh…” “I mean, I think I, uh, might need some help with the right expression.” You said boldly – you didn’t know where it came from, and you honestly didn´t care as soon as you saw his eyes darken significantly. “Y/N, I…” “I just want to make sure you have a good picture.” You said slowly, eyes trained on him. “It would be a shame, if my expression ruined that for you…” The camera hung limply from his chest now, and you could practically see the gears turning in his head. “Whatever you think I mean, yes.” You whispered.
He quickly got down, resting his body on top of yours and his lips were so fucking close, you could almost taste him. “If I start, I might not stop.” He said slowly, his breath fanning over your face. It was intoxicating. “Who said I wanted you to stop?” “Darling, I would ruin you.” You smirked at him and wrapped your arms around his neck.
“Try me.” “Fuckinghell, princess.”
And all thoughts went right out of your head, because he pulled his camera off himself quicker than you could even see, and his lips slotted over yours with absolute urgency. You moaned against his lips, electricity running through your body like wildfires. You wrapped your legs around his hips, your heels digging into his ass, pulling him closer to you; his tongue found yours and you mewled as you felt his erection press against your clothes. You were both moaning into the kiss, hands frantic as you both tried to undress him and you. “Yousuck at taking my shirt off.” He laughed, pulling it over his head. “Shut up, it was tight.” You were desperate for his lips back on yours and it was near unbearable. He groaned and bit down on your lower lip, tugging it slightly. You whimpered. “Oh, you like it a little rough, love…? You want me to ruin you, don’t you, princess?” You moaned again, rolling your hips to create friction on your clit. He hissed and grabbed your hair, pulling it roughly. “F-fuck, Henry…” You were breathless, completely ready to give him whatever he asked for. You’d soul your soul for this man, as long as he kept going. His free hand undid his pants, and he pushed them down his legs with urgency, before two fingers found the waistband of your panties. “Fond of these?” “I mean, yeah…” He groaned and quickly tugged them down your legs. “Fine, I won’t ruin this pair, then.” Your eyes rolled back at the ferocity of his voice. A completely ungodly sound left your lips when his thick fingers found your dripping pussy, entering you with ease. “Oh, baby, you don’t even need me to warm you up, do you? Such a good girl, just ready for me…” He dragged his fingers in and out of you, edging you closer to your high, and you whined. “Such a little whore, aren’t you? Willing to fuck me just for taking your pictures?” Normally, you’d have his damn head for saying shit like that, but you felt a gush of wetness at his words; it was disgusting and filthy, but it turned you on like nothing else. “There’s a good girl… You want to cum for me?” He asked, his lips trailing down your body until he blew a gust of cool air on your throbbing clit. You writhed under him. “Fuck, just… Fucking…” You didn’t know what you wanted, but you wanted something. His fingers were unrelenting in you, and he chuckled darkly, the sound sending shockwaves through your entire body. You weren’t prepared for his mouth and tongue attacking your wet pussy. You screamed in pleasure as he began sucking and licking like a man possessed. Your hips were rolling against his face and fingers, your high so fuckingclose. “Fuck, you taste like heaven, darling…” He groaned, tongue lapping at your folds. You writhed and your hips bucked, the familiar heat in your abdomen building until it nearly reached its crescendo, when he stopped. “Baby girl, you better ask first…” he whispered, the sound muffled slightly by your thighs. “Are you fucking kidding me!?” You moaned, and his mouth left yours – he instead slapped down on your clit with his wide hand, and you screamed, arching your back off the bed. “Play nice, or I won’t.” he promised. “Fuck, sorry… Please, please, can I cum, please, Henry…” He chuckled. “Fast learner.” He lowered his face again. “You can cum, love.” His mouth and tongue began their attack again as his fingers sped up, and you barely had time to fucking breathe before an orgasm overwhelmed you; you exploded on him, your wetness gushing from you as you came hard, your hips bucking as he ate you through your orgasm.
“Fucking shit…” You moaned, grabbing at his hair to pull him up. He willingly followed, his cheeks and chin wet with you, and you kissed him deeply, tasting yourself on his tongue. You whimpered against him, your hand snaking between your bodies to grab at his throbbing cock. He moaned as you began jerking you off, his fingers leaving you. “Don’t… I want to last, baby… Need to be inside of you, princess.” He said breathily. You sighed dramatically. “Fine, I guess I’ll save the cock-worship for another day.” You grinned at him when you felt him twitch in your hand. “Oh, this is all about you, darling… You did so good for me, you deserve a reward, don’t you?” You preened under his praise. “Please…” He nudged your clit with his thick cockhead, teasing you and coating himself in your slick. “Please, what, princess?” You could hear the smirk on his lips. “Please… Fuck me… Please, fuck me until I can’t think.” He growled and in one, swift move, he was inside of you – you moaned as he stretched you completely. “Fuck, you are big… Shit…” “You can take it, you’re my good girl, aren’t you?” He asked, nibbling at your collarbone as he slowly inched inside of you. When he bottomed out, you both exhaled a moan, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “I swear to God, if you don’t move…” He laughed at your impatience, but nonetheless, he slowly pulled out before slamming harshly back into you.
He wasn’t kidding when he said he’d ruin you. For any other man in all planes of existence. You were a mess under him, your arms and legs desperately clinging to him as he fucked you deeply, his head hitting your g-spot every single time, and you cried out as he dragged against your walls, his fingers finding your nipple and rolling and pinching it. “Fuck, look at you taking me so fucking well…” He sat up, holding your legs to his chest before spreading them out, fucking into you even deeper. You angled your hips up, allowing him to grab your ass to hold onto as he sped up. Your walls clenched around him. “Is my pretty girl going to cum again, huh? Want to make a mess of my cock, princess?” He grunted, and you barely had breath enough in you to tell him, yes, fuck yes I am – he grinned and his thumb found your clit, adding pressure to it. “Then cum for me, love…” You didn’t have to be told twice. You came for a second time tonight, earthshattering pleasure coursing through your veins and your entire body went tight as a bowstring; he growled and picked up the pace even more, slamming deeply into you as you rode out your orgasm, letting it wash over you. You were incoherent at this point, begging for something. “Aw, look at you, all cock-drunk on me… So pretty, when you’re fucked stupid, aren’t you?” His long fingers found your mouth. “Suck.” You wrapped your lips around his fingers, hollowing your cheeks and began sucking his fingers, twirling your tongue against the pads of his fingers and he grunted, his pace stuttered. “Where do you want me to cum, love?” he asked between moans. “I’m getting so fucking close…” he mumbled, looking down at where your dripping pussy swallowed his thick cock. “In me. Fill me, please, please…” You mumbled around his fingers. His eyes gleamed and he pulled his fingers from you and leaned down to capture your lips with his again.
His pace was otherworldly, and when his hips stuttered again, you moaned and wrapped your legs around his hips, driving him deeper. Your walls pulsed around him, and he roared as he came, spilling ropes of cum inside of you.
You were both panting and sweating, when he grinned mischievously and fumbled on the ground, producing his camera. He snapped a picture of your flushed, smiling and downright drunk face. “You look so pretty like this, darling.” You chuckled weakly. “You should see me in a crown.” He laughed and kissed you softly.
“This is going to be a habit, isn’t it?” He asked against your lips.
“Not without dinner first, it’s not.” You replied, kissing him back.
Remember, feedback feeds the soul (mine in particular) and my requests – and askbox – are always open – there’s no limits because I am me, and I have none!
It wasn’t your first choice to spend the evening – which, by the way, was the first day off you’d had in just around three weeks – left to your own devices at a random VIP party, your best friend had dragged you to.
You barely knew anyone, the drinks were terrible, and you felt too big, like you took up too much space with your body, to belong. A few sneers had already come your way, and you didn’t know why on earth she’d want you here.
You leaned against the table you had planted yourself at, sipping your god-awful drink slowly, trying to look like you belong.
Which you didn’t, in your opinion.
You caught the azure-blue eyes of a certain man, you had hoped you wouldn’t meet and groaned under your breath. Perfect, really. Of course, he’d be here. He cocked an eyebrow at you, which you returned with a tightlipped smile, tipping your glass to him.
Where the hell was Loes? She had run off, spotting a friend somewhere in the crowd with a hurried I’ll be right back – which was an hour ago. You were pretty sure she’d managed to land herself in a bathroom, probably with Sebastian Stan, if she had anything to say about it, and that left you alone for an unforeseeable future.
You texted her quickly, not really hoping for a response. She was probably balls deep at this point, which you did find impressive. Good for her, really.
“I didn’t expect you to show up here.” His voice sent shivers down your spine, and you rolled your eyes. Motherfucking Henry Cavill. You turned around with a smile, that most definitely didn’t reach your eyes. “Hello to you, too.” He looked good, great, even. It was downright annoying. He was handsome as ever, his brown locks perfectly laid back, his suit fitting wonderfully over his chest and arms; you didn’t even have to look to know, that his pants were like glued to his thighs.
“Waiting for me?” There it was - the goddamn attitude. He always seemed to be better than anyone around him – except for when he was around Loes, who managed to ground her best friend. To you, he was insufferable and deeply egocentric – he never even tried to get along with you, despite your efforts. He always did the face, where his stupid eyebrow cocked up, a slight smirk played on his lips and his eyes ran up and down your body as if he was asking and what do you think you are? It was annoying at best, at worst? It was enough to make you crumble a little. It hadn’t been better after you heard part of a conversation between him and Loes one night.
“Her body…” “Henry, you’re disgusting.” It was more than enough for you to know how he felt about you. That, paired with the way he looked at you, made you feel annoyingly small and seething with anger, every time you saw his stupid face. It was shitty, mostly because you honestly had tried to get along with him – Loes was your best friend and his, and you did quite like the way he looked. Also, the way he talked to people was nice – just not directed at you.
“Don’t flatter yourself, I’m only here for cake.” You spat. “Not surprising.” You narrowed your eyes at him, and something flashed in his eyes – guilt, maybe? – and you sneered at him. “What the fuck is your problem? Are you kidding me? We’ve known each other for a year, and you’re acting like I cut off your big toe or some shit. Try being a polite person, next time, asshole.” You pushed yourself from the table, gathered your things, tears burning in your eyes. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry, so you rushed from the venue, standing outside and lit up a cigarette while texting Loes that you felt sick and wanted to go home. “Y/N, wait!” You sighed and closed your eyes. “Iseriously do not want to talk to you, Henry. Can we just… Like… Not like each other from a distance?” You asked defeatedly, taking a drag of your cigarette. “Can I have one?” He asked, pointing to the pack in your hand. You rolled your eyes, but gave him one, anyway. “Didn’t take you for a smoker.” He chuckled at that and lit up his own cigarette, puffing the smoke out with a content sigh. “Shouldn’t be, really. Only in certain situations.” “Same. Anyway, good to get insulted by you yet again, I’ll go now.” You began to walk, but he grabbed your elbow, holding you in place. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you.” You huffed. “Sure, Henry. Listen, I’ll be nice around you, so Loes won’t have to pick between us, but I’m not here for your amusement or for you to look down on. I’m a person, and I do have a sliver of self-respect left in me.” You said, cocking your eyebrow at him. “I… When have I insulted you?” He asked, genuinely confused. “Are you fuckingkidding me?” You seethed. “You’ve done nothing but your best to make me feel as small and insignificant as possible, since I met you. You never talk to me, and when you do, it’s laced with hidden insults and jabs. You look at me like I’m dirt under your feet, and you think you haven’t insulted me?” You glared at him. “You’re currently insulting my fucking intelligence, Henry.” He looked taken aback, but his hand didn’t leave your elbow. You stomped on your cigarette. “Let me go.” “No. Hang on, you can’t just say all that and then expect me to not retort.” “Oh, yes, please let me hear what you have to say about me.” You said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I do so love to hear your innermost thoughts.” “Just… Come here.” He dragged you to an alley and stopped, his hand now on your shoulder, bending down to be eyelevel with you. Fucking tall man.
“Listen to me.” His eyes searched yours and you glared at him, putting as much venom in your eyes as you could. “I’m truly sorry that I’ve insulted you, and that you think I think of you as lesser.” You snorted. “Oh, come on…” He cut you off. “Seriously. I didn’t mean for that at all. I think you’re a wonderful person, and I would be hard pressed to find something negative about you to say or even think. Except, of course, your vehement hate for me.” His lips slid into a smile. “But I honestly… I never wanted to insult you or make you feel bad.” “That’s rich. You literally just said not surprising when I said I was here for cake, which, by the way, was a lie.” He frowned. “Oh!” He smiled. “No, I didn’t mean anything by that. I thought you knew it was one of the best pastry chefs who made it, that’s why I said it. I truly came here for the cake. No way in hell I’d miss that.” It was your turn to frown. “What?” “Yeah. I didn’t imply anything with it.” You were digesting his words.
“Well, what about your conversation with Loes?” “Which one? We talk a lot.” He asked, finally deeming that you probably weren’t going to run away from him, and let your shoulder go, leaning against the wall opposite you, hands in his pockets. “You… It’s a few months ago. I mean, I overheard part of it, which was you pretty much gagging over my body and her telling you, that you were disgusting.” To your surprise, he blushed. He looked like a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie-jar. He rubbed the back of his neck, and the sight of him looking so… Bashful, while leaning against the wall, a smirk on his face and a foot propped up against the brick behind him, made your stomach swirl. That was uncharacteristically hot.
“Oh,that.” “Yeah,that.” You sighed. “It’s fine if you find me… Like… Not to your liking, I mean…” You gestured to his body. “You look like that, and you’ve dated women who were the size of my thigh, but that gives you no right to…” He cleared his throat. “You misunderstood.” “Sure, I did.” “No, really.” He licked his lips. “Loes thought I was disgusting because I couldn’t stop talking about you. I was talking about…” He sighed and closed his eyes, before they landed on you again, this time with fire burning behind the blue. “I was talking about how attractive I found you. Your body. You are truly a vision to me, and I had a hard time shutting up about it. Lo thought I was a pig.” He laughed a little at the memory. “She told me that I should stop talking to her about it, and just say it to you. I wanted to, but then you started acting like I was the biggest stain on your existence, so I decided against it.” You swallowed thickly and blinked a few times.
He thought you were hot? Like… Actually attractive. Suddenly, everything began to make sense. “Oh.” You exhaled. Every time he had looked you up and down, it hadn’t been in disgust, it was because he was admiring you – a lot of puzzle-pieces fell into place in your head. “Wait, then… Why are you acting to high and mighty? Cocky?” “I guess it’s a defense mechanism? I’m not sure. I guess I tried to impress you. Seem… Confident. I had no idea it had an adverse effect.” “Well, now you do.” You grin at him. “I never thought you’d look at me in any way, if I’m being honest.” He frowned and looked deeply insulted. “What? Have you seen yourself? You look like… that!” He gestured to your body, and you felt a familiar heat crawl to your cheeks. “That dress should be illegal in all countries.” He pushed away from the wall and his fingers found the strap, toying with it. Your breath hitched. “I’m damn sure it is.” He mumbled, mostly to himself and the pad of his finger slid against your skin, trailing goosebumps in their wake. “Were you serious? This isn’t just a play to get me to like you and then you tear me down?” His fingers stilled and his eyes locked on yours. They were dark – you chalked it up to the darkness of the alley. “I’d never do anything like that, darling.” He said seriously. When you nodded, his fingers began moving again. “You’re… Entirely unaware of the effect you have on people.” He said in a hushed voice. “I don’t have an effect on people.” You whispered breathily. His fingers rested on your collarbone now, and you had to lean against the wall to avoid your knees buckling. He chuckled. “Oh, darling, you really have no idea. The way you turn heads. All eyes on you… You carry yourself so damn confidently, it’s hard not to look.” “People look because of my weight.” “I don’t. I promise you, every time you’re in the room, my eyes are on you. You’re… Irresistible. Like a forbidden fruit.” He murmured. His fingers trailed your collarbone, dipping in the hollow between them, before moving to the other side. “Henry, I…” Your breath hitched again as his fingers pushed the strap on your shoulder down just a little. “You are fucking sinful. You walk around like this…” He let the strap glide further down your shoulder. “Without even knowing how fucking hard you get me…” The strap was at your elbow. “How much I imagine being inside of you, making you mine…” You gasped as the dress finally gave in and slipped from your chest, following the strap. He groaned as his eyes found your hardened nipple. “Fucking hell, Y/N… You’re going to be the death of me.” His eyes found yours, hands hovering just above your exposed chest. He looked like he was waiting on approval, and your brain did the only thing, it could think of.
With a moan, your lips connected with his, desperation and urgency settling nicely in between moans – his hand flew to your chest, kneading it, while your hands found the back of his neck, grabbing tufts of hair in the nape of his neck; he growled and pushed his body against yours, his thigh between your legs and you couldn’t help the whine, that overtook you, when he pressed against your core. He tasted like whiskey sour and cigarettes, but there was something else, something so entirely Henry, it made you feel drunk. You rolled your hips, creating friction where you could, grinding down on his thigh. He was kissing you like his life depended on it, as if he had wanted nothing but kissing you for his entire life. It was teeth and tongue, roaming hands and your dripping core that made a mess of his – probably very expensive – pants. Your hips stuttered as you felt pleasure creep up on you, and he grinned against your lips.
“Look at my pretty girl… Want to cum on my thigh, baby? Soak my pants…?” You mewled and whispered his name, when he pressed you down a little, letting you rut against his thigh harshly. “Do it, baby… Cum for me, right here, on my fucking thigh…” You moaned against his lips, riding his thigh until you exploded. His lips were searing against yours and he swallowed your sounds as you came hard, pleasure running rampant through your body. Your nerves were burning, every cell in your body was screaming for more and you had lost all control over your breathing and yourself. You were clawing his back, nails digging into his jacket, and you realized that he was holding you up effortlessly. Fucking hell.
You came down with small, heaving breaths, while he kissed your collarbone and neck; you couldn’t see straight. He slowly removed his hand from your breast and deftly put the dress back on your chest and shoulder, before he lowered you carefully to the ground. He held your shoulders tightly until he was sure, you can stand on your own two feet. He kissed you softly again.
“Want to get out of here with me?” “You have no idea.” You grinned and he kissed you longingly, already pulling you towards his car.
A/N: Exam season is ON, my loves, and despite my love for writing and my WIPS, I need to focus on those darn exams. So, instead, you’re getting a week of one-shots, because I need my creative outlet.
I love y’all so much and thank you for your OUTPOUR of support. I can’t tell you how much it means to me. Remember, feedback feeds the soul (mine, in particular), and my requests – and askbox – are always open – there’s no limits, because I am me and I have none.
Pairing: Henry Cavill x female reader (Best friends to lovers)
Contains: Fluff, slight angst, please-pretend-to-be-my-boyfriend-to-make-my-ex-jealous-trope, smut (18+ MINORS DNI), fingering, p in v, oral (f and m recieving), unprotected sex, slight cum-play, cream-pie, praise-kink, slight voyerism, slight exhibitionism, language
W.C.: 4.378
Play pretend
Fuck. Fucking fuck, fuck, fuck. You pace your room, trying to decide if you should just call and tell Abby you’d gotten sick, maybe fell and broke your leg, or if you should admit defeat and show up – there was nothing you’d want less than show up, single and still seething over your breakup, at a party where your damn ex was. Apparently, it had been a last-minute decision on his part, and Abby had been really sorry about it – she had invited him to her end-of-summer bash months ago, when you were still dating, and now he wanted to come.
With his new girlfriend. Who just so happened to be the same girl, he had cheated on you with. Classic.
You sighed and sat down on your bed, calling Henry; he usually made you feel eons better, so perhaps he had some sort of gold nugget for you and your current spiral of feelings. He picks up after three rings, his voice making you feel calm instantly.
“Hey, love. What’s up?” “Can you kill me? Just… Like for a day?” “Err… I think that might prove to be slightly problematic. Death is, as you probably know, pretty final.” You grunt and fall backwards on your bed. “Zach is coming to the damn party.” “Ouch.” You hummed. “Ouch indeed. He’s bringing his new fling. Girlfriend, whatever.” “Double ouch.” You narrowed your eyes and heard the sounds in the background. “Hang on, are you gaming through my panic?” He chuckled. “No, not at all. I would never.” The sounds stilled. “You just paused.” “I did not.” You laughed. “Fine, you left the lobby, then.” He was quiet for a heartbeat and then spoke again. “Maybe. Anyway, what are you going to do?” You sighed. “I don’t know. Break a leg to have an excuse to not show up?” “Abby’ll kill you. She’s been planning this for months, love.” “Yeah, yeah, I know… I just… Ugh.” You rolled to your stomach. “I just don’t want to show up single as a pringle.” “I never understood that term. Pringles are by definition not single. They’re literally spooning in the can.” “Okay, well, you know what I mean, you jerk.” You laughed. “I just want to feel… I don’t know. I’m over him, it isn’t that, but…” “You want to get the upper hand, right?” You nodded and remembered he couldn’t see you. “Yeah.” “Hm.” He was quiet for a while, clearly thinking over your options. “Do you still have that dress from the red carpet last year?” “Y-yeah, but that’s like… Too much.” “Not with me, it isn’t’.” You coughed and shot straight up. “What?” “Can you be ready in an hour?” You glanced at the clock and your reflection in the mirror – it might take some work, but you could get yourself ready in an hour or less. “I guess so.” “Good. I’m coming with you. Let’s make him jealous as hell.” “Wait, Henry, I can’t ask you…” “You’re not asking, I’m offering. Honestly, do you remember how jealous he got when you went with me to the premiere? And how much he hated the rumors after?” You did. It tore a right rift through your relationship, but you refused to budge – you had helped Henry and you wanted to go, even though Zach was losing his mind all night, texting you seven times a minute. “Yes…” “Good. Let’s make those fears real.” Your stomach flipflopped. “Huh?” “I’ll pretend to be your boyfriend for the night. Come on, it’s been forever since we’ve done something stupid, and I have several suits that would lend themselves perfectly for a gala.” You drew a deep breath. He wasn’t wrong. You knew Abby would be over the moon to see Henry again, you’d have a date for the night, and you’d be sipping champagne with Henry for a night. “Fine.” “I’ll be there in an hour.”
You sprang into action as soon as he hung up, shuffling through your closet to find the red silk dress that you had worn to the premiere; it still fit you perfectly and you even had the black pumps you wore the same night. Now, to your face.
——–
“Are you sure you’re cool with this? We can still turn around.” You said as the car pulled around a corner, leading to the mansion, Abby had rented for the day and night. “Oh, we’re not turning around. I hate that guy, if I get a chance to make him mad, I’ll take it.” “You don’t hate people, Henry.” You grinned and felt his fingers weave between yours, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “I don’t. But he’s not people, he’s an arse.” Your brows flew up. “What? It’s true! I even told you when you started dating!” he said with a huff. “Yeah, yeah, don’t give me the whole I told you so speech. You have dated idiots too.” “Let’s agree that we both suck at finding partners.” He said with a smirk and a wink.
The driver cleared his throat. “Sir, we’re here.” “Ah, thank you, Samuel. Ready? We gotta play the part.” He nudges you with his broad shoulder. “Sure thing. Let’s get this show on the road.”
As soon as you step outside, you’re hit with warm air and the gentle flow of music and light chatter. Henry wraps his arm around your waist and he’s practically lifting you to the garden, where lights shower the grass, people and cream-colored tablecloths in a golden hue. You spot Abby first, and she squeals when she sees you, and then squeals louder when she sees Henry. “Holyshit, you’re here!?” She pulls him in for a hug and sends you wide eyes. He chuckles. “Couldn’t leave my best girl to fend for herself. “Ooooh. Because of Zach?” “Yup. Let’s keep that between yourselves, please. We have a part to play.” You say with a grin and become vaguely aware of the chatter and eyes of people, looking to you and Henry. You didn’t realize until too late, that many probably would take pictures. With him and you in them. Which will definitely end up on a gossip site by morning. “Don’t worry about it, love.” He whispers, his lips catching the shell of your ear. You tremble a little. “Sure?” he nods. “Let’s go find asshat and his girl.” You notice the small gasps as people around you realize who’s next to you but pay them no mind – it wouldn’t be the first time you feel and hear the whispers and eyes on you. Occupational hazard, you supposed.
The trek through the garden and several pavilions was long, but you did manage to say hi to a few other friends, you hadn’t seen in a while; Grim was wearing the most dapper suit, you had ever seen, a midnight blue color littered with small, golden swirls and patterns; it looked amazing on him. “Dude. Look at you!” He twirled once, his purple hair flying out from his face. “Don’t even start with me. Look at you!” He pointed to the dress. “How the hell did you get yourself that?” You laughed. “Curtesy of the ever-amazing Henry, of course.” His eyes flicked up to meet Henry’s eyes and nodded once, said hey, man, before he gulped and looked back. “Shit. You’re Geralt.” “And Superman, but I rarely brag.” He held a hand out to Grim, who shook it with trembling hands. “I… Am a huge fan.” He whispered. “What the hell are you doing here with Y/N?” Right. Grim didn’t really know about your friendship. “Oh, she didn’t tell you?” Henry cocked an eyebrow at you, and you shrugged in a didn’t get a chance to kind of way. He wrapped his arm around your waist again and kissed the top of your head. “We’re, er, well…” “Henry’s my boyfriend.” You blurted out and you wished you had a camera to capture Grim’s expression – it was priceless. “Holy… Fucking… Shit.” He breathed. “Oh, dude, when Zach sees this, he’s going to blow a few fuses.” You just laughed and followed Henry, when he led you on, waving at Grim, who instantly turned to his friend and began whispering in hushed, frantic tones.
You spotted him from miles away. He was wearing a gaudy powder blue suit, that didn’t fit right over his shoulders, and you couldn’t help but grin at Henry – he looked like a damn model, the grey suit fitting perfectly over his broad shoulders and he held himself in a way, that few men could boast to do. Zach’s eyes fell on you, widening as he took your appearance in, before narrowing at the man next to you. You grabbed a champagne flute from a passing waiter and tipped the glass to him. He stalked to you as you drank, while Henry bent down to whisper in your ear. “I hope you can act your pretty, little butt off.” You choked on your champagne.
“Y/N. Didn’t think to see you here.” Zach smiled tightly at you, his fingers digging into the side of his girlfriend’s hips – she was staring unabashedly at Henry. “It is my friend’s party, so…” You smiled sweetly. “Henry.” Zach pretty much spat the name out like it caused him great pain to say. “Zachariah.” Henry looked disinterested and tightened his grip on your waist, thumb drawing lazy circles over your dress. “Fancy meeting you here.” “Well, I wouldn’t let my girl come alone, would I?” He smiled at Zach, who seemed to shrink a little under Henry’s eyes. “This is Sophia.” He nodded to the girl, who batted her eyelids at Henry in what you assumed she thought was a coquettish way. It wasn’t. “Hello. I must say, I’m a huge fan of yours.” She extended her hand to Henry, who just looked at it with a raised brow. “Must say, I’m not a huge fan of yours.” He smiled. You snickered into his chest. “Henry.” “What?” he sounded amused. “I’m just being honest, my love.” He kissed your hair again. “So… You two are a thing now?” Zach asked, sneering. “Yeah. God, it was what, two weeks after we split up, right, babe?” You ask him innocently. “Yeah. Officially.” He grinned back at you. You could almost feel Zach’s anger radiating off his body, and Sophia shifted uncomfortably on her feet. “You cheated?” He asked tensely. You cocked your head to the side and narrowed your eyes at him. “I don’t think you’re one to talk about cheating, are you?” You looked at Sophia, who at least had the damn curtesy to look slightly shameful. “Anyway, it’s been nice seeing you. Bye, Zach, Sophie.” You ignored her trying to correct you and walked away with Henry.
You were both laughing loudly as you waited for the car to come and pick you up, having seen Zach glare daggers at you both throughout the night – it had honestly been fun as hell, and you were thankful that Henry came with you. Abby had just shot you a knowing look – not that you were privy to what that was about – when you bid your goodbyes and walked to the end of the garden, sitting down in damp grass.
“God, did you see his face? I’m sure he’ll be seething into the next century.” Henry laughed and wrapped his arm around your shoulder. You nodded and snorted. “The man still think he had a claim, I guess. Not anymore.” You grinned back at Henry. “You know what we should do?” He asked, pulling you closer and grabbed your clutch, pulling your phone out. “We should take a picture of us. Kissing. Just to really get him going.” “I, uh…. What?” You asked, a lump in your throat. “Oh, come on! It’ll be great, he’ll finally get it. He definitely hasn’t by now, it would seem.” He glanced at your phone, where several texts from Zach lit up. You managed to read baby a few times. “Ugh.” You rolled your eyes. “You know what, fine.” He grinned and held out your phone in front of him. “Has anyone ever told you that you have weirdly long arms?” You asked, scooting closer to him and wrapping your arm around his waist. Your dress is getting wet from the grass, and the slight chill of it makes goosebumps rise on your bare thighs. “No, but I have been told they’re way too big to be normal.” He said with a grin. “Come on, plant one on me.” You turn and kiss his cheek. “Aw, come on. We have to do that again.” He said exasperated. “What’s wrong with it?” You asked, dumbfounded. “On the cheek? What am I, your grandfather?” He scoffs. “Come on, give me a real kiss. Promise, I won’t make it weird.”
No, he might not, but you just might. Kissing him, here, in the darkness without anyone around, made your heartrate spike and despite being just fine with being friends with him for so long, your suppressed feelings slowly inch themselves closer to the surface at the very thought of kissing him. “Seriously, he won’t believe that.” He finds the picture and you have to agree; it looks to friendly and jovial to be anything more. “Alright,fine, but just…” You gesture wildly with your hands. “I got you.” He angles the phone a little and holds it out, looking at your reflections in the camera with furrowed brows. “Is this a good angle? I don’t want chubby cheeks.” “Like you’d ever get chubby cheeks. You’re chiseled by gods.” You murmur. “Heard that.” He grinned. “Come on, let’s just… We’ll count down.” He looks at you and you exhale deeply. “One… Two… Three.” On three, his lips found yours and you were a goner.
His lips were demanding but soft, gliding with ease across yours. Maybe it was the years of friendship, maybe he just had a special affinity with kissing, but he just knew how you liked it. His lips were perfect against yours, and you sighed into the kiss; he didn’t waste a golden opportunity, and slid his tongue inside of your mouth, letting your tongues tangle with each other. It was definitely longer than what was needed for a picture, but you really didn’t care. Your hands found the nape of his neck and pulled him closer, urgency coloring the kiss. He pulled away with a groan, his chest heaving, and the phone long forgotten in his hand. His eyes were on yours.
“You… That…” He breathed deeply. “That was insane. You felt that, right?” You didn’t have the capacity to talk right now, so you just nodded. “But just in case… We should try again, just to make sure that was insane, really.” “For science, of course.” You said in a voice, that was way breathier than you were used to. “Yeah, science.” He said quickly, slotting his lips over yours again and practically devoured you. You whined against his lips, the lust and desperation definitely leaking from you, but he just groaned, his teeth finding your lip and tugging it gently. His tongue was downright sinful against yours. He pulled away, but rested his forehead against yours, finding your eyes. You were both breathing heavily now, your hands tangled in his hair.
Something snapped inside of the both of you at the same time, and you scrambled to get on his lap, straddling him and pressed your lips against his again. He groaned against you, and you – to your joy – felt something twitch against your thigh. “You’re hard.” You mumbled against his lips, letting your own travel from his to his jawline. “Damn right, it’s fucking hard. Shit, Y/N…” His fingers were holding your waist with bruising force, but you needed more. You rolled your hips again. “I bet you’re wet as hell for me, aren’t you, love? So fucking wet, even without me touching you…” He gasped as you sucked on his neck. You hummed as his grip tightened. “Fuck this, come on.” He stood, lifting you off his lap with ease and grabbed your hand, almost running to a small pavilion on the far end of the garden, leading away from people. You struggled to keep up, your heels digging into the soft grass, and you huffed, stopped and pulled them off. The cold, wet grass felt somewhat calming on you as it hit the soles of your feet. “Come on.” He pulled you under the softly lit pavilion, his lips on yours in an instant again. His hands were desperately bunching your dress up over your hips, and you mewled, when the tip of his finger hit your soaking underwear. He grinned deviously against your lips. “All that already? Darling, I’d think you’ve wanted me for far longer than just…” You shut him up with a kiss. “Shut up and fuck me.” He complied easily, tugging his jacket off and throwing it behind him, before he began unbuttoning his pants, lips still dancing on yours. You were busy trying to get your underwear off without breaking the kiss, but he didn’t care – he pulled away and got on his damn knees, his teeth dragging against your bare skin, until he found the waistband and tugged it down with his teeth, sending you a sinful glance. You grabbed the railing behind you with tense fingers; you had never seen a more erotic sight than Henry on his knees, dragging your soaked underwear down your legs with his fucking teeth. He hummed as your naked folds came to view and he cocked an eyebrow as a question to you. You didn’t answer with words but jumped a little and rested your ass on the – thankfully thick – railing, spreading your legs for him. “Fuckinghell, love, look at you…” His mouth slotted over your dripping folds, and you were already seeing stars. His tongue was deviously good at what it did, and when he sucked on your clit, you almost lost your balance. “Henry…” You whined his name, desperate for the release that was building as a tight ache in your entire body. He hummed against you, his hands snaking up to hold your thighs in place, and by proxy, you, before he began relentlessly eating you out. “Come on, darling, don’t hold those pretty, little noises back for me…” he mumbled against your dripping pussy, and the feeling of his stubble scratching against your thighs became your undoing, when it paired with his tongue and lips.
You came with a loud scream of pleasure, the orgasm washing over you – your nipples pebbled, and you grasped his hair, pulling him closer to your core as you rode your orgasm out on his face. He grinned against you, and you moaned loudly. “Good girl… Fuck, you taste fucking amazing, love.” He kissed his way to your face, and you tasted yourself on his tongue. You jumped down and got on your knees in front of him, deftly undoing his pants fully and pushed them down to his ankles.
“Shit…” he groaned when you wrapped your hand around his – honestly, damn beautiful length – and gave it a soft stroke, your eyes locking on his. “Y/N, you… Shit…” he lost his train of thought when you wrapped your lips around the tip, licking a stripe along the slit and collecting the precum on your tongue. You moaned at the taste and rolled your eyes back; fuck, you could get used to this.
You slowly inched down on him, taking as much as you could before you gagged, and he hit the back of your throat. His hands found a home in your hair, grabbing it tightly. “Good girl… Look at you, being so good for me on your knees. You can take more, baby…” he grinned deviously and pushed your head slowly, but surely, down to make you take even more of him. Tears welled in your eyes, and you gagged around him, while spit pooled from your open mouth; it was so fucking hot, your legs trembled. The sounds he made, gave you serious whiplash, trying to keep out and savor every single one. “Fuck, I’ve wanted this for so long… Playing pretend… Shit, Y/N…” He groaned as you swallowed even more of him, your head bopping up and down on his length, depraved sounds filling the air. “was so fucking easy, because I’ve wanted you for so long…” You moved your head with his guidance, swallowing as much you could of him – he was rolling his hips, meeting your face as he thrust against you – you felt him twitch and you sped up. “Shit, fuck, stop… baby, stop, I don’t want to… Y/N…” He moaned, and with willpower you could never possess, he withdrew from your warm mouth, a string of spit connecting you. “Fuck, you are amazing.” He said in awe. You grinned at him, and he grabbed your shoulder, pulling you to your feet. His eyes were wild and dark, and you wanted to be fucking ruined by him, right here, right now. He sat down on a bench next to him, pulling you to his lap; your dress bunched even higher on your hips now, his fingers tightly holding you, and his lips split into a devilish smile. “Let me film us, love… He needs to see what he’s missing out on.” He kissed your neck, drawing small whimpers from you and you rolled your hips, your folds spreading against his hard length. He growled and moved your hips, letting you glide against him in a faster motion. “Let him see what he’s missing, and never getting back, baby…” “Henry…” “You’remine, darling… Mine…” His lips found yours in a heated kiss and you moaned against his lips. “Yes, fucking… Do whatever you want, just… Fillme, please…” you whined with shaking legs. He grinned and pulled your phone out, placing it in the slots between the boards of the bench, starting a video. “Hey, asshole…” he mumbled, his fingers finding your dripping hole. You whimpered when he began moving them, curling up to hit every single spot, you needed him to. “You’re so wet for me, love… Can’t wait to be inside of you… Fuck…” He rolled his hips as he fucked you with his fingers, his hard cock pressing against your clit. You moaned his name. “Feeling you cum on my cock, filling you up…” “Justfuck me, Henry!” you snarled, desperate for him to fill you with his cock. He chuckled darkly.
“As you wish, baby.” You whined when his fingers left you, but moments later, your head lolled back and he had you hold you up with his large hands on your back, as he entered you swiftly – he was big, stretching you deliciously. He groaned as you clenched down on him, and his resolve broke in the second, your fingers tugged his hair.
He growled and his head found the crook of your neck, his breath fanning over your collarbone and he began fucking up into you; you were meeting his thrusts, the wet sounds of you filling the warm night air. You were pulsing around him, his cock dragging against your walls and his head hitting your g-spot over and over. “Your pussy is dripping for me, love… You’re taking me so well, look at you…” He grinned against your skin. “My cock splitting you completely, my good girl taking me so well…” His praise made you moan even louder, and you bit your lip to hold it back. “Don’t hold back, baby, let everyone know… Fuck… How well you’re being fucked…” He growled and angled his hips a little more, hitting you deeper than you thought possible. “Let everyone hear those pretty, little sounds you make for me…” You moaned loudly. “I don’t care… Oh, god… Who hears you, baby, I need everyone to know who you belong to…” Your orgasm hit you out of nowhere, his voice toppling you over the edge; you came hard around him, your pussy clenching down on his hard length, and he sped up, letting you feel every inch of him as you came undone around him. He fucked you with reckless abandon, trying to reach his own high. “Tell me. Tell me who you belong to, baby…” He moved his head from your neck and looked at you, his hand wrapping around your throat as he fucked you deeply. “H-henry… Fuck, I belong… T-to you…” Your voice was broken now, and he groaned as your walls fluttered again. “You want to cum again, love? Soak my cock, huh?” He hissed. “Cum with me, love, fuck…” you let go when he tightened his grip on your neck tightened and he threw any caution to the wind, fucking you as hard as he could, his own orgasm hitting seconds after yours.
He filled you with hot ropes of cum, warming you inside out, and you both moaned loudly, gripping each other as tightly as you could, as you came down from your highs. He peppered kisses along your neck and rubbed soothing circles on bare thighs. You kissed him lazily and he smiled against your lips, his fingers fumbling for the phone. You watched him turn the video off.
“I’m not sharing that with anyone.” He mumbled. “That belongs to me and you, love.” You chuckled and kissed him again, slowly getting off him. He hissed and you moaned as he slipped out from you. “Don’t even bother with your underwear.” He said happily, as he closed his pants and kissed your neck. “Why?” you asked, following his fingers as he grabbed your panties and pocketed them. He wrapped his arm around you and as you walked down to the waiting car (when did it even come?) you felt his spend slowly coat your thighs. It made you whine a little. “Oh, darling…” He opened the door for you and kissed you before flashing you a deadly smile. “Don’t think for one second, I’m done with you.” He got in himself, and his large hand came to rest on your thigh, his long fingers drawing circles in his own spend on your thighs. “Samuel, can you take us to my house, please?”
Summary: Henry and his wife discuss what is to be done about their daughter’s behavior at school, but bring up topics that lay buried for too long.
Warnings: Depression/ language/ burnout/ couple’s argument/ (blink and you’ll miss) talk of divorce/ very little fluff/ loads of angst. If you notice anything that should be included in the warnings, please let me know.
Word count:3k+
A/N:This was requested by my dear @constip8merm8 who wanted a story closer to the real world, that couldn’t be fluffy or smutty. I wasn’t pretty faithful to the theme (the daughter biting other children at school and they discuss how to deal with it) but she told me it was good, so here it is.
Every rough night, when she was colicky, he insisted on holding her for as long as she needed the comfort.
He was there for the first tooth and the crying that came with it.
He was there for the times when she’d mumble “mama”, just to insist she said “papa”.
He managed to capture on film the first time she stood up, using a chubby fistful of Kal’s fur for support.
He dedicated the first eighteen months of her life to be there for her and his wife.
But time is a luxury in his job. If he spent much longer away from photo shoots and auditions, the spotlight would shift to a younger, better looking actor, and he wasn’t ready to give up acting just yet.
The following four months were full of airports, makeup artists, hair stylists, clicks from famous photographers and paparazzi alike.
He had grown too fond of the silence from that side of his life and the few phone calls they’d get from family and friends every week. Having to reacquaint himself with the constant chiming of his notifications wasn’t easy, and he found himself struggling with the change.
He didn’t commit to anything long term at first, but the idea was certainly on his mind warring with the delight of returning to the giggling toothy grin and bouncing curls with some frequency.
It had been three days since he returned from his most recent commitment abroad and Rose was still clingy - not that he’d ever complain.
Taking her to nursery school had become his job, per her decree, and on that Friday he decided to linger a bit after dropping her to chat with other parents.
The shrill scream pierced Henry’s ears but faded into wailing before his eyes could register where it had come from.
It had happened once before and his fears were confirmed when his daughter’s teary, bicolored eyes, already regretful, met his own.
Relief and gratitude for being there at that moment washed over him along with anger and dismay in the split second it took him to understand the situation.
Her teacher was leading her away from the other child by her upper arm, when he reached them.
It had been a topic of conversation with his wife, unfortunately leading to an argument.
“If I hadn’t been there, watching… She was about to bite the other kid. And when the teacher showed me a picture of the incident… I was mortified Henry. I wanted to dig a hole and hide.” The tears welling in her eyes as she recounted what had happened earlier only fueled an anger he tried to mitigate and keep out of his words.
“How bad was it?”
“It’s not a matter of how bad! It’s a matter of her repeating that behavior and dealing with adults trying to correct her in a way we wouldn’t. It’s also a matter of her not doing it anymore! Why is this happening? So many children adapt so well, why not her?”
Breathing deeply through his nostrils, he concentrated on biting back the opinion she disagreed with. This didn’t have to become a fight.
Going to the living room to pick up a tissue box, he focused on controlling his anger before bringing it back to the kitchen.
“Why don’t you say something?” she hissed. “Why don’t you throw the much anticipated ‘I told you so!’ in my face, huh?”
She managed to keep her voice down, so she wouldn’t wake the sleeping culprit, but it only added to the tension between them.
“You want me to? Cause you know I’m thinking it.” he replied quietly.
“I just want to get a bit of my life back Henry! I want to have a sense of self again! I want to have some time for myself!” tears she couldn’t hold anymore ran down her face as she spoke. “I feel like I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want my life anymore Henry.”
He offered her a tissue which she harshly took from his hand.
Her words broke him.
He was grateful that her head hung low in that moment, while blowing her nose. She didn’t see the battle he raged against the tears threatening to pour out of his eyes.
“We finally managed to get her to sleep in her bed. And you’re not here to deal with this every single day. You have the luxury of being with adults, dealing with adult things!” she continued. “I can’t remember the last time I had a conversation that didn’t revolve around nappies, toddler clothing stores or toy brands. I’m going crazy here!”
He could see her side of the issue. He understood how much she was hurting, but he couldn’t fully accept what she wanted.
“I talked to a friend of mine, a psychologist, earlier today.” he started.
She shook her head and waved her hands as if to say she didn’t understand where he was getting at and what that had to do with the subject being discussed at the moment.
He held his palm up towards her, asking her to let him finish, as he usually did when her patience was starting to run low during their arguments.
“He said children present this kind of behavior when they are put in situations or places where they don’t feel safe, or loved, or understood. Or when adults don’t have the patience to deal with them and expect them to behave and be quiet, like adults. That got me thinking…”
“What are you trying to say?” she asked quietly, narrowing her eyes.
He didn’t get to finish whatever he had in mind.
“It’s so easy for a psychologist, or even for you, to simply judge the situation from afar. It’s not like there are any other places nearer to our home, which would make it harder for me, and recapping in case you weren’t paying attention, that’s the opposite of the bloody goal!” she said through her teeth and started counting with her fingers. “It’s also not like we’re going to hire a nanny, because neither you or I want a stranger raising our child! And you’re asking me to put my life on hold for another three or four years.”
He nodded, hugging her when a sob stopped her from saying anything else.
“You’re not here, it’s just me and Rosie. I’m going crazy. I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t think I can do this. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I don’t know myself anymore Henry!”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” he whispered into her hair, trying to be strong for her despite the burning in his eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you, I don’t want you to feel stuck at home with her. I want you two to be happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
He ran his hands up and down her back in a soothing manner and pulled away, enough to cup her face and wipe the tears with his thumbs. From the way her eyes swept over his face, he knew he probably didn’t do a good job at hiding how much the whole thing hurt him.
“Let’s go to bed. We’re both too tired. I’ll take care of her in the morning, okay?” he suggested and she nodded her agreement before he finished talking. “I’ll make sure we don’t wake you and I hope you’ll get to sleep in.”
“With my luck,” she replied and sniffled, “I’ll probably wake up as soon as the bed gets cold.”
She didn’t wake up.
That morning was spent with half of his brain mulling over everything said the night before. His mind was racing in search for a solution they could compromise on as he helped Rose add blueberries to her yogurt, while he tied her curls in two pigtails and while he took her to the playgroup on the stroller because she didn’t want to walk.
After the long conversation that demanded the presence of the teacher, the school’s counselor and a representative for the administration because of the reoccurrence, he walked out of there with Rose’s sleeping breath fanning his neck and her little fist crumpling the front of his shirt.
Sending his wife a text explaining what had happened, he decided to spend the day out and about with his daughter. He definitely did not want to fight, and after hearing the school’s opinion on the matter, he was even more convinced that she’d have to meet him halfway.
Despite his detailed text message, when he entered the house after five pm, she was mad all the same.
He walked past her without any words, taking Rose to bed, removing her shoes, loosening her hair out of the ties and kissing her forehead.
Leaving the door slightly ajar he drew in a deep breath and went back down the stairs.
“Do you want to go first? Because when I start I really don’t want you to interrupt me.” he said to his wife as he sat on the couch opposite her.
He didn’t like the whole situation. He didn’t like that it brought so much division between them. He even hated the coffee table between them.
“Fine. Go.” she said quietly and crossed her arms.
“Do you hate me for going back to work? Do you want me to take full custody of Rose?”
She blanched at the implications of his words.
“No! What the fuck does that mean? I love her! I love you! I’m just extremely exhausted and that does not help, Henry!”
He nodded, losing steam. Spilling all he wanted to say would only add to the burden she felt she had to carry. After a deep sigh she continued.
“I think it’s quite unfair of you to want me to stay with her 24/7.”
And just like that, his anger flared again.
“You did say, before we married, that you were okay with being a mum, that you understood that these first years would demand more of you. I was sure that it was fine with you being a stay-at-home mum.” he leaned on his elbows, towards her, and shook his head after speaking.
Her mouth went slack with the customary silent ‘oh’, testifying to her deep indignation.
“Is that what this whole argument is about?” she asked quietly.
“Fuck, this is coming out all wrong!” he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment and running a hand through his hair . “Listen, all I want is for you to be there for her, be it physically or emotionally, finding a place that’s more suitable. I really did not like the way the school handled it this morning, and I would very much like for Rose not to go back to a place where she feels unhappy enough to hurt other children!”
She fell silent. Her face screamed her desire to protest his words or something he’d said, but he was glad she didn’t add oil to the fire.
“I guess we’re all unhappy.” he finally said looking at the floor. “I think I’m going to take her and spend the weekend with my parents.”
“Without me?”
“Yes, without you. It will give you some time to rest, recharge. To do whatever you want or need to do without worrying about meals to prepare and nappies to change. Focus on things that make you happy, that would make this life more bearable for you.”
“Henry, look at me.”
He did, and the pain contorting her features prevented him from hiding his tears any longer.
“I just want what’s best for her.” he whispered around the lump in his throat.
“So do I. But I can’t guarantee that if I’m unhappy, Henry.” she replied between sobs. “Taking her away only makes me feel worse. Why don’t you just throw in my face that I’m a bad mum?”
There were so many words that he wished to say. So many words that he wanted to get off his chest.
He bit them back, crossing the living room and kneeling on the floor next to her on the armchair.
“You’re not a bad mum. You’re the best mum. You’re so caring, so patient, selfless and so, so strong. You go above and beyond for her. I see that. I see that you’re doing the best you can under so much strain. I love you so much!” her fingers were cold when he touched the hand lying on her knee, so he held both of her hands in his.
There was only sniffing and tears filling the quiet void that followed his words.
Warmer hands held his back when he decided to break that silence.
“Could you please make this sacrifice? For me? For us? All of us? I don’t want her to stop playing with other kids, she likes that. I just want you to make sure that the place where she’s playing is a place that nurtures her mentally.”
He paused examining her still tear-streaked face. It was probably a mirror of his own.
“I can get a driver to take her wherever you believe she’ll adapt best.” he pleaded.
He knew she’d hate the idea before her head started shaking minutely. But she said nothing against it.
“I believe it’s the closest we’ll come to an agreement.” she finally whispered after sniffling and wiping her eyes with the back of her hands. “I’ll start looking on Monday.”
“Thank you. And while you’re at it, maybe you could look into a place where she could go more than just a couple of days a week?” he said, getting up and planting a kiss on the crown of her head. “Have you eaten?”
“I think that’s an excellent idea.” she answered absentmindedly, and added,”I ate a granola bar, just before you arrived.”
“Want me to cook you something?” he asked, stopping halfway to the kitchen.
“Have you eaten?” she asked, her voice still far away.
“Yes. We had hamburgers.” he replied before adding with a halfhearted smile, “Well, she ate half of her hamburger, I ate mine and the other half. She inhaled the chips though.”
“Oh. Did she eat your chips too?”
“A fair amount. So, what do you feel like?”
“I’m not hungry.” she answered.
“Okay.” he said, sighing and making for the stairs once more. “If you need me, I’ll be packing her bag.”
The fifth step creaked under his feet before she spoke.
“Why can’t you?”
“‘Why can’t I’ what?” he asked, puzzlement clear in his tone.
“Why can’t you make that sacrifice?” she asked again, looking at nothing in particular.
“Are you asking me why I can’t stay at home?” the disbelief on his tone brought her eyes to his. She nodded.
“Why I can’t sacrifice my whole career, is that seriously what you want to know?” he continued, going back down the stairs and kneeling before her once more.
“Aren’t these first years of her development as important to you? Isn’t your presence just as necessary?” she asked quietly.
He was finally done with holding back tears. Letting his head hang low, he sobbed.
She let him cry, caressing his curls when he leaned his forehead on her knee.
“Of course it is.” he rasped between sobs. “But I don’t want to lose everything I worked so hard to achieve. Do you think I want to be away from her? From you both? Honestly? Do you think it is an ego thing?”
“Henry, I…” she started, but he interrupted her.
“I’m afraid. Is that what you want to hear? I’m fucking terrified there will be nothing for me if I go back to work years from now. And what terrifies me the most is the possibility of resenting you or Rosie.”
He shook his head and got up, wiping a hand over his face.
“Won’t you resent your career eventually for taking you away from her? From the both of us?” she asked, earnestly.
That gave him pause. He walked back to the couch on the other side of the room and let himself sink down on the leather.
She was right.
He was so focused on the life he could be missing out there, he hadn’t considered what would happen when he took on longer contracts.
Images of Rose’s first birthday flashed in his mind. It hurt imagining being on the other side of the world and missing her second, less than two months away.
The reality was harsh anyway.
“Why is what I do so different from other fathers who work eight or ten hours away, everyday? Or from those who work twelve-hour shifts? I just do that for fewer months.” he complained, reasoning more with himself than with her. “I could audition only for jobs that would keep me closer to home. Or work on only one big production per year.”
He paused, lifting his misty eyes to meet hers after almost boring a hole on the carpet.
“But if you already feel overwhelmed with my short trips, I can’t see how you wouldn’t hate me if I had to be on set for any longer periods of time.”
Taking a tissue from the box she had thankfully brought back from the kitchen, he blew his nose.
“I just need to feel like an adult again. Like I can be more than just a ‘mum’, confined to the limits of these walls and the walk to the nursery or the supermarket.” she paused. “I’m just so tired. So done. Why is that so hard for you to accept?”
“It isn’t.” She rolled her eyes in disbelief, but he insisted. “It really isn’t. I get it. Or, at least, I’m trying to.”
Nodding, she got up and sat next to him on the couch.
“We need help. I don’t want you to feel like this anymore.” he whispered, bringing her closer to his chest and wrapping her in his arms.
“Without bringing a stranger to our home?” she asked, her words muffled into his shirt. “I don’t see how.”
Henry sighed after several minutes in silence, expelling all the negative energy from his body, as he lay his cheek on the crown of her head.
“I will think about this some more during these days we’re away. I’ll talk to my parents as well if that’s okay with you.”
She nodded, humming her approval.
“I’ll do the same from here. I’ll text you if I come up with any good ideas.” she said.
“I’d prefer you to just relax and not worry, but that’s not going to happen, is it?” he asked, smiling.
“Nope.”
He could feel her smile and some of the tension leaving her.
“You know me better than that.” she added.
“I do.” he replied, chuckling, and after a moment added, “Will you talk to me before it gets this bad next time, after we find a solution and if you ever feel like that again, please?”
She pulled away from him slightly, enough to look him in the eyes, and nodded.
He kissed her forehead.
“I already walked Kal.” she said.
“That’s why he’s so quiet.” he replied. “Are you sure you don’t want to eat anything?”
“If I feel hungry, I’ll make a sandwich. Don’t worry.” she answered and let out a heavy sigh. “I just hope that all of this is going to be worth our while and that she’ll stop biting other children.”
“If she doesn’t, at least I know a psychologist.” he remarked.
He felt her soft laughter, and with a soft click of his tongue, he continued.
“You know what? You should start your relaxing right now. Forget the problems and go find yourself again. Just keep in mind that we love you. I love you very much and I’ll do my best to make things better from now on.”
“Thank you. I’m gonna take you up on that offer.” she said and planted a kiss on his lips. “If I fall asleep and don’t see you off, tell Rosie I love her. Be safe. I love you, too.”
A/N: Well, it was supposed to be a 400 word drabble just to complement a dialogue that popped into my head months ago. But I like my words, and I cannot lie. I just wanted a little something to celebrate reaching another follower milestone and share the joy with all of you. You are all awesome and I’m super grateful.
Thank you all for putting up with me.
Special thanks @shellbilee for being a super friend, the best confidante anyone could ask for and a great editor/beta. Thank you for these great 8 months working together. You’re such an amazing person! Thank you so much for making me feel like this is still worth doing every time I’m about to give up.
From the side of the halls where they held the panels you felt the ground shake.
The enthusiasm with which the fans received him vibrated through your limbs like an earthquake and despite being warned beforehand, you could have never truly been prepared for it.
Joining his team as a tour assistant was an opportunity handed to you at the last minute.
It was hard. It was a lot of work. It meant almost no time for sleep, let alone calling home. But it was temporary, and Henry was a kind, respectful and patient boss.
It didn’t hurt that he was very easy on the eye as well.
Unfortunately, that wouldn’t make up for how tired you felt.
Between filming his panel interviews and taking photos behind the scenes for his social media accounts, you double checked transportation and security. It was also your job to make sure he’d be comfortable and safe at every meet and greet. All of his “sightseeing tours” looked more like an extension of his work during the conventions. Fans would gather and paparazzi were guaranteed to heavily document them. Also, his appetite for whatever the local cuisine was and his schedule of late night shows had to be closely managed so they never clashed. To say you were kept busy with this job was an understatement.
The new restrictions imposed on his interactions with fans after the pandemic didn’t help either. They made him exceptionally unhappy.
Whenever you all had a breather he’d tell you about Kal. Sometimes you’d just enjoy companionable silence. Sometimes he’d collapse into a deep slumber wherever you were.
Too many countries and too many interviews after you had first met his cheerful self, his smile was not the same. The laughter was only present when it was a work requirement, and the unshaven, makeup less face first thing in the morning, had eyes sunken deep in shadows of exhaustion.
His crankiness showed in curt replies - which he apologized for every time and almost immediately - and cancelling plans he had been looking forward to, the last of which, a meal you had also been anticipating.
After a quick, abnormally quiet dinner for the whole team, people started trickling out of the private dining room of the hotel as they finished and retired to their own rooms. Henry lingered, lazily swirling the last sip of his Chianti in the crystal glass while you finished your dessert.
“I owe you an apology.” he started, looking intently at the liquid. “I haven’t been my best self lately.”
You looked up at him, just as your mouth closed around a spoonful of decadent chocolate mousse, raising your eyebrows.
Lifting his eyes when you didn’t reply, he glanced at you, chuckled and lowered his eyes back to the glass.
For some inexplicable reason you felt the threat of tears burn in the back of your eyes. Mentally chastising yourself and chalking it up to exhaustion, you quickly and audibly swallowed, bringing his eyes back to you.
“You have nothing to apologize for.” you replied, hoping that the vehement shake of your head would dissipate the unwelcome feelings. “Besides, I think you’ve been apologizing enough lately to last me a lifetime.”
His smile was gone almost as soon as it had reappeared. The pronounced slouch was relieved by him tipping his head back and draining the remaining liquid.
The smack of his lips and contented ahhh sparked a fire inside you, so unexpected, you let out a quiet gasp.
Snapping your eyes to the small bowl, you busied your hands with scraping it for the remnants of chocolaty goodness, but you knew his eyes were on you.
“Well, at least my longest press tour to date is coming to an end.” He said, after clearing his throat. “Can I walk you to your room?”
You nearly choked, but shook your head once more as he frowned at you, probably slightly disgusted by the way you licked the spoon.
“No need. Thank you.” you answered quietly.
He looked at you intently for a second longer than you expected and his tongue darted out quickly to wet his lips.
“Alright, good night then.” he spoke, somewhat stiffly, getting up and leaving you in haste.
“Good night.” you mumbled too late.
You lowered your head and quietly let out the breath you’d been holding while his eyes were on you.
Stupid, stupid, stupid! He’s the boss, for crying out loud!
You’re only human.
Like he’d look at you like that! Pfft!
Walking slowly back to your room was not enough to quiet either your thoughts or thrumming heart. The heat of the shower was supposed to have helped, but you couldn’t stop the images of him coming back to haunt you, and they didn’t make you happy.
You were in dire need of sleep, you surmised. Sleep would fix everything.
Comfy clothes and the weight of the blanket would probably work wonders. In the morning, that minor slip in your conduct would be nothing but a cringey memory.
While looking for your most comfortable t-shirt in your suitcase, the sexy lingerie sprung up from the depths of your suitcase where you had carelessly shoved it. You had packed it on a last minute impulse and forgotten all about it. Now it stood out, against the pastel color of a blouse, almost like it mocked you.
You scoffed at it and picked your trusty old sweatpants, sliding them on just as a sharp rap to your door gave you a start.
You opened the door to find Henry leaning against the door frame with his head resting on his arm. For a moment he looked as if he was going to turn around and walk away, as if he worried he was disturbing you. His brows were deeply furrowed in an almost guilty expression, and it was noticeable from the tightness of his jaw that being there may not have been thoroughly planned.
“Sorry pal, I’m already off duty.” you teased softly, offering a tired smile as you held the door open.”Is there anything you want?”
“You.” he declared just as softly, huffing out a breath held too long and showing his lovely teeth in a nervous smile.
“Oh.” you breathed.
He straightened up and took a step into the room, closer to you.
“I want to hear you say that again. Repeatedly.” he whispered.
The heat of his breath on your face was intoxicating, sending your heartbeat into a frenzy and your body tingled from head to toe.
Your nod was all he needed as he reached up to caress your cheek. His thumb gently skimmed your lower lip and his eyes never left yours as the door clicked shut behind him.
Your reflection stared back at you and it highlighted the lines the years had been so kind to add to your skin and the white hairs multiplying at a rate you couldn’t accept.
Everything Henry loved.
Everything he kept on telling you to stop fixating on.
“Don’t dye your hair, it’s lovely like that.” he’d say. Or “Stop frowning at yourself and come to bed, I need my snug.”.
You tried to see yourself as he did, you truly did, but dating a man who got so much attention and from so many women, most of them younger than you, poked at that wound in your self-esteem.
He had booked a spa day for you at a member’s club, and while holding the taxi door open for you, he kissed you thoroughly before telling you to just relax and enjoy your day.
You did, despite your anxiety, being pampered with mani and pedi in your favorite colors, getting a full body massage, hair and makeup.
Before you left, a box was delivered to your hands with a note from Henry:
A little something special awaits you. Wear this for me.
Smiling, you eagerly opened the box, finding a lovely dress you had shown Henry weeks before, telling him it was something you’d wear to a premiere, lying wrapped in tissue paper.
You held your tears in, mindful of the makeup, and got ready for this surprise of his.
You were led by a valet from the spa to another area of the club, and confusion colored your features when he left you facing imposing double doors.
He walked away without a word and you were left there, not knowing if you should knock or if you should just enter.
You breathed a sigh of relief when they were opened for you but relief soon turned to shock when a cry of “Surprise!” met your ears. Your family and friends stood by Henry to celebrate another year of your life.
They held flutes of champagne and toasted to your health bringing tears to your eyes you couldn’t hold back.
He thought of every detail: balloons in your favorite color, your favorite flowers, your favorite food. Even made sure the strawberry shortcake you loved so much was sugar free.
Towards the end of the party sitting next to him and watching your friends dancing and your parents laughing, your heart was full of a happiness you couldn’t contain, and your smile was reflected in his own. Henry slid his hands over yours and entwined your fingers as he came close and whispered in your ear: “Happy birthday love.”
Bringing him closer you kissed him, letting him know just how happy you were. He embraced you bringing you even closer.
“Thank you for the party. You make me so happy!” you told him.
“You make me even happier,” he said, kissing your forehead, then leaning his forehead on yours, looking deep into your eyes. “And I want to spend the next fifty with you.”
The house had spent two weeks vacant since the Taylors decided to move to a warmer climate.
You didn’t see who had moved in, but you watched the moving truck while warming your hands with the little heat left around your cup of tea early in that grey, chilly morning. They unloaded so many things, the most curious of all being a contraption that looked like gym equipment.
Shuddering at the thought of working out, you headed out to your car and made your way to work.
Having stopped by the grocery store on your way home from work, you juggled with the overflowing bags as you made your way to your front door, determined to carry everything in one go. Dropping the bags on your porch to open the door, you peeked at the neighbor’s house, hearing the faint sound of what was distinctly country music and noticing a bit of light shining from behind the curtains of an upstairs room.
You scrunched up your nose at the choice of music but shrugged. It wasn’t your place to criticize, when your favorite song was a success back in the 90s.
Early next morning, as you were reversing your car out of your driveway, you had to abruptly break, when a body materialized in your rear view mirror.
Heart in your mouth, you stuck your head out of the window to glare at the offending athlete, who waved at you, already several meters away.
It took a few minutes for your heartbeats to slow down and by then you were late for work.
You decided you did not like this new neighbor. Who in the world jogs that early in the morning? Freaks.
You delayed your departure the next morning so you wouldn’t accidentally drive over the idiot, but still, you had missed him by mere seconds.
You huffed an angry breath, when he again decided to wave at you. You grimaced in response and moved along with your day.
It didn’t escape you, though, that his running sweats hugged his body in all the right places, and that his buns were quite the sight.
The remaining month of winter passed with more of the same novela, with minor heart attacks and a perpetual resting bitch face for you, while he was all smiles and waves. He could join the penguins of Madagascar for all you cared.
Then, spring arrived and with it, longer days. You couldn’t deal with that much sunlight so early, and being on vacation, your new year’s resolution to start working out nagged at you with vigor.
Project summer bod started with walks around a few blocks in your vicinity, despite your brain’s frequent reluctance.
Your neighbor, determined to irritate you, left home earlier, the same time you did in fact. Just because you decided to make the most of the first rays of sunshine before it got too bright, and moms had to take their kids to school.
But just as you were to let out a huff of frustration, he ran past you with a low “good morning” and your huff became a sigh.
His voice, so darn low and gritty from how early it was, stopped you in your tracks. For the first time you had the full force of his gaze on you, and his jawline cut straight through your heart and threatened to make your knees collapse beneath you.
You were defenseless against that attack, so you just watched as he went, his sweatpants hugging that gorgeous looking ass. It didn’t help your case that the t-shirt he wore hugged his broad shoulders and his lean waist. He was like walking - or in his case running - sex on legs.
Drying the figurative drool on your chin, you started walking in the direction he’d gone.
The week went by in that same routine. You woke up happier every day despite yourself, every day more disposed to go on your walks.
On Saturday however, you decided you were ready to run, just so you could keep admiring the peachy bottom that haunted your dreams.
It was easier said than done.
You jogged at best, pushing yourself to reach your house again. You gave up on the idea of running the distance you could generally walk, not having made it much further than half a lap around your block.
Despite all the walking giving you a bit more disposition and energy throughout the day, you were definitely not fit enough to be a runner.
Who wanted to be an athlete anyway? Definitely not you.
You managed to walk back to your street, with a hand on your ribs, but dropped down like a sack of potatoes on the corner.
You were out of breath and sweaty, your face felt like it was melting off and your legs trembled.
Taking a moment to just try and get some oxygen while looking at the asphalt as if it had personally offended half of your ancestry, you didn’t notice the person approaching until they were almost in front of you.
“You okay there?” asked a deep baritone.
You were too tired even to look at the person talking to you. But as you reluctantly lifted your gaze, two lovely thick thighs greeted you.
Your eyes kept on moving upwards, taking in the gloriously veiny forearms, thick biceps and chest, only to land on those most beautiful eyes you had ever seen. Now that you had the time to study them, they were so much prettier up close, their color like perfect skies with an alluring brown fleck.
You wanted to spend the rest of your life drowning in those azure pools, but his smirk brought you out of your reverie.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” you mumbled, a little dazed.
“I asked if you were okay. Are you?” he said after a chuckle.
“Oh, I’m… uh…” you stuttered.
You took a moment to take stock of your condition, and thanked heavens you were no longer wheezing.
“First time running?” he guessed.
You smiled sheepishly and nodded.
“That’s the toughest part, you know.” he said as he sat down on the curb next to you. “From now on it’ll be easier every time.”
He smiled at you then, and for a few seconds more than you should, you stared at him with your mouth hanging slightly open.
Him chuckling at your expression once more told you he knew exactly what was going on inside your head.
You snapped it shut and lifted your chin in indignation.
“Who says I ever want to run again? I don’t even have the strength to call emergency services.” you complained, but your fatigue drained all the displeasure you had intended to infuse into your words.
Clearing your throat, you extended your hand and introduced yourself. He shook your hand with a soft and chilly palm.
“I don’t think I can do this anymore. Why do you do this to yourself? The way I’m feeling now, I think my whole body will be sore. For a month!” you exclaimed, to his delight, if his loud laughter was anything to go by.
“I’m glad my suffering amuses someone.” you added, grim.
“No, no, I’m sorry! Not at all!” he hurried to explain, sobering up a little, but still smiling as he continued. “The way you said it is funny, not your pain. But you’re probably right. It will hurt for a while.“
His matter of fact look broke into one of amusement mixed with sympathy as he took in the sheer shock on your face and your loud gasp.
"Your body gets used to it. Soon it won’t hurt as much. Maybe you’ll even like it!” his cheerful tone was not what you needed at that moment. There was a glint in his eye you couldn’t quite place.
“I highly doubt that.” you replied.
His amusement never abated, and he snorted.
“Well, just to prove you wrong, I propose a challenge.” he said, getting up and cleaning his sweatpants. “If you brave the pain and come out for a run every day for the next thirty days, I’ll run with you, at your pace. Deal?”
“But what about your pace and your fitness? Don’t you have to stick to some regime or whatever?” you asked, baffled that he’d be willing to do that to an almost complete stranger.
He extended a hand, helping you get to your feet. The trembling in your legs had subsided a little but you would feel better once you were lying on your couch.
You looked at him, shielding your eyes from the Sun that was starting to heat up.
He was regarding you intently but looked away soon after your eyes found his.
“I can make up for it by lifting weights in the gym.” he paused and smirked, gazing deeply into your eyes. “And there’s always cardio.”
For some reason, you felt your cheeks heat up. You could only stare at him, tongue-tied, but he didn’t let you suffer for long, widening his lips in a heart-stopping grin.
It was actually the one he wanted, you were bribed to accept it, but you’d take Henry’s bribery anytime, anywhere and in every way.
He said it was only fitting, since your princess deserved a royal treatment.
The day it arrived and you saw it up close, you told him that it would be best to hire someone to assemble it.
Stubborn as he is, he waved you off, grunting as he picked it up to take it to her nursery.
You complained that he’d pull a muscle at best, or break his back, worst case scenario.
He just kept grunting all the way up the stairs and to her room. Not that you didn’t appreciate his grunting, but there was a right time and place for that symphony.
After about fifteen minutes - he told you he was reading the manual, but you knew he was catching his breath - he came downstairs again, passing by you and heading into the garage.
“Not a peep.” he said when he appeared again in the kitchen, holding a tool box and massaging his lower back with his hands.
“I didn’t say anything.” you replied, holding in your laughter, and only smiling sweetly at him.
He spent the entire afternoon in that room.
From time to time you’d hear a “Fucksake!”, or a “Damn it.”. Most of all, you heard fucks every few minutes, as you had gone upstairs to rest and catch up on your reading.
You poked your head into the nursery before going to your room, only to see the instruction manual in pieces on a corner.
“Did the instructions offend you honey?” you asked innocently.
“Don’t need them. I’ve got this.” he replied with a huff, as he looked at different sized bolts and nuts.
Since then, only more cursing came from the room.
At some point in the afternoon you were craving popcorn, and passing by the room, you saw that little progress had been made.
Shaking your head you made your way to the kitchen, and as your corn popped away in the microwave, you made him his favorite coffee.
Kal had made it his life’s work to make sure you were safe, keeping both eyes on you everywhere you went.
“Why does your father have to be so bloody stubborn?” you asked him. He only sneezed and looked back at you.
Juggling his steamy cup of coffee, yours, with mint and ginger tea, and the bowl of popcorn, you slowly made your way back upstairs, careful not to drop anything.
When you arrived in the room, you put your things on the dresser and caressed a distracted Henry on the head, making him jump.
“Bloody hell!” he mumbled when he saw it was you and what you were holding.
“Yes, it looks like it, indeed.” you mumbled, noticing that the part he had managed to assemble seemed to be backwards.
You refrained from commenting, when you saw the photo of the assembled crib on the screen of his phone. He’d figure it out eventually.
You fell asleep as you watched a movie, only waking up to the smell of what could only be meat being cooked.
Going downstairs as you caressed your distended belly, you entered the kitchen to see a very serious Henry, biting the inside corner of his mouth.
Turning his head your way, he opened a smile.
“Hey sleepy head, did you have a good nap?” he asked as you came closer.
Hugging you with one arm, he kept on stirring the minced meat with the other.
“Whatchu making?”
“Shepherd’s pie. I needed some comfort food.” he smiled.
“How’s the progress? Have you regretted not hiring someone to do the job yet?” you teased, with a mischievous smile.
“Nope. Don’t need anyone to do that for me. I’ve got it.” he answered, but it didn’t escape you that he didn’t mention his progress at all.
“Why don’t you call Charlie? I’m sure he could help you.” you suggested, picking a spoon and stealing a bit of the ragu.
“I can manage on my own, thank you very much. And stop stealing my meat!” he complained, shooing you away.
After a mostly silent dinner, you decided to have a bath, and while you relaxed in the bubbly water, you texted Charlie, telling him all that happened throughout the day.
Not five minutes after you two stopped texting, you heard Henry’s phone ringing and him exclaiming “Hey mate! How did you know I needed you?”.
You looked at Kal, lying on the foot of your tub and panting due to the heat in the bathroom, and winked at him.
You heard little more as Henry closed the door of the nursery.
When sleep started to make it harder for you to keep your eyes open, you went to the nursery, hearing metal noises and more grunting from the door.
“I’m going to bed babe.” you announced.
He opened the door enough to put his head out and gave you a smile and a kiss on your lips.
“I’ll be going soon.” he promised, and closed the door.
You shook your head and shrugged, going to bed and falling asleep almost immediately.
You didn’t know how long later, but your body stirred at the sound of the bedroom door opening bringing you away from the depths of blissful sleep. You felt the weight of his body dip the mattress, and he scooted as close to you as he could, caressing your belly and kissing the back of your head.
“What time is it?” you asked.
“Cuore mio, come with me.” he whispered, while rubbing your arm.
“Can’t this wait till morning?” you complained, but by the excitement emanating from him, he really wanted you to see it immediately.
“No.” he answered, going to your side of the bed, turning on your bedside lamp and helping you stand.
“This better be good, mister!” you croaked, still half awake.
He led you by the hand, with a painful looking grin on his face. When you got close to the nursery, his demeanor changed slightly.
“I hope you truly like it.” he said quietly, bashful, and opened the door to you.
“Oh my god! Henry!” you gasped, covering your mouth with one hand and touching your belly with the other.
“Do you hate it? I guess I can get a…” he started, but you covered his mouth with a finger.
“Please don’t. I love it!” you whispered, tears flooding your eyes. “Did you just finish it?”
He nodded.
“You did it. I’m so happy you managed on your own!” Tears were streaming down your cheeks, and turning you to face him, he kissed your forehead.
“I kinda had help.” he quietly confessed, leaning to touch his forehead to yours.
“Oh, did you call Charlie?” you asked, feigning ignorance.
“No, he called me to talk about work, and I decided to listen to you and ask him for help.”
You two turned to face the room, he enveloped you in his arms, running his hands up and down on your baby bump, while admiring the crib which he had already set up.
“I’m glad.” you replied, still emotional.
“So am I. I couldn’t have done it without his help.” he said, resting his chin on your shoulder. “I can’t wait for her to be here.”
You placed your hand over his as you felt her moving.
“Neither can I. I’m really looking forward to holding her in my arms, to caress her cheeks. Do you think she’ll have a lot of hair?” you wondered.
“I don’t think so. But she’ll be lovely, even if she takes after her mother.”
You batted at his hand playfully, making a face.
“I only hope she doesn’t take after you so much. Otherwise, we’ll have a handful.”
He bit your neck playfully, and you moaned.
“Let’s go to bed. I owe you for putting up with me today.” he said, straightening up and leading you by the hand back to your room.
WARNINGS: TW:poor mental health, depression, miscarriage. Please don’t read if you know that any of these warnings are triggers.
Word count: 777
A/N:@constip8merm8 wanted a piece of my mind. I love you girl and I can never repay the amount of support you give me! Here goes. This one I’ve been mulling over for a while, but I thought writing it wouldn’t help my situation. Turns out it was quite cathartic, and brought as much lightness to my heart as tears to my eyes.
You had returned from the ER in the late afternoon.
He picked you up bridal style and carried you to your bed, silent, as if in reverence.
You had very little to say, you didn’t really want to think, but there were decisions to be made.
Did you want a blanket?
Did you want to eat? he had made soup.
The doctor said you needed to regain your strength. You lost a lot of blood! Some scrambled eggs?
He could run a bath for you. Would you please get up?
Your parents came to visit you, please get up to see them.
Okay, he’s bringing them to you.
You were out of monosyllabic answers and head shakes. And the stream of I’m so sorrys, You’ll be on your feet soon, all of that encouragement sprung from loss grated on your already frail nerves.
Pain turned into anger, anger turned into bitterness and bitterness drove you both even further apart.
It had happened the first day you actually felt okay. The nausea had subsided and you felt like celebrating. Cooking a curry for Henry, who had been arriving late from the set, felt like a great idea.
Despite the chicken making you sick twice as you prepared and cooked it, the dish turned out really good. You were happy to finally be able to partake in a meal with him, who had texted you the time of his arrival.
You planned everything so he could finally have company for dinner, after almost three months of not being able to get close to you before brushing his teeth twice and having a shower.
You were happy the smell of his cologne and shampoo no longer made you gag, so you were looking forward to holding him close to your body and finally running your fingers through his tresses once again.
All that was shattered by the sharp pain you felt as you were getting him some water from the fridge.
Not five steps away from the table and you collapsed, making him spring into action picking you up and calling an ambulance.
You only came to the next morning, and the look on his face told you all you needed to know.
He took two weeks off to be with you.
He bathed you. He force fed you almost. But the tenderness and deep love he expressed massaging your scalp as he washed your hair, only made you sadder, because you were letting him down.
You felt extremely guilty for basically abandoning him to grieve alone.
On that first weekend, frustrated after opening the curtains as far as they would go, he raised his voice at you because you wouldn’t get up despite the glaring sun rays on your face.
He yelled that he had lost too, that it was unfair of you to lock him out. That you were selfish because that pain was his, too. That you had vowed to love him in sickness or in health, for better or for worse, till death did you part.
You turning to your other side, giving your back to him, felt like a slap on his face but you didn’t have the energy to argue.
He didn’t talk to you after that.
He would get up and walk Kal, make breakfast after his workout, shower and make his way to set.
He didn’t sleep on your bed anymore, taking the guest room.
And after a month, he came back into your room with his suitcase.
You watched as he filled it with enough clothes and accessories to last a while.
He took it away and then came back.
He lay down on his side, facing you.
Your tears were flowing freely.
“I tried love. I really did.” he whispered, unable to hold back a sob. “I still love you very much, but I can’t do this anymore. It hurts so much!”
His features contorted as he truly cried, for the first time in front of you.
“I can’t keep fighting for us on my own.” his voice became smaller as he spoke, lost in another sob. “I can’t.”
You were shocked out of your stupor. Your tears, thick and heavy rolled down your cheek and temple.
He looked tired, defeated.
You saw the man you loved for the first time in so long.
The light dimming in his eyes was another loss you had to mourn, despite the heat from his body being so close to yours.
He sat up, turning his now red-rimmed eyes to yours one last time.
Summary: Dealing with her parents reaction to arriving home wearing a stranger’s clothes, our reader’s week is much improved when Henry pleasantly surprises her.
Warnings:Language.
Word count:3.5k+
A/N:Enjoy!
Thank you so much @shellbilee for being my beta and editor, and a shoulder to cry on.
Glossary of Brazilian words: Pai/mãe = father / mother Mocinha = young lady Tio = uncle, can be used for people who aren’t relatives when they are close friends of one’s parents. Catupiry: Brazilian cream cheese Pastel: Deep fried pastry. Can be filled with pretty much everything you can imagine. Cachaça: distilled sugar cane spirit. Vish! = Yikes (that’s the closest word I’ve ever found to this expression) Gringo: for those who don’t know is Portuguese for foreigner, generally an English speaking one. Coxinha = deep fried breaded dough filled with shredded chicken (and Catupiry).
I was enveloped in an elaborate crispy, woodsy scent with a hint of something else I couldn’t place. Much warmer than I really needed to be, I drove back home with a grin that hurt my cheeks.
I arrived there knowing I’d have to control my emotions and hide the suspicious clothes before heading in, not taking much longer outside, otherwise papa would call the police.
It was all for nothing though, since my father was waiting for me, sitting on the bottom steps of the stairs.
I had quietly shut the door when his voice startled me.
“Lock that properly, please.”
“Pai! What the hell? You almost gave me a heart attack!” I shrieked, hand flying to my chest.
“Well, first of all, do not swear. And if you were not sneaking, you wouldn’t almost have heart attacks. Why did you take so long to deliver one order?” he asked calmly, getting up with a groan and turning all the lights on. “What on Earth are you wearing?” he continued, not so calmly. “Are those men’s clothes? What have you been doing? Why did that take so long to deliver?”
I couldn’t reply to the torrent of accusations because my mom’s voice came roaring from up the stairs.
“What is happening down there? Why are you yelling?” she yelled in turn.
“Your daughter has been sneaking around and came back home wearing a man’s clothes. That’s what’s happening!” he bellowed back, even though by that time she had already come down and was standing right next to him, with an accusatory glower.
Their mirrored expressions would have been funny if the situation wasn’t quite unfair and, though I tried to speak up while their tirade was going on, the only thing I achieved was to look like a fish out of water.
“Well? Explain yourself mocinha!” my mom demanded.
“You two are unbelievable. Yes, these are men’s clothes. Obviously!” I told them, shrugging out of the oversized coat and shaking it for effect. “I left home today without my coat. I left it at the restaurant yesterday. I didn’t think it was that cold today, so I left without it again. I was freezing when I got to the client’s house. He was kind to lend me these.” I explained, once more shaking the offending items, now in my hands, in my parents’ direction.
They both wore such skeptical looks, it was again almost comical. But I was tired and the adrenaline of being scolded for the first time in more than ten years drained whatever energy I had left.
“Well, if you’ve got nothing more to complain about, I need a shower and sleep. I bet you do, too.” I said, and without waiting for an answer, I brushed past them and headed for my room.
His clothes were still in my hands, I noticed after closing the door. Sighing, I folded them and put them on my dresser, where I was sure not to forget them in the morning.
I headed for the shower, and only in there, with two doors between me and the world, is that I allowed all of that to really get to me.
I went to bed crying that night, and my mood wasn’t much improved by my waking up one whole hour before I had to.
So, I made the most of it, having breakfast in peace, without seeing anyone else’s face. I got ready and put his clothes in a bag. With a quiet good morning, not really looking at my father as I passed by him on my way to the door, I left home.
On my way to work, I dropped his clothes at my dad’s best friend’s dry cleaners. Adriano promised me they’d be ready by Wednesday afternoon, and tried to find out whose clothes those were and why the rush. His employee arrived right then, saving me from being very rude, and prompting an introduction.
I couldn’t blame him for trying to set me up. My father must complain a lot that I’m still not married.
The guy, Marcio, wasn’t really all that bad. His golden-brown, deep set eyes, crinkled at the edges as he smiled and shook my hand. A thin straight nose, and a nicely, short bearded, squared jaw, his most prominent feature, complimented the whole. He was, by all accounts, very handsome.
It wasn’t his fault that somebody else was already on my mind.
I said goodbye to them as soon as I could without offending them, arriving late for work.
“I know, I know.” I said to my dad when I saw the sour look.
“What were you doing?” he asked, with the same accusatory tone he used the night before.
“I took the kind stranger’s clothes to tio Adriano for cleaning before I returned them.” I replied matter-of-factly. “Just like you and mama taught me.”
I didn’t wait around to hear whatever he had to say, stopping only to tell my brother that I’d spend the day with the books and that I didn’t want to be disturbed.
There were so many things simmering in my head. I needed a break and nothing distracted me from reality like numbers did.
I was so engrossed in the wrong result the calculator kept showing me that I seethed at the three knocks on the door.
“Fuck me!” I muttered, getting up. “What is it? I said I did not want to be disturbed.” I snapped, as I flung the door wide and was met with my brother’s very concerned face.
“It’s closing time. You didn’t eat all day. I wanted to bring you some food, but dad told me to ‘give you your space’. I’m worried about you. What was the shouting yesterday about?” he asked and walked into my office, pulling a chair to sit facing me.
“It doesn’t…” I started, falling onto my chair and holding back my tears.
“Of course it matters. It matters a great deal. To me. Spill it.” he ordered, pulling a box of tissues from behind my printer and offering them to me.
“I met someone.” I said, and blew my nose.
“Whoa! I was not expecting that!” he whispered, but he might as well have shouted, such was the look on his face.
As he spoke he pulled his chair away as if I had electrocuted him.
“Well, yeah.” I shrugged.
“Who is he? Is he a gringo?” his very straight face as he said that made me chuckle.
“You sound like dad.” I said, sniffling and raising an eyebrow.
“Is he though?” He refused to be distracted.
“Yes.” I admitted.
“Is he the one you delivered to last night?” he asked.
I simply nodded.
“What happened? You met the guy and it was heart eyes at first sight?” he asked, exasperated.
I opened my mouth to answer, but he beat me to it.
“You know what? Never mind.” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “I fried some chicken with catupiry pastel for you. A few minutes ago. If you come now, it’ll still be warm.” he offered, raising his eyebrows, knowing I wouldn’t resist.
“You ass! You don’t fight fair! Bribing me with pastel! How dare you?” I feigned being offended but put the calculations aside and shut my computer down. “When did you make the dough? And I didn’t get an invoice for the cachaça so find it and get it to my office asap!”
“Vish! What an ungrateful sister I have!” he complained.
“I’m not ungrateful. I just don’t want us to lose the restaurant because of your poor organizational skills.” I said dryly.
I heard his gasp and smiled but didn’t look back at him. The smell of the fried deliciousness reached my nostrils and I sat on one of the stools by the counter. Jean, the sous chef was on his way out and brought the goodies to me.
“Here you go!” he said, putting the plate in front of me.
“You didn’t have to, my brother would have brought me…” I started.
“Don’t worry about that.” he spoke quietly. “It’s a pleasure to feed a hardworking member of this family.” he said louder, so that my brother could hear.
“I’m going to kill you!” came my brother’s shout from the kitchen.
Jean snickered and waved his goodbye at me.
I waved back, watching him exit just as my brother came out of the kitchen with a dish rag in his hands, ready for war.
“Oh, that…”
“Great, hard working, best friend of yours. Yeah.” I added to whatever he was going to say, and took a bite of the not so crispy, but still delicious dough, a moan of appreciation escaping my lips.
“Yeah, it would have been better fifteen minutes ago.” he said, making a face at the soggy parts.
“It’s still delicious! What did you add to the chicken seasoning?” I asked around a mouthful.
“Thyme and turmeric. But don’t tell dad. He ate it and didn’t notice.” he hurried to add.
“Gotcha.” I said with a smirk, and busied myself with the greasy deliciousness in my hands.
“Tomorrow I’m making coxinha.” he said and waggled his eyebrows at me.
I moaned thinking about it.
“Are you making the hot sauce too?” I asked him after I finished chewing.
“Oh yeah. I chose tomorrow exactly because the peppers are ready to be picked.” he proudly declared.
“So,” he started after a moment of slightly awkward silence, spinning the chair around and crossing his arms on its back. “This gringo of yours…”
“He’s not mine! Will you leave it alone!” I interrupted him. “He’s nice, he was very thoughtful with the coat because it was cold…”
“Yeah, dad told me all about it!” he laughed, exaggerating the ‘all’. “Actually, there was no other subject to be discussed in this restaurant today.”
I groaned.
“Don’t be like that! You never, ever, brought any guys home. Men’s clothing in dad’s domain was bound to cause some sort of reaction, don’t you think?” he asked me with raised eyebrows.
“Wonder why I never brought any guys home.” I sighed, and ate the last bite of the pastel.
“Yeah, mom came here to have lunch today. She thought your gringo would come by to talk to dad.” he said, serious.
“Oh, no!” I groaned again, still chewing, pushed the plate away, and hid my face on my arms on the table.
“What? They’ll expect to meet him!” he declared, as if it was something I should be expecting.
“Benjamin! I met him YESTERDAY.” I emphasized, trying to get it into his thick skull. “I would like there to be something between him and I before I have to submit him to the Brazilian Inquisition!”
“Okay, okay! Haha, Brazilian Inquisition!” he chuckled.
“You’re such a child!” I grumbled.
“And you adore me.” he sneered.
We closed for the night and getting home I went straight to my room, glad that my parents were too busy with the television.
Right before I closed my eyes to sleep, my phone, charging on the nightstand, brightened my room with a notification.
I checked the message that read:
I’m sorry that it is so late. I just wanted to wish you a good night, hoping that you’re toasty warm and that you have sweet dreams.
I smiled and was about to type something back when another one came in.
I’m truly sorry, I hope these don’t wake you up. I don’t really want to have dinner on Thursday.
My heart dropped to my stomach, and I quickly started typing a reply. The lump forming in my throat hurt.
Before I could hit send, two other texts came in, one quickly after the other.
I’m sorry, I hit send before checking what I typed and auto correct messed it all up. What I meant is that I would very much like it if we could have lunch tomorrow. I understand it if it’s too last minute, or if you can’t get out of work. I just wanted to see you.
While I waited to check if he’d send anything else, I deleted everything I had typed.
You did not wake me up, and I am toasty warm. I’ll figure something out. I’d really like to see you too. Just tell me when and where. Sweet dreams to you too!
I hit send and grinning like an idiot, fell asleep trying to come up with an excuse good enough for my dad to swallow and not give me grief about leaving the restaurant during lunch rush.
I jumped out of bed the next morning.
I was nervous. I put an extra effort into my look and my mom could not see me looking like that that early. She’d know something was up and I still hadn’t thought of a good enough excuse for my escapade. I’d never hear the end of it.
I stopped at my favorite bakery, and ordered my favorite cream and cheese pastries with blueberries, and a chamomile tea to try and calm down a bit.
I checked my messages and at six o’clock sharp he sent me the address and a good morning, telling me he was looking forward to seeing me there at twelve thirty pm.
I was glad I was locked in my office by then, my goofy face would have told anyone in a two-hundred-mile radius what I felt. I managed to rein in my excitement and got to work, after setting an alarm so I wouldn’t get lost in work and miss lunchtime.
Startled, I turned it off after what felt like five minutes. I put my phone away and took a deep breath to quiet my racing heart and went into the bathroom to check if I still looked decent. Happy with what I saw in the mirror, I reapplied my lipstick, and made my way down the stairs, wincing as I heard my dad’s voice.
“Where are you going?” he asked in a very concerned tone.
“I-uh, I have a doctor’s appointment.” I said, nodding emphatically.
“At lunchtime?” he insisted, eyeing me suspiciously.
“It was the only time my gynecologist would be able to see me.” I shrugged.
“Oh!” he said and winced. “Go, go. Don’t miss your appointment then.” he sighed deeply and walked away grumbling and shaking his head.
I let go a breath and hurried into the Uber that had arrived just as my mother parked on the other side of the street.
I laughed out loud at my impromptu excuse, my hands cold and damp.
Thinking escaping my family was the hardest distracted me from being nervous about the meal ahead of me. My stomach probably stayed back at the restaurant and not knowing what awaited me, not even what kind of restaurant it was, put me on edge.
The drive was not long, and I checked my GPS because the address couldn’t be right. It was a residential area and I was standing in front of a normal looking house.
Since I had stepped out of the car in my befuddlement, the Uber driver had driven off and left me there with no one to ask if the coordinates were correct.
When I was about to dial his number, looking frantically left and right, Henry appeared around the corner, strolling unhurriedly, with his hands in the pockets of his coat. His beanie-covered head seemed to sway gently and his eyes were trained on the ground ahead of him.
I huffed a sigh of relief and tried to look less desperate before he saw me, but he didn’t give me much time, looking up almost immediately and stretching his lips in a grin that made everything around me look grey.
His hurried steps toward me and the unwavering joy that emanated from him in waves made me feel like the smile on my face would be etched there forever.
“Hi!” he said, waving, still a few meters away.
“Hi.” was my feeble reply.
He finally came close enough and kissed both my cheeks.
“How are you?” he asked, while his eyes roamed over my features.
“I’m fine. You?” I breathed, a little dazzled by his nearness.
“Better now.” he breathed back.
We stared at each other for a few seconds, until I felt that if either of us didn’t say something I’d have to kiss him.
“Hm, where are we eating?” I muttered, and he chuckled, breaking the tension.
“Follow me.” he said, but his hand on the small of my back kept me slightly in front of him.
We entered a brick house, apparently residential, but as we turned a corner, after leaving our coats in the entryway hanger, an open floor dining area was revealed.
Henry spoke quickly to a hostess while I took in the movie-like decor, the thick fresco relief wallpaper and the pearly, satiny table cloth sparkling in the low light, as did the cutlery. She led us past all that, to a cozy back porch, surrounded by windows and bathed in the little sunlight that winter afternoon allowed. A nice table for two was set in the middle of the room, and on the corner there was a huge log fireplace, which gave the room a nice aroma.
The centerpiece had a floating white gardenia in a small clear vase and a succulent next to it. It was simple and it was beautiful.
“I hope you’ll like it. They have the best of Spanish cuisine I’ve ever eaten outside Spain, and it’s quite discreet, as you could see. Not many tables, never a rush.” he said as we sat. “I thought you’d appreciate the homely atmosphere.”
“It’s so nice!” I exclaimed, my voice strained because my head was tipped back examining the carved beams on the ceiling. “It’s lovely. I had never seen a restaurant like this, except the ones that offer you the whole dinner in the dark thing.” I said, marveling at the garden outside, that even on that chilly, windy day, looked inviting. I wondered if they placed tables outside in summer.
“Yeah, that’s something I’m not so sure I’d like to try, but that I’d try nonetheless.” he chuckled and so did I. “It could be the follow up to our second date?”
He raised an eyebrow, cocked his head to the side, and changed the intonation at the end of his statement, making it half a question.
I studied his face and the slight blushing was so cute. His eyes shifted downward.
“So Thursday is still up?” I asked, making his eyes snap back to mine.
“Very much so. If you want to.” he answered, pausing for a moment before adding the caveat.
My lips curled up into a large smile and I nodded twice. I couldn’t trust my voice. It would have wavered, uncertain, shaking under his steel blue gaze, burning from beneath his lashes.
We were served a pitcher of cava sangria and ordered.
We talked for a long time as the delicious dishes were served. He asked me a ton of questions as if he couldn’t wait to get to know me better. I don’t think I had ever talked so much about myself before, but his easy going nature made me feel less self-conscious about monopolizing the topics.
By the time dessert came around, we were discussing the merits and demerits of our favorite books, and I made the mistake of looking at my watch. It had felt like we had been talking for a long time because we had been there for nearly three whole hours.
He noticed my change of mood.
“Must you go now?” he guessed, and drank the last of his sangria.
“Unfortunately. I’m needed at the restaurant, and if I’m away too long, I won’t hear the end of it.” I confessed.
I remembered my phone existed, daring to check it. I had 20 missed calls and my text notifications were so high that the counter on the app showed only a number and a plus sign.
I grimaced, and brought my eyes back to his. He watched me with a curious expression on his features.
“I took the liberty of calling you a cab.” he said. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“That’s very kind of you. Thank you.” I replied with a smile.
He beat me to the part I was most anxious about.
“This is my treat.” he spoke, reaching for my hand on the table and smiling sympathetically at my clear anxiousness. “I believe the cab won’t be long.”
There was a hint of sadness in his voice, and my heart echoed it.
“Thursday is my treat then.” I said, and raised the other hand to stop the protest I saw on his eyes. “I’m looking forward to it already.”
“So am I.” he said, his voice breathy.
I got up then, and so did he, walking with me to the foyer. He held my coat for me, his hands lingering on my arms and he looked deep into my eyes. He kissed my left cheek then, and it felt like his lips lingered on my skin for ages.
Stunned with the unexpected show of affection, right there where anyone could have seen, I lowered my face as soon as our eyes met.
“See you Thursday.” he said, moving imperceptibly closer, and if not for the hammering of my heart leaving me on high alert, I wouldn’t have noticed.
A horn broke us apart. The cabbie already outside, impatient.
With a murmured bye I headed out and into the cab. Before the car moved, I took one last look at the door and there he was looking at me with a look I couldn’t really place.
After what was decidedly the loveliest meal of my life, I went back to work, unable to hold back all of my excitement.
Summary: Good news change your outlook on life, after many years living just as your family expected. You decide to use the newfound joie de vivre to steer your life away from the same old you knew awaited you.
Warnings: some language / a bit of angst
Word count:2,7k+
A/N: This is my submission to@arrowsandmixtapes Rom-Com Writing Challenge. My prompt, as you probably noticed was the movie My big, fat, Greek Wedding (2002). I know very little about the Greek culture and much less its language, so this will follow a Brazilian reader, but it won’t lean heavily on the culture clash. There will be references to food and cultural aspects of Brazilian life, though. I’ll do my best to describe them.
For this part: Sambadrome: parade area built for the Rio or São Paulo Carnival in Brazil. The venue is also known as Passarela or simply the Sambódromo in Portuguese. Feijoada: a stew of beans with pork. Served with white rice and oranges, as well as couve, a side dish of stir-fried, chopped collard greens, and a crumbly topping called farofa, made of manioc flour. Tutu: consists of bean puree thickened with manioc flour or corn flour. Cracklings: pieces of pork rind that have been fried until brown and crispy, and most of the fat has been rendered out. Manioc: commonly called cassava, manioc, yuca, macaxeira, mandioca, kappa kizhangu and aipim, is an edible starchy root. Often called yuca in Spanish America and in the United States, it is not related to yucca. Can be steamed, boiled, baked, or fried before being eaten on its own, mashed, or added to other dishes. Its starch is called tapioca.
Thank you @shellbilee for making sure I didn’t write anything weird.
It was raining.
I remember it clearly, because my hair was all frizzy in the reflection of the restaurant’s huge mirror by the entrance. There, as I hung my coat, I wondered if my life would ever change.
Being the middle child of a Brazilian couple established in the UK, and the last to be born in Brazil, I moved here when I was three years old.
Ever since, my parents have done their very best to make sure our culture is not lost, and insist on doing everything ‘the Brazilian way’. That included outings, making sure we studied Portuguese, our parties - including a very noisy carnival celebration with the broadcast straight from the sambadrome - family gatherings, social life, food.
So, when they opened the restaurant, of course it would have to be a family business, and of course all our time outside school would be spent holed in there.
My sister lucked out, marrying (obviously) a Brazilian guy to my father’s content, his best friend’s son, as if they had been promised. But they loved each other, and I loved my three nephews, even if one of them was still on his way.
My younger brother, spending last summer holidays in our grandma’s house, in Brazil, met this girl he kept in touch with and from the look of things, they were pretty solid. He had a spring in his step as he worked in the kitchen - his feijoada was better than my mom’s - whistling when he wasn’t shouting at his sous-chef.
Which left me, in my early thirties, educated and skilled, to run the books for my dad in the restaurant. I knew I had talent for more and I could make more money, but talking to my dad once, as my graduation approached, made things quite clear to me.
“Our professor has contacts and said that I could find a job easily with my skills set!” I told my parents at dinner, my hands going wild with excitement. “And…”
“What do you need a new job for?” my father asked, interrupting me. “ You’ve never complained about your job at the restaurant. Is your allowance not enough?”
His voice boomed louder with each phrase. He got up then, grumbling all the way into the kitchen to grab his nightcap.
I looked at my mom, who was looking at the threshold where my father had disappeared into. Her face was unreadable.
I lowered my head, trying hard to control the burning in my eyes as I held back my tears.
“Why must you bring up a subject like that during dinner? You know how he gets.” My mother sighed as my first tear fell. “I’ll talk to him.”
She got up then. My head shot up, my heart swelling with hope.
“Do you think he’ll come around?” I asked after a quick sniffle, with a shadow of a smile on my lips.
“Oh, you should know better than him. You do the bookkeeping.” She answered, waving a hand dismissively and turned to head to the kitchen.
“Mama, what do you mean?” I asked, honestly puzzled by her answer.
“Well, you’d know if increasing your allowance would be a problem for the business, wouldn’t you?” She shrugged and turned, disappearing into the kitchen.
I looked at my brother, who was intensely concentrated on his last spoonfuls of soup. He lifted his eyes to mine when the yelling started.
“They’ll come around eventually. Give them time.” he said as he grimaced. Apparently, he believed his words as much as I did.
That’s how I ended up staying, helping my father where I could.
And that day, with my mom sick with the flu at home, I was a waitress during opening hours and worked on the books after hours.
I was by the window, serving two plates of tutu, when I saw him.
Tall, towering over the people walking next to him, broad-shouldered, filling out the navy blue overcoat in such a nice way, I didn’t feel bad ogling as I noticed I wasn’t the only one.
He and his entourage sat by the far wall, and even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t have gotten close to them. People definitely recognized him, and a good ten minutes of his time were spent on photographs and autographs.
Only after my dad got in there and told people to leave the man alone is that they were given menus, and my dad took their order himself as an apology for taking too long to intervene. The man told him he was used to it and that it was no problem.
Coming back to the counter, my dad put the order in my hand as I watched the group talk animatedly, my eyes mostly on him.
His eyes locked with mine.
“Did you hear what I just said?” my dad elevated his voice slightly, bringing the attention of many patrons to us and mine to him. “Get this to your brother. Prioritize it. Complimentary cracklings and fried manioc. I’m heading home to check on your mother.” he added, stern.
“Yes, father.” I lowered my head, and made my way to the kitchen.
He wasn’t the one to pay and the lunch rush got me too busy to have served them anyway.
I heard the waitresses talking, before we closed, that he was some super film star, but I was too tired to join the conversation and I still had to work the day’s numbers.
When I arrived home, I was glad to see my mom up and watching tv with my father sleeping, resting his head on her lap. I smiled at the scene and waved at her, making my way up the stairs to my room.
It felt like I had just closed my eyes when my alarm went off.
My dad decided to stay home and make sure my mom wouldn’t overexert herself, which left me to “manage” the restaurant.
Things were pretty smooth until I was called. That never happened when my dad was there, so my brother and I exchanged a look.
Two gentlemen sat at the table in question, the one that had his back to me already middle-aged, his hair greyer than black. The one who sat facing me was completely bald, and had tiny, deep set eyes behind his round glasses. I didn’t recognize him.
“How can I help you gentlemen? Oh, Professor Mathison!” I said to the one who I couldn’t see before. “How nice to see you again!” I exclaimed, unable to contain my surprise.
“I’m happy to see you, too!” he replied “When I saw the name of the restaurant, I thought that maybe it could be your family’s. This is my partner, Kevin.”
We exchanged pleasantries and they invited me to sit with them to chat for a bit until the evening crowd was down to two tables when they said their goodbyes.
“So, what was so important that held you back for most of the night?” my brother asked me, concerned.
“It wasn’t a problem.” I said, still smiling and shaking my head at the frown on his brow. “That was my former professor in the Uni.”
“And you sat to reminisce?” he asked me with a bit of a scoff.
“No, they actually had a proposal.” I replied, averting my eyes to the look I was sure I’d see in his.
“Oh, dad won’t like that one bit. The day he chooses to leave things in your hands, you go and stab him in the back?” his accusatory tone irked me quite a bit.
“Excuse me? Stab him in the back? What the hell are you talking about, and who the hell you think you’re talking to Junior?” he straightened upon hearing the nickname I only used with him when he was being an ass.
“I’m sorry. But dad won’t like it anyway. What was this proposal all about?” he replied, his voice this time much milder, but still carrying a little discontent.
“They want me to work at their law firm. They need someone trustworthy to audit the companies they work for, so they know if they’re clean or if there’s money laundering, in case of lawsuits or investigations.” I explained, unable to hide my excitement.
“And you can do that?” his tone suggested genuine surprise.
“Yes. That’s why I studied as much as I did. This is everything I wanted.” I told him earnestly.
“And I bet you’ll make a lot more money.” he added, trying to hide the sarcasm but not quite managing.
It hurt me that he couldn’t be as happy for me as I was. But I understood. The things he wanted for his life didn’t matter to me, had and would never matter to me.
“Money is not what this is about. You know that. You all should know that.” my eyes burned with the tears I was holding back.
Mercifully, someone called me back to the dining hall.
“What is it Angela?” I asked the waitress.
“We have finished cleaning the hall and there’s one last order to be delivered, but Daniel has already left.” she told me with a grimace.
“I’ll deal with it. Does my brother have it?”
“Yes, Jean is already working on it. Good thing the man called when he did, because they were already starting to clean up the kitchen.” she added and said good night.
I said my goodbyes to her and the other waiting staff, to the cooks that were leaving, and waited by the kitchen for the order.
“What about the books?” my brother asked me.
“I’ll work on it tomorrow. I’ve left everything ready upstairs to do it as soon as I arrive tomorrow.” I answered, waving my hand dismissing his concern.
“You be careful!” he added.
“Yes, dad!” I replied. “It’s paid for, so I won’t be carrying cash around. Nothing to worry about. Deliver, drive home, shower, sleep.” I clapped after I finished just for effect.
“Yeah, that’s a great plan.” he said, handing me the bag with the order. “Goodnight, I’ll lock up. Be safe.”
“You too, goodnight.” and kissing his cheek, I left.
The night was chillier than I had anticipated and I had left my coat in the restaurant. I decided not to go back, otherwise the food would be cold by the time I delivered it, and turned on the heating as soon as I got into my car, rubbing my hands on my arms. The wool cardigan I was wearing wasn’t helping much.
London was already quieting as I drove through its wet streets. The light reflecting on the asphalt only added to the chill, and my hands on the steering wheel were painfully cold.
The trip to the address stapled on the brown paper bag was not a long one, which meant I was still not warm as I left the car to knock on the black door of the white house. It had to stay a few houses down the street in the only available spot, as the street was already littered with the residents’ cars parked for the night. All the houses on that street were white I noticed with a pfft.
Immediately after my knock, booming barks reverberated through the house and could have woken the Queen.
“Cow, cow, quiet!” came a command as loud as the bark had been.
That’s why the Queen lives in Windsor! I thought, smiling and shaking my head.
The door opened, and so did my mouth.
The man opposite me also looked surprised.
We stared, open-mouthed, at each other until it got weird.
“Your delivery!” I rushed the words out of my mouth, shoving the bag at him.
“You!” he exclaimed at the same time.
“Me?” I asked, and my face undoubtedly contorted into a puzzled frown.
“Thanks!” he replied, once more at the same time.
Still confused, I uncomfortably laughed. He did too, and I wanted to take a picture of that smile, making a mental note to never judge fangirls for the rest of my life.
I shivered involuntarily then, the cold overwhelming any warmth the butterflies in my stomach had generated.
His smile fell and he lifted a finger to tell me to wait, taking the bag from my outstretched arms. Our hands touched. His leaving a searing trail in their wake.
He yelped at the contact.
“Your hands are freezing!” he said as he retreated, opening the door to what was probably his living room and putting the bag by a massive curious dog.
“Cow, leave!” he commanded.
He then opened a door to his right, probably a closet.
“Why did you name your dog Cow?” I asked, unable to hold back my curiosity.
He was still hidden in there and poked his head out, with a laugh.
“It’s not cow.” he said, diving back in there, and coming out with a coat draped on his forearm and gloves in his hand. “It’s Kal. K-A-L.” he spelled with a smile.
“Oh, what an odd name.” I wondered, under my breath.
“Here, put these on.” he said, and before I could protest was already holding the heavy coat open for me to slide my arms in. It was huge and engulfed me almost like a blanket.
“Much better.” he whispered, as he tied a knot around my waist with its belt. “Put these on too, they’ll protect your icy hands.”
Words failed me as to why the gigantic man was so kind and pushy. Also, the smell of his cologne was intoxicating, it was hard to say anything as I inhaled deeply.
“Thank you.” I finally replied, and let go a long and deep sigh.
“Don’t mention it.” he said, smirking. “Just bring it back before spring.”
I stared at him for a second.
“It was a joke.” he said, the smile ever present.
“Oh.” I paused. “Is that a way to get me to come back?” I asked, a newfound boldness overtaking me.
So many great things had happened so far, why not push my luck a little?
He puckered his lips, and looked up for a few seconds.
“What about dinner? Whenever you’re available?” his brows shot up to his hairline where his lovely messy curls waved in the icy breeze. He put his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, and swayed back and forth on the balls of his feet.
Nervous.
I frowned as I couldn’t fathom why such a man would be nervous about my reply. He must certainly have models lining up to dine with him.
“Thursday is my day off. I’d love to.” I answered smoothing my features, which led to him relaxing in turn.
“Smashing! I loved the food in your restaurant, but something tells me you’re fed up with Brazilian food.” he said, eyeing me from under his lashes, which was kinda comical with him being so tall.
“You’d be correct.” I replied, nodding. “What about Japanese? My friend owns this restaurant in Soho.”
“That would be perfect! At seven?” he asked, a contagious enthusiasm in his voice.
“Works for me.” I said, and there didn’t seem to be enough air in my lungs. I wanted to jump along the street like Gene Kelly in Singing in the Rain.
The moment stretched as we stared at each other for a few seconds once again. Smiling this time.
Now if the objective me were to examine this scene from the outside, she’d see two dorks smiling at each other like fools. But she wasn’t around at that moment.
He finally sighed and cleared his throat.
“Will you give me your number?” he said, and it felt like he wanted to add something but decided against it mid sentence.
“Oh, sure, duh.” I picked up my phone from my pocket and handed it to him.
As soon as he handed it back to me, I sent him a winking smiley face with my name. I looked up then and told him my name.
“Oh, shit, yeah! Forgive my lack of manners. I’m Henry.” he said, making a face, as if it were obvious. It must have been to the fangirls.
“So, see you Thursday, at seven.” I said in lieu of a goodbye, and waved briefly.
“See you then.” he replied. “Drive safely.” he added, when I was about to descend the last step.
I half turned and looked at him, haloed by the light coming from his entryway.
Summary: Months after leaving England and recovered from the things that happened there, you enjoy your vacations in Eastern Europe and end up meeting someone from your past unexpectedly.
Warnings: Language / minor (barely there) suggestiveness / alcohol consumption
Word count: 6k+
A/N: I’m really grateful for all of the feedback I got, not only for this story, but for the others as well. You guys helped me a lot. I specially want to thank@shellbilee for being there to hear my nonsense and to stop me from deleting this story so many times. You, madam, are incredible. I also want to thank some very special followers, who have always shown so much love and support, via comments, reblogs and dms. I won’t tag anyone, cause I’d forget someone and that would drive me mad. I love you all!
Happy birthday@the-freak-cassie-131! You’re the reason for this whole fic, I’m super grateful for your idea, and I wish you plenty more years of happiness, health and success!
“Why can’t we get in?” you asked, frustrated.
“Because they’re shooting some movie in there. Fucking Hollywood. Couldn’t they stay in America?” Zara said, her tone letting you know that it was a good thing that they’d only be spending the weekend with you.
“We can come back some other time, besides, just like we had planned at first, we could do this for the whole summer when the children are a bit bigger.” Nubia surmised.
She was always looking on the bright side. Opening a smile, you put your arms around the shoulders she was trying to protect against the harsh winds with a thin cashmere shawl, and give her a tight hug.
“Have I mentioned how thankful I am for you lot? And for the fact that you’d drop everything to spend some time with me?” You said, and the other two turned their heads toward you while Nubia touched her forehead to yours.
“You did mention it a couple hundred times.” Arie said with a smile. “Have we mentioned that you are worth every second?” She said, her face turning serious.
“Okay, we’re not here for sobbing like our babies, so, yes, we love each other very much. Can I go back to bitchin’?” Zara complained, drawing laughter from the three of you.
Dismayed by the lost trip but not disheartened due to the company, you made your way down the castle hill and into a pub to enjoy the local food and beverages.
The late September air was starting to lose its heat and brought cold winds from the Julian Alps, so venturing into as many castles and churches as possible was the idea.
The girls had allowed you the time and space to become one with yourself again, but you knew they wouldn’t allow you to spend too long without any communication. They started slowly, emailing you about the little things going on with their children, in their lives. You started opening up more and more, and the emails became phone calls, and the phone calls became video calls.
By late August you let them in on your plans of traveling around Europe. Slovenia had been on your bucket list for years now and, with vacation time to take, you decided you’d cross that one out. You started the trip alone, spending a week in Poland, taking trains to travel around and truly take in the scenery. After that, you took your time exploring Slovakia, moving on to Hungary, then Croatia. Then, after spending a week in Slovenia, you’d be heading into southern Austria and then into Italy, where you’d be flying back home.
The girls arranged their lives so that they could spend the whole day Friday and Saturday, and Sunday afternoon with you, for which you were deeply grateful. If not for their insistence and persistence, your recovery would have been much more slow going, and they never allowed you to stew.
In the little pub, you ate one of the many hearty dishes you had discovered to be new favorites and planned the following day that was meant to be your last with the girls.
Though you hid it well, the sadness at losing their proximity again hurt quite a lot.
***
Work had been grueling ever since it began back in February. Henry was looking forward to when they’d be wrapping the whole thing, just a day away.
Reshoots would be done in Britain, and he couldn’t wait to go back home. What was the point of shooting in amazing locations if he couldn’t see them at all? He had heard of lakes, mountains, and caves, but could visit none of them, because he had no free time at all. He didn’t even have time to do the things he needed, let alone things he wanted to do.
These days were all about managing and prioritizing what had to be done, and what
could be done in measly twenty four hours. He was exhausted and it took a lot just trying not to snap at people. He was grateful for having the best people in his team, who were there on the grind with him, and who were trying just as hard not to let the circumstances take the best of them. But thinking that it was the last night for that to be happening helped him push ahead.
The last bit of work he’d be doing in the country was some function at the Opera House he had agreed to attend on Sunday night, and he was sure he’d end up nodding off during the presentation. In these moments, he hated being famous.
He had barely started chewing his last forkful of dinner, when somebody was already calling him back to set.
Work was fun, despite being taxing, and time flies when you’re having fun. So, he hadn’t even noticed it was night time, having spent the whole day shooting on location, when they called ‘cut’ and it was time for the wrap photos and ‘see you at the party next Saturday’ called out to the several crew members.
On the way to the house he had rented, he stopped at a local food truck that made the best bacon cheeseburgers he had eaten in a while. Getting his fingers dirty with meat juices and trying to avoid Kal’s advances, he drove on for his first long night of sleep in more than six months.
He woke up to Kal’s tongue on his cheek.
“Okay, I’m up! Got it Bear! Thank you.” he groaned, sitting up and stretching his arms.
The numbers displayed on his watch surprised him, not only because Kal had been so patient, but also because it had been years since he last woke up after ten am.
The terrible thing about having a day off after going non-stop for so long was that Henry didn’t really know what to do with himself until five pm, when his team would be arriving to help him get ready for the gala later.
TV was his first choice of distraction, after taking Kal on his needed walk, but he got bored and switched to his favorite author’s latest novel for an hour or so. He couldn’t concentrate like he really wanted, so after a nice bowl of pasta carbonara, he spent a while on his personal social media.
When he had gone through all the notifications on his phone, he decided to get half an hour of cardio done, and playing with Kal in the garden was fun and got the job done. Noticing that the weather was still pleasant, and the sky would probably be starry that night, he remembered his initial thought upon renting the house and its top selling point: lying down on one of the comfortable outdoor lounging chairs on his deck looking up at the stars.
Seven o’clock came too soon, and there he was, in another magnificent structure he wouldn’t have the time or the privacy to see. The Opera House was beautiful, and he truly regretted having to pose for photographers with the mayor and whoever else’s hands he had to shake, instead of admiring it. There were so many people that at a point it felt more like a convention meet and greet than a fundraising.
As entertaining as La Traviata was, he had been good enough to watch the first two acts with real interest but the open boxes on the balcony, where he was sitting, and the not-so-furtive glances people kept stealing at him from time to time kept distracting him from the show. He had a drink during the second intermission and it reminded him how much his body would love to be lounging on those chairs, listening to the opera on Spotify.
He got up, trying to be the least disruptive possible, thanking God most people were too absorbed to notice at that moment, and reaching to the corridor outside the box without a fuss, he sighed deeply. He saw the stern look the usher gave him, and responded with a smile. It was nice not to be recognized sometimes, even if he was met with some hostility.
In the men’s room, where he could still appreciate the music from the speakers above the sinks, he splashed some water on his face. He had to wait for the show to be over to leave with his team, but was really itching to just leave the theater and walk home.
Looking at his tired reflection in the gilded mirror he thought about the way his life was heading. Maybe he should follow Alfredo’s example and the next time he fell for a woman, he’d just say fuck all to the status and other people’s remarks and simply welcome love while it lasted.
And hope she didn’t die of tuberculosis like Violetta.
Laughing at his own crazy thoughts as he exited the restroom, aloof from his surroundings, he was still smiling when someone clashed against his arm.
“Damned shoe.” A feminine voice in a velvety burgundy dress exclaimed, her hair covering the view of her face as she looked at said shoe, that had escaped her foot.
“Allow me to assist.” He said, not really waiting for a reply, and dropping to his knees.
“Thank you, you truly didn’t have to.” she voiced, apologetically.
“It’s no problem at all.” he replied, fastening the clasp. “It was my pleas…”
His words got stuck in his throat as he looked up upon finishing his good deed of the day, and couldn’t believe his eyes.
***
You looked into the steel blue you thought you’d never see again.
“Henry, hi!” you whispered, breathless.
At a loss for words, he slowly, shakenly, got up.
He whispered your name, as if he didn’t believe you were truly there, and examined you from head to toe.
“Oh, good, you remember.” you joked, trying to loosen your own nerves.
That seemed to snap him out of his surprised trance, and bring his eyes back to yours.
“What are you…? How have you…?” he didn’t seem to decide what exactly he wanted to know first, but asked you these with a radiant smile that warmed your heart a little.
“I’m fine, if that’s what you were going to ask, and I’m on vacation. Traveling around Eastern Europe. I needed a change of scenery, a drastic one.” you said, but your smile couldn’t hide the darker tone your voice took at the very end of your sentence.
“Uh, this doesn’t seem like the place for this conversation.” Henry said, serious, and you nodded. His face denoted knowledge of what you talked about, and you frowned, wishing you could question him further, but he was right. “I’ve seen this opera a few times, have you?”
You were confused at the change of direction, but merely answered.
“I saw it once before. Why?”
“Shall we go for a walk?” he asked, extending you the crook of his arm.
“Sure.” you replied, putting your gloved hand on his arm and feeling that warmth spread through your whole body.
After collecting your belongings, you left through the side entrance of the theater, and crossing the street you found yourselves at a park.
“This feels a bit like déjà vu.” you said with a smile.
Neither of you had really said anything that mattered so far, and that made you quite anxious.
“Why do you say that?” he said with his brow furrowed.
“To our right, on that block, there’s a museum with prehistoric, iron age, Roman and Egyptian artifacts, along with a lot of things pertaining to Slovenian heritage. I visited it on Thursday, it was truly nice.” you told him.
“Oh, and you immediately thought of me?” he asked, a mischievous smirk he couldn’t hide, playing on his lips.
“What? No! Well, that’s not…” you spluttered.
“I’m sorry, I’m teasing. Couldn’t help it.” he said, with a grin that brought about your own. “I missed you…r smile.”
Your heart beat a little faster at his slip.
“Last time we met, it felt…” he continued.
“Empty?” you suggested.
You heard him swallow and he squeezed your hand, still on the crook of his arm.
“Clara told me about you.” he said, and silently waited for you to respond.
You had been shocked - and that was an understatement - when she confessed to you, but you didn’t think she would intervene on your behalf after what she did.
“What exactly did she tell you?” you spoke, your voice quite small.
“Everything, I believe.” he declared.
“Oh.” you both remained silent for a few paces, and you stared at your feet as you walked. “Well, it was unexpected and painful seeing him that day.” you stated, quietly.
He kept silent, his hand still on top of yours, lending much needed warmth. No doubt he remembered that awful day as clearly as you.
Every time you thought of Matt, was a time too many. You had a faint sliver of hope that one day, that memory would be just a memory, and it wouldn’t bring the shivers, dry mouth, cold hands and sweats involuntarily with it.
“Things are… better. Now.” you continued. “I’m healing, thanks to my other friends. They actually came and spent some time with me here. They left this afternoon.” your sadness at their departure couldn’t be hidden, and Henry stopped, causing you to stop too and turn to fully face him.
“And now we meet, once again.” he said quietly, his eyes boring into yours.
In the little light that reached the spot where you were, they were cobalt blue.
“I can’t help but think that, maybe, it is a sign? You know? That we could, perhaps, try again?” he asked, gently squeezing both your hands, and the uncertainty in his tone conveyed the care that he didn’t openly express.
You were grateful.
It wasn’t a demand. Not like it had been with Matt. It was actually a choice, and a choice that he apparently really wanted you to make.
“We could start by having a decent second date. What do you think?” he quickly added with that dazzling smile of his, as your eyes widened slightly in apprehension.
You let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, and smiled back.
“I’d love that.” you replied.
***
You two walked back to the theater discussing the details of your proper date. After helping you into a cab, Henry went back into the theater as the presentation ended and people started to leave.
He was undeniably elated and couldn’t sleep when he got home. He decided to go for a run with a reluctant Kal in the woods nearby his house, taking a hot shower after that.
He got into bed repeating to himself that he had to sleep and be well rested to meet you that following morning, trying to relax by counting eight seconds to breathe in and eight seconds to breathe out, but soon got lost in thoughts of how beautiful you looked in that dress. The white gloves contrasted well with the burgundy, and the dress was just right to highlight how beautiful you were. Your hair was shining again, there was only a hint of tiredness under your eyes, and your cheeks looked healthy.
More than anything, the light had returned to your eyes, the eyes that had brought him to his knees, incapable of seeing any other woman.
When Kal licked his face and he startled awake, noticing how high the sun was in the sky again, your lips were the last memory of the dream he was having and what he fiercely held on to as he made his way to the bathroom and took another shower.
His bodyguard and driver waited in the SUV, while he went all the way to the door of your airbnb to meet you.
“Good morning, sweetheart.” he said with a huge smile.
“What’s gotten you so chirpy this early?” you asked, faking a frown.
“It’s almost ten thirty. Will you please accompany me to the car? We have a long road ahead of us.” he replied, still smiling like the Cheshire cat.
“Oh, do we? I thought we’d be having brunch.” you questioned, squinting at him suspiciously.
“Haven’t you had breakfast?” he asked, his tone concerned, though a smirk was playing around the corners of his smile.
“I had an apple.” you answered earnestly, not as amused.
“I brought croissants. Freshly made. Does it help?” he asked, putting on an innocent look that melted even his mother’s meanest mood.
“You’re so…” you started, shaking your head.
“Tall? Funny?” he offered, coming closer to you and putting both hands on your waist. “Incredibly attracted to you?”
He said that looking deep into your eyes and, not waiting for a reply, kissed your forehead. It was a good area to kiss, away from your gaze, because he had the feeling he went too far, and giving you a minute away from his eyes to gather your thoughts was the least he could do.
“More like devilishly handsome and annoying.” you said, leaning your head on his chest.
He wrapped his arms around your waist and hugged you closely as he chuckled, leaning his chin on your head.
He felt like his heart could burst. The fact that you had leaned into his embrace, and returned it, meant a level of acceptance he wasn’t sure you were ready to give.
There was nowhere else in the world he’d rather be at that moment, and he felt he could hold you like that forever. Alas, there was a forty-five-minute drive to your destination and he wanted to make the most of the afternoon with you there.
You two talked about anything and everything that hadn’t been covered before during that trip. Henry was happy to see that you had a healthy appetite for buttery baked goods, and that your tastes were more or less in line with his. Not only you two liked similar cuisines, and had come to appreciate the same dishes of the Slovenian cooking, but you liked a lot of the same classic rock bands, shared a taste for some pop artists, but diverged slightly when it came to country music. You disagreed completely about rap and hip hop, and indie and alternative, but he was surprised to know that musicals were also a guilty pleasure of yours.
The more he got to know about you, the more certainty he had that you were quite special.
“How much longer are you planning on staying in Slovenia?” he asked you when you were almost getting there.
“The plan was to leave today actually, and head to Austria. I’d be spending the next two days exploring the delicious compotes and cheeses they make in those tiny farms along the roads, and slowly make my way to Italy, where I’ll be taking my flight home.” you answered.
“Oh.” he replied simply.
He thought he’d have as long as he wanted to be with you and it turned out he was on borrowed time already.
“I can always skip Austria. I’ve been there. It was a matter of revisiting great places with great food. But Slovenia has been providing me with that too.” you said calmly, putting him at ease.
“Tell me about your travels. What have you seen?” he asked, leaning closer in his interest to know more about you.
You two talked about places you had seen and places you would like to see; places left unexplored and places you could have experienced better.
“Oh, is that Bled?” you asked, interrupting something he was saying.
“Yes, it seems to be the highlight of places to see here. I was afraid you had already visited, but apparently…” he said, delighted by your reaction, while you drank in the view of the castle on the cliff from afar and the little island, in the middle of the lake, with the famous pilgrimage church.
“I wanted to come, but I decided to leave it to do with the girls. The girls weren’t keen on a forty-five-minute trip, though. They said it would waste too much of the little time we’d have together, and it’d be a hassle.” you replied, pensive.
“Great for me, then!” Henry laughed, trying to lighten the mood.
You whipped your head at him with a smile.
Mission accomplished.
***
After a lovely lunch at the castle restaurant, you two explored. You first followed a guide telling you about the history of the castle, since the sixth century, its ever evolving architecture, and the legend of the lake bell. You also toured the winery, trying wines and choosing your favorite, at his request. You filled two bottles, corked it with his help and wax-sealed them.
“One for you, and one for me.” he said, as you exited the area.
You gasped. It hadn’t been cheap.
“I thought… I thought you were buying it for your family or, um, I don’t know…” you babbled.
“This is a memory I’m sharing with you. So, the souvenirs will be just for you and me.” he replied, seriously, his eyebrows raised.
“Souvenirs? Will there be more?” you asked, excitement and apprehension fighting for a prominence in your tone.
“Just one more. It’s the one I’m most looking forward to, actually.” he said, with a smile, as his left hand brushed the skin of your forearm and pulse, then into your hand, until his fingers lined with yours for a second, and then entwined.
You let go a ragged breath, very aware of the goosebumps and the fiery trail that his fingers left on the skin of your arm.
It was done so casually, as if he had done that a thousand times before. You stole a glance at him and he was looking at you, his lips softly curled upwards.
What wouldn’t you give to know what he was thinking.
You kept walking for a couple more minutes until you reached the castle forge. The heat and noise of hot iron being hammered on anvil hit you before you actually saw anyone working.
The forged items displayed were so beautiful, you felt like buying them all.
“Uh uh,” Henry said, turning you around by the waist to face him. “They’re all very beautiful, yes, but right now I need you to concentrate. Is there a short quote, or a proverb, a saying or something, that speaks to you?” he asked you with a frown.
“Oh, uh…” you started, but he interrupted you.
“There’s a queue, so you have time to think.” he hurriedly said. “I thought we could give each other words we find beautiful, or motivate us.” he explained.
“Oh, I know the perfect words.” you stated simply after a while, opening a smile and leaving him in a clear state of pure curiosity.
“And you’re not telling me?” he half stated, half asked.
“Nope.” you said with a grin.
“Alright, alright. Keep your secrets. I can wait a few more minutes.” he said and chuckled.
“How can they make it so fast for these people, if everyone gets their own version?” you asked, and it was your turn to frown.
“Actually, these people get to make their coins, but the only thing on them is the symbol of the castle and the date they visited. Ours will be a little more special.” he said and winked at you.
“Special how?” you whispered.
“Well, I asked someone on my team to call ahead. They were quite happy to hear me out. I have a coin making tradition for every production I work on, and we arranged a little something. But don’t tell anyone, okay?” he confided, in a hushed tone.
You nodded.
“So this morning, when I called personally, very early,” he continued, shaking his head, “they were kind enough to allow this little exception, and on such short notice.”
It was your turn then, and you noticed that the doors had been closed and no other visitors were around. The blacksmiths explained all the process to the both of you, and despite being quite hard work and taking quite a while, you managed to make a coin for Henry.
Dark green velvet pouches were provided and you were very happy with the result.
You offered him the coin you had made for him, but he said that the date was not over yet. That he would rain in his curiosity, and that you’d definitely have your gift before he said goodnight to you.
The thought of him saying goodnight to you brought the butterflies back. That morning when he had kissed your forehead, your stomach had flipped in a way you hadn’t felt in a long, long time.
A short car ride led you to the lake where you took the traditional wooden boat to the church. The man on the boat told you you were right to come in October, for the tourists crowded the area until September. Indeed there were very few people who had been brave enough to face the glacial lake and the cold coming from the Alps.
From the distance you could see the long and steep stairs leading up to the church. As you set foot on the steps, Henry insisted you two take a few more photos.
You had lost count of how many he had already taken of the castle, of you against the beautiful view, of you, just because, of the both of you. His eye for photography was amazing and you made him promise to send some of those to you.
After the long walk up the stairs to the church - you both kept stopping every few meters and admiring the view -, you two followed a guide once more, but your attention was elsewhere. You couldn’t help but gape at the beauty inside. The magnificent golden altar, the details all around, the icons, the chandeliers, the organ.
“It’s so beautiful!” you wondered in a whisper.
His hand was again holding yours and you found him looking at you, when your head finally turned to look at him.
“Yes, it’s quite the sight.” he said, and sighed, looking straight into your eyes. “Shall we make a wish?” he asked, looking back to the altar, where a few people had just left in tears.
“What do you mean ‘make a wish’?” you asked, frowning in puzzlement.
“Well, didn’t you hear the guide? If we stand on the ruins, there, see?” he pointed to the floor where glass panels allowed you to see the ruins of the previous churches and pagan temples. “You see the rope?” You nodded. “Well, we have to remember the widow who prayed here everyday, remember, the one from the castle, with a dodgy character?” he laughed, and you nodded, smiling.
“So we pull the rope to make a wish? I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention, there’s just so much to take in!”
“I understand.” he said, with a chuckle. “We have to pull the rope three times. Shall we do it together?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.
“But then, will both our wishes come true?” you asked, quirking one of yours.
“Good question.” he said, and looked down in thought.
“Well, we can always risk it.” his eyes snapped back to yours when you spoke.
You were face to face with the rope in between you, and his smile was radiant. He was having the time of his life.
“Who knows, maybe we end up wishing for the same thing.” you said, quietly, but he heard you.
“Make your wish.” he said.
His eyes never left yours. He put his hands on top of yours where you held the rope.
“Ready.” you said.
“Me too.” he replied.
And you pulled the rope.
It was a good thing that he was there to help you, because it was very heavy to pull. Once you got the hang of it, the second and the third were easier.
The chimes echoed through the church and the few people left in it looked back to the both of you.
You made your way out of the church but before you left, the guide pulled you aside while Henry watched, already almost by the steps.
“In case you need a future reference.” he said with a smile, in a thick accent.
When you looked at the pamphlet in your hands, it showed weddings in the island church, and how to book them.
It was a miracle that Henry did not ask anything about the embarrassment you knew couldn’t have hidden well in the short amount of time it took to reach him. He actually did not say much during the entire trip back to the city. You were tired, and there was just so much to think about.
“We’re here.” he said quietly. Probably trying not to startle you.
“Where’s here exactly?” you asked in the same hushed tone.
The resounding barks answered your question.
You walked the path to his door, hand in hand, and he stopped in front of you before opening it.
“Yeah, that’s Kal. He’ll jump. Do you have a problem with that?” he said with a wince.
“I’ve been tackled by him before. I guess I can take it.” you said with a smile and a wink.
“True. I’ll go first though, then he won’t be as excited when he tries to tackle you again.”
You both chuckled at that and, after waving at the men waiting by the gate, he took all of the bags of souvenirs from your hands, adding to the ones he had in his, and opened the door.
Just as promised, Kal almost tackled him to the floor, but soon realized there was novelty in the house, and came straight for you. You were smarter this time, already kneeling and petting him pretty much everywhere as he wouldn’t stand still.
***
Dinner was nice once Kal allowed you two to do anything. The restaurant was timely as usual, and the food was amazing.
You made him swear not to open the bottle you had bought at the castle because it should be opened only for a special occasion.
“Love, to me this is a very special occasion.” he said, looking into your eyes.
You were speechless at that, and he wondered if it all had been too much.
Whisking you away like that, the lingering stares, holding your hand. All day long he had been so nervous about how you’d take the whole idea, and holding your hand grounded and calmed him.
You never protested it, but he didn’t really read a warm welcome from you. It was as if you wanted it, but didn’t at the same time.
After you both put away the dishes, despite his insistence that you didn’t have to do any of that, he took you to the deck overlooking the garden, where he was finally able to sit back, relax and look at the stars. Having you by his side was a bonus he was delighted to have earned.
He brought the coins for you to exchange and put them next to your wine glasses.
“So, Mr. Cavill let’s see what memorable words you’ve gifted me.” you said to him, with a mischievous grin.
He let you see your coin first.
“Life before Death. Strength before Weakness. Journey before Destination.” you read aloud, and looked at him with wide eyes.
“It’s from a book I love, and these are words I live by. I wanted to share them with you.” he said, gauging your reaction.
He was showing his most nerdy side, and in hindsight, that wasn’t the best way to impress a woman.
“They’re very wise words to live by. I loved it. What’s the symbol?” you asked, intrigued by the intricate crest.
“Well, I figured, since you get my motto, you might as well get my crest. That’s my family crest.” blushing, he smiled at your quick intake of breath. “See, like my ring.”
“I’m…” you paused and swallowed, looking from him to the coin and back at him again, apparently trying to find the right word. “I’m honored Henry. Truly.”
He nodded, and averted his eyes from your scrutiny, taking a sip from his wine.
“Now it’s my turn!” he said, putting his glass down and lightening the mood.
“Well, I hope you like it.” you said, and it was your turn to be shy.
“Oh, that’s unfair, mine was in English!” he exclaimed as he examined his coin, laughing.
You laughed along, shaking your head.
“It means ‘In darkness, light.’” you said, your laughter turning into a small smile. “It is my motto.”
He nodded.
“Thank you.” he said solemnly, watching you lounge back on the chair admiring your coin.
He reclined as well, running his thumb over the engraved words.
“Stay.” he said quietly, after you both had remained in silence for a while.
“What was that?” you asked, turning your head to look at him.
“Stay. In Slovenia, I mean.” He repeated. “If your flight is non-refundable, I’ll pay for your flight back, but stay. Please.”
He wondered if this was the last straw, if he had finally pushed you too far and it would end before it had the chance to begin. Again.
“Henry, I…” you started, but stopped mid-sentence.
“Please. I want to give us a try.” he said, as he sat up, leaning closer to you, but trying not to invade your space.
You sat up too, and sighed deeply.
“You, uh… are you sure?” you asked and bit your lip; the fear in your voice was something he never thought he’d hear directed at him.
“I am. I am sure that I want to be with you. I am sure that I’ve already fallen for you.” you gasped at his confession, but in for a penny, in for a pound.
He couldn’t really read you, you hid your feelings a little too well when it came to your heart.
“Say something, please.” he pleaded, with a small smile.
You scooted forward until you were very close to him.
Your hands, warmer than his because of the blanket he had wrapped you in, closed around his and squeezed lightly.
He looked at your joined hands, thinking of the silky skin he had had the privilege to touch throughout the day. Were you going to let him down gently?
One of your hands untangled from his to place a featherlight touch to his cheek, brushing slowly down to his chin, and lift his head and his gaze toward yours.
“I want to give us a try, too.” you whispered. “I trust you.”
Your whispered words gave his heart a start, but you didn’t give him much time to recover sealing your lips over his.
It was everything and nothing like he had dreamed about.
The softness and power contrasted starkly, vying for his attention while those lips molded around his own, caressing and dragging, making him forget to breathe.
He could taste the wine on your lips, and the touch of your tongue on his sent shivers up and down his spine.
It had been so long since anyone had made him feel anything remotely close to this.
Your tongues danced in synchronized movements and, at some point, teeth were invited to play as well.
He didn’t know how long you two kissed for, time did not seem to matter anymore.
When you finally came up for air, he continued kissing the corners of your mouth. He couldn’t stop, you were like a balm for his sore soul that he didn’t know he needed.
He chuckled and you frowned.
“What?” you said, apprehensive.
“No, nothing. Just…” he didn’t finish, and he could tell this was not going well.
“Just what?” you asked, pulling away to look at him.
“Kissing you. It satisfied my curiosity.” he said calmly with a smile.
You frowned.
“Didn’t satisfy mine.” you said seriously, still frowning.
An awkward silence descended over you two. The look on your face told him you probably misunderstood, the hurt evident in the downward curve of your lips.
“Wait, what do you think I meant by that?” he was wrecking his brains trying to figure out how exactly you could have misinterpreted what he said.
“I don’t know, what exactly did you mean?” you replied, and he was right about you being hurt.
“I meant that I’ve been dreaming of what kissing you felt like. Now I know. What did you mean?” he earnestly confessed, all humor gone.
Staring deeply into his eyes, you said nothing for a while. Then you let out a deep sigh.
“I meant I could keep kissing you all night.” you finally said, your tone slightly dreamy.
He opened a smile, as your words put him at ease.
“I’ll see what I can do about that.” he said, and grazed the skin of your neck with his hand until he was cradling your head on one side. You leaned into his touch, warming him inside.
“So, you’re staying?” he half asked, needing to be sure.
“Yes. I’m staying.” you replied, putting your hands on both sides of his face and kissing him again.
Summary: Deeply disappointed by the outcome of that second date, you and Henry go your separate ways, but none of you can quite move on.
Warnings: heavy angst; language; tw: abuse; tw: depression;
Word count: 5K+
A/N:So, it is finally here.
I cannot thank you all enough for bearing it with me as my ups and downs stayed mostly down, and made it quite difficult to finish this one. To the many of you who reached out and sent amazing words of encouragement and helped me keep my head above-water, my deepest, most sincere and happiest THANK YOU!!!!!
I appreciate you all who have been keeping up with this story, and who sent me the best comments for the last part. You have no idea how much those words meant for me to keep writing this one, how much they’ve propelled me forward. Every time I felt I wasn’t going to make it, I looked at them again. You guys rock!
Last but not least, the person who gives me amazing ideas, who tells me when there’s too much of this and too little of that. @shellbilee your help is priceless.
⏳ ⏳ ⏳ ⏳ ⏳ ⏳ ⏳ ⏳ ⏳ ⏳ ⏳ ⏳ ⏳ ⏳ ⏳ ⏳
The turmoil in your head knew no end.
Your employers were kind to you, though, and offered to send someone to take your place on the project so you could go back home, but you had worked so hard to get that project and see your friends, who over the years had all ended up in the UK, that you felt slightly insulted by the idea. So you rejected it, telling them you just needed another place to live.
Even though you showed a cool exterior, you couldn’t get past the unfairness of it all.
You shouldn’t be the one to move. You shouldn’t be the one who didn’t feel safe, who checked five times or more if the doors and windows were truly locked. You shouldn’t be the one who woke up several times throughout the night, because of the noise of your own sheets as you tossed and turned in your bed. You shouldn’t be the one who needed to ask for a week-long leave so you could find someone not affiliated to or known by anyone you knew, to help you find a new place, and hire a specialized security team to make sure the movers weren’t followed.
The level of your paranoia was detracting from your overall well being, and after fainting the day you got back to work, you were referred to a psychiatrist after being discharged from emergency care.
Four doctors, three different types of pills and two weeks after you last saw Henry, found you in your new kitchen, looking at the notifications on your phone, while nursing a cup of chamomile tea - the doctors, all of them, prohibited you from ingesting caffeine. You hadn’t talked to any of your friends, since Arie accompanied you to a police precinct and stayed with you through most of that weekend.
You did feel lonely and the baby blue tiles in the kitchen brought little warmth to what was supposed to be your new home, but you didn’t want to involve them in your mess any more than they already were, or end up putting them in any kind of danger.
You focused on work, so nobody could accuse you of slacking, and many days, scared that you could be followed home, you slept on the cold leather couch in your office.
Thank God February had ended. You were done with it.
***
Scotland was damp and cold this time of year. Henry hated this weather.
Immersing himself into work was the way he found to deal with the excess of thoughts in his head, and the more he could focus on work, the less cold he’d feel.
He thought too much about you. Most of all, he thought he had been unfair. That maybe he should have given you a chance to tell him what that scene had been all about. But in his hurry to try and escape being hurt once more, he hurt himself. Probably hurt you too.
He also couldn’t shake the guilt and the shame. It accompanied him since that damned night on Valentine’s day, and he would carry it for as long as your smile haunted his dreams, which happened to be every bloody night.
You were always smiling, but always far. Out of reach.
So different from that last night he actually saw you.
He was starting to forget your face during his waking moments. He felt that the more he tried to bring it back, the faster he lost the tiny details. It was like trying to hold water with a sieve. Sometimes he thought he should just let it go.
Clara’s face, however, the one he wanted to burn out of his brain, just wouldn’t leave him. It haunted him in a completely different way.
He held onto the necklace. It was an indirect reminder of you and what could have been. Another ‘could have been’.
It was no use trying to forget the memory of that day with you in the museum. If there was ever a perfect date, your suggestion had nailed it.
You had been so open, so natural, answering any questions he had, and allowing him to get to know you, which was the complete opposite of what became mostly routine when he went on dates; like it had happened with Clara. You did not mention his acting at all, allowing him to steer the conversation as he pleased. He had laughed a lot that day, more than he had in a long time, and if he were being honest with himself, more genuinely too. He felt light.
You made him feel like a normal guy, and more than that, you treated him like another human being.
That was so rare.
And he gave it up.
He was lost in those bloody stages of grief, he realised one day.
He kept going back and forth from denial to anger, and on good days, he managed to progress to bargaining. He refused to accept that he might fall into the next stage. You and him hadn’t really done much more than talk, fucksake! He wouldn’t fall into a depression over that.
But slowly, as production progressed, he realised he mourned the loss of that ‘could have been’. He saw himself holding on to his job and diving head first into eighteen hour workdays again, with little sleep, and being thankful that his eating was controlled by another person, who would practically force feed him at intervals so he could keep his physique for the role.
No matter how stubborn he had tried to be about fighting this funk, the people closest to him started asking questions more often. He realized that, no matter how many times he told them so, no, things were not alright.
***
March and April were mere pages on the calendar.
You know you worked, your superiors were happy with the results. Your memory was a blur and most of it was comprised of either meetings, crying, sleeping or taking your pills when either of the ten alarms Zara had set in succession, finally aggravated you enough to reach for them.
She had bugged the shit out of you, calling the phone you couldn’t be bothered to silence, until you got mad and finally picked it up.
“What? Can’t you take a fucking hint?” you yelled.
“We’re way past that muffin. Give me your address, or I’m calling the Scotland Yard!” she said in a tone that left no room for argument.
You didn’t really have the energy for arguing, so you allowed them back into your life.
They visited you once, Zara, Arie and Nubia.
They made sure you showered, Nubia insisted on washing your hair herself, and while she did that, the other two cleaned your flat, cooked, and stored the food they had brought in your freezer, and started a wash.
Clara apparently was quite busy lately, according to the girls. They hadn’t seen much of her. She called and talked to them, but every time they set up a meet, she was too busy to show up.
“She’s got a lot on her plate. Her fashion line was taking off last time we talked.” you said, trying to appease Zara, who was the most outspoken about Clara’s negligence of her friend duties. “I’m sure that when the time comes for her to debut her new line, with all the journalists and who’s who of the fashion world, she’ll be more than willing to hang.”
“She’ll hang alright.” retorted Zara, her face sour.
“She’s right, Zee.” Arie interrupted before Zara could complain a little more. “Clara has always done her thing and sought us when she needed us. And she needs us. She’ll be around soon.”
“And when she comes back around,” Nubia added, joining you in the living room after making herself another cup of tea. “You can tear her a new one.”
It was the last time you remember smiling.
After they left and you didn’t have to pretend anymore, you put your phone on silent, checked the locks for the third time, and buried yourself under the covers. The windows were shut and locked - locks you had had installed, not giving a single fuck about the funny looks you got during their installation on your third floor flat -, and despite the increasing temperature outside and the the past few sunnier days London had been graced with, they weight of the covers was the extra comfort no human seemed to bring.
You often thought of him. How your chance to start over, to think of yourself as more than your past, had been robbed from you right in front of him.
You couldn’t hate him for wanting nothing to do with you.
No matter how much of that argument he had heard, it would appear to any bystander that things were not over, and if they were over, it had been a messy break up.
Who would want to get involved in someone else’s mess?
Who would want to be someone’s rebound guy?
Not a gentle, kind, respectful, and gorgeous Hollywood star. He probably thought of what the press would make of your past and thought “Nope, pass. Next.”.
Thoughts like that only made you cry harder.
Who in their right mind would want you?
***
Henry spent his birthday working, after all, it was just another Tuesday.
He was fortunate this time that he would be given the chance to go back to London and spend the weekend with his family and friends. During the week, however, the only thing indicating it was a special day were the many wishes for a happy birthday he got.
He was in no mood for partying. He was tired and wished he could sleep.
But Saturday night, in a club closed for the party, he found most of his family and his best friends toasting to his health and happiness. He had a great time, even though he chose not to drink much, and left fairly early. His friends teased him mercilessly before he left, but he didn’t really mind. Being home was the best gift he could give himself, and after a short walk with Kal, he went to bed and blacked out.
The following morning was really warm and promised a good day. His mom would be cooking a special meal to celebrate, now only with the family. He’d cheat on his diet big time, but he figured after so much sacrifice he’d earned some fun. There would be cake, and he was looking forward to family and carbs.
Walking with Kal early that morning, he thought he could go by your place and maybe have a quick chat with you, maybe apologize for the way he left that night. Maybe even invite you to hang with his family.
On his way back home he had already talked himself out of doing that. You’d probably be enjoying the sunny day with your friends. Maybe even with your family.
Upon thinking of your friends, it was impossible not to think of Clara and what she may have told you about what had transpired on Valentine’s day.
Again, he felt like a cad.
He wondered why, after all this time, he just couldn’t let go of you. Why was it so hard to just move on if nothing really ever started between the two of you?
Shaking his head minutely to try and dispel all of these thoughts he noticed he was already in front of his door.
Kal, sitting by his side looked up at him expectantly.
“I’m going mad.” He muttered, looking down at the dog, after taking the key from his pocket.
He thought that perhaps he had really gone mad when he found himself sending a text to one of his friends who had contacts from his army times, to look into your past. He wasn’t able to dig much in the short time he had been given and because you were a foreigner. However, a very recent court ruling on a restraining order was easy to find. Everything else, was in line with the little you had told him.
After the delicious lunch, when he was lounging on one of the couches outside talking with his brothers. They complained about his not so festive mood, and the fact that he was doing a poor job at hiding it.
“You know I love you, but there’s only so much ‘he’s tired’ that mum is going to swallow, mate.” Nik said to him, a serious frown on his brow.
He proceeded to tell them about you and the situation he’d witnessed outside your flat. His brother then told him that it explained why their friend couldn’t find you there when he went looking.
“He went to her flat? And told you about it?” Henry asked, disbelief clear but not so loud on his voice.
“Of course he did.” Nik replied, serious. “You asked him to investigate a woman for you. Shouldn’t we have taken that seriously?”
Henry had to admit that when he put it like that, maybe, he had exaggerated a little.
“But, he didn’t find her. Do you think she moved because of the situation with the restraining order?” Henry asked, his brow furrowed and his mind miles away from there. “Do you think she’s still in the UK?”
Because his eyes were focused on the lawn as he lost himself in thought, he missed the mischievous look his brothers exchanged.
“You care a good deal about this one, huh?” Piers said, with a smirk Henry disliked immediately.
“It doesn’t matter.” he dismissed his brother’s teasing and focused on his glass of water.
“The hell it doesn’t!” Nik argued in a whisper yell. “You made Jim hunt her down. Tell us the whole story!”
They wouldn’t leave him alone if he didn’t, so he told the story from the very beginning, since Clara.
“This Clara sounds like a grade A bitch.” Piers whispered. “Why did you even let her in?” he asked, his brow quirked.
“I don’t know. I was…” Henry just couldn’t find the right word.
“A twit.” Piers offered.
“A chump?” Nik added.
“Weak?” Piers continued, shaking his head to poorly disguise his laughter.
“Hor…” Nik was going to add, already snickering, but Henry cut him off.
“If you two are done taking the piss! I did not sleep with her.” Henry said, through his teeth.
The other two raised their eyebrows as they opened their mouths in shock and a silent “ooooh”.
***
The locked apartment became your own private sweltering hell, so you were forced to go out.
The heat of May meant the parks were full of people seeking vitamin D, who, like you, were sick of the indoor stuffiness. You figured that you should be safe enough in the crowds.
It was the first time in the past two months that you voluntarily took a step outside your door.
It was hard putting one foot in front of the other without glancing behind your back every two seconds, but the amount of people around forced you to pay attention to where you were going.
You chose Hyde Park to spend the day in, as there were pubs nearby for a quick lunch and the concerts of the day were really good.
You found yourself actually having fun, after so many weeks of tears and anxiety. You were happy to realize that you were finally on the mend.
Later in the afternoon, you crossed the park and found yourself on the way to the museums. You figured it would be a little cooler inside and two hours looking at Lady Di’s lovely dresses definitely didn’t hurt.
Deep down, you were smothering that little voice that kept shouting at you that you were exposed, that city streets where anyone may run into you are fairground and if he found you there, there would be little else you could do but scream.
When you were almost exiting the park, you could hear children talking loudly, and one of them, looking like he was no more than fourteen, came running after a huge dog.
The black and white massive pooch was still attached to a blue lead.
“STOP!” The boy yelled at the dog, about twenty meters behind it.
The dog looked like he was having the time of his life. His huge mouth hanging open and looking like a grin.
When he was about to pass you by, you simply stepped on the lead and he had to stop on his tracks. He was friendly enough, sniffing you all over as his primary goal was forgotten, demanding your undivided attention. He jumped on you, causing you to lose your balance and fall, so he could lick your face properly.
The boy reached you just as one of the licks almost got you in the mouth. Your laughter sounded loud and foreign to your own ears.
Maybe you should get a dog.
“I’m sorry, madam.” The boy said to you, holding him back from you so you could get up.
“It’s fine.” You replied, trying to get the dirt off of your leggings and tank top. “I kinda needed to be tackled.”
The boy looked baffled at your reply but shrugged it off. He probably thought that you were halfway insane; the way your life was going, you were not so sure you didn’t agree.
You were looking down, trying to clean some pesky blades of grass off of your leggings, when you felt a hand pulling something from your hair.
You turned to the person to say thank you, though the gesture bothered you a bit. It felt too intimate. When your eyes met his, you almost shrieked.
***
He had recognized your laughter before he had even seen what was happening.
He had decided to take Kal for a walk; he always got too excited around his nephews.
They all went out together to enjoy the good weather. His nephews led the dogs and Henry only supervised to make sure nothing would go wrong. There was no helping Kal’s prey drive though, and a squirrel decided to pass in front of them, apparently just to tease Kal, then disappear further ahead between bushes, and obviously the dog took off.
They all ran after him, but Kal went into the bushes making the situation very complicated for them.
One of his nephews managed to run ahead of the group and as Henry started to panic about losing sight of him, the amazing sound of your laughter, a sound he thought he’d never hear again, echoed in the air, making his heart go haywire.
That day in the museum came back to him full force and he stopped running when you came into view, slowly taking in the way you actually looked compared to his fading memories.
It was a shock when he saw you clearly. All the brilliance he remembered had been dimmed. Despite the wide smile on your face, your eyes were sunken deeply, and your cheeks were a bit hollowed. You looked sick.
You hadn’t seen him as he approached. There was grass and dirt in your hair, and he didn’t think twice before pulling the bits from it, as if he’d done that a million times before.
He felt the urge to pull you closer, wrap his arms around you and kiss you. But he held back, and it was a good thing he did, because the look you gave him told him clearly that that touch was uninvited. Unwanted.
He dropped his hand, and his smile went with it.
“Are you okay?” He asked, serious, trying to mask the hurt he was feeling at that moment.
He knew that he had no right, whatsoever, to touch you, to demand a smile from you, to even have your sympathy.
“Yes. He packs a punch, though.” You said, avoiding his eyes and looking at Kal instead, petting him behind the ears one more time and then finally looking up.
There was a second of awkward silence.
“How have you…?” he started.
“You look g…” you added at the same time
He noticed his nephews giving him funny looks and smiling at each other.
He decided to introduce you to them.
“Oh, nice to meet you guys!” You said, a friendly tone to your voice he remembered hearing at the pub, so many months ago.
“Well, I, uh…” he started, but didn’t really know what to say.
“I gotta go.” you announced and his heart sank. “You look good.”
He could only nod, as you started to walk away.
“Guys, wait a bit, please?” he said to his nephews while looking at you, missing their nod of acknowledgement and their teasing smirks.
He didn’t want it to be over that quickly and easily.
Calling your name, he jogged over to you before you could cross the street.
“Hey, uh, I would really like to apologize.” You opened your mouth to protest but he raised his hands to stop you. “Please. Just let me get this off my chest?”
He frowned at your blank, expectant look. He thought you wouldn’t let him speak.
“I was wrong to leave the way I did that night. Please forgive me?” he pleaded.
You looked surprised to hear those words. There were other emotions in your eyes, but they were gone too fast for him to catch.
“Don’t worry about that. It’s in the past.” You said, your words rushing out of your mouth. “Have a great day Henry. Oh, and happy belated birthday.”
Your smile was sincere, he could tell, but it was short, leaving your features abruptly as you turned and ran across the street.
He felt that there was something wrong, and looked around, but saw nothing but a couple with a baby in a stroller, a man with a grocery bag, another man running with a dog, and an old couple holding hands as they crossed the street to the park. Nothing out of the ordinary for a Sunday afternoon.
***
You went back home thinking of the odds. In a huge park, full of people, you just had to run into him. Right when you felt that you were starting to raise your head, that you could finally emerge.
He apologized. What were you supposed to do with that now? Why was he even in London?
It didn’t matter. None of that should matter. It was probably his way to get rid of some perceived guilt he felt. It had nothing to do with you.
The cold shower you took when you got home seemed to change many things. It brought clarity where before there seemed to be only a haze. It washed away the numbness.
You were not sure if it was seeing him, or if it was a sum of everything that had happened to you since you arrived in England, but getting your suitcase, and very calmly starting to pack everything you’d be taking away with you, felt somehow cathartic.
With every item you picked from your dresser and folded into the suitcase, you exhaled relief and felt like all the bad that had happened would be staying in the empty drawers and closet.
Soon you’d be back home, in your country, in your house, no rentals, no need for extra security measures.
You’d definitely miss your friends, you’d miss the easy access to things, the amazing public transport. But it was time to put this chapter of your life behind and move on to new things.
Hopefully, better things.
***
Henry had to be well rested the following morning, so even though he wanted to stay and enjoy the great time he was having with his family, as dusk fell upon the city, he went home.
After a short walk with Kal, he started packing all he would need to take back to Scotland.
He kept on listing items out loud, trying to not to forget anything, but his mind insisted on going back to you.
Your smile, the unhappy look on your face as you saw him, how nice but politely cool you had been toward his nephews, your overall very different aspect.
He felt much worse about everything concerning you when he thought of how much time had been wasted on avoiding pain, and in the end there was plenty of it to go around. For himself, and evidently for you.
He sat on his bed, next to Kal, who had been watching him dash around the house like a madman, picking the things he remembered randomly, and having to go back and forth from down to upstairs. At least it wouldn’t be a problem having to skip fasted cardio for the flight the following morning, and he was already burning some of the many calories consumed throughout the day.
Looking at his phone, charging on the nightstand, he considered calling you.
Just to check if you were okay.
Maybe you two could strike up a conversation, just like you used to when texting that week before your second date. The last week he remembered looking forward to a notification as soon as he woke up.
He picked up his phone and looked for your contact. He hadn’t done that in so long, and seeing that picture of you, and the contrast with you as you were in the park filled him with sadness anew.
He started typing a message.
Hey,
The doorbell ringing along with Kal’s bark right by his ear gave him a start.
“Easy Kal!” He said as the dog sprinted down the stairs ahead of him.
The doorbell rang again, giving Henry a sense of déjà vu.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked as he opened the door, doing his best to put on the ugliest scowl possible. “I thought I had made myself pretty clear last time.”
“You did. But, please, hear me out.” Clara begged, her tone distressed enough to make him allow her in.
She walked ahead of him, her phone notification sounds going off three consecutive times.
As they faced each other in the living room, he put into his demeanor all that his characters ever had of brooding, menacing and threatening. Her state was pitiful, nothing at all like the woman who had pounced on him with all her might, hair quite disheveled, no make up, and quite a scruffiness to her clothing.
“What’s happened to you?” He said, before she could start. His exterior mellowed slowly at the fact that she was on the verge of tears.
“Karma, I guess.” She began, her voice small. She was briefly interrupted by another ding from her phone, but ignored it. “I’ve been a bad girl, and Santa decided not to wait until Christmas to throw coal lumps at me.”
She laughed then. A strange sound, probably because it was half laugh and half sob.
“I was jealous of her.” she continued. “No, envy is a better term for what I felt. She…” she paused and sniffled taking a packet of tissues from her handbag, her supply looked dangerously low.
Henry knew immediately who she was talking about.
She looked at her phone as it dinged again, but ignored it.
“She’s so perfect! So nice!” she continued. “Everything in her life is put together and nothing ever goes wrong.” she paused and cocked her head to the left. “Except for Matt. He cheated on her for as long as they were together. He was extremely possessive and sometimes even violent, but she loved him.”
She paused again to blow her nose, the tears she shed were genuine, she didn’t bother hiding the ugliness of her pain. Henry couldn’t pretend he didn’t care. He really wanted to know the story, how and why Clara was involved. Most of all he wanted to know why she was there in his living room telling him all that.
He gestured for her to take a seat on the sofa.
As her phone dinged several times in a row, and again she ignored it, he sat down on his computer desk chair, leaning his elbows on his knees.
“The day of the wedding, this girl comes barreling into the room where she was getting ready, shouting awful things at her, blaming her that Matt was getting into a loveless marriage and that she’d be the reason he’d spend the rest of his life miserable.” she huffs a humorless laugh.
“If you had seen the tears, and the heartbreak… We all had to keep an eye on her, worried that she’d do something stupid. Turned out Matt had stolen all the stupid in the world for himself, and started harassing and stalking her.”
With a heavy sigh and breathing through her mouth, she finally looked up at Henry, once more ignoring the repeated notification sounds.
“He begged her to take him back. Then threatened to kill her when she refused. More than once, the selfish bastard. She got a restraining order and moved. We all moved. Went our separate ways. But she and I, and the girls, we were still friends.”
“Why do you envy her?” Henry asked, taking advantage of the pause. Her glassy eyes looked through him for a second, but she focused on him again as she spoke.
“My life hasn’t been the best lately, and after our date, I thought you were the key to get me out of the mud.” she confessed. “But then she told us about you two, and I don’t know, I snapped.”
Her tears fell once more, and her soft shrug punctuated her sentence. “I emailed Matt telling him where to find her.” Crying in earnest now, she sobbed as she continued. “She had managed to stay away from him for over a year and a half! What kind of friend does that?”
“A pretty shitty one.” Her expression after hearing his reply almost made him apologize. Almost. “Why are you here, shouldn’t you be apologizing to her, begging for her forgiveness?”
She shook her head repeatedly at his questioning, while the pity inside his heart irritated him.
“I did. Earlier this evening.” She replied and blew her nose one more time.
“Did she forgive you?” he asked, surprising himself with how much indignation he inserted in his tone.
She shook her head.
“I can’t blame her.” he said, his voice dry.
Her phone started ringing. She looked at the contact’s name and was about to decline the call.
“Answer the damned phone!” He said to her, more than over the annoying beeping.
“Yes.” she said as she did as she was told.
He could hear the voices on the other side, they were very loud and sounded quite angry.
“Yes, yes. As you wish, your highness! God!” she complained as she hung up. “I’m sorry about that. Apparently my confession shocked more than my former best friend. I’ll pay so dearly for all I’ve done, that missing her will be almost criminal.” she laughed humorlessly.
“What the hell does that mean?” he asked, getting sick of her antics.
“Well, now everyone knows what I did, and without her here to protect me against the furies… well, let’s just say that I dug my own grave.” she concluded, looking quite dejected and unhappy.
“What do you mean? ‘Without her here’? Henry asked, his mouth going dry and dread taking over his limbs like being submerged in a lake frozen over.
“Oh, yeah, duh, how could you possibly have known?” she sniffled and brought her hand to her forehead. “Yeah, her work here in England was done. She’s just boarded a flight back home.”
Summary: After meeting you in the pub, you and Henry head to the museum for your impromptu date. But what are the consequences of going on a date with the guy who was supposed to be your best friend’s date?
Warnings: Language; alcohol and (heavy) carb/sugar consumption; TW: (hinted) abuse;
Word count: 5K+
A/N: This is a follow up for Second Hand Meet Cute. There were many requests for a follow up, and I think you expected more of the fluff that part 1 was heavy on, but this one kinda took a life of its own, so there will be a part 3. There is a playlist for this series and you can check it out here. I’m adding to it as the series progresses and I welcome suggestions .
I’m always grateful to @shellbilee for being my shoulder to cry on, and I’ve cried over this one! Ily babe!
You walked next to him wondering what powers that be put you in this bizarre situation. A living male model, world class gentleman, all-around good guy and, (you snorted internally) representative of iconic fictional characters. You walked next to him as much as possible on the busy London streets, shaking your head in wonderment from time to time.
He caught you doing that once, as you got to the museum, and gave you a questioning look. You shook your head again, a little faster this time, to tell him it wasn’t important.
Despite the bustling museum, the twelve or so fans that stopped you to get a picture with him, and the difficulty to get close enough to actually see anything in the displays, it was fun just talking about the general theme of the exhibitions, the dinosaurs, animals in general, your hatred of the creepy crawlies and his passion for his charity work for the Jersey Zoo and the Durrell Wildlife Conservation Trust. At the Earth’s Treasury Hall you discussed your favorite colors, gems, types of beaches, and he told you more about Jersey.
You ended up spending the rest of the day inside the museum, and the guard at the door gave you a sour look as you rushed out two minutes past closing time.
Your cheeks hurt from laughing so much, and you saw that his lips were also wide with a smile.
It was twilight, and the chill of the evening seeped through your light coat - you thought you’d be going home after the match ended. You crossed your arms and rubbed your already cold hands on them to try and warm yourself up a little faster.
Seeing that, he offered to buy you coffee at a nearby bakery he knew.
The smell coming from the place hit your nostrils as you rounded the corner and you had to hold back a moan of delight. The scent of freshly baked bread and vanilla were heavy in the air, and when he opened the door for you, it hit you so forcefully you had to take a step back.
With a cappuccino and a Danish for you, and black coffee and a sesame soft pretzel for him, you sat on a stool by a long wooden counter on the corner.
You didn’t talk as you ate. You were content being in each other’s company.
***
Henry walked you to the closest tube station and before you went down the steps, he asked for your number.
He didn’t know why you hadn’t asked for his, but he definitely did not want to lose you in the crowd. Before you could vanish forever from his life, like a good dream that he would never be able to go back to, he put his hand in the crook of your arm and stopped you as soon as you said bye.
This couldn’t possibly be over with an “okay, bye”. Not if he could help it.
You were smiling as you went down those steps, and turned around at the foot of the stairs to wave at him. He wanted to throw his fist really high in the air.
It had been a while since he felt this giddy over a woman.
You just seemed to check all the boxes for him. He could talk about everything with you. Every. Single. Topic. He shook his head at the thought of how rare it was to find someone he could discuss Ancient Egypt and MMORPG with. He could count on one hand the number of people who had a similar range of tastes and preferences he did.
That evening, he was in a particularly good mood to take Kal for a walk, he was able to get a lot of stuff he had been putting off done, he read and wrote a ton of emails he had been procrastinating on. He slept like a baby.
The great mood seemed to vanish literally overnight.
The following morning presented itself grey, rainy and full of doubt, and his first thought was whether he should or should not text you good morning.
He decided against it, as it was very early. He did his regular fasted cardio and took Kal on a walk, thinking about you and what should be his next step.
He didn’t watch where he was going, lost inside his head as he was, and bumped into a middle-aged lady.
“So sorry, do pardon me!”
She was going to say something, but taking one look at him, she decided against it, gawking at him, open-mouthed.
“Are you okay?” he asked, concerned that he had hurt her.
She nodded slowly.
“Ookay then, have a nice day!” He prolonged the word, concerned about her reaction, but decided to let it go.
He realized he had gone further than he had intended, and stood in front of a tiny antiques shop. Something caught his eye on the window and he decided to walk in.
***
If you had any doubts before, now you were certain that Henry was truly a superhero.
Work had been killing you and it was only Monday, but his text at lunchtime sent you to seventh heaven, and despite the heavier rain after eleven o’clock, there were no clouds in your sky.
“I’d very much like to see you again, and an acquaintance of mine has just opened a restaurant. Wanna check it out with me, Friday, seven thirty? XO Henry”
You typed your response quickly and, thanks to that, spent the rest of the day unable to care about whatever went wrong in the Chinese market, or the reports that the people under your supervision were late handing in, which in turn delayed your own work, or that your boss back home had just emailed you a new deadline for the project you were heading.
At five pm, you left the building and on your way home, got a text from Zara, asking you if you wanted to meet her for a drink and telling you about a midweek girls’ night. You texted her you were on your way.
The bar was a few tube stations away from the building where you worked, and she was already nursing a Cosmo when you arrived.
“Won’t that mess with the breastfeeding thing?” You asked her in lieu of a proper greeting.
She kissed your cheeks as she shrugged.
She was sitting on the corner of the lounge area overlooking sad London in the fading light, on one of the cozy, multi-colored chairs by the floor to ceiling window, where you joined her. Despite the grey, it was quite a view.
“I have at least a dozen bottles full in the freezer for exactly this kind of situation. I’ll have to pump some more for Wednesday.” She pondered.
“Ew! TMI! Anyhoo, what’s this girl’s night for?” You asked her while perusing the menu.
“Well, it was called very much like a union meeting.” She chuckled at her comparison. “Clara wants to bitch about Supes.”
From the look on her face you weren’t able to hide the shock and outrage you felt.
Zara was sweet, but sane. Of all of the girls in your little club, she was the one who was most like you, despite having a ten year-old son and the eight month old twins.
You had met her through Clara, but you and Zara became much closer friends.
Zara never judged.
“Okay, by that look alone I know that there’s something there. Tell me when you feel like it.” She reacted as she always did, speaking quite nonchalantly, as if you not telling her wouldn’t eat away at her.
You paused, as the waitress took your order and looked at her in the eye.
“Okay, okay!” she caved. “I’m dying to know! What the hell do you want to hide from Clara and what does it have to do with her not so super date?” her wide eyes stared into yours and her leg was bouncing.
You took a deep breath and let it go with a sigh.
“Weeeeeellllll…” you dragged the word in such a way that her anxiety got the best of her.
“What the hell have you done?” she asked, and you laughed at motherly tone.
“Nothing much.” you replied with a shrug, looking away at the waitress coming back with your drink.
She noticed there was somebody else around and reined in her curiosity.
You couldn’t help but chuckle at the poorly contained emotional distress she exuded.
“Before you go any crazier, I wanna make it very clear that nothing happened.” you opened your mouth to continue, but she interrupted you.
“OMG! You and… Dear, you’re not serious, are you?” her look of concern as she asked you this, dispelled any irritation you could have harbored.
“Why do you say that?” you inquired, squinting at her.
“Blimey! You and your deflections!” she quipped.
You just crossed your arms and waited for her to continue.
“I’m not saying anything else until you tell me exactly what happened.” She asserted, crossing her own.
You gave her an exasperated sigh, and told her everything that had happened the day before, and about the fact that he had asked for your number in such a cute way.
“Bloody hell!” she exclaimed when you finished telling her.
“Yeah.” Was all you could reply.
“Clara will be so mad at you!” she pondered, her eyes very far away over the London skyline.
“She has no reason to be, though. He told her that it wouldn’t work between them.” she gave you a look, that demanded further response. “At least he told me he had.” you added.
“And you really think that will make a difference? You grew up with Clara, you know how she gets with her shiny new toys. Besides, there’s the girl code.” she said, turning her attention to her drink.
“‘The girl code’? That’s bullshit. I won’t let go of something that has the potential of being really good just because of Clara’s temper tantrums.” you asserted, maybe a little louder than you should have from the looks you were getting from other patrons around you.
Zara raised her eyebrows while sipping her drink, and putting it down, grinned at you.
“That’s what I wanted to hear. You really like this guy, huh? Even being famous and all that shit.” She appraised you while you nodded. “Then, don’t worry about anything. Whatever happens at the meet on Wednesday, I’m on your side.”
“Well, you better be, cause I have another date with him on Friday.”
***
Henry had spent the entire week counting the hours to see you again.
Kal was already at his friend’s house for the night, just in case.
He had bought the flowers, hired the car, the reservations were made, and he was ready, standing outside your flat fifteen minutes before the hour you two had agreed upon.
When he arrived, he glanced at his watch and winced.
Would you think he was too eager to arrive too soon? Maybe you liked people on time, like he did, and would excuse his timing. Maybe you would be late and it would be mortifying for you if you saw him from your window. It definitely wasn’t his intention to embarrass you.
He wondered as he looked out of the car window at the facade of your building, which of the four windows overlooking the street could be your flat’s.
He was startled by an argument raging as the front door of the building was thrown wide open, slamming against the wall and hitting the blonde man coming out of it on his back. He, unfazed by the blow, turned his back to the street shouting quite a few colorful words to whoever was standing there to hear.
His tone, demeanor and choice of vocabulary, left little to the imagination.
Henry was overhearing a lovers quarrel.
The man seemed to be pleading to whoever was in there to take him back, but at the same time, there was a threatening tone in his voice, like the person owed him the chance.
From the few words Henry picked up, he surmised that the man had been left at the altar. Poor chap. The passion with which he pleaded his case showed he was still very clearly in love, but also very hurt. Henry could understand that, despite thinking the vulgarity in the man’s speech unnecessary.
Still watching the scene unfold, he caught a glimpse of something red coming closer to the door. The man, in turn, took a few steps backwards, almost falling down the front porch steps. He caught himself, and the long skirts of what Henry presumed was a bright red dress blew in the wind outside the door. That person did not shout at all, and he couldn’t really tell, but he presumed a woman was at the receiving end of that bloke’s verbal assault.
The final words were loud and clear in a foreign accent, maybe American, for anyone to hear:
“THIS IS NOT OVER! YOU MARK MY WORDS!”
Then he stomped away, tripping on his way out of the gate.
Henry looked at his watch and noticed that because he wasted time observing the spat, he was now late.
He picked the bouquet, straightened his suit jacket and made his way to the door, which was still open, and the counterpart to the altercation hid her face in her hands while squatting in the foyer.
The woman in red didn’t lift her beautifully coiffed head when he got close.
“Erm, excuse me…” he started, but was silenced by the face that met him, contorted in a mix of anger and pain.
“Henry!” you breathed.
Seeing you there, the opposing side of that row, gave him pause. He didn’t know what to say, or what to do.
You were staring at him, not really crying, but he could see a world of hurt, you weren’t able to mask, in your eyes.
“Hi!” you once again whispered the word.
Clearing your throat while looking down, you tried again, lifting your head slowly.
“Good evening, Henry. How are you?” By the end of your question your lips were split by something very similar to the smile he remembered from Sunday.
Your ability to fake being okay was impressive. Or shocking. He was not sure.
“Good evening!” His smile was equally stellar. He was the actor there, after all.
“I’m sorry if you heard any of that.” You said with a grimace, pointing in the general direction of the gate.
He nodded, as if to say it was okay, but you winced.
“Give me five and I’ll be right there with you.” He nodded, but before he could say anything, you continued. “Are those for me?”
He nodded again and handed you the bouquet. The red roses weren’t as beautiful as when he had bought them that afternoon, but when he had thought about their durability then, he dismissed the notion that you’d mind if they had wilted slightly.
He had thought that you’d agree that only diamonds are forever.
***
Up in your flat, you were trying your very best not to cry.
Matt was not supposed to show up.
You had vowed to keep your distance until the end of time, and went through great lengths to ensure that. He had apparently chosen to ignore your wishes.
And he was so great at that.
Your heart was racing at the thought of Henry hearing all that. Oh God! How much had he heard? Would he still be downstairs when you returned?
Hurriedly putting the flowers in a vase, you went to the bathroom and with a wet towel, tried to cool your pulse points on your neck and wrists. You splashed a little more perfume and made your way out.
He was waiting for you by the car, and was extremely polite. Too polite.
The drive was a silent affair. Even after your attempts to ask him about Kal and about the beginning of shooting for his show. He politely replied to anything you said, but that was it.
It sucked.
He wasn’t the same guy who you had fun with on Sunday. All his walls were up. He didn’t ask you about anything related to the topics you two had texted through the week, topics that he had said he couldn’t wait until Friday to discuss with you in person.
Despite the distance, you thanked heavens for his discretion. You certainly did not want to hash any of that shit he possibly witnessed out.
Dinner was also quiet.
You two discussed the aesthetic of the restaurant (your ‘Wow, it’s so beautiful’, followed by his ‘Yeah.’), the complexity of the flavors (his ‘Hmm, so many flavours!’ to your ‘Yeah, it’s really rich.’) and the simplicity of the recipes (your ‘Who would have thought something so good could be so simple, right?’ to his ‘Yes, indeed.’). You briefly discussed how much you liked the harmony of the delicious dishes and wines you sampled as guests at the chef’s table.
In any other situation, it would have been THE date, but as it turned out, you ate, you drank and made your way out straight into the car.
Throughout the evening he was a perfect gentleman. You could not deny that.
As he walked you to the front door to your building, you wished he wasn’t thinking about what had transpired earlier and wondered if you should ask him up for coffee. He beat you to it, however, touching the back of your arm very lightly, and planting a kiss on the crown of your head.
“I had a very pleasant evening. Thank you.” He said, looking into your eyes.
He didn’t wait for you to reciprocate the sentiment, turning on his heels and leaving without a single glance back.
You watched as he got into the car and left your life.
Maybe it was for the best, you thought to yourself as you climbed the stairs. You were supposed to leave London in three months. Nothing good would come of a relationship starting with an expiry date.
You told yourself those words; saying them in your head was easy enough. The tears that accompanied them, unstoppable in their descent, were not so easily contained.
You were glad you could make it to your flat, locked the door and buried your face in one of the throw pillows, in time to sob as loud as you wanted.
An hour went by. Your throat hurt and your eyes were burning. You lamented not having any chocolate in the house. Opening your eyes you saw your phone on the carpet by the armchair. It had fallen off of your purse, where you had thrown it. You didn’t feel like getting up, so you stretched your arm as much as you could, almost falling off the couch, but reached it in time to put your hand on the floor, closer to the couch, and avoid falling on your face.
It was all you needed, a black eye on top of their current bloodshot look.
You texted the girls.
“Need a place to stay, can’t guarantee I’ll be good company tho.”
***
As soon as Henry walked through the door of his flat, he allowed the weight on his shoulders to show. He had picked Kal up because he would need the company.
He sat on his living room sofa and the bear immediately lay next to him, putting his massive head on his lap, and consequently, on his expensive suit. He couldn’t give a single flying fuck.
From the inside breast pocket of the suit jacket he pulled the purple velvet cloth that protected the necklace he had seen from the antiques shop window. Unwrapping it, he let it hang in front of his face, twirling it slightly.
It was simple: a thin gold chain with a gold interwoven double circle pendant. Inside the pendant, hung a half carat amber diamond. Even that small and in the dim light, its fire was evident and it shone.
He had envisioned how beautiful it would have looked around your neck, and how lucky he would have been to fasten the chain for you. He had wondered if your scent was mostly perfume or if your hair was to blame for the delectable aroma invading his nostrils as you passed him entering the bakery. He was looking forward to the feel of the skin on the nape of your neck, and your reaction as his fingers accidentallyskimmed it.
The depth of his disappointment was a surprise.
It hit him harder than it should.
He didn’t even know what he had expected of you. You hadn’t really talked about your pasts.
But it definitely wasn’t someone who would just leave a guy in a continent and move on to the next in another. Or the kind of woman who would leave a guy at the altar. That was harsh.
All through that dinner he couldn’t really bring himself to want to be there anymore. He went through the motions. He didn’t want to pretend and lead you on. Looking back at their goodbye, he was rude. His mother had raised him better.
Lowering his hand he sighed.
“Why do I do this Kal?” he leaned his head back and slouched, putting his feet under the coffee table.
He put his other hand on the dog’s head and stroked the thick fur on his neck.
You were the star featured in his dreams that night.
Sitting next to him on the sofa in his living room, wearing that red dress. He held your hand, marveled at the soft feeling of your skin and you laughed out loud at that. He felt happy at the sight of you there, happy and within arms reach. All of a sudden you got up, called Kal for a run, and started playing with him around the towel you had put on the grass of the park where you were. Kal started barking and nuzzling him, and you ran farther away. He got up to run, but his body felt like it was made of lead. He looked down at his body, then back up in the general direction you had gone. He could still hear your laughter, but he could no longer see you.
His movement, heavy as it was, frustrated him to the point of scratching at his consciousness. Kal’s barking continued though, and his mobile rang loud when he opened his eyes.
He groaned and looked at the screen. It was time to get up.
Unlocking the screen he opened his contacts app and scrolled to yours. The candid of your smile, taken in a spur of the moment thing that he didn’t often feel, came up with your number. He opened the image so it took all of his screen. Many should haves went through his mind, but he buried them all.
It hurt. A lot.
How could he be this in love with someone, if he hadn’t even kissed her? You had spoken so little about your lives outside of likes and dislikes.
He hated that you could easily find so much information about him online and he had to be content with whatever you chose to give him.
He tried, but he couldn’t hate you.
Putting down the phone he got up. Kal, who had sat by the bed waiting for him, got up as well.
“Okay Kal, let’s do this.”
***
Arabelle opened the doors of her spare room to you and told you to stay as long as you wanted.
Even though Windsor made for a long trip to work every morning, at least you were sure that here, in the very upper class gated community, Matt would not be able to come harass you.
You didn’t know how he had found you. There was a restraining order, all of your friends knew of the situation and your employers did as well. But somehow he had shown up, out of hell, to ruin things, just when your life seemed to be taking a turn for the best.
Saturday morning, Harry, Arie’s husband, took Frederick, their son, and told you they would be spending the day with his grandparents. He gave you a kiss on the cheek and told you to call the cavalry, and that he had bought ice cream. You gave him a hug as the tears in your eyes thanked him.
Arie got in the kitchen then, and told you that she had already called everyone.
“Don’t worry, sweetie. We’re here for you.” She vowed, her face stern.
She had spent the night by your side, sleeping at intervals, just like you. The little sleep you got was plagued by nightmares of Matt, tormenting you.
You didn’t know how there were still tears left to cry, but they insisted on rolling down your cheeks.
When the squad was finally gathered, minus Clara who had to work, Arie told them what was happening.
“But how did he find out where you live?” Nubia asked the very obvious question.
“Million dollar question Nubs.” Zara supplied. “His timing bothers me more than anything.” she said, while looking at her nails.
“What are you not saying?” Arie asked, eyeing Zara suspiciously.
“Well, she had what? One year, free of him?” she wondered.
“But over there he had to respect the restraining order, Z.” Nubia objected.
“That is valid across borders sweetie.” said Zara, picking up a spoon and adding several spoonfuls of vanilla ice cream to her espresso. “We’ll go to a police station as soon as you’re ready, babe.” she continued, looking at you.
You were uncertain of your course of action. The process back home had been so nerve-wracking, you didn’t want to go through that again.
“I’m not sure I want to stir that shit up again.” you spoke softly, after a deep sigh.
You hated the look they gave you, so full of sympathy.
They didn’t understand, not like Clara. She had been sharing an apartment with you back then, and stood by your side through that whole ordeal, she would have been the rock you needed for support this time. But she couldn’t be there, and you understood. She wouldn’t be able to be there for you forever.
***
Henry had a rough week. His sleep was off, his waking moments were plagued by thoughts, and he did not want to think.
He had gotten his first script and began reading it, but his concentration wasn’t helping, and his anxiety levels got him over exercising and avoiding everything and everyone.
He was cranky and even Kal kept his distance.
It was Valentine’s day and his brooding was very in character for Geralt, he thought ruefully. The doorbell rang, and with a frown, he got up from the couch to answer it.
It rang again when he was about to open it, and that very much told him he did not want to talk to the person on the other side of that door.
He turned to Kal to tell him to stay back as he opened the door. The dog would not stop barking though, and that for him was another red flag.
His eyes must have bugged out, because he did not believe what he was seeing.
“Hi! Thought you could use the company today. I hope you don’t mind, I got your address from Andy, who also didn’t want you to be alone. He said you’ve been holed up in here for days!”
She did not wait for an invitation. Touching her open palm to his chest as she passed giggling, she walked in. Kal didn’t stop barking, even as she baby spoke to him.
“Oh my gosh! You’re so bloody cute!” she turned back towards him, a hand hanging high above Kal’s head. “Does he bite?”
“Not normally.” Henry answered through his teeth. “But he doesn’t look that happy to meet you. I wouldn’t risk it.”
“Well, then…” she said, retrieving her hand, turning around and examining his flat. “Isn’t your place… quaint!”
“Glad you like it.” Henry replied, not hiding his displeasure.
She kept walking in and when she got to the living room, sat on his couch.
Kal had stopped barking, but still on edge, wouldn’t really go near her.
“Well, won’t you offer me anything to drink? I did come here to make you feel better.” she said, and added a pout at the end.
“Make me feel better? What the hell do you know about me?” he was starting to get angry and the walls were thin. He took a deep breath.
“Well, I know you’re lonely.” she began. “I know you haven’t spoken to your friends in a while. They were the ones who got in touch with me, after all.” she patted the place next to her on the couch.
He heaved a deep sigh and sat next to her.
“Hmmm, isn’t this better?” she purred, leaning on his arm and putting an arm around his shoulder. “So much tension! I could massage that out for you. I mean, if you want me to.” she spoke, while caressing him from shoulder to shoulder.
He closed his eyes and she took advantage of it, kissing his shoulder, then, kneeling on the couch for better access, she kissed his neck and moved to his jaw.
“Stop!” he told her, firmly, and got up.
“Why?” she spoke, an innocent look in her eyes. “Is this about my dear friend?”
She didn’t really need to mention you by name to strike a chord.
“Cause she’s moved on, you know? Well, there was nothing between the two of you to begin with…” she trailed off.
There was no malice that he could notice in her voice. She was merely stating the facts. And hurt as it may, they were the facts. He turned and walked away from her.
She unfolded herself from his couch and sauntered across the tiny living room to wound her arms around his waist.
“Maybe it’s for the best. Be with someone who actually wants you.” she continued.
She touched his arm and pulled slightly, making him turn to face her.
“Kiss me.” she urged.
He hesitated, looking into her eyes with a pained expression.
“I can make it go away. Kiss me.” She insisted.
“Clara…” he started, but she didn’t let him finish.
On her tiptoes, with a firm hand on the nape of his neck and the other snaking under his t-shirt from his waist to his shoulder blades, she made perfectly clear that she wasn’t there just for kicks.
Summary: Henry’s friends set him up with someone he has nothing in common with. Still they meet again, but this time she isn’t alone, and a certain someone in her group sparks instant chemistry.
Warnings:language
Word count: 4444
A/N:This one was based on this ask I got (and sat on for such a long time that I think @the-freak-cassie-131 must have thought I was ignoring her request). As it turns out I had such a load of fun writing this that it kinda got away from me. I hope you guys have as much fun as I had.
It was another try at yet another woman his friends had set him up with. This time it had been Andy.
Henry had chosen a quiet bistro, where the owner was a legitimate fan and an amazing cook, and the ambience homely despite its sophisticated looks.
He was anxious. His hands were sweating, and it was irritating to keep drying them on his slacks.
Thankfully, the owner was kind enough not to book many tables for that evening, and his happened to be in a quiet corner, away from prying eyes.
She was five minutes late when he spotted her. Exactly like Andy had described her; a bit of an attitude as she spoke to the hostess, not too tall, quite curvaceous. Her long blonde hair, falling to the middle of her back, was styled straight and curled at the ends. She wore a tight, very low-cut black dress that came to the middle of her thighs. Her black Louboutin heels probably lifted her to his height, and the red on their soles was the same shade of nail polish and lipstick she wore.
She was clearly on the prowl.
He groaned internally as she was about twenty paces away and he could already smell the sweetness of her perfume.
Getting up, like he was taught, he touched her upper arm lightly as he bent to kiss her on each cheek.
Her lips lingering over his cheeks and her hand feeling him up from shoulder to bicep didn’t go unnoticed, her giggles as she wiped the lipstick from his cheeks grated on his nerves.
He sighed as he sat down and smiled as best as he could.
Oh bugger, it was going to be the longest dinner of his life.
***
Clara was fuming. She had called you at six in the morning, the regular hour she’d go running, to tell you all about her date with the super cute guy her other friend Zara’s friend’s boyfriend had set her up with the day before.
Turned out he was super indeed.
Despite that, she said the date was nice, the restaurant was quaint, his order of wine was perfect, he was a perfect gentleman, but they had nothing in common.
She told you he liked the sea, but you knew she was afraid of swimming in a pool. He was into country music, she loved industrial metal. He travelled a lot, her last trip abroad was an exchange program when she was 16. He spoke to the chef in Italian, she asked if he was fluent in Spanish.
She felt awful that the only thing they had talked about, for the one hour they were able to make the dinner last, was which recipes they liked best for losing weight or gaining mass, how much weight they lifted, and which routines worked best to tone and tighten. None of them had dessert and they parted ways, with kisses on the cheek.
“On my cheek! Do you believe it?” She huffed as she ran.
“I do.” You said with a yawn.
“Are you serious right now? I’m here, telling you about a piss-poor date and you can’t offer a single word of support?” She huffed again, this time, quite emphatically, in disbelief.
“Well, what do you want me to say? You woke me up! I’m the best friend in the world for not falling asleep as you prattle on and on.” You sighed, noticing daylight started to show under the curtains in your bedroom. “It was, or should have been clear to you that that wasn’t going anywhere. He was kind to call you a cab, though.” You stifled another yawn.
“He was, I’m not contesting that! But do you comprehend my point of view? I could have gotten my leg over Superman! Maybe we could have gone a second round and I could have fucked Geralt too! He’s so bloody fit!” She was whining by the end of her tirade. You could almost see her stopping and stomping her foot. You shook your head on your pillow.
“Well, the poor man probably wanted to be seen as himself, and probably wanted more than just a one night stand. He noticed that it was not gonna happen with you.” You say to her as you sit on your bed against the headboard. You were getting tired of her whining, and decided that being direct would get her to hang up faster.
“Shitting hell! What kind of friend are you?” She sounded quite exasperated as she huffed. She wouldn’t ever stop running for any calls. Under any state of mind.
“The kind who tells you like it is, and will call you on your bullshit to your face, if you call her at six in the morning.” You said calmly and heard her scoff.
“Some friend.” She scoffed again. “Next time I’ll call Arie.” You could tell you had pissed her off, but you were beyond caring.
“Oh, will you, please?” You pleaded.
She hung up.
***
Henry woke up the next morning to the sound of a call from Andy.
“Hello?” It was more of a groan than a greeting. Opening his eyes a little, he could see dawn was breaking behind the drapes.
“So, I just got a call from Clara - I must say it, that woman is up at the ass crack of dawn!” He laughed at his own joke while Henry did his best to be awake enough to pay attention. “Saying that she enjoyed dinner immensely, and that she lamented the fact that you forgot to give her your number. I said I’d call you to check why such a thing would happen, that probably you were tired, you’ve obviously been working a lot. So, I told her that we’d be at the King’s Arms this Sunday with some of our mates for the match, and that she should go too, maybe take some of her girlfriends with, eh? Saved your hide.”
“Good morning to you too, Andy.” Henry said with a sigh. He shook his head. “You know we won’t get to watch the match at all if we have to talk to them. Why would you do that? The boys are going to kill you.”
“Well, when you put it like that…” he trailed off. “What would you have me do? I had just woken up, and none of that woulda happen if you had given her your bloody number!” Andy said, quite miffed.
“Well, none of that woulda happen if you hadn’t set me up with her in the first place, would it?” Henry replied, a bit angry by now, as he removed the sand from the corner of his right eye.
“What’s done is done. Sunday. See you at the pub.”
“See you there.”
“Henry?”
“What?”
“That bad?” Andy asked, exaggerating the ‘bad’.
“She’s gorgeous, don’t get me wrong. But it won’t work with a person whose only interest I have in common is working out. Thank you, though. I know you meant well.”
“Well, if you die alone you can’t blame me. Talk to Pete, he’s the one setting you up next!” He laughed, quite heartily.
Henry hung up, shaking his head as he sat on the bed and put his feet on the floor. He looked at the very inert dog lying on the other side of his bed.
“With friends like these… huh Kal? Only you get me!” He petted Kal’s head and huffed when the dog’s only reaction was to open his eyes. “Wake up bear. Time to start the day.”
***
Your week went as uneventful as usual. You were tired from the routine of this temporary assignment your company had sent you on. In England, your job was much more bureaucratic than back home, and you missed being responsible for your work only. There was so much more to do and so many more people to deal with, you couldn’t wait to go back and be at peace, in your office with only your laptop to keep you company.
On Saturdays, no matter how tired, you spent the day with your beloved (and mute) chores: dusting, cleaning, washing and organizing until late in the evening, when you were on the phone with another friend of yours.
“So Nubia, is Tony going to watch the kids for you so we can have a girls’ day tomorrow? I honestly need to have some fun.”
“Oh, sorry dear, I thought Clara had told you.” She paused, and you could guess the look on her face.
“What might have slipped her mind?” You asked, hoping that you succeeded in masking the heavy sarcasm you wanted to put into your tone.
“Well… her superdate is going to be at the pub tomorrow, for the match, and she wants another crack at him.” She started hesitantly, but by the end of her explanation, she sounded genuinely excited.
You wanted to scoff, but only shook your head.
Clara must have told sweet, trusting Nubia only the highlights (and probably some colorful lies) about that date.
“Did he invite her?” You tried, again, to hold back, not to sour her mood.
“Well… no. But his friend, the one who set them up, told her to go and to take some friends with. Maybe you could meet some hot friend of his!”
She sounded so excited about the prospect of her two unmarried friends finding their matches, that it broke your heart to know that Clara had obviously embellished the truth for her.
“Well, I hope so! It’s about time, right?” You said after a deep breath and adding some cheer to your voice. You hoped that it didn’t sound too false.
“So, you’ll be there, right? I don’t think I can possibly be myself, and not become a silly fangirl, around a superstar without you to ground me.” The tone of worry in her voice as she finished speaking broke your heart, and you relented, rephrasing what you were about to say.
“Yes, I’ll be there.” You said, chuckling at her nervousness. “But don’t be surprised if Clara objects to my presence, ok?” You added quickly.
“But, why would she? Don’t be silly. She’ll probably need your support too.” She said, matter-of-factly.
“Yeah, we’ll see.”
***
The week went by way too fast for Henry’s liking.
He made his way to the pub in his favorite England rugby jersey and hat. Over that he wore a coat for the February chill and the dampness of the London streets. There wasn’t much hope in thinking he’d be able to watch the game properly, but the jersey was tradition, a superstition he would never own up to.
It was busy in the pub and it took a lot of “pardon mes” and “excuse mes” to get to his friends.
They were all at their regular table facing one of the huge screens available for those who wanted to watch the match.
He said his hellos and sat down.
His friends had mercifully already ordered the only beer he’d indulge in for the day, and as he took a sip and lifted his eyes to the screen, a yellowish sheen caught his eye.
Claire had arrived, and with her, a group of four other women, the last of which made him do a double take. They made their way to the table and Henry had to put some effort into not ogling that last one.
Claire was the second to greet them, after her perfume. One of his friends signaled to him upon catching the scent, and both of them had to hide a snicker.
Thank goodness he wasn’t the only one.
She sidestepped all of his friends to greet him first, again with the lingering kisses and unnecessary touching.
Her striking friend stayed back and only waved at them when she was introduced. Whispering something in the ear of another one of them, she left shortly after that. Henry didn’t know if the dismay he felt was properly masked.
The women sat at their table with them, but the remarkable friend didn’t come back.
Halftime came and he was tempted to order another beer. The conversation at the table was superficial, at best, and took his attention from the game more times than he cared for. In spite of his efforts, his mood was souring.
He thought to himself that maybe this would be a good time to just go home and watch the match in peace.
He excused himself, keeping his head low and dodging people carefully so that no one would recognize him, and he could remain blissfully anonymous as he had so far. Before he could reach the bar, however, Claire was at his elbow.
“So, you gonna give me your number or what?” She said quite loudly, bringing unwanted attention to them.
She was visibly annoyed and he couldn’t really blame her. The excuse Andy had given her was quite flimsy - he wasn’t allowed to give Henry’s number to anyone.
“I’m truly sorry Claire, but I don’t think we’re quite so compatible.” He said near her ear, so he could be heard over the din but not make a scene. He hoped she could see in his features that this was not the outcome he had hoped for.
If he had judged her to be annoyed before, now she was positively furious.
“You won’t even give me the time of day, huh? And by the way, the name is Clara!”
She actually stomped her foot before turning around and marching away, leaving him feeling quite the wretch.
As he turned to the bar, his mind now made that he’d get another beer, he had been recognized and stopped for photos with at least five people, when he noticed that a stool was vacated right in front of the tv. He excused himself from the group that had surrounded him and quickly made his way to the seat, thanking heavens no one had sat there in the meantime.
He sat and put his pint glass on the bar, looking down at the wooden top and heaving a sigh from the depths of his soul.
Why were women always so complicated?
The bartender was busy at the other end of the bar, so he could enjoy the first minutes of the second half without interruptions.
He folded his arms on the bar top and tried not to think about whatever Clara might be saying back at the table.
Shaking his head, he decided he wouldn’t care. His mates knew him.
They would tease him no end.
A few minutes into the game, he noticed that the person next to him was trying to be furtive about checking him out.
Talk about no rest for the wicked.
Upon turning his head, whatever he was going to say died in his throat.
It was her.
***
Sunday, at eleven thirty, you met your friends in front of the King’s Arms.
Clara threw you a look that made it quite clear her opinion on your presence, but said nothing. You hadn’t seen your other friends in a while, so you decided that the fun to be had was more important than Clara and her pettiness. For the sake of not spoiling the day for anyone, you let that go.
You were okay with the fact that, other than the little bit of company you’d get from your friends, the match was the only thing that would save the day. That bit of foreign fun a coworker of yours had instilled in you.
You decided to let them enter the crowded pub first, noticing that it was small, with loads of charm, nothing like the opulent ones you generally saw in movies, it was open and there were no booths anywhere.
Clara waved at someone you couldn’t see, leading your group, weaving through the people to get to the table at the back, where a man you didn’t recognize, now waved - a bit awkwardly, in your humble opinion - back at her.
You could see him sitting on the back corner, looking quite uncomfortable. Poor - handsome as all heaven - man, you thought.
“Nubs, I’m gonna sit by the bar, it’s gonna be impossible to watch the match here.” You said in Nubia’s ear.
She turned to you, her eyes shone, already starstruck, and nodded.
You were sure she didn’t hear a word you said.
After you found a seat by the bar, thanking heavens for your luck, you asked yourself how it was possible that even more people were coming in. They had put tables outside, under a marquee, but the weather was dodgy, and you did not want to risk it.
You ordered a Guinness and Cottage Pie for yourself and waited for the game to begin and food to arrive.
After you ate, luck still on your side, you managed to find a place to sit at the bar.
Lady luck decided to leave you, then, cause the guy you sat next to smelled awfully like clove cigarettes and belched every five minutes.
It went on like that for about twenty five minutes, when close to the beginning of the second half, he finally left, and you thanked your lucky stars because another guy, much better smelling, sat on the vacant stool.
You didn’t mean to check him out, but he was just so large. His bicep had touched your shoulder as he sat, and he apologized without looking at you, sighing profoundly.
He was visibly distressed, and you turned your eyes back to the screen in front of you, but something stronger than yourself made your gaze go back to him a few times, until you noticed his gaze on you.
And you froze.
You’d been checking Henry Cavill out.
***
Henry swallowed hard, while staring into her eyes.
She was the first to turn her eyes away from his, shyness apparently taking over.
A small smile graced her features, making her look even more beautiful.
“Another pint, mate?” Came the bartender’s voice, breaking the spell.
“No, thank you. Just water, please.” He found himself saying, without looking at the man or thinking it through.
She smiled wider and lightly shook her own pint, almost empty.
“From Guinness to water? That’s sacrilege!” Her voice was quite sweet and endearing, but perhaps that was his very biased opinion.
He laughed at what she had said, but had a deep respect for a woman that knew how to treat a decent pint.
“Unfortunately, I’m only allowed so many calories.” He grimaced.
She nodded with a grimace of her own.
“That’s just sad. Why come to the pub at all? I mean, you could always call your friends over to your place and force them to drink protein shakes instead of drinking beer and stuffing their faces with fish and chips or bangers and mash.”
She shrugged, her face serious, as she said those things.
He gaped at her, unsure if she was joking or not.
“Oh, you look shocked!” She openly laughed at him. “I’m sorry. The girls keep telling me I have an awful sense of humor. I guess it’s true.” She said in between laughs. She laughed so hard that tears started streaming down her cheeks.
He couldn’t help but join in, the match now completely forgotten, as he contemplated that woman sitting next to him. He didn’t even know her name and she was already unforgettable.
“I’m Henry.” He said, extending a hand for her to shake, a large smile, which he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to get rid of, making his cheeks hurt.
“Oh, I know.” She said while shaking his hand, still laughing merrily. “You’re unmistakable.”
She was having a hard time reining in her laughter. Henry didn’t know if he should just keep laughing with her or if he should really leave.
The feeling of having his heart squeezed because of a woman was never a good sign.
That thought was quite sobering, and he turned to the screen in front of him, thinking of the many times he thought he’d found “the one”, only to be crushed in one way or another.
The lingering feeling of her soft touch wasn’t helping either.
“Where’d you go Superman? Is everything alright?” She said, her laughter slowly dying. “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you.”
From the corner of his eye he saw her hand hover for a few seconds in the direction of his arm, but she thought better of it and crossed her arms quickly over the bar top.
He shook his head.
“You didn’t offend me. I’m having a bit of a bad day.” He sighed.
“And drinking water, on a diet? I’m surprised you’re not miserable.” She said.
Anyone else would have told him those things in a mocking, condescending tone. She said it with empathy, only making it harder for him not to admire her.
“It’s not awful.” He paused. “Most of the time.” He smiled and looked at her.
Her smile in return did things to him.
Boy, he was doomed.
“Well, it looks like England’s not gonna make it this time. Shall we get out of this den of temptation?” She asked, arching one of her cute brows.
“Yes. On one condition.” She arched both brows and he laughed. “Tell me your name?”
He hadn’t meant to ask, but he felt so unsure around her.
She pursed her lips and tilted her head, looking up to the ceiling.
Bringing her eyes back to his, she said her name.
Never in his life had he wanted to kiss a woman that much.
***
You nearly broke into nervous giggles but controlled yourself.
He held your gaze with such intensity that you thought you might combust.
You saw surprise, admiration, and a bit of annoyance in his eyes before you couldn’t take it anymore and looked back at the tv.
You couldn’t help the small smile on your lips, as nervousness threatened to take over.
The bartender came over and the actor next to you ordered water.
You couldn’t help the wide smile now as you held back the laughter that was threatening to bubble.
You shook your glass with the remnants of your pint and couldn’t help teasing him.
“From Guinness to water? That’s sacrilege!” Your smirk was the best you could do not to laugh.
You couldn’t believe yourself. You were not the fangirling type. He was gorgeous, yes, but you should behave in a level headed manner, as you always did. That was clearly not happening.
He laughed at what you said.
“Unfortunately, I’m only allowed so many calories.” He grimaced.
You nodded with a grimace of your own. It was hard to understand. If it were you, you wouldn’t put yourself through that torture.
“That’s just sad. Why come to the pub at all? I mean, you could always call your friends over to your place and force them to drink protein shakes instead of drinking beer and stuffing their faces with fish and chips or bangers and mash.”
You shrugged, seriously contemplating how mad Arie would have been if you made her drink a protein shake. It was a sobering thought, and you hoped you would never have to live through that scenario.
He gaped at you. You snorted internally. Uh oh, verbose much? Not everyone cared for your sense of humor.
“Oh, you look shocked!” You laughed at him. “I’m sorry. The girls keep telling me I have an awful sense of humor. I guess it’s true.” You said, laughing to tears.
He joined in, and you found yourself marvelling at the sound of his laughter.
“I’m Henry.” He said, extending one hand for you to shake, drying the corner of his eye with the other.
His huge smile caused a stutter in your heart, which you chose to ignore.
“Oh, I know.” You said while shaking his hand, still laughing, now to try and hide your conflicting feelings. “You’re unmistakable.”
What was happening to you? This was supposed to be Clara’s date. She was supposed to be laughing with him, right? You weren’t sure.
From everything she had told you, he was just another guy she wanted to shag.
Your nervousness kept you laughing, but that was the only reason. The warmth and firm grip of his hand had absolutely nothing to do with it.
“Where’d you go Superman? Is everything alright? I’m sorry if I’ve offended you.” You said, with a few last laughs. Deep down inside, you didn’t want him to be hurt. As you realized that you didn’t once fear for your friend’s feelings, the laughter died completely.
You didn’t have to hide all the turmoil in your brain from him, because he was looking back at the screen, giving you time to compose your features.
You noticed he was in a different wavelength and reached out your hand for a few seconds in the direction of his arm. You thought better of it, though, and crossed your arms quickly over the bar top.
The mood now had completely shifted.
“You didn’t offend me. I’m having a bit of a bad day.” He sighed, still not looking at you.
“And drinking water, on a diet? I’m surprised you’re not miserable.” You said.
You felt for him. In his place you would have been miserable. Your friends would probably not mind inviting you to a pub at lunchtime, knowing you were on a diet, and apparently neither did his.
“It’s not awful.” He paused. “Most of the time.” He smiled and looked at you again.
You smiled in return and felt deep in your heart that you could move heaven and earth to keep that smile on his face.
“Well, it looks like England’s not gonna make it this time. Shall we get out of this den of temptation?” You asked, arching one of your brows.
“Yes. On one condition.” He said, and you arched both brows. He laughed. “Tell me your name?” He asked. The uncertainty in his voice so endearing.
Your heart was doing somersaults in your chest. To try and hide the elation you felt, you pursed your lips and tilted your head, looking up to the ceiling, pretending to deliberate.
You brought your eyes back to his and said your name.
He had a certain air as he stared into your eyes. As if he had achieved something he had been fighting for for a long time.
“Where to?” He said, with a whole new demeanor.
“The Natural History Museum is not far. What do you think?” You suggested with a smile and a shrug.
Summary:You get settled into your new life in London, while skirting the fact that Henry wants to talk to you about the future of your relationship.
Warnings:Language, mentions of alcohol consumption, unfaithful thoughts, angst, (and for whatever’s worth) a wedding ceremony.
Word count: > 9k
A/N:So after a cold, dark winter (I’m just using poetic license, here is hot as hell, raining also) I’m kinda back. This fic was one of the causes of my meltdown, and I hope that with it out of the way things go back to normal. I’m leaving my status on hiatus still, because I don’t know if this was a fluke.
I owe the ending of this fic to the always amazing @shellbilee, without whom there wouldn’t have been about 5k of these words and I would probably have given it up and given in to the bad thoughts in my head.
If you haven’t read Schnaps and Mulled Wine, the story will probably confuse you, or make you feel lost. This is a direct follow up, despite having a flashback and mentions of certain events. I strongly suggest you read it before you read this one, not only because of the events, but because I believe I’ve grown quite a bit in between the two as a writer, in my humble opinion, and the difference between them is abismal.
*The location of the wedding is based on a real place in Topanga Canyon, California. The description is partially the same as their website.
London was still as beautiful as you remembered. The way the many buildings gave way to a park here and there was your favorite thing about the city. It would never become a complete concrete jungle.
As you sat in a car, hired to take you to the place you’d call home for the next six months, you reflected once more on the words Henry had written you.
‘I want to see you and talk this through. Please.’
As if it were that easy.
You couldn’t sleep throughout the eight hours until touching down in London, because you kept re-reading his text message all through the flight, and something like butterflies fluttered uninvited in your stomach, only to be mixed with a sense of dread that made you nauseous.
Jetlag was going to be a bitch.
The driver was, mercifully, discreet, and decided not to chat with you. Or, perhaps, he took a look at the deep, dark circles under your eyes, and decided you weren’t worth ruining his day.
You tried to distract yourself during your drive into town, and got busy making lists of groceries and supplies you’d need. But the drive was too long, and there was only so much you could think of, before your mind drifted back to him.
You arrived at the house you had rented through Nate and Sofia, saw what errands you needed to run and, in less than half an hour, you were already out.
The busy morning did nothing to dispel your thoughts of him and his ultimatum. If anything, walking around the London streets only made you even more aware that he and you now breathed the same air. Thankfully you had a weekend for meal prep and studying your new client, who apparently was very particular about every single aspect of any deal, because the following week would be stressful enough without the added pressure of a certain man and his talk of feelings.
Meetings after meetings, tons of emails, piles of memos and heaps of documents to sign made most of your week. The fact that work included dinners left little time for sleep, and that made for a cranky you.
When Saturday finally came around, you were ready for a spa day and no talking shop to absolutely anyone.
You turned your cell phone off and made your way to your bathroom where you hoped to cleanse your soul from the stress and the stiffness on your shoulders.
You couldn’t help thinking of certain strong hands, and the relaxation they once provided.
As you relaxed into the hot bath water, inhaling the calming scents of lavender and geranium, you thought about him and what he might have done throughout the week, knowing you had arrived.
Did he know your address? Had he asked Nate for your number in the UK? Had he kept his distance waiting for you to make the next move? Was he interpreting your silence as a denial to his request? Had he forgotten the whole thing and let go of the idea of you?
That last thought caused your chest to constrict, with a pain you hadn’t anticipated.
It hit you out of the blue, with the intensity of a bullet from a shotgun.
No matter how difficult it was to admit that, consciously or not, throughout the years you may have harbored many fears about the idea of the two of you, living without him seemed to be no longer an option.
You worried about what life with him could be. What adapting to his reality could be. What would you have to let go to be with him? What would he have to give up to be with you?
You had foolishly teased him about it once, but the harassment from the fans had been the catalyst to several of his break ups. Would you be strong enough to deal with all of that?
***
Henry was restless.
You’d probably have arrived by that hour, and you hadn’t texted or called yet.
He reasoned that maybe you still had to sort out your mobile.
Maybe you were tired and would only call the following day.
Maybe you were already working and would only have time for these personal things the next weekend.
So many maybes danced around his mind that he felt as if he was going mad.
One thing was crystal clear: he had to see you.
To unwind and try to quiet all the turmoil in his head, he decided to run with Kal on his way to the gym, but running did nothing to quiet the voice inside his head.
He should have asked Nate for your address.
He felt too self conscious to ask when he and his wife were there. Wanker.
Besides, he didn’t want you to feel cornered by his eagerness.
Shaking his head he tried to think more positively, but was distracted by a fan stopping him for a photo. Bless her.
Two selfies of respite and a bit of small talk later, it was back to running and torturing himself.
He had tried not to fall. It didn’t used to be this bad.
You two had met occasionally through the years, and every time seeing you was like being hit by the Eurostar.
Your smile. Your perfume. Your laugh. Your eyes. Your lips.
Those bloody lips that tortured his dreams.
But he wasn’t always alone, neither were you. You just kept missing each other.
He had purposely ignored and battered down the clear signs over all these years, he had turned his back on his own feelings. Out of what? Convenience? Settling, for what someone thought would look better by his side? Creating his public image? Seeking what he thought was his heart’s desire at that time? He didn’t know anymore. That wasn’t him anymore. No longer did he let his actions be blindly guided by his heart, without thought of consequences. Nor did he let someone dictate what his life should look like. He set his own standards and lived by them.
In the past few years, life had you meeting less and less often, until that day you just showed up at his place with a bottle of tequila.
You were just as tired as he was of this constant failure to make it work. He was sure of that.
You wanted more, just like he did. And he had known that for years.
He couldn’t blame you for not staying, though. He had hurt you before. Idiot. Such stupid situations, easily avoidable.
You had been open to the possibility of forever with him all those years ago, and he had been a coward, not wanting the responsibility.
Foolishly thinking he was still too young for settling down.
But you had always known what you wanted. You knew where you wanted to work, how far you wanted to go in your career. Where you wanted to live, how much you wanted to earn by your thirty fifth birthday. He admired that about you.
Your whole life was planned ahead, as you had once told him, you just needed someone to share it with.
In hindsight, that was probably your subtle way of saying that he was the missing piece, but he had been lost inside his head as you spoke. He kept comparing his lack of planning, or even his lack of future, the fact that he was unemployed - his contract with Showtime having just expired and he was hired only once after that - to the picture you had painted back then.
Your steadfastness compared to his unpredictability.
He always felt like he would fall short of your expectations. That he didn’t fit at all, in that picture perfect world you painted for yourself.
If only he had allowed himself to try.
He huffed what was supposed to be a sigh and looked down. Kal, who was thrilled to be running out and about, looked up back at him as they stopped at a traffic light.
“Bloody hell. It’s going to be a long day, mate.”
***
Los Angeles, March 2011
The party had been going for at least two hours when you arrived.
Being held up at work was commonplace now and your friends didn’t really torment you about it anymore.
It was Sofia’s and Nate’s rehearsal dinner. Both of their families were thrilled about the union and, as an old friend of theirs and the one who had introduced them, you were chosen as the maid of honor.
Walking into the restaurant - closed for the evening to host the party-, you followed the sound of loud laughter, music and what you imagined must have been an exciting toast.
You stopped by the empty hostess stand and observed the long table set on the terrace surrounded by fairy lights and peonies of various colors, as they lowered their glasses and Sofia’s father took his seat.
There were such big smiles on their faces as they talked, that you almost felt you shouldn’t interrupt, but you knew how much they cherished your presence. They’d definitely be hurt if you just left.
And you were hungry.
Before you could reach the floor to ceiling folding glass doors leading to the terrace, however, a big pair of hands covered your eyes from behind you.
“Guess who.”
His whispered words in your right ear had immediate effect, and the skin on your arms and legs pebbled up.
You covered his hands with your own, pulling them away from your eyes.
Without saying a word, you turned around and gave him a hug. He hugged you back, quite tightly. None of you said anything.
When you broke apart there were tears in your eyes, and you were surprised to find that his eyes were watery too.
Ever since Italy you hadn’t spoken to each other.
He had visited L.A. multiple times, for not only the premieres of his movies, but for negotiations and promotional shoots, and not once had he contacted you.
Hurt as you felt and proud as you were, you believed he should be the one to approach you, and not the other way around.
“How have you been?” He asked, wiping his eyes.
You sniffled, wiping your eyes carefully not to ruin your make-up, and nodded.
“Fine, you?”
“Yeah, fine.”
You knew there was more he wanted to tell you, but it wasn’t the time or the place.
He motioned for you to walk with him and the both of you reached the table to loud cheers.
“Finally!” Nate said, gesturing for you to sit by Sofia, where there was an empty chair. Henry took his place on Nate’s other side as he was best man. “I was beginning to think we’d have a runaway maid of honor.”
Everybody at the table started laughing.
“Har, har. Work.” You needed to say no more, he was already nodding his understanding.
The dinner went on for another two hours and you were glad it was a Friday night, because you most definitely needed to sleep.
Mundane tasks made most of your Saturday, but in the late afternoon you and Sofia met at the Inn, where all of her family from Europe and most of Nate’s from across the country, were staying. You’d be joined by the bridesmaids the following day for a spa day, but that night, instead of a bachelorette party, she just wanted to stay in her hotel room, talk about old times and eat chocolates, ice cream and Doritos.
The boys would be out and about, having ‘all kinds of crazy fun’, her words, in the L.A. night.
“Why haven’t you talked to him yet?” She asked you around a mouthful of Doritos dipped in the chocolate ice cream.
“Must you do that? It’s disgusting.” You complained, but she just shrugged.
“Have been doing it my whole life, won’t stop now. Don’t change the subject!” She complained back, after swallowing.
“I’m not. There wasn’t time f…” She interrupted you by putting her dirty palm up, very close to your nose, making you throw your head back a little.
“Don’t even start. If you really wanted to, you would have. There was time when my cousin was telling the ski story, there was time when Nate was talking about the bonus he got from his boss, there was time when I was telling people about the venue that you booked. There was plenty of time.” She counted all of these instances in her fingers, full of Dorito powder and after she finished, started licking them clean.
“Fine!” You acquiesced with a grumble. “But he could have too!”
“What are you? 8?” She asked with a scowl.
You refused to reply to that.
“Sweetie, it was way too long ago, and you guys keep tiptoeing around each other. And that’s me being generous. He was high on pain meds back then, and even if he wasn’t…” She trailed off and you noticed she was trying to spare you from something.
“What do you mean, if he wasn’t high?” You sounded harsh, even to yourself.
“This should be between the two of you, but you are being such idiots about it that I’ve had it!” She huffed and ate a particularly large spoonful of ice cream.
You waited for her to finish, eating some ice cream yourself.
“Well, he may not have been high.” She said when she finished. “He had been taking Tylenol only, and putting up with the extra pain, exactly because he didn’t want to get high. He only asked for the stronger meds after you left his room that night.”
The look on her face was a mixture of apologetic and sad.
You didn’t know what to say.
“So… why…?” You breathed the words, not really able to find your voice.
“That is something you two must settle. By talking. To each other.” She gave you a pointed look and used her spoon to punctuate every sentence as she spoke.
You were silent after that. You kept trying to find the hidden meaning behind her words and remembering that night. You knew you couldn’t trust your memory, hurt by it as you were, so it merely led you to frustration and a fitful night of sleep.
The morning of the wedding started with the gorgeous California sun gracing you with it’s lovely glow.
The bride, despite all of the carbs consumed the night before, was glowing and couldn’t stop smiling. When asked about her happy mood, Sofia simply said she was following this diet some celebrity recommended before her million dollar union.
You looked at her as she said that, shaking your head and unable to hide your knowing grin.
You spent the day in the spa with all of her cousins, aunts and mom, and future sisters, aunts, cousins and nieces in-law, where you got ready. Time seemed to zoom by, and when you least expected it was already time to get the bride into the Rolls Royce with her mom and dad. You’d follow in a limo with the bridesmaids to the venue in Topanga.
The men had gotten ready at the hotel and would meet you at the venue which was located by a creek in the canyon.
There, on the left side, as you entered, there was a large circular room, with tables all around it. In its center lay a beautiful, tall, garden fountain, with plenty of space around it for dancing. On the other side was the huge tent where the ceremony would take place and an elevated space, with its own waterfall, where the musicians would be. On the far end, there was another patio, with a real waterfall coming down the hillside under the trees, surrounded by banks of green foliage.
When you saw that everything was perfectly arranged as planned you breathed in and let out a deep sigh of contentment.
It was your friends’ happiest day and nothing would ruin it.
***
The moment you entered the tent, Henry felt as if he was the one getting married. His heartbeat went into overdrive and his palms started sweating. He didn’t notice the bridesmaids coming in before you, but when the doors opened, there was a magnetic pull that drew his eyes towards you.
You looked stunning. There were flowers in your hair, which you wore loose, and your dress, of a blue satin, opened in a v that went all the way down to your stomach.
You smiled at him as you approached the altar. Before he could do the same, you had turned your smile to the very nervous Nate next to him, and given a reassuring thumbs up. You took your place and looked at the doors where everybody else’s attention had also turned to.
The wedding march began to play for Sofia and her father to enter. Sofia also looked good, but somehow, every other woman paled in comparison to you.
He zoned out as the officiant spoke the same old words he had heard so many times. He wondered when it would be his turn, and if then, he would finally pay attention.
His thoughts immediately turned to you. He knew that you couldn’t hold a smile for long, but you had a very peaceful expression, like you’d just finished a job and it had been well done.
You looked happy.
He wondered if being away from him had affected that.
Since that kiss, and those stupid words, he had deeply considered the two of you.
He cherished your friendship, and until that disastrous day you two had had a relationship that was quite like that of a brother and sister.
Nothing had prepared him to the proximity of the two of you that day, to the smell of your hair, the color of your eyes - which he’d never seen so up close or even paid that much attention to. The heat of your breath on his lips, or the taste of your tears as his tongue slid past your lips.
He had pretended to sleep at first, and if it weren’t for the fact that his heart had hammered so loud in his chest, and the thought that you could have heard it, he’d keep pretending and let you leave without saying goodbye to you.
He’d blamed himself for that accident on the ski slope, even though he got the worst of it, his board was the one tangling with yours. He miscalculated his descent and got too close. And when he thought of you falling face first on the snow, and how much worse it could have been… he remembered it so vividly, suffering now almost as much as he did then, he had to shake his head slightly to dispel the thought.
But that night, as you ran your nails over his stubble, he just had to know why his reaction had been so visceral. Why he’d felt as if a part of his heart had been ripped from his chest, and he could only breathe again after he had heard you groan in pain.
So he kissed you. And it felt really good. And it confused him.
What would happen to the two of you? Why did you kiss him back? Did you feel anything for him? Had you felt that way for long? Was it just an attraction thing? Should he even entertain the idea of friends with benefits? How would you feel about that? And also about him being in Europe for shooting most of the time? Would a long distance relationship be okay with you? With him? Did he even want to be in a relationship? Of course he did! But, with you?!?!
You were his best friend.
If he messed things up, he’d lose you.
So he did the only thing he knew he did best. He pretended.
He couldn’t think of anything clever enough to convince you that the amazing kiss you’d just shared meant very little to him. So he blamed it on the meds and his famed love for alcohol.
Daft. So bloody daft.
It could have been the beginning of something great. It could have been nothing.
If he hadn’t been so weak, he would have found out.
Months later, when Nate asked what was wrong between the two of you for the umpteenth time, he’d confess to the cowardice.
Nate reassured him that he shouldn’t talk about his insecurities that way, and that if he had opened up and talked to you, like friends do, you both would be on speaking terms. All would be better in the world.
So easy for him to say. The cute redhead he had met on that trip would become the love of his life.
Your hawk-like look that sees through him every time would make him stumble over his words. He’d end up messing up the situation further and you’d hate his guts to the fifth generation.
Then there was his pride.
You had kissed him back. You could have called him on his bullshit like you always did.
The hurt he saw on your face and the outrage he’d heard on your voice were warring for his perception, and he latched onto the venom on your words as you spat them at him. You were obviously not used to that kind of reaction. But he couldn’t believe that you would try to verbally abuse him.
As every word you said, laced with sarcasm and condescendence, felt like a slap on his already wounded cheeks, he let go of his perceived duty as a gentleman and hated you outright.
That hate simmered to hurt in the following months, and his pride wouldn’t allow him to call or visit. So he went on with his life, dated other women, but that kiss was never really completely gone from his thoughts.
Seeing you breathing deeply, as you watched the couple exchange their vows, he realized that you brought him joy. He didn’t really know why, but something about the rise and fall of your chest as the air moved in and out, not because you were exasperated, but in admiration or whatever you happened to be feeling at that moment, made him happy.
You looked so beautiful.
Right then, he realized that something was very wrong.
He couldn’t stop thinking about you and it was getting harder and harder to hide or deny that there had always been much more there than pure friendship and camaraderie.
He also couldn’t help feeling deeply guilty about the woman he called his girlfriend. The relationship hadn’t been going well for some time now, and he decided to focus on his career instead of on her.
He kept beating himself up about that decision. The thought that he may be losing the opportunity to start a family anytime soon if he didn’t go back to the UK, scared and haunted him.
But you and Ellen were polar opposites. You were so sure of yourself, decided to take your career further, and doing so without depending on anyone’s help. There were no rich or famous family members to rescue you, you were on your own and carved your path.
Right then, Nate looked at him questioningly, and he came back to the wedding, reluctantly taking his eyes off of you and searching his pockets for the rings.
After handing them to Nate and earning a smile from you, he paid attention to the end of the ceremony.
***
Throughout lunch you couldn’t really sit down, coordinating the party, so that everything would be as perfect as you had planned. The only time you sat down was when it was your turn to make a speech after Sofia’s father.
You enjoyed some respite during the remaining speeches and took the opportunity to eat.
After that it was time for the couple’s first dance, and consequently, your dance with Henry.
It was not an exaggeration to say that you had been dreading it.
He hadn’t been part of any of the dancing rehearsals, and not everyone can waltz.
After watching Nate and Sofia dance the first half of Chopin’s Nocturne no. 2, and then be accompanied by their parents in the second half, Henry extended his hand to you and led you to the patio around the fountain to join them.
The band began to play Liszt’s La Campanella, and you realized that your fears were unnecessary.
He led you gracefully in circles around the patio, while looking into your eyes.
You blamed your racing heart on the exertion.
The music ended, and while the bridesmaids and groomsmen that had joined you during the dance were clapping, they hid you from the view of the guests around.
Henry leaned closer to you, while still holding you.
“I want to talk to you.” He whispered in your ear.
A flashback to the kiss you shared made you take a step back and forced him to let his hands go from where they held you at your waist.
“Later.” You spoke normally, then turned your back and went in the direction of the toilets.
Later, however, seemed never to make itself available, as mishaps kept holding you from rejoining the party, the worst of them being a hurricane in the Bahamas, where the married couple would be spending their honeymoon.
Four and a half hours, and a ton of phone calls later, they were on their way to Cinque Terre.
You shook your head at the fact that when you told them what had happened, they simply nodded their heads and were happy that they wouldn’t be spending their honeymoon in California. Sofia even rejoiced that she’d be speaking Italian and they wouldn’t eat anything that could possibly ruin their fun.
They hugged you tightly and got into the Rolls Royce, which the groomsmen had decorated with the beer cans they had consumed during the bachelor party the night before.
When she heard the loud noise of the dozens of cans being dragged by the car, you could see Sofia slapping Nate’s arm from the rear window.
Most guests left then, and only a dozen friends of Nate’s remained, you and Henry among them.
There was finally a chance for you to sit down and eat a piece of the damned cake you’d chosen for Sofia, because her family arrived the same day she had scheduled the tasting.
Before you could sit down and take your shoes off, as you had intended when you headed for the table, Henry held your arm and pulled you in a semicircle, to dance with him.
You groaned, but allowed him to lead you, putting your other hand on his bicep as his other hand slipped over your waist to stop at your lower back.
The v of your dress went all the way down your back as well, and that meant that his thumb grazed your bare skin as he tapped it to the music.
He pulled you closer and leaned his cheek on your head, humming the melody of the song that you, unfortunately, didn’t know.
After that song ended, he kissed your forehead, surprising you, and pulled away a little to look into your eyes.
“I’m glad we finally have time to talk.“
The musicians started packing up as you made your way to the main table. He did not let go of your hand.
He sat by your side after you got your cake, and watched as the other remaining guests lamented the band leaving, and gathered their things to leave.
You bit into the rich, decadent chocolate and diplomat cream cake and moaned.
Henry turned to you then and laughed.
"That good, huh?” He said and grinned.
“Mhmm.” Was all you could muster.
“Give me your feet.” He said, looking at you with kind eyes.
“Hm?” You were still enjoying the last bits of chocolate flakes melting on your tongue, and used your facial expression to show your confusion.
“Just do as you’re told, for once. Take off the bloody shoes and give me your feet.” He had a smile on his face so all exasperation he could have put into his words was lost as he extended his hands for your feet.
You did as you were told and lifted your feet to his lap.
“You can keep eating, I’m not going to tickle them.” He was still smiling as his hands caressed the top of your left foot and started massaging the sole.
You watched for a while as he concentrated on the task, and couldn’t help the heat building inside you at his touch.
You went back to eating, making sure you paid attention to your mouth to avoid choking.
His thumb applied pressure to the ball of your foot and you stifled another moan, this time of pain.
He did see you wince, though, and applied less pressure.
“I’m sorry.” He said with a grimace.
It felt like he meant something other than your foot.
“I guess I’m sorry, too.” You said, looking at the last piece on the fork.
The both of you said nothing else as he massaged your other foot.
The sound of the waterfalls reverberating in the canyon, and the birds on the long boughs of the oaks and sycamores that surrounded you, were the only things breaking the silence. You could tell the sun was starting its descent, and the air was getting chillier.
When he was done he bent and put your shoes back on your feet. His hand on your ankles only adding to the feeling that you wanted it to continue touching you in a torturing ascent.
“Shall we go?” He said, lifting his eyes only, and looking at you from under his lashes.
You didn’t trust your voice and only nodded.
He got up first and extended his hand to you, entwining his fingers with yours when you got up.
There was very little talking on the drive back to the hotel. He got his key and walked you to your room where you’d only get your things. You were eager to go back home.
When you told him that you saw him deflate.
“I thought we’d have more time… I’m leaving L.A. on Tuesday. Do you think I could crash at your place?”
It was hard to hide your shock.
***
Henry could see the impact his words had clear on your face. He didn’t know if it was because the request was truly surprising or because you couldn’t believe he’d have the balls to ask you such a thing.
He wanted to go back in time.
Before the blasted kiss you wouldn’t have thought twice about it. He had always been welcome to stay over at your house. Now, he wasn’t so sure. And he hated it.
You shook your head. His heart sagged.
“Of course you can! The spare room is always yours, we have discussed this already. Go grab your stuff. I’ll meet you in the lobby in 20, ok?”
It took him a few seconds to process your words, but then he nodded and went to his room, thankfully on the same floor, and cleared his things.
He arrived in the lobby first, and after taking a photo with a fan, which he still found a bit strange, he went to the adjoining lounge and sat to wait for you.
The newspapers and magazines in front of him in the faux antique coffee table held nothing that could hold his attention for more than five seconds. He gave up trying to read the day’s news and whipped his head from the stairs to the lifts, watching for any signs of you.
After three agonizing minutes he thought would never end, you exited the lift, pulling a small suitcase.
You saw him, waved and pointed to the reception.
You still had to check out, so, he came close to you, sliding his hand over your lower back and let it rest there while he spoke into your ear in a whisper.
“I’m gonna get your car, is that okay?”
You turned and looked him in the eye for a few seconds, then nodded, handing him the keys.
He didn’t know if he was imagining things, but you seemed a little flustered. He walked out of the hotel toward your car, smiling to himself as he thought of being able to make you feel like that.
He wondered at just how flustered you could get, and what exactly he’d do with you in that situation.
A flashback to that kiss invaded his thoughts. He definitely wanted a do over. This time he wouldn’t mess things up. This time he’d make it count, make it unforgettable. This time…
His thoughts were interrupted by his mobile ringing with that awfully shrill ringtone Ellen had chosen.
Ellen.
Shit.
“Hello love, what’s up?”
“How much longer till you’re back? We haven’t seen each other in eons! I miss you!” She demanded, not wasting time with polite frivolities.
“I’m fine, too. Thank you so much for asking. I’ll be back when my business here is done. It isn’t yet. You’ll have to have a little more patience…” He said eyeing the entrance of the hotel and seeing you coming out of it.
It was impossible to stop the immediate comparison between you and the woman who had just rudely interrupted him. He turned away from the car and paced along the empty spaces in the car park.
“Patience? All I have is patience! We haven’t seen each other in over a month! How much longer are you going to stay in America and hope that we stay together?” She huffed against the receiver of her phone and he heard her take a deep breath. “You pay attention Henry, you’ll do well to remember that you’re lucky I decided to date you in the first place. Don’t throw these two years away!”
“Not something I’m likely to do, love. I miss you. But this moment in my career is pivotal, and I will not apologize for advancing it. Yours being a solid one, I understand this may be difficult for you to accept.”
He sighed and turned back towards the car where you waited.
Oh, right, he had the keys.
He unlocked the car from where he was and gave you an apologetic grimace.
You smiled back at him, put your luggage and his in the boot and got in.
“I just miss you a lot, that’s all. I want you here with me. The horses miss you too, you know?” He smiled at her attempt at lightening the mood.
“Well, I’ll be back when I can, okay? Promise that we’ll ride for hours when I do.” He said, as he rounded the car going to the driver’s side.
“Oh, I’ll ride alright. Love you!” With those words, and leaving him with what he was pretty sure was a deep blush, she hung up.
He waited for his face to cool down a little, breathing deeply, before he opened the door.
“You good if I drive?” He asked and cleared his throat, feeling a bit foolish, because you were already on the passenger seat.
“Yep.” Was all you replied.
He noticed, as he put the car in drive, that something had changed since your exchange in the lobby.
The ride was quiet. You’d generally put music on, if you were ever in a car together, but this time it was different. All of the six times he looked at you during the forty eight minutes it took to get from Topanga to your place, because of the fucking L.A. traffic, you stared out the window, not turning once. He thought you had fallen asleep, but when they were close to your house, you turned to the backseat to rummage through your purse, and turned back with the keys to the gate.
Your face held a strange expression, like you had fought hard for something but had been defeated in the end.
He didn’t know what to do or say so he kept quiet.
He took care of the luggage while you opened the door.
“Well, you know the place. Make yourself at home. I’m gonna take a shower. There’s food in the fridge, and if you feel like anything else, numbers are on the wall by the sink.” You said without looking at him, going through your two-day accumulated mail, then turned and, dragging your suitcase, disappeared down the hallway.
He was left alone in your open floor living area, certain that you had heard some of his phone call, and wondering what he should do about it, and if he should do anything at all.
***
You needed that shower.
You needed the hot water on your shoulders and feet to wash some of the tiredness away.
You needed to wash the sweat and grime of being up and down solving problems.
Most of all, you needed the shower to hide the noise of your sobbing, and to wash away the tears.
How could you have been so foolish? If he had broken up with her, the fan sites and tabloids that now had started to mention his name more and more often, would have brought it up.
It hurt to hear that they’d ride for hours when he went back. Whatever the hell that meant.
And it hurt even more to realize that after all this fucking time, you had caught feelings, like a damned disease, a cancer that lay dormant all this time and now you couldn’t get rid of, inoperable as it was.
You cried even harder as you thought back about all of the words you had exchanged since meeting again in the restaurant.
What the hell did he want to talk about? What was there to discuss?
He was in a happy relationship, with a perfect, famous girlfriend. Sporty too. What the hell were you thinking? You couldn’t compete.
It dawned on you, then, that he probably wanted to talk to you about how misguided that kiss had been, how ridiculous the thought of you two being more than friends was.
You didn’t want to get out of the bathroom. That conversation wouldn’t bring you anything other than humiliation and brutal pain.
So you didn’t.
You blow-dried your hair, and went to bed, leaving him to fend for himself out there.
You cried silently after that, tears that you just couldn’t hold back, hating him, a little, for being so nice. For massaging your feet. For holding your hand. For caressing your back with his thumb during the dance. Both times you danced.
You wished he was an asshole. Why couldn’t he be a normal guy and just be awful, cracking crude jokes at your expense or something?
You felt hungry around eleven in the evening, and thanked heavens that you kept a stash of goodies in your nightstand. You didn’t even need to turn the lights on.
He knocked on your door once when you had your hand deep in the bag, looking for the last pretzel.
You stopped moving, and saw the shadow of his feet through the gap under the door.
He spent a while standing there, and his forehead must have hit the door from the thudyou heard.
You were surprised by how deep you sighed after he left.
All the lights were out after that and you fell into a fitful sleep, dreaming of him repeatedly, and shrieking when your alarm went off at 5:30 that Monday morning.
You sat on your bed and groaned, only to shriek again when his fist hammered on the door.
“Hey, you okay? Open up!” His booming demand left no room for discussion and you hurried to open the door.
“Hi! Sorry, I must have startled you.” You rubbed your eyes and yawned as he stood speechless in front of you.
“That’s an understatement. Uh, are you okay?” You didn’t miss the way his eyes took in your body from head to toe and back to your head again, wearing only an over sized tee shirt saying ‘the deeper you go, the better it feels’, with a picture of a scuba diver.
“Yeah, had a mini heart attack because of my alarm. I’m sorry I woke you up.” You said, trying not to smile at his annoyed face. And finally, your brain connected with the rest of your body and it was your turn to take in his shirtless state. At the sight of his sweatpants, hanging dangerously low on his waist, you swallowed hard and blinked a few times.
“Should I make breakfast?” He asked, after clearing his throat.
You snapped your eyes away from his happy trail, back to his, and slowly nodded.
He smirked at you and turned towards the kitchen, leaving you to gather your scrambled thoughts and hurry to get ready for work.
In thirty minutes you took an Advil to ease the headache from all that crying, got dressed, had your make up on, and your hair in a decent state for a Monday. You headed to the kitchen, led by the amazing smell of bacon.
“I need you here more often. Generally I leave and have a bite at work.” You said, as you sat and took a healthy swig of the coffee he had made.
“That’s unhealthy, and you know it! You’ll end up in the bloody statistics for heart disease, or cancer. Take care of yourself, will you?” He ended his speech in front of you, putting the spatula he had been waving down.
He was still under dressed. Your eyes widened as he spoke all those things to you, and you couldn’t help but remember yesterday’s meltdown at the mention of diseases. You looked at him with sadness in your expression for a while, and was grateful that he had to turn to the sink to find a cloth to clean all the mess he had made by waving the spatula.
“I’ll do my best.” You said, but you couldn’t help the bitterness inside you, and added, “Dad.”
He whipped his head around at that, looking outraged.
“What the fuck did you just call me?” He hissed.
You shrunk inside, but would die before showing weakness.
“Dad! I called you dad! I don’t need a lecture from you. Not all of us have amazing breaks in our careers that earn us millions all of a sudden!” You didn’t yell, but might as well have. His eyes scanned your face as if he had never seen you before.
“Wow!” He said, looking down.
You didn’t know what to say. You were angry, and you were lashing out. You knew you had crossed a line, but the hurt you felt kept you from backtracking and apologizing as you normally would.
“You think it’s easy. You think my life has been a picnic. That I haven’t… I don’t know, really. What the fuck do you think? Spit it out! This conversation is long overdue!”
His words hit you as if he were slapping you across the face.
Yes, you two needed to talk, but not when tensions were so high.
“I’ll be late for work. We’ll talk tonight.” You said, putting the mug you had been holding down and getting up from the chair.
“I’m not staying.” He said simply, without looking at you. He turned to the stove to stop the bacon from burning. “It’s not right. I’ve arranged last night to fly this afternoon to New York.”
“You’re not going back home?” You asked, surprised after the phone call he got the day before.
“Right now is not a good time for me to be in the UK. I’m flying back and forth between New York and Los Angeles a lot.” He scratched his forehead with his thumb and frowned. “All of a sudden you care?”
Again, the hurt and anger in his words and tone hit you like another slap in the face.
“I’ve always cared.” Your voice, quite small as you tried not to cry, cracked a little in the end. “Henry…”
“Yes. I know.” He said, understanding your apology without the need for words. “ Me too.”
He cleared his throat then.
“Have a nice day at work.”
“Have a nice flight.”
You caught everything you needed and turned to face him.
“I hope you’re happy Henry, I really do.” You moved closer to him then, and hugged him tight around the waist, as you would when everything was okay. “I wish you loads of success. Be the best Superman there ever was!”
“Blimey, no pressure, huh?” You felt him smile against your hair.
He held you tight, and the feeling of goodbye was making your eyes sting. You couldn’t help thinking that something had come to an end.
“You take care of yourself, you hear me?” He said sternly.
“Uh-huh.” Was all you could manage.
“Eat right. Find a nice bloke, do not work too much and please be happy.”
You could swear you felt something hit your hair, something wet.
“Yeah, my life is going perfectly according to plan, you know?” Your voice broke in the end, and you were fighting back the tears with all your might. “I just need the right guy to share it with.”
You broke apart then, neither of you looking at each other, both sniffling quite a lot.
“Well, gotta go!” You said looking at the floor and darted for the door.
“Have a great one!” You heard when you were opening your car door.
You thanked heavens for the L.A. traffic for the first time in your life, because you cried all the tears you had inside you.
By the time you arrived at work, only your bloodshot eyes were a witness to it, and most people congratulated you for “letting it all out” at the wedding.
True to his word Henry wasn’t there anymore when you went back home.
Months later, you texted him, once, congratulating him on his birthday and his engagement.
You heard the news that he had broken up with her a month after that.
He didn’t get in touch with you at all.
You decided to leave him be.
*******
London, 2019
The second week of meetings was slightly better than the first. There was pretty much the same amount of work but you had gotten used to the routine and nothing caught you off guard anymore.
You hadn’t heard from Henry at all and were afraid that you had missed your chance by waiting for him to get in touch with you first.
Saturday nights were quiet affairs at your place and you were just fine with that. It was exhausting to work that much and still have to have the energy to dance all night, or whatever your client came up with for weekend entertainment. If you were honest, you just didn’t want to spend your weekend with the same people you already spent the entire week with.
You were sitting in your living room, engrossed in the last chapters of your book and sipping on ginger tea, when the doorbell ringing gave you a start.
“Fuck me! Who the hell…” you whispered to yourself as you walked towards the door, grateful that the leggings and sweater you were wearing were decent enough to get the door.
You were in the foyer when it rang again.
“Yeah, yeah! What?” You said loudly when you opened the door, not hiding the scowl on your face.
“Good evening! I’m so sorry to disturb you madam, but the postman left some letters and a parcel for you at my place. I’m Philip, I live next door.”
He smiled at you throughout his little speech and extended his hand to shake yours.
You were slightly embarrassed at how rude you were. Shaking his hand you introduced yourself.
“That’s very kind of you, to hold onto these for me. Thank you so much!”
You put all the correspondence he handed you on the little table by the door, and took a step back to close it.
“Uh, I was wondering if you’d like to come over for a drink?” He asked, but upon seeing your smile waver, his face fell and he added, “Sometime?”
“Uh, sure.” Was all you could say.
You didn’t really want to say no, cause he was cute and Henry was a permanent question mark in the back of your head.
“Maybe some other time?” You added.
“I’d love that.” He said with a smile that rivaled Alice’s Cheshire cat. “You have a good night.”
He waved and walked sideways towards the steps, never taking his eyes off of you.
“You too.” You said, observing the bizarre scene and closing the door slowly.
Shaking your head, you made your way back to the couch where your book awaited.
Taking a healthy swig of the tea, you continued reading, but didn’t make it further than one page when the doorbell rang once more.
“Oh, fucking hell. Can’t get a peaceful evening in this country. Can’t the Brits stay at their friggin’ homes?” You went all the way to the door muttering to yourself.
“Did you forget a letter Philip? Oh!” You started complaining as you opened the door but couldn’t help the gasp when you saw who was there.
“Does your postman deliver at this hour? Naughty!” With a wink and a smile, Henry stood there.
“Are you going to leave me standing here with my hands full, or are you going to let me in?” He said, raising one of his brows and his arms, to show you the things he was holding.
You let out a breath you didn’t even realize you had been holding and stepped aside for him to enter.
“Nice place.” He murmured when he got to the living room, then turned to face you and lifting his hands again, waved their contents slightly.
“These need water. And this needs chilling.” He handed you a bouquet of roses, in red, orange, peach and white.
You gestured with your head for him to follow you into the kitchen and he put the bottle of champagne in the fridge.
“These are lovely. Thank you. While that chills, would you like some coffee, tea?” You asked, while opening every cabinet door until you found a vase and silently thanked Sofia.
“Why not some tea?” He suggested.
“I’ve only got ginger, chamomile and fennel. Which one?” You watched as he made a face.
“A glass of water will do just fine, then.” He said with a grimace.
You chuckled as you finished arranging the flowers in the vase, filled a glass with water and handed it to him.
You two walked back to your living room and sat down facing each other.
“What’s the Krug for?” You asked. The familiar bottle had intrigued you since he showed up.
“Housewarming gift. And, since I’m here, celebration.” He explained, with a smirk.
“Ha, ha. I’ve been living here for two weeks already. The house is toasty warm.” You countered, but your smile fell when you saw the look on his face.
He sat forward a little, on the edge of the armchair, rested his elbows on his knees, and his head in his hands, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and finally dropping the facade.
“I’ve been torturing myself for these past two weeks.” He spoke to his shoes. “When you didn’t reach out, despite having everything settled, - cause I called Nate and he told me you had - I kept wondering why, and…” He looked up then. The pain etched in his features broke your heart and filled you with guilt.
“Henry, I…” You were at a loss for words. What a great moment for it. “I’m sorry.” You didn’t trust yourself to say any more.
“I had a lot of time to think about us.” He said and sniffled. “We apologize a lot.”
You nodded and tucked your legs under you, but didn’t say anything.
“We haven’t been friends for a while, have we? I mean, not like before.”
You only shook your head.
He stood then, and in two seconds, he was kneeling in front of you on the couch.
“What have we become? Are we anything at all to each other anymore?” He whispered, looking right into your eyes.
“Henry… I don’t know.” You confessed.
You didn’t know if you wanted to cry, or tell him to leave, or kiss him.
“Well, we’re both wasting life, running round in circles.” He said quietly, and took both of your hands in his. “As you said, last time you came around, we’re both tired, we both want forever.”
He came closer, leaning on his elbows and placing a kiss on your knuckles.
“Let’s try to be each other’s forever.” He punctuated his sentence by arching a brow.
His lips went back and forth on your knuckles as you deliberated.
Having him there, it was easy to picture quiet nights reading, or sporadic visits to the Royal Albert hall. Walks with Kal in the nearby parks, and best of all, coming home at night to those lips, if he were there.
Yes, there would always be the times when he was away, when photographers, or even his own fans would cross the line of what was acceptable, but whatever happened, you could face it together.
You let out a breath and closed your eyes, opening them a moment later to find Henry still looking up at you, eyes full of adoration and hope.
You couldn’t help the small involuntary smile that grew on your face as you looked back at him, your heart thumping in your chest.
You denied it for so long, tried to push him out of your thoughts. Deep down you knew though, he’d never left, there was always a part of you that would forever be his.
***
Henry could have cut the tension with a knife.
If you said no to his proposal, to him, then it was all over.
“Go and get the Krug.” You whispered gently, lifting one hand to cup his cheek tenderly, “We’re celebrating”.
His eyes widened and his lips stretched into a grin, his own heart thumping with your unspoken answer.
He wasted no time after that, holding you tight by the waist, standing up and kissing you so abruptly that you couldn’t help but let out a moan.
Summary:Napoleon loves it when you wear lipstick. He especially loves seeing the color kissed all over his body.
Pairing:Napoleon Solo x Female OFC (no body type specifically described, not named.)
Word Count: 2.3k
Warnings:18+ ONLY, smut, swearing, oral sex (m receiving), light edging, control, lipstick kink, lots of teasing, bodily fluids, slight sub behavior if you squint.
Author’s Note: This work is for 18+ only, no minors tolerated. You consume content at your own risk. This story has been seriously consuming my every thought the last several days… who knew I could write so many words about this topic.. as always, thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy!
*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, or claiming any ideas or parts as your own.
Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed!
Burgundy Kisses
Always the adventurous type, especially when it involved the bedroom, Napoleon embraced his deepest desires with great fervency. A deliciously attentive lover, if not sometimes overwhelming, Napoleon made it his life’s mission to treasure every inch of his woman’s skin, carrying her to heights of pleasure she’d only ever experienced at his hands.
He knew that he was smooth and that he was a man of many talents. He used them to his advantage to make his lady swoon. She wasn’t a woman who was easily hypnotized, but she had a specific weakness for Leon. She gave in to his charms with little reluctance and had come to appreciate the doting and luxurious attention that Leon gave to her, even if it wasn’t her first nature to do so; he’d trained her well.
Summary:You’re having one of those days again where you want to hide from the world, but Sy knows just what you need to make you feel loved.
Pairing: Captain Syverson x Female Reader
Word Count: Umm. Waaaaay too long. 2.7K
Warnings: swearing, mentions of anxiety, angst, lots of fluffy warm Syverson, and heavy flirting.
Author’s Note: Trying a new venture… after enjoying so many people’s works here on Tumblr and lurking forever, I thought it was time to share the scenes that fill my own daydreams. What better way to start than with yummy fluffy Syverson? (Hint, there’s no better way.) Hope you enjoy!
Edited by myself, sorry not sorry for the errors.
*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, or claiming any ideas or parts as your own.
Please like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed!
•••••
Hoodie Love
Driving home from your hellacious day, your hands gripped the wheel and you leaned your head back on your headrest, stretching your arms. You couldn’t wait to get home and wash off the events of the day. Work was a nightmare. Again.
“What a fucking day.” You sighed heavily. Heavy thoughts clouded your mind and a subtle anxiety crept in. Please let me get home. A shake erupted in your left leg while you waited for a light to turn green.
Sadness and guilt washed over you. Tears bubbles in your eyes. The last thing you wanted was to cancel your evening with Sy.
@scorpiobitch95 firstly apologies for not reading your fantastic stories soon. Secondly, OMG I think I might be in Sy cuteness overload . Your version of the Captain is just the sweetest, charming man. The hoodies are sacred line made me May I borrow him please (& the hoodies) please?
Oh babe, thank you for this! (Sorry I’ve been awol… haven’t had much brain space for tumblr lately..)
