#Audrey’s closet | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

scuderiahoney · 4 months

Text

Empty Space

Max Verstappen x reader // Strawberry Wine Pt. III

Strawberry Wine Series // Masterlist

Part Three of Strawberry Wine

Summary: Max wakes up alone. He finds himself wishing the night before had been a bad dream. Title from Strawberry Wine by Noah Kahan Word Count: 6.1k

Warnings: alcohol/intoxication, sexually suggestive content, ANGST (happy ending I swear)

Max sits on the edge of the bed and stares at the wall. The room is shockingly empty. Just last night, you were in bed next to him. When he’d closed his eyes, he’d pretended everything was alright. He’d listened to the sound of your slow, even breaths and pretended you were asleep, not laying awake just like he was. Eventually, between that and the utter exhaustion of the day, he’d fallen asleep.

He just hadn’t expected to wake up alone.

Sure, you’d tried to leave the night before. Tried to go stay with your friend, to give him space. We need space, I think. But he’d talked you into staying, insisting it was your home, too, and that you were being ridiculous. He’d hoped in the morning things would be okay, that clearer heads would prevail. Or that it would all turn out to be some horrible dream. Now the sheets are cold and the bed is empty, and your tears stain the pillowcase.

Your stuff is still there, at least most of it, which is a mild comfort. He sees your clothes in the closet, your slippers near the door where he always trips over them, your jewelry box on the dresser. He wonders if the wine cork is still in the drawer. God, he hopes it is. But you’re gone. Your phone charger, always left plugged in on the nightstand, is missing. Your favorite jacket, the one that hangs on the back of the bedroom door, is gone. The sheets are cold. The bed is empty.

He’s not sure what went wrong. Not sure how to fix this, or if he even can. He just knows it feels like he’s being torn apart at the seams. He stares at the wall and thinks. He thinks of you on the balcony, your head on his shoulder. The two of you on the streets of Monaco, plastic cups full of strawberry wine. He thinks of winning a race and you, leaning over the barricade to hug him, the smell of your perfume washing over him like a blanket. He thinks of the tray of corks in his bedside drawer, of the little square box hidden behind them, a question and a promise rolled up into one piece of jewelry.

He thinks of all of this, and then he lays back down in bed and cries himself to sleep.

The sheets still smell like you. He wonders, distantly, how long it will take for that to fade.

…..

You sit on your friend Audrey’s couch with a massive headache and a shake in your hands that won’t go away. You try to convince yourself it’s the caffeine- the espresso from the cafe on the way here, the cup of coffee you’ve had since you showed up. It’s not the regret, the awful feeling you’ve made a mistake that’s making you shaky. It’s the coffee.

Audrey is moving around in the kitchen. She hasn’t said a word since you sat down and admitted it.

I asked him for a break, you’d said.

She’d poured a cup of coffee and set it down in front of you. You drank it black, thinking of how Max always knows how you take your coffee and always makes it perfectly. Then she disappeared into the kitchen. You know she’s not happy with you. She’s the only one you’ve confided in about this- all your other friends were Max’s friends first, but Audrey is yours. You’ve taken absolutely none of her advice, which is what got you to this point.

“What did you tell him?” She finally asks.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Does it matter?”

“Did you lie?” She asks.

She must take your silence for the answer that it is- yes. She comes back into the living room and leans against the back of the armchair, staring at you. You bury your face in your hands.

“I told him I needed space,” you say. “That… I was feeling uncertain about us and I needed to be on my own for a bit.”

She sighs heavily. “So you lied.”

“I’m trying to protect him,” you mutter.

“Right. By breaking his heart.” She retorts.

“Audrey,” you snap, curling further in on yourself. “Please.”

She sighs again. She does that, when she’s not sure what else to say. You don’t think there’s anything she could say to make it better. Instead, she walks over to the couch and sits down next to you. You lean into her shoulder and let the sobs take over.

…..

Two weeks go by before you see Max again. It’s easy to avoid him. He’s always gone anyways. You’re strategic about going and getting stuff from your shared apartment. You know his schedule, know when he’ll be in town. His calendar is still shared with you, the one his assistant keeps updated with his every move.

Which is why, when you’re standing in your bedroom packing up more clothes and you hear the front door open, you know he’s caught on. He must know you’ve been using the calendar. The one that says he’s in Milton Keynes for two more days. It's either that, or someone’s broken in. You hear him stumble over your shoes and curse under his breath and you know his voice. It makes you feel sick to your stomach.

You step into the living room and come face to face with him. He’s standing across the room, smiling softly at you. There’s a paper bag in his hand from his favorite Italian place. In his other hand is a bag that you just know holds a bottle of strawberry wine. The sight of it is like a sharp stab to your rib cage.

“Hi,”’he says, softly. “Dinner?”

You blink at him, wide eyed. “How’d you know I was here?”

He gestures at the door. “We have the security camera doorbell, remember?”

And yeah, of course. He gets notifications every time there’s movement at the front door. He’ll use it to say hello to you when he’s miles upon miles away and you’re just getting home from work. Of course he’d still be getting the notifications.

“You’re supposed to be at the factory,” you say.

He shrugs. “Plans changed. I’m here. Dinner?”

There’s this hopeful look in his eyes that is absolutely tearing you apart. He’s not smiling, not frowning, completely neutral. He’s trying so hard to be unreadable, but you know him too well.

The truth is that you do want to have dinner with him. You want nothing more than to sit down at the kitchen island in your usual spots. You want to feel his knee bump against yours while you eat pasta and fight over the last piece of garlic bread. You want to drink that stupid strawberry wine until you’re drunk and fall into bed with him and pretend like nothing ever happened. Like nothing is wrong. Like you never asked for a break. And you know you could- you could say it right here and he’d act like nothing had changed.

“I’m just here to grab some stuff,” you tell him, letting your hands hang at your sides. “I’m staying at Audrey’s.”

He tries not to let the disappointment show on his face. You see it anyways, the way you always see him. After nearly a year and a half together, you can’t help it. You turn around, back towards the bedroom, back to your stuff stacked neatly on the unmade bed. You pack it into your duffel bag and head for the door.

“Are you coming to Monaco?” He asks when you place your hand on the doorknob.

For a moment you’re confused, because you’re in Monaco, but then you realize he means the Grand Prix. It’s less than a week away. As his girlfriend, you’re expected to make an appearance. You turn towards him and lean your back against the door.

“Space, Max,” you remind him, hating that you have to break his heart all over again.

He’s sitting at the island, on his usual stool, far too much garlic bread in front of him. He nods solemnly.

“Right. But if you don’t come, people will wonder what’s going on,” he says. “Our friends, the press, the-“ he waves his hands around wildly. “People.”

“You haven’t told them?”

“The press?”

“No. Our friends,” you say.

He shrugs, shoves his food around on his plate. He looks small. You hate it. You hate that it’s your fault. Your hands start to shake again.

“No,” he admits. “You said… a break, space. I didn’t know…” he huffs. “I didn’t want to tell them unless it was permanent.”

He looks up at you, then, and scrubs at his jaw. There’s stubble there, and there are bags under his eyes. God, you hate yourself for it. You hate the way he doesn’t hate you, the way you can still see the love in his eyes. You hate the worry in his gaze, like he thinks you might end things right then and there.

“Max, I don’t-“ your chest feels tight. “I don’t know.”

“Okay,” he says. “That’s okay, schat. But if you don’t go to the race…”

You sigh, haul your duffel bag over your shoulder. “I’ll be there.”

You leave the apartment before he can say anything else.

…..

Audrey takes your phone from you one night, while you’re crying on her couch after watching a very bad romantic comedy. She deletes every social media app off your phone. It’s nice of her to try. You attempt to go along with it at first. But soon you’re using the browser to check what they’re saying about you on twitter, to read the Instagram comments about how your boyfriend could do better. You’re over analyzing gossip accounts, trying to see if they can tell that you and Max are taking a break.

Two days in, you redownload all the apps. If you’re going to look at it, you might as well make it easier.

…..

“Have you told them?” Max asks you.

You’re standing shoulder to shoulder with him in the Red Bull hospitality. Your friends are huddled in the corner, raiding the snack bar. You turn and look up at him. He’s not looking back at you.

“D’you think I’d be here if I had?” You ask dryly.

He shrugs.

You turn and look back at your friends. “Have you told anyone?”

He gives you a short nod. “Daniel. He… is perceptive. I didn’t want to lie to him.”

Frankly, Max has every right to tell whoever he wants. You can’t expect him to stay quiet about it forever, no matter how well he seems to be handling it. And it’s been nearly three weeks now. Eventually, you’re going to have to admit it to your friends. It’s a bit unfair, really, that you haven’t told them. Max should be getting their sympathy. But when you think about admitting it to your friends, the ones who say you and Max are destined to be together, you feel sick to your stomach.

What’s even more unfair is that you haven’t given him a firm answer, either. You’re just keeping him there, keeping him hanging on. You need to make a decision, and soon. Just not before the race.

“I’ll figure it all out,” you promise. “And I can go if you don’t want me here-“

“I always want you here,” Max says, and your heart clenches in your chest.

You’re lucky Max isn’t big on PDA. You’ll be able to make it through the weekend without drawing much suspicion. But you find yourself missing the weight of his hand on the small of your back as you walk through the paddock. There are gaps between your fingers where his are supposed to fit. You feel it now more than ever.

…..

Daniel corners you on Saturday afternoon. Really, you should’ve seen this coming a long time ago. In the time you’ve been dating Max you’ve gotten to know the other drivers, and Daniel’s one you know quite well. He grabs you by the wrist and pulls you into Max’s driver room, which is an overwhelming place for you to be. You can remember other races, when Max was the one pulling you in here for a quick makeout or just to spend time alone. Now, you’re being dragged into an interrogation.

“What the fuck?” Daniel asks, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Wanna be more specific?” You reply.

“You know what I’m asking,” he says. “Come on.”

“I really don’t, Daniel. What do you want to know? Are you asking why I’m here? Why I asked for a break?” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Frankly, it’s none of your business-“

“It is my business, because he’s my friend and so are you. He told me why, I think it’s a load of bullshit,” he says.

The problem is… he’s not wrong.

“I think I’d know why,” you hiss.

“I see the way you look at him, it hasn’t changed.” Daniel has his arms crossed over his chest. “So what’s the real reason?”

“I’m feeling unsure about things. I needed space,” you insist.

Daniel is still blocking the door, arms crossed. He tilts his head at you, appraising. One of his dark brows twitches.

“You’re not sure about what? Your feelings for him?” He asks.

Your heart shatters in your chest. “Danny, stop, it’s not that easy-“

“No, come on. Things changed, yeah? Say it. You don’t love him anymore.” Daniel has fire in his eyes now. “Or if that’s not it, then tell me what it is.”

You stare at him, a bit dumbfounded. The truth is, you can’t say it. How could you not love Max? Just the thought of that feeling going away has you feeling awful all over again. You’re saved by a knock on the door.

“You’re in my driver room, you know,” Max calls out, and both you and Daniel deflate. “I shouldn’t even be asking, but can I come in?”

Daniel glares at you one last time and then opens the door. Max leans in, and his brows furrow when he catches sight of the two of you. You know you’re on the verge of tears. Max turns to Daniel, eyes wide.

“I told you not to do this,” Max scolds.

“We’re just talking,” Danny answers.

“She’s going to cry,” Max points out, sounding exasperated.

You roll your eyes and squeeze between the two of them. You head for the bathroom to clean yourself up. Behind you, the two of them are bickering in harsh whispers.

…..

You end up on the rooftop patio of the hotel you’re partying at after the Grand Prix. Max and your friends are somewhere downstairs. They’re drinking. You have been too- someone ordered shots for the table, then rounds of drinks. But what did you in was the strawberry wine your friends ordered specially for you and Max. You hadn’t been able to handle it anymore. At the first opportunity, you disappeared.

There aren’t any other people up here. It’s late, and if people are still up, they’re drinking and partying. So when the door swings open and you hear footfalls, you know who it is without even having to look. Max sits down next to you on the couch. You have your arms wrapped around your calves, face pressed into your knees. He doesn’t reach out to touch you. You’ve lost that privilege, it seems.

“Hi,” he says, softly. “You disappeared.”

You huff. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he says. “But I would be a bad boyfriend if I didn’t come find you.”

You fight back the sob that threatens to wrench its way out of your throat. It turns into something halfway between a whimper and a groan. Max makes a sympathetic noise. You hate it. He should hate you. You turn your head towards him, eyeing his face through the blur of your tears.

“Well, I’m okay. You can go. Tell them I went to bed early or something,” you say.

Max stared at you. “You are obviously not okay.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not your problem right now,” you tell him. “So.”

“You’ve never been a problem, schat,” he says.

He says it like it’s so easy. Like it doesn’t make you feel physically ill. Like the way he calls you those affectionate names doesn’t make your skin burn. You press a hand over your mouth to cover the choked sob.

“Tell me what’s going on,” he says, softly. “You can talk to me.”

You can’t tell him. You broke the heart of the man you love. You lied to his face because you thought it would make it easier. And now you carry the guilt of it in every part of your body. It’s settled into the empty space behind your ribs. You stare at him from afar and wish you could hold his hand again. You taste strawberries and feel like throwing up. That first kiss in your apartment. The first bottle of strawberry wine you shared. The corks in his nightstand drawer.

“I can’t drink the wine anymore,” you tell him, and he frowns sympathetically. “The taste of it makes me feel sick.”

Max seems unsure of what to say. He reaches out, then, and places his hand on your knee. You flinch at the feeling. His thumb brushes against your skin, warm and soothing and terrifying. You don’t deserve it.

“And I know how unfair this is, because I’m the one who asked for this,” you say, squeezing your eyes shut. “I��m the one who didn’t tell anyone and ended up here. I shouldn’t be the one who’s so upset about this.”

Max squeezes your knee. “You seem… heavy. Like there’s something weighing you down. I don’t hate you, you know. I don’t blame you. You need a break, okay. But you don’t have to shut me out completely.”

“Fuck, Max,” you choke out.

The sobs come easily now. They wrack your shoulders and steal the air from your lungs. You bury your face in your hands. He pulls you into his chest and tucks his head atop yours. It’s like that night on the balcony all that time ago, when he let you fall asleep against him and had you stay the night.

How does he not see it? Does he really think you want this? Maybe he’s fallen out of love with you. Maybe that’s why it’s easy for him to believe it. You think the ache in your chest will never go away. You gasp for air and breathe in his cologne and feel yourself tearing apart at the seams.

You cry harder when he presses his lips to your forehead and murmurs, “I’ve got you. You’re safe here.”

You push at his shoulder halfheartedly. “Don’t. Please don’t. I don’t deserve this.”

“What, schat?” He says, lips still pressed to your skin. “You haven’t done anything wrong. You still deserve love. Sweetheart, if you don’t want to be together anymore, if you don’t feel the same-“

“I do!” You gasp out, borderline hyperventilating. “I do, I still love you, Max, of course I-“

You break off into a sob, and he rocks you back and forth. His fingers press into your skin as he holds onto you tightly.

“I know,” he says, and the guilt rises in your chest. “I know you do. So how about you tell me what’s going on?”

You rear your head back to look him in the eye. He’s watching you, a calm, knowing look on his face. And really, you should’ve known. Max knows you better than anyone in the world. Of course he knows when you’re lying. He presses a hand to the side of your face, and you can’t help but melt into the touch. God, you’ve missed him so much.

“Max,” you try, rubbing your thumb on your own knee. “I don’t-“

“You can tell me,” he says, so gently, like you’re made of glass. “Please. You can tell me.”

You can feel him all around you. For the first time in weeks you feel safe.

“Just talk to me, please-“ he says, voice cracking. “I don’t want to lose you.”

You hate yourself for it. You wonder how many times you’ll have to break his heart.

“I know, and I’m sorry,” you say. “I really am, Max.”

You pull yourself out of his arms. You stand up and lean over him to press a kiss to his forehead. Then you walk away.

…..

You’re exhausted, constantly. Long weeks at work that consist of even longer days have you dragging your feet every time you come home. It’s a struggle to even make food for yourself, or do anything. Audrey’s generous enough to let you stay with her, even more generous as she does her best to take care of you. You’re falling apart. Anyone can see it. Your friends are catching on. They’re asking questions and whispering to each other about calling Max when they don’t think you can hear.

At night, when you close your eyes, all you see is him.

…..

Really, it’s your own stupid fault, you think. You’re in Monaco. Max lives here. It’s a small country. And Max’s friends live here too. So when you end up crying in the bathroom of a club, of course it’s Charles’ girlfriend who finds you. Of course she recognizes you and brings you to Charles with a worried look on her face. Of course you’re too upset to do anything but go with her. You’re not even sure why you’re crying at this point- you’re not that drunk. You think you just miss him, really. You’d gone out to try to get your mind off it. It hadn’t worked.

Charles takes one look at you and calls Max. You can’t exactly tell him not to without raising a whole bunch of questions. Max answers, because that’s just your luck, and within a few minutes Charles tells you he’ll be there soon to pick you up. Because of course he will. Because no matter how many times you break his heart, he’ll still come to your rescue.

It’s been almost a month now, since you asked for a break. Honestly, at this point, you’re just wishing he’d break up with you. You deserve that. He must be on the verge of it by now.

When you see Max’s car pull up outside of the club, you make your way over with a wave to Charles and his girlfriend. You nearly have a heart attack when you open the door and it’s not Max in the driver’s seat. It’s Daniel.

“Hi,” he says. “Heard you needed a ride.”

You blink, even as you sit down in the passenger seat. “Charles called Max.”

Daniel nods. “Yup. I was with Max. This,” he says, gesturing around at your surroundings, “seemed like a bad idea. So. I’m picking you up.”

You nod. “I didn’t ask him to call Max, you know. Just couldn’t exactly tell him not to.”

Daniel nods. “I know.”

He doesn’t ask where to take you. He also doesn’t head for your shared apartment with Max, which is likely where he was before this. Instead, he heads for one of few fast food restaurants in Monaco. In the empty drive thru, he orders and then looks at you expectantly. You just ask for a side of fries and a drink. It’ll help sober you up, which you figure is his point.

He pulls into a nearly empty parking lot and turns to you.

“Tell me,” he says, urgently. “I can help you figure this out. It’s not too late. But you have to tell me.”

You pick at your french fries, staring out of the front windshield. Danny may be driving, but this is Max’s car. You’ve sat shotgun here so many times- on late afternoon drives, on impromptu road trips, on rides home from galas that you didn’t belong at. You can hear Max telling you to buckle your seatbelt and you can almost feel his hand on your knee. God, you miss him.

“It’s not his fault,” you tell Daniel.

“Well, he thinks it is,” he answers. “Probably because you won’t give him a full answer.”

You burst into tears again at that. He hands you a napkin. Then he reaches for your hand.

“This isn’t you,” he says. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I know you love him. I’ve never seen two people who fit each other better. So tell me, or tell someone, or fuck, tell him. I don’t want to see him lose the best person he’s ever had over… something he doesn’t even understand.”

It hits you, then, like a tidal wave. You can’t lose him, either. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you. How had you gone from strawberry wine and him walking you home to this? How could you have ended up here?

“This isn’t what I want,” you say, through your sobs. “I want Max. I didn’t want-“

Daniel squeezes your hand. “I’ll take you to him if you promise me you’ll talk about it. If you promise you’ll tell him what’s going on.”

You stare at your reflection in the windshield and wonder if you even deserve that chance. You’re almost positive you don’t, and even more sure that Max would give it to you anyways.

…..

You stumble into the warm apartment and nearly trip over your own shoes. You wonder, absentmindedly, if he’s left them there on purpose. If it would make it worse to move them.

He calls out from the bedroom. “Daniel?”

Daniel is behind you, shutting the door. “Max. I…”

“Is she okay?” Max asks, before he steps out into the living room. His eyes lock with yours. “Oh.”

“Hi,” you say.

“I’m going to go, so you two can talk,” Daniel says, and Max’s face crumples. “But call me if you need anything, okay?”

Max nods. You nod. Then Daniel steps out and closes the door behind him. You’re alone with Max. You shove your hands in your jacket pockets and step farther into the apartment as you kick your shoes off. There are dishes in the sink, a bottle of strawberry wine on the counter. Max sees you eyeing it.

“Wine?” He asks.

“No,” you say, hating the way his shoulders fall. “I, uh, I’m going to change, really quick. And then we should talk.”

He nods. You head for the bedroom. You have to walk past him on the way, and have to walk through his cologne. You want to reach out and touch him. You wonder, if you did, if he’d pretend nothing had ever happened. When you’ve changed into comfier clothes and see your tear streaked face in the mirror in the bedroom, you remind yourself how horribly unfair that would be.

You walk back out into the living room. Your hands are shaking, chest tight. Max is sitting in his usual spot in the corner of the couch. You sit down at the other end. The pain on his face makes your stomach ache. You pull your legs up onto the couch, curling in on yourself.

“First I want to apologize,” you say, softly. “I’ve been… really unfair.”

He shakes his head, ready to tell you it’s fine, but you cut him off.

“It’s not okay, Max,” you say. “This will be harder if you just forgive me at every wrong turn I’ve made.”

“We can figure it out, though,” he says, voice breaking on the last word. “We can, I know it, please don’t-“

He looks terrified, you realize. You don’t see him scared often. He’s small again, like he was that day sitting at the island. And suddenly you realize he thinks you’re here to break up with him. God, you feel sick.

“Max, honey,” you say. He keeps his eyes trained on the couch between the two of you. “I don’t want to break up. Not if you’ll still have me. But you deserve an explanation.”

You watch the tension drain from his face. Watch the weight melt away off his shoulders. He purses his lips, blows out a long breath. His eyes are glassy. You don’t see him cry often, and you hate that you’re the cause, even now. He crawls towards you on the couch and places his head in your lap. He takes your hand and drags it to his hair as he closes his eyes. You choke on a gasp at the feeling of his hand on yours.

“Please,” he says, quietly. “I’ve missed you. Please.”

So you sit on the couch in your shared apartment, and you run your fingers through his hair, and you tell him everything. You tell him about the burnout at work, about the insane schedule you’ve had, about them denying your time off to go to some of the races. You tell him about how much you miss him when he’s gone, how it makes your chest ache to wake up alone. You tell him about the hate you get online, the things people shout at you when you walk through the paddock. You tell him how exhausted you were, how you felt like you were failing him, how being at your worst made you feel like you were dragging him down. How you were afraid you would start being mean to him, how you wanted to get out before that happened. You tell him you thought space would make it better, but it only made it worse. Most of all, you tell him-

“None of it was you. It was me. I thought I was protecting you,” you say, squeezing your eyes shut. “I thought it would be better like this.”

Max is quiet for a few moments after it all spills past your lips. You find yourself holding your breath. There’s a chance you’re too late, that there’s no coming back from this. Then you feel his hand against your jaw.

“I understand,” he says, voice raw and quiet. “And we can fix this. But I swear to god, if you ever pull some shit like that again I’ll-“

You burst into laughter before he finishes his threat, because what else can you do? You muffle the sound into your hands, even as Max keeps his hand on your jaw, even as he starts to laugh too. There’s nothing funny about it, really, but you can’t help it. Max sits up and presses himself against you, his head on your shoulder and his arms around your waist. It’s an awkward angle but it works. And then you’re gasping for air because you haven’t felt the weight of him in weeks, and he’s burying his face in your neck. You feel the tears land on your skin, and you’re not sure if they’re yours or his.

“You should quit your job,” he says, and you’re borderline hyperventilating now. “Take some time. Come with me. It’s not long now, and then it’ll be the break. The rest of it, we can figure out. Together.”

“You’re being too nice,” you tell him. “You should be mad at me. I’ve been-“

Max shushes you and pulls away. Panic claws at your chest at even the smallest loss of touch. He cups your face in his hands, though, and kisses your forehead.

“We have time to talk about all of it,” he says. “But what matters to me most is making sure you’re okay. The rest will come later. We can have the more difficult talks when we’re less tired and more stable.”

He kisses your temple. You nod and rub at your face. You lean over into him, forehead against his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, one more time.

“I am, too,” he says. “For not noticing before it got so bad.”

You feel lighter. The weight isn’t completely gone, but it’s been lifted a bit. Shared, maybe. When you open your eyes, Max drags you into his chest and lays down on the couch with you in his arms. You can finally breathe again. The air feels clean and sweet like strawberries.

Eventually he coaxes you to bed. A fresh wave of tears hits you when you’re brushing your teeth in the bathroom next to him. He just holds you close through it. It should feel strange to crawl into bed next to him, you think, but it just feels like coming home, the way it always has. You think back to the lonely moments when he was away and you laid here alone, and you wonder how you ever gave any nights with him up. But you’re here now, and so is he, so you roll to face him. You press your face to his chest and breathe him in.

…..

In the morning, you’re in the bathroom when you hear him wake up. You hear the panicked noise he makes, the shuffling as he scrambles out of bed. He’s at the bathroom door in seconds, tugging on the handle and opening it. His shoulders heave as he stares at you, your toothbrush in your mouth, eyes wide.

“I thought,” he chokes out, eyes even wider than yours. “I woke up and you were gone and I thought-“

You yank the toothbrush out of your mouth and spit into the sink. “Shit. I didn’t even think- sorry-“

He doesn’t say another word, or leave you the chance to. Instead, he closes the gap between the two of you, takes your face in his hands, and kisses you. It’s been ages since you’ve felt his lips on yours. You’re putty in his hands immediately.

He drags you back into the bedroom, and you trip over his feet. His hands fall to your hips to keep you steady. He walks backwards towards the bed until he runs into it, knees buckling. He hauls you into his lap. When your knees settle on either side of his legs, when you feel the warmth of him underneath you, you swear you could cry.

His hands shove frantically at the hem of your sleep shirt. Yours do the same with his. His skin is hot to the touch- he’s still sleep-warm and soft. When you pull away from his lips, his eyes are half lidded.

“Max?” You ask, pressing your fingers to his side.

“Please,” he says. “Need you.”

You press a line of soft kisses to his jaw. He shudders underneath you. His hands pull at your hips, pulling you closer. You draw one hand up his spine, taking the shirt with you. He pulls it over his head. Yours follows his to the floor quickly after that. His hands fall to your waist, thumbs pressing into your ribs. You want to tell him everything. Want to tell him how sorry you are, how much you’ve missed him, how you could never live without him. How it tore you apart to try.

“I need you more,” you whisper into his ear, hoping it’ll be enough.

When you fall apart underneath and around and into him, he wraps his hand with yours and does the same. I love you tumbles over your lips and melts into his, the lips that repeat the same words back to you. You swear you taste strawberries.

…..

Max wakes up two months later to cold sheets and an empty bed, but he doesn’t panic. He can hear the whir of the coffee maker, can hear you humming in the kitchen and talking to the cats. There’s a sense of calm somewhere deep in his chest, one that hasn’t been there for a while, even after you came back to him. It’s the humming, he realizes drowsily. You used to hum all the time. You’d gone quiet for a while, but it’s back now. You’re back now. Piece by piece.

He rolls over, opens the bedside drawer. There’s the tray of corks, his watch, loose change and batteries and a faded post it note with something scrawled on it in your handwriting. And in the back corner, under a loose piece of paper, there’s a little black box. Inside, there’s a ring.

You’re not ready yet. You’re still healing. So is he. But you’re humming in the kitchen, making coffee, and he knows someday you both will be. For now, that’s enough.

You pop your head in through the doorway just after he shuts the drawer. “I have coffee for you.”

“Can’t we have it in bed?” He asks, giving you his best puppy dog eyes.

You laugh. “We have things to do today, Max. If I get back in bed with you we’ll never get any of them done.”

Max laughs, raises his eyebrows as he stretches his arms above his head. “Sounds like a good day to me.”

You roll your eyes affectionately and disappear again.

When he eventually joins you in the living room, his coffee is sitting on the table. You’re curled up under a blanket. He sits down and pulls you into his chest, wraps his arms around your waist from behind. He reads your book over your shoulder and takes a deep breath.

Any day with you is a good day.

Read the next part, On The Horizon, here!

a/n: sorrrryyyyyy! but I did promise a happy ending told you they’d be okay! thanks for reading!! title from the song that was definitely in the back of my head when I wrote Always Walk Me Home, which is probably how they ended up loving strawberry wine 🍓 & the song is sad so the angst had to happen. pls come talk to me ab this universe or any of my fics my ask box is open!!

Taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me @forzalando

832 notes · View notes

supercap2319 · 2 months

Text

"This is Doug." Ben clapped a hand on a nerdy boy with thick rimmed glasses wearing a blue and gold marching uniform. He had been one of the band members who played for Y/N and the others when they arrived. "He's going to help you with your class schedules and show you to your dorms. Speaking of which..."

Ben turned to Y/N. "Unfortunately, we didn't have another room for you, and since all the boys have a roommate, you'll be bunking with me for the time being."

Y/N wasn't sure who was more shocked. Him, his friends, or Audrey. Did Prince Hot Lips really just say a vk was moving into his bedroom? Oh, this was delicious. The cotton candy fool. Y/N had to suppress the smile that threatened to make its way towards his mouth.

"I'll see the rest of you later, okay? Y/N? If you would kindly follow me." Ben said. He walked upstairs, and Y/N followed him, trying to ignore the diry comment Mal made to Evie about Y/N sleeping with "Prince Benny-Boo."

Ben talked about the rich history of the boys' wing. How it was built and who built it. Y/N wasn't paying attention. All he could think about was how he couldn't wait to get his hands on Prince Ben. Not in that way, mind you. Just to mess with him and stuff. Make his life a living hell.

They walked down a hallway with only a door, and when Ben opened it up, the sight of the Prince's bedroom made him want to gag. The matching blue and gold velvet beds with soft white pillows and navy blue curtains fluttering gently in the fresh air breeze from an open window. There was also a blue and gold chaise chair and a giant flat screen TV with a walk-in closet and a bathroom.

"What do you think? I know the blue and gold are a bit on the nose, but I'm willing to redecorate." Ben said.

Y/N looked around the room. It was sickening. It was bright. And it made Y/N want to scream in delight. He didn't tell Ben that, though. He looked at the Prince. "You got anything against black?

Ben just chuckled.

#x male reader #male reader insert #male x male #ben florian #ben beast #ben florian x male reader #mitchell hope #Mitchell Hope x male reader #descendants #descendants x reader

263 notes · View notes

lilacliquors · 4 months

Text

pairing: soldier boy x reader

word count: 1062

notes: on the third day of ficmas, lilacliquors gave to me ... soldier boy playing santa claus!

life had been peaceful the last few years. you and ben had finally gotten the chance to settle down, and now, you were the proud parents of twin girls, who were now four years old. finally at the age where they’d be more likely to remember this holiday better than the last three, and that made you excited. you and ben had gone a little overboard this year with the gifts, trying to fulfill as many little wishes on their lists as you could. this time of year was magical for a child, and even though ben grumbled about santa getting most of the credit, he knew the smiles on their faces would be well worth it.

the night of christmas eve, you hosted your family for dinner and gift exchange. and when it came time for your daughters to open their gifts from their grandparents, you and ben were more than thrilled to see the girls squeal in excitement as they ripped wrapping paper from barbie boxes and toy tool sets. they ran up to their grandparents and hugged them tightly, then went off to play before it was time to set out the cookies and milk.

“so, will santa be dropping by the house tonight?” your father asked, and you nodded with a smile.

“mhm, he sure will be. we have the sweetest little angels in the world. it would be a crime to skip them,” you replied, and ben nodded with a little smile.

what you didn’t know was that he had gone out of his way to purchase a santa costume. it had been tucked away in your shared walk in closet for about a month, and he knew that it would not only make you laugh, but it might thrill the girls to possibly catch a glimpse at the jolly man in red.

“well, it’s getting late, and the girls should be getting to bed before he gets here,” your mother said.

“right you are. don’t need any mishaps tonight. audrey! quinn! grandma and grandpa are heading out, so come say good night!”

audrey and quinn came rushing out of their bedroom and hugged their grandparents good night, then waved goodbye as their left your home. then, ben crouched down, and he set a hand on their shoulders.

“all right, you two ready to set out milk and cookies for the big guy?” he asked, and you saw their eyes light up.

“yes, daddy!” they said, and with a smile, you led them into the kitchen, pulling out the special plate and bowl you used to leave the treats out.

“looks like we’ve got some veggies for the reindeer, too,” ben said, pulling a bag of baby carrots from the fridge. the girls laughed, and they cheerfully began to arrange the cookies on the plate in the order they thought santa would be most likely to eat them, and then you set some carrots into the reindeer shaped bowl. you helped quinn pour a glass of milk, and then it was time for bed.

the girls settled in, and you read them your father’s old pop-up version of the night before christmas, just like he did with you. ben sat between their beds, making sure they each had a teddy bear tucked in with them, then you both kissed them goodnight before turning off their lamp. audrey and quinn smiled as they shut their eyes. they were worn out from an exciting day, and it wasn’t long before they were both fast asleep. you went down into the kitchen to wash the dished from dinner while ben disappeared upstairs, and you paid it no mind. you could hear the rustling to wrapping paper from behind you, and you figured he was just bringing down the gifts you had wrapped a few nights ago, so you felt no need to turn around to check. but you did have to turn to set the plates aside to dry, and when you did, you saw a brief flash of red. puzzled, you turned off the sink and crept towards the stairs, slowly making your way down them and into your family room, where you christmas tree was light with colorful lights. and there, you saw your husband, dressed in a santa costume, setting the neatly wrapped presents around the tree.

“oh. my. god,” you whispered, your hand going to cover your mouth. he chuckled, then stood and turned to look at you, his hands on his hips.

“nice costume, right?” he asked, and you began to laugh, walking over with a smile.

“it’s perfect. you’re too funny,” you said, reaching to play with the puff on the end of his hat.

“that’s not all. take a look…” he moved one hand over you, and you looked up to find a bit of mistletoe in his hand. you laughed again, then looked back at him, shaking your head.

“what am i gonna do with you?” you asked, and he wrapped his free arm around your waist.

“gimme a kiss, because those are the rules,” he murmured. he leaned down, and you met him halfway, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. the glow from the tree illuminated you both, and it felt like the most romantic moment you could have shared. until, that is, two tiny gasps pulled you apart.

“quinn! look! mommy’s kissing santa claus!” audrey squealed.

“girls! you need to get back to bed!” you said quickly, pulling away from ben to usher them back upstairs. they were giggling as they jumped back into their beds, and you pinched the bridge of your nose. of course, this was going to be the first christmas they truly remembered. how could it not be?

you went back downstairs and joined ben by the tree once more, and he was busy trying to stifle his laughter.

“very funny, benjamin,” you said, and he again wrapped his arm around your waist.

“if nothing else, this will be a holiday to remember. the time our daughters thought you were making out with a fat guy in a red suit with a white beard,” he said, and you snorted.

“great. what fond memories. guess we’ll have some questions to answer in the morning,” you murmured, and he kissed your forehead.

“if they aren’t distracted by the shiny new toys, sure.”

“... let’s hope they’re easily influenced.”

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy fluff #soldier boy ficmas #ficmas 2023 #12 days of ficmas 2023 #lilacliquors ficmas 2023 #dawn.writes

114 notes · View notes

myfavoritepeterotoole · 9 months

Text

Audrey Hepburn and Peter O'Toole

How to Steal a Million (1966) directed by William Wyler

Audrey Hepburn as Nicole Bonnet

Peter O'Toole as Simon Dermott

#peter o'toole #audrey hepburn #how to steal a million #magnet #closet

20 notes · View notes

cuckaracha · 8 months

Text

MY TAKE ON THE MARKEY SIBLINGS

Abel Markey (26): An stern, perfectionist Accountant. As the eldest, had to deal with his parents far more than the rest of his siblings. Which prompted him to cut ties with them as soon as he could support himself financially. Only visits for birthdays, thanksgivings and christmas to see his siblings.

Audrey Markey (25): A sweet but blunt Model with some success to her name. Her upbringing wasn't as stormy as her elder brother, but she nonetheless decided to live independently as soon as she could. She pays her siblings visits every time she's on vacation.

Anne Markey (23): Caring and always tired, Anne decided to drop out of college to take care of the family as per request of her parents. She acts as the real mom of the family, doing most of the chores and making sure her younger siblings are well taken care of. She claims she's totally okay with this, but...

Agnes Markey (22): Rude and playful, Agnes goes to law school in hopes to achieve quick money and success, as well as independency. She comes home for the holidays, though her demeanor towards the others isn't as sweet as she hoped it'd be. Probably the only one in the family that knows that Ace is gay.

Angel Markey (18): A NEET that rarely leaves their room. They spend most of their time streaming and uploading peculiar pictures to the internet. They used to be very close to Ace, but now they fight every time they speak to each other. Nobody really knows what happened between them.

Atlas Markey (17): A popular yet odd high school student. Atlas is considered "the new pride of the family" after Audrey. He's always top of the class, good at everything he does and popular with girls and boys alike. But despite this, his real interest are monsters. From cool werewolves to weird slime, he enjoys monster media to the point of having plenty a monster costumes in his closet.

Alan Markey (12): The first of the twins. Alan is a shy boy that spends most of his time reading and memorizing articles. Has won multiple spelling bees and claims he wants to be an Philosopher when he grows up. Despite their differences, he loves his twin sister.

Avril Markey (12): The second of the twins. Avril is an energetic girl that loves moving and playing sports. Has won multiple sport awards with her teammates and claims she wants to be a professional Basketball Player when she grows up. Despite their differences, she loves her twin brother

Athena Markey (6): The youngest Markey sibling. A curious and talkative child, she likes learning and playing with her chicken plushie, Ace jr. She only remains completely silent when her parents are talking to her. The one that would miss Ace the most if something happened to him

Ordered from Oldest to Youngest

#ace markey #danganronpa despair time #despair time #drdt #fanganronpa #markey siblings

290 notes · View notes

raven-anime · 1 year

Text

you know what ? i like you *draw bendy wearing a dress because gender role is a myth*

ps: he stole it from Audrey closet

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #bendy and the dark revival #batdr #batim #bendy #bendy the demon #bendy the dancing demon #art #artist #artist of tumblr #artwork #digital art #small art account #small artist #yo mama #gender role is a myth #bendy can where a tutu so why not a dress?

776 notes · View notes

blackfangedreaper · 1 year

Text

SCANDALOUS

Prompt: "Mumu button."

Pairing: Luffy x Black!Fem!Informant!Reader

Warnings: Sexual content, Luffy and reader gets walked in on, cursing, grammatical errors. Mdni.

Note: Mumu definition; dumb/stupid.

Tags: @closet-degenerate @h3rfave @iin0va @avaricious-hoe @audreys-works @444katsuki

Orange hues reflected against the calm waves of the sea. Sunny was stocked up and ready to set sail as everyone was done with their shopping. It was sunset already and everyone was out on the deck they seemed to be searching for something or rather someone. Well not like you could help, you were currently getting your back blown out.

The left side of your body was pushed up against the window pane, shivers raking down your spine at the cold glass and your left was on the wall. Your breath fogging up the window as you peered down at the crewmates frantically searching for their supposedly missing captain, what they didn't know was that he was up here with you the whole time. Infact he never left the ship.

"Ok guys! You know what to do, be back before sunset." Nami said walking out of sunny and onto the pier. Robin trailing silently beside nami with her usual calm smile painted on her lips and an energetic chopper by her side. "Wahhh! Look a cotton candy stand!"

"Hai! Nami-swannn~" sanji twirled around before entering the kitchen to get his shopping list then barging out not a second later almost trampling on a half asleep zoro to catch up with 'his' lovely ladies. "Wait up! Nami-swan! Robin-chwan!"

"Ugh, stupid cook watch where you're going!" The moss head groaned walking off the ship to get some booze.

"Oi! Zoro-kun! You forgot your compass!" Ussop ran after him waving the bronze compass while franky and brook laughed as they trailed after zoro. Not knowing they forgot you both on the ship to yourselves and you know the saying... When the mouse is away the cats will play. I-Is that correct? Aish nvm.

Which leads to the beginning of luffy fucking your brains out. Honestly it was meant to be a sweet stay-in couples day but after cooking and eating with luffy you had a gossip/sunbathing session until he decided he wanted to watch the sunset in the crowsnest.

But after seeing how the orange sun rays bathed your bronze skin and the way the sun reflected in your eyes; highlighting your dark browns he couldn't take it, he wanted to see you in your full glory but with the sunset hues bathing every part of your naked skin. He first told you how beautiful you looked before smashing his lips against yours passionately.

And before you could blink you were pushed against the window and cool wooden walls of the crowsnest. Your shorts and panties pulled down and off of you, you felt the cool breeze brush against your already aching clit, whimpering and shivering when you felt luffy run his cold index and middle finger up and down your slit, your eyes almost rolling back when he pushed into your clenching hole.

Pushing his free hand into your shirt to grope your breasts as you sucked his fingers in immediately. Squelching sounds echoing around the empty room as he increased his pace going in and out of you relentlessly before pulling his fingers out and sucking on them making a thin string of saliva as he brought them out of his mouth. "Hmm."

Before you could say anything you heard the unbuckling of his belt and the feeling of his hot and large head prodding at your entrance before he slammed into you, your naked ass making contact with his shorts "Fuckkk! Luffy!"

"Haha! Sorry you just feel so good." He smiled then started to move, grabbing on your waist to match your pace with his as he fucked you against the window, pounding into you aggressively drawing moans and screams out of you as he watched ripples form on your ass from the force of his plows "I wouldn't do that if i were you." He said smiling at you.

You suddenly felt their presence on the ship. Shit. How didn't you notice earlier. Your eyes trailed after them seeing them walking around the ship as if they were looking for something or rather someone. if only they noticed the hand pressed against the window of sunny's crowsnest.

"L-Luffy- oh- wait!" You begged pushing back trying to move away from the window and fortunately he pulled out of you but before you could do anything he turned you around and pushed your back against the window fully then wrapped your legs around his waist before plunging into you again and this time his pace was unforgiving. "Ah- luffy! slow down!"

"Haha no thanks!" He laughed his hands smacking your bum, grasping handfuls and grinding into you. If anyone looked up now they would see your back and the tight grip luffy had on your ass through the window especially since your sun-kissed skin looked like a fucking beacon, you were hoping they either had bad eyesight or they weren't look up at all.

Unwrapping your legs around his waist he pushed your knees right beside your head and against the cool glass of the window and immediately you slapped both your palms against your mouth to prevent the guttural moan that was about to escape from your mouth. Turning your head, you peer out the window to see if anyone had caught you both yet.

You could feel every thrust he gave you now, his tip abusing your cervix as if to push into your womb, which would happen if he applied more force. "Look at me." Luffy demanded staring right at you, you could feel his gaze burning holes through you. You refused still looking down at his crewmates, watching their movements carefully but you were interrupted when luffy thrusted in sharply getting a muffled 'luffy' from you before he repeated himself. "Look. At. Me."

And you did, you looked right back at him and you regretted it immediately, his eyes were halflidded as he smirked at your appearance, mocking you by jutting his bottom lip out and saying. "Aw, look at you, such a mess." And you really were, your furrowed eyebrows were up and high in alert and your eyes were wide, tears brimming the edges of your lower eyelids.

You tried to keep your eyes from rolling back into your skull and let's not talk about how you were trying so hard to keep your moans at bay by covering your mouth to the best of your abilities but it didn't look like it was working cause your mouth was agape underneath, infact he would be viewing your ahegao face if it wasn't for your meddling palms. "Nnngh!"

He pumped into you feeling his release getting close, the thread in his abdomen thinning steadily as he took you against the wall. You were getting close too with the way you clenched around his shaft, your thighs shaking against his grip and hands getting tired of covering your mouth with no support to hang unto for so long, you could feel your saliva slipping through your fingers as you gasped at his increased pace. "mmfph!"

Your muffled moans and whimpers sounded like heaven to him, he groaned feeling you clench around him tightly. "Careful wouldn't want to break me now would you?" He chuckled bringing your weary knees to rest on his shoulder letting him press and dive deeper into you more. He moaned as he chased after both his and your release. You gasped relieved maybe they wouldn't catch you both after all. Too bad you jinxed it, cause after that thought you heard zoro's voice and his footsteps.

"Yeah, yeah wake me up when you find them." It sounded a little muffled but you could tell he was close. You looked at luffy panicked, shaking your head at him to stop but you knew he wouldn't, he had no shame. He started this and he was going to finish it whether he was going to be caught or not.

He wrapped his left hand around both your wrists jerking them away from your mouth and pinning them up the window before jerking his hips harshly, you bit your lips trapping the sinful sounds in your throat. This angered luffy, he didn't like this, not one bit. And he knew just what to do to punish you.

You heard zoro's footsteps coming closer, your heart thumping as loud as his foot steps, the hatch to the crownest opened and just as your eyes locked onto zoro's bewildered ones, luffy thought it was a good idea to palm your boobs, squeeze your nipple and bite the base of your neck right were your 'mumu button' was.

Now ladies and gentlemen the 'mumu button' is a sensitive spot found on a person that once touched, at that very moment all rational reasoning flies out the window. This causes the person to be under a very unbreakable spell [not literally, dumbass.] following only the orders of their now beloved like a mindless zombie, in short if luffy told you to sell your soul... you would with no hesitation whatsoever, trust me there's no getting out of this. You will be remembered brave soldier, you fought well.

Your head went limp as your eyes rolled back harshly into your skull, goosebumps littered your brown skin, your jaw dropping to release the loudest moan your vocal cord could allow, not only did this suprise zoro but luffy cause he's never heard you moan that loud, so loud he was sure the the whole crew heard you, he was so out of it, he didn't know he released your hands.

He hissed, moaning when he felt you tug and pull at his hair roughly due to the intensity of your orgasm. Luffy came right after you releasing thick rubbons of cum into you and with how you spasmed around him, he whimpered feeling you milk his cock. His eyes rolled back enjoying how tight and warm you were before burying his head into the same spot he abused with his teeth. He exhaled hearing zoro slam the hatch shut with a flustered expression.

Both your bodies heaving, goosebumps still present from your harsh orgasms as your chests rose in rhythm. Your head leaning against the window pane as you tried to calm your heart from beating so fast.

"What was that?" Luffy panted looking at you in amusement. "That has never happened before." He said before poking that exact spot only to get a yelp from you. "Luffy! Stop." You whined pouting before glaring at him then pulling his cheeks "you little shit!" You felt so embarrassed, zoro had caught you both. They obviously knew you guys fuck but it's different if they're walking in on you both doing the deed. "Ow! I'm sowwy! Staph! That hwurts!" Fuck you couldn't be mad at him, he did give you a mind blowing orgasm.

You sigh releasing his now red and swollen cheeks. Yelping when he pulled out of you, his cum pouring out of you in loads. Just how much did he cum? you felt so full.

"Ugh luffy! How am i gonna face them now!" You groaned covering your face with your palms before jerking them away at the slimy sensation of your drool.

"Huh? Who cares let's go! It's kinda hot in here." He pulled and buckled his shorts then proceeded to help you put on your clothes before seeing they were soiled. "Or just wait here I'll bring you new clothes!" He laughed running out of the crowsnest.

"Ughhh..." You then groaned sliding down the wall to the floor in embarrassment recalling how you came in front of zoro, looking into his eyes as you did so infact. This memory will forever replay during your sleepless nights as it has now joined your 'embarrassing memories' folder.

ONE PIECE; TREASURE BOX.

"Oi, marimo why is your face all red?" Sanji said blowing his cigarette fumes at the flustered zoro.

"Ugh... Fuck off pervert cook." Zoro groaned pushing past sanji, recalling what he had seen a while ago before walking away. "I don't get paid enough for this... Fuck- i don't even get paid!"

"Who pissed in his booze, tch! stupid moss head." He said watching luffy run past him, following him with his eyes but when he was about to call out to him he caught a glimpse of peach coloured panties sticking out of the back pocket of his signature blue shorts.

"A-Are those Y/n-swan's p-p-panties??!" He exclaimed falling on his knees and banging on the floor boards shocked at the thought that luffy once again gets pussy more than he does while trying to control the jet of blood from his nose that had started to propel him off the ship.

#monkey d luffy x you #monkey d luffy #mugiwara no luffy #fem reader #luffy x reader #black reader #luffy x black reader #informant series #one piece luffy #luffy smut #anime men #one piece #one piece fanfiction

438 notes · View notes

bubbledtee · 5 months

Text

ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴀʀᴍᴇʀ'ꜱ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ

Warnings: smoking, drinking, social anxiety, sexual references

Word count: 4.8k

beta-read by @30-3am

contents

playlist

✧.* "In a small corner bar he sits there a-drinkin'. Lost as a ball in a field full of corn. Further away than he ever imagined that he'd ever end up from the place he was born." ~ "Creeker", Tyler Childers ✧.*

a/n: this shit took so long to get out i'm giggling

»»——⍟——««

🇳🇪🇼 🇨🇴🇼🇧🇴🇾 🇮🇳 🇹🇴🇼🇳 (Ch. 1)

January 22nd, 1994 - La Veta, CO

Bea held herself in the passenger seat of Zoe’s red Buick LeSabre, the well-below-freezing Colorado weather penetrating the vehicle despite shut windows and cranked heat. She cursed herself for letting Abigail convince her to wear the black, form-fitting turtle-neck dress from her closet, wishing she had opted for a nice pair of blue jeans and a warm sweater instead. She just hoped the heating at the old dive bar would suffice not to freeze her to death tonight.

“Don’t look so sad, B! You’re seein’ the outside world for once,” Abigail’s Kentucky accent was thicker than usual as she pushed Bea’s shoulder slightly from the backseat. “You’re too wrapped up with those damn horses, you need a night off!”

Bea looked behind her into the backseat. The tall, southern blonde held a cigarette between her long, thin fingers, her hand hanging lazily as she balanced her elbow on her knee. Someone walking down the street would know the girl was a Southern beauty just from a glance. She wore too much makeup and an excessive amount of pink that was an eyesore to anybody in their right mind, but most men she was after didn’t so much care about her style as they did about what the dress hid from their perverted gaze.

Bea giggled. “I’m not sad, Abby. I’m just fucking freezing,” she told her, snatching the cigarette from Abigail’s fingers. She brought the lipstick-stained stick up to her mouth and took a long drag, the burn that began to fill her chest, warming her from the inside out. She held the smoke in as she handed the cigarette to Audrey, the girl brushing her ginger curls from her freckled face.

“I shouldn’t have let you convince me to wear this god-awful dress. I’m freezing and I look ridiculous,” Bea grumbled.

There was a collective chorus of ‘no’s’ as soon as she uttered the self-deprecating words, “Shut your mouth, you look gorgeous. You’re just not used to seeing yourself cleaned up!” Zoe insisted, momentarily averting her gaze from the barren and beat-up road to look at Bea. The brunette wore a dubious expression with an eye roll, and Zoe gently hit her arm in retaliation. “I’m serious!”

“And even if you didn’t look good, you’ve gotta be confident. It makes anything look good,” Audrey chimed from the back seat, “I mean, it even makes Abby’s dresses look good on her.”

The already-tipsy blonde gasped beside her, “Fuck you!” she playfully exclaimed, shoving Audrey slightly. “They look good either way,”

The other girls laughed, “Yeah, maybe at some hick beauty pageant in Kentucky.” Audrey rebutted, her face twisted into a wicked grin as she poked fun at her friend.

Bea just shook her head and laughed, watching from the car’s front window. She watched as the sign that read ‘LA VETA’ grew closer and closer until the vehicle eventually passed it - her eyes shifting to the tiny rows of buildings that now enclosed the road on either side.

The minuscule town was one she knew well, memories of walking along the sidewalks with her parents and brothers immediately flooding her mind every time she crossed the threshold. It was the closest town to Lone Wolf Ranch with any civilization, meaning it was the only place the family could shop, eat out, or anything in between. The only times Bea went into town was to buy herself new tack and blankets for horses, or when her friends dragged her into a night out–just like tonight.

The car slowly pulled into the Magpie Inn’s tiny parking lot, Zoe leaning forward slightly to search for an open parking space. Bea looked around, too, searching for any cars she knew. The number of old F-250s and Silverado 3500s that crowded the parking lot made it evident enough that the place would be full of cowboys who had been enjoying their day off at the bar since before noon. And just as she had expected, she recognized almost every vehicle there.

After a minute, Zoe pulled the car into one of the last open parking spots in the lot and shut the vehicle off. The group hopped out before swiftly shuffling toward the bar's front doors, attempting to preserve their warmth as much as possible.

Bea could hear the buzz of the neon sign that hung beside the door as they approached it, its bright lights flashing ‘OPEN’. The warmth of the light almost seemed to radiate off the sign and reach her, and she could feel her face warm slightly as they approached the door.

However, warmth enveloped her significantly stronger when Audrey opened the building’s doors. Not only that, but the pungent stench of liquor and beer that doused everyone’s breath inside found her too, all of it topped off by the booming sound of a country band that sat at the other side of the establishment–playing an upbeat tune.

As they entered the room, Bea practically hid behind her friends like a small child. She felt so stupid for being shy around people she had mainly known for years, but she couldn’t help the embarrassment that flooded her as she imagined what everybody thought about the girl being dressed up like she was. All she could imagine was negativity and internalized insults of all types.

Zoe suddenly pulled Bea from her negative thoughts as she spoke, “Come on, let’s get you a drink. You need something to help you loosen up,” She softly grabbed Bea’s hand and led her toward the bar, carefully weaving through the crowd of drunk cowboys and tradesmen alike. She thought a few blurs of faces seemed familiar, but she was thankful she didn’t have the time to do a double take as she and Zoe reached the bar.

Bea leaned over the bar as her counterpart ordered their drinks, her voice bubbly as she did so. She looked down the bar to her left and observed the folks who sat on the old, cracked leather seat stools along the wooden barrier. Most were older men her father knew well–ones that had long been left by their wives and now drink themselves to death by their lonesome. Some of them make their way from those ruts and redeem themselves as her father and her brother, Johnny, had, but others have no desire to fix themselves. Such as her brother Tommy. She shook the thought from her head as Zoe handed her a Heineken, the cold condensation freezing her fingertips.

She sipped the beer lightly, letting the cold bubbles spread across her tongue and sting slightly down her throat. She never was much of a fan of beer, the scent of the hops often ruining her enjoyment of the otherwise refreshing drink, but right then, she really didn’t seem to mind. Anything that would slightly calm her nerves was worth whatever it might take.

The two walked back toward the other girls, Zoe carrying their beers with her own. Bea followed close behind her as though she were a lost puppy looking for her mother; if she were quite honest, she felt like she was.

They reached Audrey and Abby, and Zoe handed them their drinks. Joking words were shared between the three as Bea’s gaze turned longingly toward the door. She felt pathetic for how much she wanted to leave, like such a nuisance to her poor friends who simply wanted to take her from the nights they deemed lonely. But she didn’t quite enjoy seeing so many longtime family friends (or foes) in one place simultaneously.

As her mind drifted off and her gaze lingered on the door, a tall, blonde cowboy walked through the ingress. He looked almost anxious as he tucked his hands into his Storm Rider’s pockets and glanced around the room, his eyes catching Bea’s. Even from a distance, she could admire the icy blue irises beneath his beaten and dirty cowboy hat. She’d never seen him before.

Before she could longer study his handsome and rugged features, a tap on her shoulder made her head whip in the opposite direction.

“You okay, babe?” Zoe asked her with a tilt of her head, her eyes soft.

Bea nodded quickly with a flushed face. “Yeah… Yeah, I’m good.” She sent a forced smile her friend's way and watched as Zoe’s gaze shifted beyond her and toward the bar. A grin slowly crept onto her face before looking back at Bea.

“He’s cute,” she muttered, causing the pink flush of Bea’s face to turn bright red. Bea rolled her eyes and looked away from Zoe and down at her shoes, almost ashamed. Ever since her last long-term boyfriend left her high and dry two years ago, she hadn’t much tried to find a new lover. Sure, she’d had a rebound or two when she was slumped after the breakup, and she’d tried to have them fill the emptiness that lingered within her heart, but it was either too soon or not enough. So she’d simply given up after a year and decided she’d focus on her father’s ranch rather than a lover. It would be more simple that way, she thought.

However, her desire for a lover had been growing within the prior months, and maybe that’s what gave her the final push to go out with the other girls that night. But she wasn’t sure.

Zoe’s face scrunched in slight disgust as she looked back at the blonde man, “Ugh, but that haircut…” she grimaced, making Bea turn her head to look at him. He had removed his cowboy hat, and his hair was long, with the sides and top cut to make a long mullet. It was reminiscent of a haircut that her sophomore-year boyfriend, Donovan, had had. But she didn’t mind. She supposed the poor choice of haircut was brave in its own kind of way.

“It’s not horrible,” she murmured, not even realizing she was defending the mysterious man. Her gaze lingered a bit longer as he removed his coat, revealing a black long-sleeve shirt with a bleach stain imprinted upon the left sleeve. She only looked away when he glanced back at her after ordering a drink. Bea’s face turned a deep red.

Zoe laughed, “Oh, my god, he’s blushing!”

Bea shook her head, “Shut up. How can you even tell? He looked the other way,” she muttered anxiously, “Stop looking at him, you’re being weird.”

Abby and Audrey turned away from their conversation to inch closer to the two, “What are we looking at?” Audrey asked before taking a sip of her beer.

“The guy with the mullet at the bar,” Zoe told her, pointing at him. Bea wanted to shrink down to the size of an ant and be stepped on right then and there. The situation was beyond embarrassing. “He and Bea were ogling each other,”

Audrey and Abby turned to look at him, “I’ve never seen him around before,” Abby said as she stared at the back of his head. Bea could only imagine how the girls' eyes were burning through the poor man’s skull. She was half expecting his brains to explode under their gaze.

Audrey shook her head, “Me neither,” she agreed. The trio looked back at Bea with wide grins spread across their faces. They seemed oddly excited at the prospect of her simply making eye contact with someone of the opposite sex. Was she really that much of a loser?

“You’ve gotta go talk to him, B!” Abby cheered, the other two girls agreeing in unison.

Bea just looked between the three of them, thoughts racing her mind. He was handsome, but she wasn’t sure if she was fit to simply approach him and attempt conversation. She was more than out of practice regarding anything of that nature.

She began to stutter out an excuse, “I-I don’t wanna bother him-”

Zoe interrupted her with a soft nudge to the shoulder, “There’s not a single man – especially not a cowboy – that would mind being bothered by a pretty girl like you. You know that, baby.” She brought her beer bottle up to her lips and took a quick swig; Bea just gave her a look and silently pleaded with her. Zoe gave a short nod and an understanding smile, “But it’s up to you.”

Bea exhaled a sigh of relief as the other two silently agreed, but not before Abby gave her two cents. “But you’d look adorable with him, B. Even more adorable than you look on your own.”

Bea smiled appreciatively, and with that, the mysterious cowboy was seemingly forgotten. The group carried on with conversation, occasionally running into familiar faces and catching up with each other’s lives over drinks. It slowly became nice for Bea. She wasn’t even entirely sure why she had been nervous to be there in the first place.

However, between drinks and increasingly easier conversation, Bea couldn’t help but sneak looks at the man from before. She’d occasionally catch him gazing softly in her direction already, but when she wouldn’t, she’d admire his features from afar—or at least the ones she could see from where she was standing.

His back was toned–she could tell through his shirt that hugged his broad shoulders–and wide arms. At one point, she had caught him standing to make his way to the bathroom, and she just couldn’t pry her eyes away from his ass. She figured it was better than her own.

With such a physique, she could tell he’d been working for most of his life, and as more alcohol coursed throughout her system, she wondered what that physique was like without such a pesky shirt. She wondered what his muscular thighs were beneath that nettlesome blue denim. Most of all, she wondered how a man she’d never spoken to before could have her practically drooling for doing nothing but minding his own business.

By the bottom of her third beer, Bea was beyond relaxed. She remembered how nice seeing old friends and catching up on small-town drama could be, and she spoke more than she had in the last month. With the growth of her confidence, her consideration of talking to the blonde cowboy grew, too. How horribly could it go? He was lonely, that much was obvious, and she figured he wouldn’t mind the company.

Bea looked back at the man as she took a drag of her cigarette. There was a perfectly free barstool right next to him, and she could hear it calling her name over the booming of the dive bar’s live band. She turned to Zoe and yelled over the thumping bass, “I’m gonna go get another beer,” her voice came out raspy, her throat tired from needing to speak over all their surrounding sounds.

“Okay,” Zoe shouted back. Bea didn’t quite understand how her friend was dealing with the surrounding crowd essentially sober, but she supposed she respected it.

“Do you mind grabbing me one, too?” Audrey asked–a significant slur to her voice.

Bea nodded her head, secretly regretting announcing where she was headed. She looked over at Abby, considering asking if she wanted one too, but she could tell from her company of wasted cowboys that she was more than well off.

Bea flicked her cigarette anxiously and turned toward the bar, beginning to weave through the maze of drunkards. She was smaller than just about everyone in the room, and pushing through the crowd was a task that seemed nearly impossible to her. It was almost like she was invisible as she brushed past drunk cowboys and their equally inebriated female counterparts, people only moving if she pushed them with some force. She truly wondered how difficult it was to be spacially aware as she wedged between the last few layers of people.

Finally, Bea pushed through the thick herd of drunkards and to the line that sat in front of the bar.

Immediately, her eyes were on him.

He had his arm propped up on the bar, his chin gently rested in his hand. His eyes were lazily focused on the hockey game that played on the boxy television hung from the ceiling behind the bar. The Boston Bruins were playing the Philadelphia Flyers, two teams that the mid-westerners who occupied the rest of the bar couldn’t have cared less about, and neither did he, it seemed. But it was something to occupy him, Bea was sure.

She continued to watch as he grabbed his beer bottle and brought it to his lips, taking a thick swig of the bubbly beverage. He huffed a sigh as he set the bottle down.

Bea took a drag of her cigarette and allowed the nicotine to cool her rising nerves. She looked back at the girls she had left, immediately locking eyes with a grinning Zoe. Bea looked away and down at her feet, a blush painting her face. Now she really couldn’t back out, unless she wanted to be chastised endlessly by her best friend for not committing to the chance she was about to take.

With a final drag of her cigarette, Bea looked into the smudged mirror behind the liquor shelves of the bar. She cursed that stupid dress she wore, telling herself how ridiculous it looked. Why couldn’t she have just worn jeans and a blouse? She’d look cuter and be comfier.

Silently, she shook the thoughts from her head as she remembered what Audrey said in the car earlier.

Whatever, Bea thought, Confidence, B, that’s all you need.

She stood straight, adjusting her body language to display confidence, hoping it looked even somewhat natural. She looked back at where Zoe had been staring from, only to find the back of her head. No more eyes on her, good.

With her sleight confidence, Bea walked up to the barstool beside the blonde and sat, setting her forearms upon the bar. She was there. It was a step in the right direction. All she had to do now was start a conversation. Somehow.

In an attempt to stall for time, she waved down the bartender and asked for another beer, hoping it would convince the man beside her that he wasn’t the entire reason she had sat down. Though, he seemed to have not noticed her presence as he lit a cigarette and kept his focus on the hockey game in front of him.

Bea watched from the corner of her eye as he took a long drag and flicked the ash into the tray that sat to the left of him. As he did so, his eyes followed the cigarette, stopping only when they seemed to catch something on the bar. Right then, she noticed just how blue his eyes were; they were only a shade or two darker than the noon sky.

“There you are, darlin’.” The bartender smiled at Bea as he set a cold Heineken in front of her.

She looked up, her eyes wide in something akin to confusion before awkwardly smiling back. “Oh! Thanks,” she spoke. The bartender nodded and turned away, making his way to a drunkard waving him down elsewhere.

Bea’s attention slyly turned back towards the blonde beside her. His eyebrows were furrowed in what seemed to be curiosity, and Bea tried to follow where exactly he was looking. She looked at the ashtray and slowly tracked further left until her gaze met her hand.

“What’s that say?” the man asked, his voice enough to melt Bea into a puddle.

She looked at him, her head tilting. “What?” she nearly squeaked.

“The tattoo,” he pointed to the ink inscribed on top of her hand, “What’s it say?”

His voice was thick and gruff but had a deep smoothness to it that made Bea’s head spin. She looked back at her hand, almost as if she was unaware of the emblem written into her skin. “Oh,” she looked at him, her cheeks flushed a bright red. “Blondie,” she finally told him as she rolled her sleeve up just a bit to reveal the entire tattoo. The name had been inscribed in calligraphy below the print date of “9/26/1988”, a small heart attached to the tail of the ‘e’ on the calligraphy with it all encircled by the depiction of a horseshoe.

“What’s the date for?” the cowboy asked, twisting his upper body towards the woman beside him and bringing his cigarette back to his lips.

Bea sat up straight, “It’s the day he died,” she told him before stumbling to cover her vagueness, “Blondie, a horse of mine. First horse I ever broke on my own,”

The man’s eyebrows shot up, obviously expecting a different, much happier answer. Whatever that may have been. “Oh, m’sorry.” he muttered, clearing his throat and taking a swig of his beer.

“That’s alright,” Bea smiled softly, her heart thumping hard against her ribcage as she spoke with him. Even over the sound of the dive bar’s band, she was sure he could hear it too.

He took another quick drag of his cigarette before stubbing it in the glass ashtray. His hands were big and rough, obviously made from years of work. Bea’s stomach coiled slightly at the sight as her mind wandered. She thought about how they’d feel on her back, her hips, her thighs…

“I like it, though,” he told her, snapping her from her sinful thoughts. He looked up at her, “Not many folks have tattoos. It’s different,”

She was sure her face was beet red as she smiled at him, “Thank you,” she said. “Usually, people ask me if I was drunk when I decided to get it. Or if I worship Satan.”

The cowboy squinted and scoffed before saying, “For a tattoo commemorating a dead horse?”

She shrugged, “They say it’s a Pagan practice.” The cowboy just shook his head and rolled his eyes as he took a final swig of his beer. Bea spoke, “Pretty sure Pagans don’t worship Satan, either.”

“People just like hearing themselves talk,” he grumbled, placing the empty beer bottle on the bar. “Always have something to say about how you live your life. It’s dumb.”

“Agreed,” Bea nodded, reaching for her untouched beer bottle. She took a swig as the cowboy returned to watching the TV, the game at the tail end of the third period. Now she had to start more conversation. She reached into her dress’s pocket and pulled out her pack of Marlboro Reds alongside a lighter. As she plucked a cigarette from the pack, she spoke. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

The man looked at her, “Definitely not,” he smiled softly. “I’m originally from a bit further west, little town called Durango.”

Bea nodded, her eyes lighting up. “Oh, yeah! My daddy won a big barrel racing title out that way in ‘68 at the uh…”

“Fiesta Days Rodeo?”

“Yeah! That’s it!”

The cowboy nodded, his entire body turned on the barstool towards Bea. He had a prideful smirk on his face, “That’s the first rodeo I ever rode in. Junior bull riding in ‘77 when I was 14. Fell off in three seconds,”

Bea tilted her head and smiled, “You’re a bull rider?”

“Was, for about two years. Then I started doing some of the calf roping in the rodeo. I did a whole lot better with that, nowhere near as many head injuries.” he told her, picking up his hat from the bar and placing it on his knee to dust it off. “I tried barrel racing, but I never really got the hang of it. Cutting was the most fun, though. It feels like working a herd, except you’re in a ring,”

Bea nodded, “I did lots of cutting before Blondie died. He knew how to work cattle better than any old ranch horse we had,” she told him, “I still breed and train cutters and barrel racers, competing’s just harder nowadays.”

“You sell ‘em, too?” he asked, an eyebrow quirked.

She nodded, a grin plastered across her face. “Yeah. Why? You interested?”

The man snorted and put his hat on, “You’re funny,”

Bea giggled, “Come on, any self-respecting man wants a good working horse!” she took a tender sip of her beer.

The cowboy gave her a sardonic look, “Do I look like I have any self-respect, Miss…”

“Dalton,” she answered, “Lorelei Dalton, just call me Bea.”

“Where does ‘Bea’ come from out of ‘Lorelei Dalton’?” he teased.

She rolled her eyes, only then realizing just how loose her once-tensed muscles had become. “My middle name is Bernadette if you really have to know.”

The blonde nodded before sticking out his hand for her to shake, “James Hetfield,” he said as she grabbed it and they shook.

Bea’s hand was warm in his grip, his hand almost twice the size of hers and calloused from his years of work. “What brings you out here, then, Mr. Hetfield?”

“James,” he corrected with a smirk, “And just work. I was in Wyoming working a ranch this past year, but the guy who owned the place was a shady fuck. Didn’t ever pay any of his cowpunchers quite what he owed, so I just sort of up and left.”

Bea nodded, “I’d have done the same,” she said, “Why didn’t you go back to Durango?”

He shrugged. “It’s in my past,”

She took it as an ‘I don’t wanna talk about it,’.

“Well, there’s plenty of cattle to work out this way.” she told him, “I hope you find someone who’ll pay you what they owe,”

“Yeah, me too.” James chuckled. His laugh sent Bea’s insides fluttering. It was adorable. “I dunno, I’ve got a ‘trial’ for a job, I guess. Over in Cuchara. I start tomorrow,”

Bea leaned on the bar top, “Maybe I’ll be seeing you around often, then.” she told him. His head tilted in curiosity at her words. “My family’s ranch is out in Cuchara, ‘Lone Wolf’. My daddy and my brother work the cattle.

“Just them?” he asked.

Bea nodded, “Our herd isn’t huge right now, we had a bad calving yield this past spring.” she told him, taking a swig of her beer before continuing. “What’s the name of the ranch you’re gonna be working?”

James shrugged, “I forgot,” he simply said.

Bea gave him an unimpressed look, “Really?”

“Really.” he affirmed, “I’ve got the address, though.” he began fishing through his jeans’ pockets, but before he could pull anything from them, Bea felt a tap on her shoulder. She whipped her head around.

“Hey, babe. We’ve gotta go,” Zoe told her, her hand now grabbing for the meaty part of Bea’s arm.

“Wh-” Bea began, but her eyes soon fell upon Audrey, who was attempting to hold the attention of a tall, dark-haired cowboy across the room. However, his dark eyes were narrowed and focused overtop of the woman’s head. Straight at Bea. “Oh,” was all she could muster as her stomach dropped to her feet.

“Yeah,” Zoe said before looking over at James, who now sat dumbfounded and almost upset that this random woman had interrupted their conversation. He held a small piece of paper in his hand. “Sorry.” Zoe told him sincerely, “Just look her up in the Yellow Pages, or something.”

With that, Zoe and Bea began out the door. Bea turned to wave at the blonde cowboy, finding his now-longing and sad eyes following her out the door. He waved back at her with a sigh before standing and grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair. She felt horrible. But she also needed to get out of there.

“What’s he doing here?” she asked Zoe, wide-eyed as they burst through the entrance. The bitter wind stung their cheeks.

Zoe shrugged, “He just came up to Audrey and asked if you were with us,” she unlocked her car’s door, and the two got into the vehicle. She stuck the key in the ignition, and the engine struggled to a start.

“I thought he’d left town!” Bea exclaimed as she shivered, trying to warm up as the car pushed hot air through its vents. “When is he going to fucking leave me alone?! We fucked twice. Twice! A year ago! That’s it!”

Zoe nodded, “I know. He’s a creep.”

Right then, the doors to the bar burst open, Audrey and Abigail drunkenly stumbling out with something akin to haste. Abigail was leaning against Audrey, her drunkenness reducing her to the balance of a toddler. They raced across the parking lot and burst the car doors open as soon as they reached them.

“We’ve got to go,” Audrey practically shouted as she slammed the door beside her. “Fucker tried grabbing me,”

Zoe whipped around, “What?!”

The man in question emerged from the entrance.

“Zoe, go,” Bea told her friend firmly. The car was then quickly put into gear, and they whipped out of the parking lot, leaving the old dive bar in the dust.

#yay!!!! i did it!!!!#only took 6 months #anywhooo #i hope y'all enjoy!!!!#hopefully gonna have chapter two out in like two or three weeks #james hetfield #papa het #ranch hand!james #rancher!james #metallica #james hetfield x oc #james hetfield fluff #james hetfield smut #the farmer's daughter #bub's writing

77 notes · View notes