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holy-puckslibrary · 3 months

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sid to a furry friend's rescue!

florist!reader gets flustered during sid's calendar shoot

parents mentors for the day

chief crosby's got a date... and its not with florist!reader

... was in a bit of a silly goofy mood, forgive me (and be sure to read the endnotes!)

gif from @littlemessyjessi

This is the last thing Sidney Crosby imagined he'd come home to: another man settled in his chair.

His cat is curled in the intruder's lap, and said intruder's hand is curled over your knee. And Sidney's soup—homemade and hand-delivered—split in bowls between you.

"Thought you didn't need a babysitter?"

Sidney watches the gleeful expression wilt on your pretty face—color drained like his bank account succeeding the egregious bid he matched to make bail—with equal measures of self-satisfaction and self-contempt.

"I-I didn't, I just—"

"Settle down, Chief," the ranger laughs. "I knew our little lady here was feeling under the weather, so I thought I'd stop by after my patrol shift and keep her company while you were indisposed."

Sidney glares into the bright cerulean eyes of one Anthony Beauvillier, a park ranger in the Atlantic Coast Uplands region.

If memory serves, he was recently transferred from Waverley to Blue Mountain but resides in Peggy's Cove. This is a 50-minute detour.

In the opposite direction.

The Fire Chief's jaw is painfully tight, his blood scalding. If it were't for his, albeit dwindling, sense of self preservation, Sidney would've marched up those two steps—recently refurbished at his hand, might he add—to forcefully remove the park narc's grubby paw from your body.

Mercifully—for all involved parties, you do so shortly and of your own volition before joining Sid in your driveway.

Guilt smeared over your sickly features, your mouth parts, an explanation hot on your tongue, but all that comes is a grizzly cough that stings Sid's chest just hearing it. Despite his vexation, he's patient with you; he owes it to you both to wait it out. He hopes this is just one big misunderstanding somehow.

But, before you're able, the absolute last person Sidney wants to hear from pipes up.

"Resting, ma biche. You're meant to be resting," Tito attempts to coax you back onto the porch—back to his side—with an outstretched, up-turned hand.

(my doe / my darling — reminder: see end for important notes!)

Not as quick with his French as he'd like to be, he growls at the perceived insult. However, rather than running his fist through the opposition's teeth in your honor, Sidney defiles it.

The park ranger, and everyone else who happens to be out and about tonight, are treated to an unexpected eyeful of their Fire Chief's innermost feelings rushing to the surface. They pour into your mouth with reckless abandon, unconcerned with his public image or the utter lack of privacy; this kiss could be broadcast on the Nightly News for all he cares.

All that matters to Sidney Crosby is making his intentions known, and crystal fucking clear. Staking his claim is just a bonus.

"Well, it looks like my work here is done."

At your dazed expression and Sid's bewilderment, Tito stands from the rocking chair with a genuine smile fixed on his face. As he deposits evergreen Stetson atop his wind-swept hair, he pauses.

"Y'all have a nice night," he winks with a tip of the brim, bidding you farewell before slipping into his government-issued Ram.

As gravel crunches under the vehicle's wheels, gears click into place behind Sidney's burnt umber eyes, now gleaming with clarity.

"Nate and Emmy." — Statement, not a question.

"Please, don't be angry. They just wanted to help because... because I didn't believe that... y'know." You gesture to the sliver of space that still separates you, a bashful little smile pushing up your feverish cheeks.

He couldn't find it in himself to be ticked off about your best friends' not-so-harebrained scheme—which, honestly, deserved more credit than he would ever be willing to give it—if he wanted to. Not while standing so close he can smell the PEI tulips you've been elbow-deep in all month, and definitely not having tasted the whisper of herbal tea lingering on your tongue.

Smirking, he closes the gap with a gentle tug.

"Oh, I know." Voice dropping to a thick hush, his lips hovering a lick above your skin, "D'you believe it now?"

The pinkish skin crinkles around his warm eyes as you pretend to think.

"I could do with a little more... convincing," you ultimately quip. "But, only if you're up for the t—"

The remainder of your cajoling is overtaken by a fit of giggles as he corrals you up and across the porch. The front door slams shut with a satisfying air of finality. Though, not before little Ember slips in with you.

Chief Crosby was thorough by nature, and he'd be damned if he didn't dedicate the evening to dispelling any and all doubts threatening to take root. Feigned, or not.

—

gotcha! teehee 😋 sid really said sick germs?? no match for my LOVE!!! ALSO! tito anon, this ones for you bbyyyyy 💓💓💓💓

***** 'ma biche' was chosen because its typically humorous and rarely intended seriously, + can be considered majorly outdated (even by 60s sitcom standards)—and its not always romantic! ... it also sounds a lot like an english insult, hence sid's reaction lol (at least, according to my french-canadian grandmother who remains very confused by my random call for a french lesson on infrequently used terms of endearment lol) *****

as always, i would really appreciate if you reblogged my work, left a comment or dropped by my inbox w some feedback :) fandom runs on engagement, and so do writers!! thx a mil in advance!

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bordysbae · 1 year

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hi can you 55. “he won’t stop talking about you” with mat barzal?

“meeting the team”

mathew barzal x reader

ps: let’s imagine that tito is still on the isles in this!! also not proof read so sorry if there’s mistakes

moving to new york was easily the best decision you’ve ever made. within two weeks of living here you met your boyfriend mat, whom you’ve been dating for a little over a month, at small coffee shop around the corner from your apartment, which is on the opposite corner of his apartment. mat is a professional hockey player, which came as a shock to your parents when you first told them about him.

“mat, why have i never met your teammates yet?” you ask him, as you stretch out your legs across his, which are laying horizontally to you.

“oh, honestly i haven’t even really thought about that, the season only started a month ago. would you like to meet them?” he asks you, looking away from the tv to face towards you.

“of course i would! i’ve heard so much about all of them, especially tito. i’d love to meet him.”

“well, i can make that happen! i know you’ve only met two of the wives but i’ve heard they’re all dying to meet you. at practice tomorrow i’ll bring up having a team get together with the girlfriends and wives, how does that sound?” he smiles at you, making your heart swell.

“thank you mat, seriously. you’re the best,” you smile, sitting up and kissing his lips. you slide your legs off of mat’s, and rise off of the couch. you get yourself ready for bed, mat joining you in your bed shortly after.

“when you wake up i’ll be gone, but i think you already kind of new that” mat chuckles as you both get comfortable in the cold sheets. “yeah that’s what i expected, goodnight babe,” you yawn.

—

you’re at work when mat calls you, which is concerning since he knows your work hours. luckily you have your own large cubicle off to the farther end of the office, so answering your phone isn’t a major issue. “hello? everything okay?” you ask mat through the phone.

“hi babe, sorry for calling during work hours but we just got out of practice. i talked to the guys and i think we’re all going to dinner tonight, you down?” mat says. you hear in the background the sound of an elevator, meaning he’s back at his apartment.

“of course! i get off work in two-ish hours so i’ll go straight to my apartment and get ready.” you say, checking the time on the upper left corner of your phone. “sounds like a plan! i’ll pick you up at 7, love you babe!” he says before ending the call.

—

as you finish putting in your gold hoop earrings, you receive a text from mat letting you know he’s outside. you scurry out of your apartment, checking your lipstick in the mirror on the way out. once outside at ground level, you spot mathew’s silver bmw. as you open the door you get a whiff of his cologne, making you smile at the familiar scent you’re always craving.

“holy, y/n woah, you look amazing. trying to impress someone?” he jokes as he begins driving away from the building.

“oh stop it. i didn’t know if i was dressed to casual or not, am i?” you say gesturing to your black jeans, white turtle neck with a black leather jacket atop.

“no not at all, you’re dressed perfectly. i promise you have absolutely nothing to worry about, they’re gonna love you.” he takes his hand off of the wheel and interlaces his fingers with yours. you guys arrive at the restaurant not too long after, and get taken to a large table with majority of the team and their wives or girlfriends.

“hi guys! everyone meet my girlfriend y/n!” mat smiles, pulling out the chair for you to sit in. you chuckle at his manners, and greet those at the table around you. across from you and mat is who you’ve been introduced to as anthony.

“anthony it’s nice meet you, mat literally never stops talking about you. it’s always ‘tito did this’ or ‘me and tito are going golfing today’ blah blah blah, no offense but it gets a little annoying. it feels like you’re a third in our relationship!” you chuckle, making anthony laugh as well.

“oh i could say the same for you, he won’t stop talking about you. oh god you should’ve heard him before you guys were dating, he was so nervous to ask you out it was like talking to an insecure teenager,” anthony laughs, making mat roll his eyes.

“oh be quiet. y/n don’t listen to him, he’s dragging this out.” mat groans. “me be quiet? you’re the one who never stops talking about y/n!” anthony grins at his own comment, making both you and mat chuckle.

“look what you did y/n, you made my best friend expose my secrets!” mat exclaims. “but mat, i thought you said that anthony was ‘dragging out’ how much you talk about me?” you smirk.

“okay well, maybe he wasn’t lying,” mat blushes, scratching the back of his neck shyly.

“yeah, exactly my point,” anthony says, rolling his eyes jokingly. the rest of the night is tons of fun, getting to know the other wags, and even the other teammates. needless to say, you love mats teammates and will definitely be attending more ‘team bonding’ events.

#mathew barzal imagine #mathew barzal #mathew barzal fluff #mathew barzal x reader #mat barzal #mat barzal fluff #mat barzal imagine #hockey blurb #hockey imagine #anthony beauvillier #tito beauvillier

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youunravelme · 9 months

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Hey baby, happy 1000!

Your writing is always sweet and warm, happy that you are having such a well-deserved recognition! 💜

Could you grace us by writing to Anthony with the prompt “Nibbling on their partner’s lower lip as they kiss, letting their hands wander. Cupping their face in their hands to hold them their just a while longer.”?

Ily 💜

thank you thank you !! and AHHHHH thank you for choosing good ole sweet nugget anthony! (ilhsm)

thanks for the request!! it's right below! (and this request, just like the last one, got away from me yet again.)

anthony's trade still left a sour taste in your mouth. you were in no position to job hunt, and you weren't keen on up and quitting.

so you managed long distance.

for months

and god it sucked.

your schedules barely aligned to talk on facetime, and if both of you were free, one of you was too tired to talk, which ended in one of you hanging up when the conversation died down. it was hard, managing a social life when all you wanted was your boyfriend, it was even harder knowing he was trying just as much to have a good time in vancouver.

the offseason was wonderful, with anthony splitting time between new york with you and time with his family.

but when august hit, and he packed his last bag, it took everything in you to wait to cry until he left for tsa.

so when your boss came up to you a month later and suggested you could work remotely, you almost cried and hugged her.

you refrained and called mat instead.

"hey what's up? everything okay?"

you laughed into the phone, so hard you almost started crying. "my boss told me i can work remotely."

"oh," he said before his voice came back even stronger. "oh!"

"i can move to vancouver!" you were crying now, though someone might think the word "weeping" was more applicable. "no more long distance, no more falling asleep on calls."

"have you told him yet?"

you paused. "no, i think i wanna surprise him." you'd been planning it all day, they were playing the ducks this week in vancouver. and while you would've loved to wait until next week when they played the isles, you didn't think you could wait that long to see him.

so you booked your plane ticket, and mat gave you a list of suggested hotels that were safe and close to the arena.

"not that you'll need a hotel once he finds out you're in town," mat said.

mat had also pulled some strings for you by asking bo horvat to let one of his former teammates know to let you down to the locker rooms at the end of the game. he'd also sent a list of things to do in vancouver while you waited for the game to start.

which would ultimately be a waste because you ended up spending most of your time before the game pacing the floor of your hotel room. you would've paced up and down the plane aisles if you were allowed, so you settled for bouncing your leg instead.

by the time you made it to the stadium, you were like two hours early, just in time for the doors to open. initially, you thought about waiting so anthony wouldn't spot you in the small crowd, but you couldn't keep waiting and delaying the inevitable.

not when you were in the same city for the first time in months since the off season.

you walked into the arena, pulling your jersey's sleeves over your hands in a sad attempt to keep them warm. around you were others dressed similarly, many of whom were wearing your boyfriend's jersey.

it was weird, even though you'd had time to get used to him not wearing an islanders' jersey, you'd never actually been to a home canucks game where multiple people were decked out in 72s.

god you couldn't wait to see him.

your phone buzzed in your back pocket and when you pulled it out, you saw anthony's contact photo filling up your screen.

"hello?"

"hey baby," anthony started. "how're you doing? have any plans for tonight?"

you smirked to yourself. "nothing too special," you said. "just seeing a friend i haven't seen in awhile."

"is that so? how was work--" he cut himself off. "where are you right now? it's kinda loud." you could hear him typing on his phone. "wait, why can't i see your location? where are you? are you safe? do i need to call mat?"

you laughed, missing him even now that you were in opposite ends of the arena. "no baby, i'm fine. sometimes my phone just glitches out."

"if your phone keeps glitching, you need to get a new one. i don't like not knowing where you are."

"anthony--"

"i'm being dead serious, honey. i will buy you a phone if you're concerned about money, but i'm not comfortable with not having a reliable way to get up with you."

"my phone is fine."

"you just said it's glitchy." you rolled your eyes and sighed. "don't roll your eyes at me!"

you blinked. "how did you know i rolled my eyes?"

anthony's chuckle sounded through the receiver. "baby, i've been in love with you for a long time, i know you." you could fill the heat flood your body from your toes to your nose. "don't get shy on me now, honey. you know i love you."

"i know," you said. "i just like being reminded of it."

there was a commotion in the background of his phone that told you he was about to hang up.

"hey, listen i gotta go but can i call you later?"

you smiled to yourself. "i don't know, anthony, i think i'm gonna be busy later."

"too busy for me?"

"'fraid so."

he sighed. "fine, call me when you get home tonight, okay? if you don't, i'm calling mat to check on you."

"okay, baby. i love you."

"love you more."

and he hung up.

you made your way to your seat, sitting behind the front row of home bench and readying yourself with your beanie to cover your hair and face when needed. you scrolled through your social media accounts and answered some text messages, specifically from mat who was begging you to take a video of when anthony finally saw you.

before you knew it, the music started playing and boos emanated from the crowd as the ducks skated out. your gaze went back to your phone for a second to pull up the video as the canucks came out. the entire arena erupted into cheeks and celebration.

you had your phone aimed at the bench as soon as anthony came towards it. you didn't think it was possible to hide yourself behind a small cellular device, but he didn't manage to see you. for a moment, you saw him squint in your direction, but a teammate grabbed his attention before he could really hone in.

the game itself was interesting, anthony had one assist and one goal by the end of the night, with the canucks winning 5-3. at the end of the game, a security guard came over and grabbed you, offering to escort you to the locker rooms.

you stood and waited outside with the other wags, most of whom didn't recognize you initially. it wasn't until one of them mentioned knowing you from somewhere that you mentioned who you were dating. you lost track of how long you talked to them when the doors opened and the players walked out.

you stared and waited in anticipation of seeing him, knowing good and well the second you did, you wouldn't be able to control yourself.

and there he was, staring at his phone, probably texting someone back.

and you had an idea.

you immediately pulled up his contact info and hit the call button as you watched his face light up and quickly pick up the call.

"hey," he said, holding a hand to his other ear to hear you. "i thought you said you couldn't talk tonight."

"change of plans," you replied, not helping the smile that's on your face.

some of his teammates came up and clapped him on the shoulder, but he paid them no attention. quinn even tried to point towards you, but anthony waved him off.

"what're you gonna do now?"

you hummed. "i think i might take a handsome man home."

immediately, anthony's posture tensed, though you could still see the slight smirk on his face. "don't joke about that."

"oh i'm not joking. i'm just waiting for him to look up and notice me."

"how could anyone not notice you, baby?"

you shrugged, knowing he couldn't see you. "i don't know anthony, how could you not see me?"

he pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it like it had suddenly grown legs before he looked up and around everyone, eyes scanning those around him.

before those beautiful blue eyes landed on you.

you don't think someone has ever hung up a phone call as fast as he did.

you don't think anyone has crossed a room as quickly as he did.

you don't think...

well, as soon as his lips met yours, you ceased to think.

his hands were on your cheeks, his teeth pulled on your bottom lip. you weren't sure if he cheeks were still damp from the shower or if he was crying, not that it mattered to you. being held like that was everything you didn't realize you missed.

suddenly, you were missing the moments of lazy saturdays and pancakes for breakfast.

and you had it here right now.

you'd have it forever once you packed up your old apartment.

"what're you doing here?" he breathed into your mouth, like he was too scared to pull too far away, scared that if he did, you'd be a mirage or a figment of his own imagination.

"i thought it was obvious. i'm here to see you."

he rolled his eyes but kissed you again. "i missed your smart mouth, doesn't hit the same over the phone."

you placed your hands on his chest and felt the pounding heartbeat beneath the fabric of his clothes. "i came to give you good news."

"and?"

"my boss told me i could start working remotely."

he blinked.

"meaning, i can work anywhere i want, occasionally coming into the office about once a month if that."

he blinked again before exhaling what sounded like the most heartbreaking sigh of relief. "so you can move here? be with me?"

you laughed and nodded before he pulled you into another kiss. "anthony, baby, we're in public," you said, trying to pull away.

but his arms just grabbed you by the hips and pulled you closer. "don't care," he said. "i haven't seen my girl in months, if anyone has a problem with my kissing her, then that's a them issue."

you rolled your eyes but kissed him again anyway.

"i love you," he whispered. "i'm so glad you're moving here."

"love you more."

#anthony beauvillier imagine #anthony beauvillier #tito beauvillier #tito beauvillier imagine #nhl blurb #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #1k celebration

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ghoststyles · 1 year

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Fairway to Heaven - Part 1

Hi!! I’m so excited to post my first-ever Harry fic! I’ve been on 1D Tumblr since the very beginning, logged off for 5 years and now I’m back 💀 So I’ve had a lot of ideas over the years that have just lived in my head. GOLFRRY + MUSTACHRRY are my weaknesses, so this is my twist on a golf/bev cart girl + agegap fic 🤩

I’d love to hear your thoughts. I have most of the story written, so I should be able to have a consistent posting schedule. Not sure the total # of parts quite yet. I’m also happy to write additional blurbs if y’all like Harry and Briar as much as I do 🥹🐥🦊

Here is a mood board I put together. Feel free to picture Briar however you please. The mood board is just to set the vibez!

Without further ado...Enjoy!

Word count: 4.5K

Contains mature themes. Read at your own discretion. Agegaps, cursing.

Read Part 2 | Read Part 3 | Read Part 4

By the time she gets to her designated cart, she’s already fifteen minutes late; but her iced coffee is the perfect color, and her hair didn’t give her too much trouble this morning. A win is a win.

Briar Barlowe quickly dumps a bucket of ice in her cart’s side cooler as the bar back begins filling the bin with the usual suspects: Bud Light, Michelob Ultra, Fireball, Tito’s, Casamigos, Ginger ale, and, of course, grape juice. She makes sure to keep her lavender cups stocked and plenty of fun straws to make everything more fun. She even decorates her tip jars to say funny jokes.

Since starting at Wynnewood Country Club, Briar has gained a bit of notoriety among the players as the girl with a bright smile and a heavy pour. This job is exactly what she needs to fill the gap between graduating college and beginning her business degree in the fall. Good money, stress-free responsibilities, and time spent in the sunshine.

Her Uncle, Patrick Barlowe, is the golf pro at Wynnewood; a local legend who was just shy of making the PGA Tour himself. He spends his days teaching lessons, running the pro shop and serving on the Board of Directors for the club. If you’re in with Patrick, you’re in with everyone.

When he heard her worries of not finding a summer job after graduation, it was a no brainer to offer her a position as a beverage cart girl. They both gaze out over the course from a table under the gazebo on the top deck of the club’s restaurant.

“That job sounds a little sexist, Uncle Patrick,” Briar sneers. All she can picture is driving around in a little dress and a visor like Malibu Barbie, answering the male members’ every beck and call.

The club is gorgeous; first built in 1914, and the architecture reflects it. It has two golf courses, 4 tennis courts, a pool, and deluxe spa. The member fees skyrocket each year, upping the amenities and overall snootiness of the members.

“The money is good and the members are pretty harmless. From the way you’ve swindled me into throwing teddy bear tea parties, I think you’ll do just fine on the sales aspect.”

“Fine. When do I start?”

Patrick leans back in his seat, “I’ll call Dominic in the morning.”

With that, they finish their drinks and appetizers just as the sun sets.

Walking out to her car, she sees a black Range Rover pull under the carport. The boys at the valet stand are already bickering over who gets to drive this one.

Based on the surrounding town, the level of pretentiousness at the club never surprises Briar. The yearly member fee for the club can cover 2 years’ worth of her business school tuition alone. She shakes her head and jumps into her hand-me down Jeep to head back to her apartment, paying no mind to the man entering the front door of the club.

Her shift this morning started out in the frigid cold, forcing her to change outfits later in the day as the sun came out. She’s sporting her black athletic skort and a racerback tank top. She opts to leave her hair down and sport her black and white Nike trailblazers to keep the look casual.

With a few weeks’ worth of shifts under her belt, she’s learned the ways of the club and fallen into a good rhythm. On any given weekend day, she has to head to the clubhouse to restock twice before 12PM. Today is not one of those days.

As temperature warms up, the course begins to fill up. In the last hour of her shift, she’s left with only a few beers and a few shots worth of Tito’s. Her tip jar is a little emptier than usual, but the pun on her sign got a few chuckles. She sets up shop on the 17th hole and snaps a few photos of the sunset.

“I shot one under today. One under a tree, one under a bush, and one under the water.”

Briar jumps at the voice behind her. Is that an Irish accent? She leans to peer over the side of her cart. She sees a man, older than her, donning a light blue polo with dark blue pants and a white hat, reading the joke on her jar.

“Clever, isn’t it?” She smiles kindly at him.

“Hilarious. It’s like ya been watching my game today,” he laughs. He moves closer to where she’s standing.

“Can I get you anything? I’ll be honest, I’m mostly wiped out.”

He peers down at the contents of the cooler. “I’ll take that last Mich Ultra. Do you have any Casamigos left? My mate is a little picky.”

“No Casamigos,” she says with a slight frown. “I’ll try to keep my drinking to a minimum next time and save you some.”

He lets out a loud laugh and squeezes his eyes shut. “Alright, just this then. He’ll have to deal with it.”

“I can offer you some Peanut M&M’s for your troubles,” she says, pulling out her iPad to ring in the order. “Do you have an account with the club, or do you want to pay cash?”

“The account is under Niall Horan,” he says, putting a $20 bill in the jar. “Thanks for the M&M’s, darlin’.”

“I’m Briar. It was nice meeting you, Niall. Thank you!” She beams. He smiles and starts heading back to the path toward the clubhouse.

After cleaning her cart and counting her money, Briar finishes the day drinking a mojito at the bar, while Cam, her new friend at the club, is working her bar shift.

“How was it out there today, babe?” Cam asks.

“Slow at first, but it definitely picked up. I couldn’t even head back for a restock. Luckily, the members I got at the very end weren’t picky.”

“Oh! Did you see Niall?” she asks as she puts glassware in the dishwasher.

“Yeah,” Briar furrows her brows. “How did you know?”

“I used to serve him on the front course all the time. Now that I’m too old and wretched to work out on the course, he’ll visit me in here sometimes. He mentioned playing the back course with a friend today.”

Briar is always assigned to the back course. There are only minor differences in difficulty, but she finds the back course to be a little more calm and serious. They’re also a little more generous with their tips. She’s not sure if her assignment has something to do with her uncle’s knowledge of the club’s inner workings.

“He is really nice, and generous. I didn’t get to meet the friend, though. Did you?”

“Yes, he was a little more reserved. But Niall is a riot, so he makes anyone look calm. I didn’t catch his name.”

Briar hums and stirs her mojito around as she stifles a yawn. “Well, I’ve been here since 7:30 this morning, so I am ready to goooo,” she drags out her last word. She waves bye to Cam and begins the trek to the employee parking lot.

As she’s walking, she gazes up to the upper deck of the restaurant where she can just barely make out Niall standing by the railing. He’s talking animatedly and waving his beer bottle around.

A bit off to the right, peering down at her, is a tall, striking man with dark features wearing a white button down and a sport coat. The top two buttons are undone just enough to see his collarbones.

The club has a strict dress code for the restaurant. Briar often does a double take when she sees members out of their golf clothes. She wonders if he’s even allowed to show that much skin.

Shrugging it off, she continues toward her car, but not without looking back at the man. He’s still looking at her, curiously, taking a sip of his drink and turning away not long after she looks up.

She can’t help but get this strange feeling, almost as if the hairs on the back of her neck are standing straight up.

As the summer starts to heat up, so do her shifts at the course. By the end of them, Briar’s hair is sticking out sideways and her make up is smeared down her face. She bought a miniature fan that clips right to the visor of her cart to keep her cool throughout the day.

It’s just past 8:30 in the morning on Tuesday when she hears a familiar voice on the 8th hole. She squints and sees Niall, along with the dark haired man from the other night. There are a few guys she doesn’t recognize standing with them.

She maneuvers her cart through the winding path, closer to where the men are.

“There’s the beer angel!” Niall shouts. She smiles and shakes her head. He comes jogging over. “I hope you’re fully stocked this morning.”

“Yep, I am! I even have a few breakfast sandwiches, if you’re interested.”

His eyes light up as she pulls out a bacon, egg and cheese on an everything bagel from the warming drawer. Chef Lambo, the executive chef of the club, made them especially for Briar’s customers.

“Yesss. I’ll take one of those, a Mich Ultra, two Transfusions, and — H! What do you want?” He yells, partially turning to face his friend in the distance.

She faintly hears, “Casamigos!”

“And a Casamigos on the rocks, with a lime,” he finishes. It takes her only a few minutes to make the cocktails.

“Do you want these on your account?” Briar asks Niall.

He takes a huge bite of the bagel and mumbles, “No, you can put it all on my mate’s. Last name is Styles.”

Styles, or, “H” as Niall called him. The mystery man’s Last name is Styles. And, he’s a member here.

“Got it. Well, good luck today.”

“Thanks, we’ll need it. We’re trying to close a work deal with the two guys we’re playing with. Hey, don’t be afraid to swing by us multiple times. We can use all the schmoozing we can get,” he smiles.

“I think I can do that. Let me know if you need help, I’m told I’m very persuasive,” she smiles as she takes the emergency brake off of her cart. He throws another $20 in her jar and then waves, nearly dropping all of the items in his hands.

Niall returns to his group, handing out their drinks. Briar continues to watch before pulling away. H steps out from behind Niall, slightly lifting his cup — his lavender cup — towards her, as a thank you. His facial expression is stoic, watching her carefully.

She smiles to herself and drives off. The rest of the shift goes by in a blur. She swings by Niall and H’s group a few times. Each time, Niall greets her to grab more drinks and snacks.

Is that on purpose? If the drinks are on H’s account, why isn’t he coming over? She’d like to get a closer look at him. She chews on the inside of her lip and continues on with her closing duties. She loves the morning shift; in early, out early.

After parking her cart in the garage, she can see her uncle in the pro shop, glasses on the tip of his nose, peering down at something. She lightly knocks on the door and pushes it open.

“Hey, Briar bear,” he says, looking up at her. “How was your day?”

Briar sighs at her childhood nickname, plopping down on the couch by the practice putting green. Members can test out clubs before purchasing them in the pro shop, making it an optimal spot to hang out and mess around with all of the clubs.

“It was good, I just have to get used to waking up this early again. And I already know you’re going to say, ‘welcome to the real world, kid’, so just stop there,” she says sassily.

Patrick chuckles and focuses back on with his paperwork. They’re quiet for a few moments.

“What’re working on, anyway?” she asks, craning her neck to see what he’s doing.

“Just some budget sheets, and making a list of members who haven’t had a lesson from their amazing in-house golf pro,” he says, punching numbers into his phone calculator.

“They get a free lesson from you?”

“Yes, when they join. But now, to keep up member retention, we’re going to offer sessions to members who have been here for 5 years or more,” he scratches his temple. “Most of ‘em don’t need it, but I feel they always leave with a new drill to practice and some sage advice from yours truly.”

“That’s cool,” she replies absently.

“Wanna help?” Patrick asks her. She nods silently and takes a seat beside him. She sees a list of last names, first initial and an “X” next to their name if they’ve taken a lesson.

She notices an X next to “Horan, N.” but not “Styles, H”. Interesting.

Briar continues to audit the two lists, until she hears her uncle clear his throat.

“Hey, are you going to hang here for a bit? I need to run back into the main clubhouse for a few minutes.”

Patrick runs the pro shop solo during the day, until a high school or college kid can come in in the afternoon.

“Yeah, I’ll hang here. What do I do if someone needs something?”

“Then you can entertain them with your dazzling personality until I get back,” he teases, sticking his tongue out. “Alright, I’ll be back.”

“‘kay,” she says, walking back to her original spot on the sofa, laying her head back on the edge.

Her eyes are shut, only for a minute, until a brilliant idea pops in her head. She rises off the sofa and saunters over to the computer her uncle was just working on.

The employee portal is logged in under Patrick’s account. Briar doesn’t know much about it, aside from using it to clock in and clock out. It’s still on the member screen, an area she’s 100% sure she doesn’t have access to.

She peruses the site until she finds a “Member Look-Up” tab. Briar’s intrusive thoughts win.

She slowly punches in S-T-Y-L-E-S and waits for the results to populate. 2 results found.

She clicks on the first profile. An account pulls up for a Paul Styles, and a photo of a white-haired man pops up.

Well, that’s certainly not him, Briar thinks to herself. She exits out and clicks on the next account. No profile photo opens, but the name is at the top. She bites her thumbnail in anticipation of what she’ll see.

Harry Styles. H. Niall’s mysterious friend. The tequila lover.

She starts to scroll down the page. The profile is more bare than the other man’s, but she can see the basic things about him. He’s 41, joined the club 8 years ago. He lives in another pretentious town only a few miles away.

Then, she sees a “Member Activity” tab. Out of curiosity, she clicks on it. Her eyes widen, seeing every transaction he’s ever made on his account. His “dues” each year. Holy shit.

His purchases seem pretty standard for members of Wynnewood. Mostly rounds of Casamigos on the rocks (shocking) and dinners ranging from $100-$400, with a few bills over $1,000.

He joined 8 years ago, but his transactions have only begun to pick up in the last month or so. Before, his visits were sporadic at best.

Briar can’t even fathom having that sort of money to throw away. She started working at age 14 and never stopped. The only reason she gets a taste of country club life is because of her uncle.

She closes out the portal, not wanting to risk Patrick walking in while she’s snooping around. She returns to her spot on the sofa and begins playing 1010! on her phone.

She exhales and tosses her phone to the side. As she sits up, Patrick reenters the pro shop.

“Thanks, Bri. Heading home soon?”

“Yeah, I gotta get back home for Gus,” she smiles, thinking about her dog. Her baby.

“Alright, I’ll catch you later. Say hello to my buddy for me. And give him a butt scratch — Tell him it’s from Uncle Patty.”

“Will do. See ya.”

When she’s showered and comfy at home, with Gus, her Bernese Mountain Dog, snuggled at her side, she finally feels relaxed.

She’s worked nearly every day since she started. But, those are the sacrifices of a summer job.

She turns on Selling Sunset on Netflix to drown out the silence of her apartment. Already bored of this season, she pulls out her phone.

One last round of stalking, then she’ll let it go. She opens Instagram and begins typing in Harry’s name in the search bar. Nothing. Hm.

She tries Niall, immediately getting a hit. She clicks on his account to find it public, full of funny and happy photos. He’s clearly from Ireland, but has lived in the United States for some time. She wonders if he went to school here, or if he just got a job here.

She scrolls down to a group photo — on the golf course, of course — of Niall, Harry, and a few other guys. They look a lot younger here. She can see the photo is from 7 years ago. Harry’s stoic face is a stark contrast to Niall’s infectious smile. She clicks on the photo to see if Harry’s profile is tagged. Nothing.

Defeated, she moves onto LinkedIn. She tries Harry’s name again. Within 10 seconds of the search engine results popping up on the screen, her eyes land on exactly what she’s looking for. He has a profile. Her heart starts beating a little faster.

Really, Briar? All this for a guy you’ve barely caught a glimpse of? She clicks on the profile and sees the most gorgeous man at the top. He looked good from afar, but this is totally different.

Sticking out to her is his chiseled jaw, pouty lips, and beautiful (green?) eyes. His hair is longer in this photo than what she’s seen him with the past 2 times at the club, but she figures this page is old.

She scrolls down to the employment history. He works for a hedge fund. No wonder he has that kind of cash laying around. He’s been at the same company for a number of years, and received his bachelor’s degree from Georgetown and his MBA from the University of Pennsylvania. Smart dude.

She notes his MBA graduation year is 2006. She laughs, knowing she was probably still playing on a playground that year.

She exits out of the page, proud of her findings. She decides to text Cam about Niall’s friend.

B: Hey! So I totally stalked Niall online. His friend’s name is Harry! 😆

C: So funny, how’d u do it? 😂

B: Instagram for Niall, and earlier, I used Wynnewood’s portal to look up Harry. I just went on his LinkedIn, too. Now, I know all about his work and schooling, lol.

C: Your account is private, right? 😳

C: It notifies people if you’ve looked at their profile unless you’re private…

B: What?! I didn’t know that…WTF do I do?

Briar’s stomach drops. He’s probably already gotten the notification by now. She’s mortified. She logs back on to LinkedIn and deactivates her account. Reddit says those are her best chances of counteracting the notification.

She decides to go to bed, but ends up tossing and turning until 3 AM, knowing her alarm is set for 6:30. She stares at the ceiling, pleading for Harry not to show up at the club tomorrow.

The morning comes around, and after mustering enough courage to get up and make herself presentable, she rolls into work, ready to jump on her cart and be lazy. The universe (or Uncle Patrick, probably!) has a different plan.

Since it’s a holiday weekend, Briar is working inside for a change. She feels a little out of her element. She’s worked in restaurants in the past, but it’s always a little stressful when you have know idea where anything is, or how to use the register.

Taking a moment to survey the large banquet room, she doesn’t see Niall or Harry. She begins to relax. Until, 30 minutes later, she sees both of them enter and begin talking to the hostess.

Please don’t go to my section, she thinks. She watches the girl gathers 4 menus and turns to lead the men further into the room. Briar’s worry grows more with each step the hostess takes toward her section. Fuck.

She seats them down at a 4 person table right in the middle of Briar’s section, assuming the two men from yesterday will be joining them.

She takes a few deep breaths before grabbing a water jug and two stemmed water glasses. She casually approaches the table, lightly placing the water glasses down and filling them.

Niall looks up briefly with a smile before exclaiming, “There she is! I requested you to be our server after I saw you at the coffee machine over there.”

Briar smiles before turning her attention to Harry, who hasn’t glanced up from his menu. She looks back at Niall.

“Awesome! This is going to be great,” she lies through her teeth.

While this exchange is happening, she can feel Cam’s eyes burning through the back of her head. Cam is the service bartender of the day, so she has time to people watch and laugh at Briar’s bad luck.

“Are we waiting for any more guests to join us?” Briar asks.

Niall clears his throat and says, “Yes, those two blokes from yesterday. Harry here is going to close the deal with them today.”

Harry glances up at her with a shy smile. She reciprocates, unsure if he’s aware of her cyberstalking from last night.

“Wow, well, I’ll make sure my service is extra good, then. Can I throw in some drinks while you wait?”

“I’ll have an Old Fashioned. Harry?” Niall turns to his friend.

“Casamigos on the rocks for me, please. With a lime. Thank you.”

“You got it,” she says with a tight-lipped smile. Of course that’s the very first thing he ever says to her. And he’s BRITISH?

Cam laughs as the ticket prints at the bar.

“Oh, shut up,” Briar grumbles.

The other men finally arrive, and the meal goes by at a snail’s pace. When the group is finally ready to order, Briar is already mentally checked out. Briar goes to take Harry’s order.

“What can I get for you?”

“I’ll have the chicken, please,” he says simply.

“And how would you like that cooked?” Briar asks, furiously scribbling on her note pad.

Harry’s face contorts to a perplexed look, almost as if he was about to laugh.

“Um…cooked…all the way through?” He stifles a chuckle.

Niall bursts out laughing, cluing Briar in. She realizes the others ordered porterhouse steaks, so, out of habit, she asked how they’d like them prepared.

Her eyes go wide, “Right, well, I’ll go put these in. Thanks!” She shuffles away at lightning speed.

Harry stares at her from across the room, smirking when they make eye contact. She wants to bury her head in the sand trap on the golf course.

When the meal is done, the men shake hands, and Niall and Harry look relieved. They ask for another round of drinks for the two of them and the check. Niall heads toward the restroom while Harry pays. She tries to bolt as soon as the check is dropped, but she hears Harry clear his throat.

She turns to face him.

“We’re about to go play a quick round of 9-holes to celebrate. Are you our beer angel today, or are you stuck in here?” Harry says, as he opens his wallet.

Briar feels her heart begin to race. She’s sure her face is beet red. The word angel rolls off his tongue so easily.

“Um, no, I’m um, stuck in here for the rest of the day. I’ll be back on Sunday, though,” she says quietly.

“Shame, I was starting to think you were bringing me all of my luck. I’ve been crushing these guys in our last few rounds,” he smiles, swirling the remnants of his drink around.

She bites the inside of her lip, unsure if she should still be holding eye contact. He hands her the checkbook, full of cash. She smiles, unable to speak.

“Oh, and Briar— I’m an open book. If you wanted to know more about me, you could’ve just asked,” he says with a sickeningly sweet smile.

That’s the moment Niall returns to the table, and presumably the only reason she doesn’t drop to the floor in fetal position.

“Thanks, Briar. Lunch was great. We’ll see you next time,” Niall says sweetly.

“Thanks!” she squeaks, scurrying to the back, where she nearly mows down Cam.

“Woah! What’re you doing?” Cam squeals.

“He KNOWS!” Briar wails.

“Who? Who knows — OH!” Cam shrieks. “What did he say to you?”

“He said, ‘Briar, I’m an open book. If you wanted to know more about me, you could’ve just asked.’”

Cam’s mouth drops open. “Did he say it with his sexy accent and sultry voice?”

“Shut up!”

“Fine. Well, what did he tip you?” she asks, reaching for the book in Briar’s hand.

She opens it, finding enough cash to cover the $450 tab, and an extra $300 as a tip.

“Damn! Who has that much cash at one time?” Cam laughs.

Briar flips to the back of the book, only to find a note on a small piece of paper:

I’m an Aquarius, in case you were wondering. : - )

She stares blankly at the note. When did he have time to do this? Was he going to slip this note to her regardless? A million thoughts run through her head, until she hears Cam.

“What a creepy-ass old person smiley face,” she says, shaking her head.

Briar thinks it’s the cutest thing in the world.

Finally, her shift ends and she can escape the club, just for a day. As she heads towards the women’s locker room, she’s rummaging through her bag, attempting to fish out her street clothes so she can change as quickly as possible.

As she stalks closer to the locker room, she collides head-first into a firm, wet object. She feels strong hands grasp her hips to steady her.

“What the fuck?” she says, moving the hair out of her eyes, only to be met with a strong tattooed torso, partially covered by towel tied loosely around the person’s waist.

Her next words die in her throat as she looks up.

Harry.

Harry, who just left the steam room.

He smirks down at her, gently letting go of her waist. Suddenly, she feels hot, as if she were just in there with him. Briar’s fight or flight kicked-in, causing her to spin on her heels and flee in the opposite direction.

He senses she’d run, so he gently grabs her wrist, locking her in place. She peers up at him like a deer in headlights. His other hand is firmly planted on his hip to hold up his towel, in fear of giving the whole club a show.

He tilts her chin up so she’s making direct eye contact. Her stomach drops, sending a wave of nausea through her body. She studies his face; long eye lashes, slight stubble and two dimples that form as he smirks down at her softly.

“I told you, I’m not shy.”

He releases her chin and saunters back to the mens’ locker room.

#ghoststyles #fairway to heaven #Harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #golfrry #dom!harry #daddy!h

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biancadjarin · 1 year

Text

🍸🍒Modern!Eddie x Waitress!Reader🍒🍺

Blurb featuring Modern!Bartender!Steve

It’s only a Thursday night but the bar is slammed. It’s your second day and the other waitress, your supposed “trainer”, is nowhere to be found. Probably out back smoking another cigarette. You’re juggling 6 tables and one particularly difficult woman just flagged you down.

“Is everything ok ma’am?” You ask politely. “No, this wine is way too sweet. I wanted something dry. Bring me the pinto grigio!” She says as she pushes the full glass towards you. You smile and turn, rolling your eyes as you approach Steve and Eddie at the bar. Eddie’s sitting on his usual stool, drinking a beer while he scrolls on his phone. You lean onto the sticky bar top and wait for Steve to finish shaking a martini to get his attention.

Eddie eyes your profile, your cute face looking overwhelmed and stressed. He’s never seen you before, he usually knows all the new waitresses here. Fuckin’ Harrington, he thinks, always tries to keep the cute ones for himself.

“Hey.” Eddie says over the loud music, leather covered shoulders angling towards you. His fingers tap around the neck of his beer bottle. You glance at him, one eye still on Steve.

“Hi. Look, I’m swamped, if you want another beer, you gotta ask your bartender.” “No, no, it’s not that. Just- are you ok? Do I need to grab a tray and help you out?” He asks jokingly. You crack a smile at that, and Eddie’s heart starts beating faster.

“Cause I’m serious, I’ll take over. Drinks probably won’t go to the right people and I’d end up spilling food but, hey, fuck it.” He says with a shrug as he gulps the last of his beer. You shake your head and laugh, “please, I think you’re better off right here. I’m fine…” your eyes stare into his for the first time and you swear you feel the ground get pulled out from under you. He’s criminally hot. Like sculpted by the gods hot. Long hair framing the perfect bone structure of his face, two dimples poked into his cheeks as he smiles back at you. His eyes are like warm cups of hot cocoa, sweet and comforting. His worn in Black Sabbath T shirt contradicts his new iPhone 14 shining back at him.

“I’m Eddie. I’m a friend of Steve’s.” He nods toward the floppy haired bartender. “Y/n.” You say as you reach out a hand to shake his. He grabs your hand but he doesn’t shake it. Instead, he just holds it for a second. His warm, guitar string scarred fingers encircling your soft, cold ones. You giggle nervously as the butterflies are shaken awake in your stomach.

Steve appears out of nowhere, “bruh these frat douchebags are going to be the death of me, I think my arm’s going to fall off if I shake another martini.” he says to you and Eddie. You smile your most saccharine smile, “hey Stevie. The woman on 22 doesn’t like this wine. Can I switch it out for a pinot?” He growls in annoyance, “that’s a 7 ounce pour, y/n. you think Tito is gonna be ok with me just pouring that down the drain?” He asks you, referring to the manager. He raises his eyebrows as he throws a towel over his shoulder.

You shrug, “I guess not…” you mumble. “It’s coming out of your tips. Go write it down on the spill sheet.” Steve snaps as he pours the pinot grigio. “Ok, I will. Sorry Steve.” You say as you take the wine and head back to your tables.

“What the hell, man? S’not her fault some bitch didn’t like the shitty wine in this place.” Eddie says as he tosses a peanut at Steve. “How else is she going to learn?” Steve says as he rests his palms on the bar top. “This isn’t a daycare, I’m not here to hold her hand through life.”

“She’s fucking new, Harrington, give her a break.” Eddie says. Steve opens his mouth to argue before being cut off by a guy in a polo. “‘Nother dirty martini, barkeep!” Steve nods at him before looking back at Eddie. “You want another beer?” Steve asks him before he goes back to deal with the group of Chad’s and Dylan’s. Eddie shakes his head as he throws a 20 on the bar, licking his lips and winking at Steve.

He looks around the bar to say goodbye to you but he doesn’t see you. Everyone seems content, drinking their overpriced cocktails, eating their greasy food. Even the woman with the wine seems happy. The other waitress is back but now you’re gone. He heads toward the back door to leave, passing the digital jukebox that the frat bros have taken over-trolling everyone with Nickelback on repeat, passing the bathrooms and the breakroom.

You come out of the breakroom wiping under your eyes, sparkles that were once in your inner corner now smeared down your cheeks. “Scuse me.” You say as you try to squeeze past Eddie. “Hey, hey.” He says, hand coming up to cradle your elbow. “You good?” His eyebrows crinkle in concern, eyes scanning your face. You nod and try to squeak out a “mhm.” but more tears are threatening to spill.

“Was it what Steve said? I told him he’s being too harsh on you. I’m gonna go tell him what a dick he is, making you cry.” He says as he starts to turn around. “No! Please, I appreciate it but it’ll just make it worse. I can’t mess up this job. I just need to do better.” You say, sniffling. “Really. It’s fine.”

Eddie sighs deeply, looking back over his shoulder before turning to face you again. “He needs to do better. You’re doing great.” Eddie says, fingers squeezing the exposed flesh of your arm. You smile, looking up at Eddie and admiring his features in the low light, an old beer neon sign casting shades of blue and red across his face. The tight hallway is made even tighter with boxes and extra chairs lining the walls. This close to Eddie you can smell the beer on his breath, the weed on his shirt and the Cherry Smoke by Tom Ford on his jacket. You smile, “Thanks..”

He nods softly, dimples returning as he matches your smile. His phone starts to vibrate, the opening notes of For Whom the Bell Tolls by Metallica ringing from it. He looks at it before silencing it and focusing back on you. “I gotta go but can I text you later? You can tell me all about why a sweet, beautiful girl like you needs a job at a shitty dive bar so bad.” He opens up a new iMessage and hands his phone to you. You type in your number and text “Eddie” to yourself.

He takes the phone back from you putting 🖤🍒 after your name. “If Harrington gives you anymore shit, you let me know, ok?” He says before leaning in to kiss your cheek. You smile and nod, all words leaving your brain. He laughs softly as he whispers how cute you are and he heads toward the door.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #modern!eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie x y/n #modern!eddie x reader

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domesticmail · 1 year

Text

nhl masterlist

i no longer write for the nhl, but i used to write a LOT for them, so i would like to keep all my writing accessible! enjoy <3

fics

the one where you become parents | 2.3k

Mat Barzal x Reader

Your eyes brimmed with tears, hands shaking. The test quivered between your fingers, the sole focus of your attention, the cause of the anger and disappointment writhing in knots in your stomach. Your expression turned bitter as you looked away, biting your lips to keep the tears back, refusing to acknowledge the single blue line glaring back at you.

someone to you | 2k

Mat Barzal x Reader

Watching you was like watching the sun set over a beautiful horizon. As the sky darkens, the city glitters with light, alive and awake and moving. You are the lights of the cars, gliding through darkness with the floating quality of clouds, not quite fully present in the moment but still so alive, so full of energy and brightness and feeling. You are the stars in the night sky, shining, each one a planet so far yet so close, he wants to reach to the sky and pull you down to him, keep you close and safe and happy and free.

am i worthy? | Brock Boeser x Reader

part 1 | part 2

You slide your hand down his bare chest, fingertips tapping a light beat on his skin, the rhythm unknown to him but subtly familiar. There’s a softness in the ghost of your hand trailing down that spreads goosebumps across his sternum and causes a quiet shuddering breath to escape his lips. His hand finds its way into your hair, burying his fingers into a fistful of the strands and resting there. His thumb caresses the crown of your head gently.

one of them girls

Brock Boeser x Reader

A fic loosely based on the song "One of Them Girls" by Lee Brice.

blurbs

yoga | pierre luc dubois

waking him up | pierre luc dubois

waking you up | pierre luc dubois

why he loves you | pierre luc dubois

dancing after dinner | pierre luc dubois

meeting your family | pierre luc dubois

feeling like you don't deserve him | pierre luc dubois

pet names | pierre luc dubois

pillow | mat barzal

street fighter | mat barzal

mornings | mat barzal

baby's first nhl game | mat barzal

breakfast | mat barzal

parenting | matthew tkachuk

domestic bliss | matthew tkachuk

backlash | tito beauvillier

#nhl imagines #nhl fics #nhl masterlist updated #zoes writing #mat barzal x reader #brock boeser x reader #pierre luc dubois x reader #matthew tkachuk x reader #tito beauvillier x reader

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hoodharlow · 1 year

Text

Premium Aíre

AN: fun fact despite her grandpa being a mechanic, Miriam doesn't know anything about cars and car maintenance. It's loosely nased on this tiktok but it's not a prank lmao

Requested? By @nattinatalia bc we were tic talking and it came up so I wrote this blurb lol

Warnings: Miriam gets scammed and Jack gets mad, mean words were exchanged, a happy ending

Word Count: 1.6k words

Jack set his headphones out and walked out of the studio. He and Miriam were in Atlanta for a few days before they headed out to Aspen for a few weeks to enjoy the last of the snow. They were going to drive up to Colorado so they were taking his Jeep since it was built for that. It had been a few months since he got the car an oil change. He was going to take it to his go-to mechanic, but someone asked him if he was willing to get on a verse with him.

Miriam offered to take his car while he was at the studio. She and Daisy didn't have anything planned for the day. Jack was hesitant at first because Miriam doesn't know much about cars. He was still traumatized from when she was driving her Audi without getting any maintenance check. But he agreed for her to take his car. What put him at ease was that she was going to his mechanic. Miriam has gone with him beforehand when he took his Jeep and months later when they took her Audi so it wasn't like she was new to the auto shop.

He pulled out his phone and texted her, knowing she would be home by now. Or at least out shopping at Target and buying random shit she would find that apparently they needed. The most it takes is an hour

M 🍒🍑: I'm at a coffee shop waiting for your car

Jack read her message over, confused. There weren't any coffee shops near the auto shop. Not to mention she texted him three hours ago when she arrived at the mechanic. He checked her location and saw she was nowhere near the auto shop, so he facetimed her.

"Hey," she said, propping her phone against the napkin dispenser.

"Where are you?" He asked, cutting to the chase. He glanced down at her chest, admiring her cleavage when she bent down to get her airpods.

"I'm at this cute coffee shop. Like the aesthetics are everything." She flipped the camera and showed him her little corner where she sat on a mauve velvet couch with her book and almost empty mug.

"Why are you there?"

"Well I'm not gonna wait four hours while the mechanic changes your oil and stuff." Miriam shrugged.

"Miriam, it doesn't take four hours to change the oil of a fucking car." He said in an eerily calm voice.

"I know that, I'm not stupid." She laughed to herself. "Jared asked why I needed an oil change so I told him now we're driving to Aspen and stuff. So he offered to check your car and for like another two thousand dollars he's gonna–"

"Who the fuck is Jared? Where's Tito?"

"Oh Tito was closed so I went somewhere else." She said, reaching for her mug. She smiled at him. "Aren't you proud? I took initiative."

"Why didn't you call me? I would have told you to take it to the dealer instead." He rubbed his temples.

"Why don't you just take it to the dealer in the first place?" Miriam asked, confused.

"Because they're more expensive."

"You're a millionaire, I don't think twenty-five hundred dollars is gonna dent your bank account." She said in a duh tone.

"What do you mean? Did you pay that much for an oil change?" Jack looked at her incredulously.

"No, silly." She rolled her eyes. "Jared told me about this tire service that costs two thousand that helps the car drive easier in the snow. They have premium air for the tires too."

"I'm going to say this with love, but are you hearing yourself? You just got fucking scammed. You can't be this clueless about this shit." He snapped at her.

Urban looked at Jack, nodding what was wrong. Off camera, so Miriam wouldn't see, Jack motioned to him that he'll explain later.

"I don't fucking appreciate your tone right now." Miriam said as tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Seriously, why are you crying?"

Miriam didn't respond. She simply ended the call. Jack sighed and pocketed his phone.

"What was that about?" Urban asked. "You sounded rude as hell."

"I was not rude." Jack said defensively.

"No you're right. You weren't rude, you were patronizing." His best friend said.

"So now I'm the bad guy because Miriam got scammed while she took my car to get an oil change?"

"No you're the bad guy for being a dick to her."

"She got fucking scammed!" Jack repeated himself.

"That doesn't mean you should be a fucking asshole to her. She was doing you a favor and made a mistake. Instead of finding a solution or where she messed up, you talk down to her and make her feel like shit." Urban explained. "She comes from money of course she's not gonna know shit about that. But that doesn't give you the right to be a dick. You've done some dumb shit at events and she's politely corrected you so you don't look dumb. She's never once made you feel inferior to her or anyone."

Jack stayed quiet. Urban was right, he reacted poorly and made Miriam feel like crap. He decided to call it a day at the studio and ordered an Uber. He and the guys mostly brainstormed and wrote here and there. There wasn’t anything that needed to be recorded.

The ride to the auto shop from the studio wasn’t that far. In less than five minutes the driver pulled up. Miriam was sitting in the waiting area reading her book. Jack thanked the Uber driver and got out. He made his way to her and sat next to her.

“What are you reading?” he asked her, breaking the silence.

“A book.” she answered, turning the page.

“Look Miriam, I’m sorry–”

An older looking man in dark blue coveralls came out to the counter and spoke to Miriam in a language Jack didn’t recognize. Miriam got up and talked back to the man in the same language, smiling. The man handed her the car keys and said something else, making her laugh.

“Thank you Mr. Stavros and we’ll definitely go sometime.” Miriam told the older man.

She tossed Jack the keys and put on her coat while Jack packed her book in her tote. She took the bag from him and walked out to where his car was. Jack opened the door for her and closed it for her.

He drummed the steering wheel and turned to her. “Look, I’m sorry for how I reacted. It was uncalled for and you don’t deserve that.”

“It’s fine Jack.” Miriam said, shrugging off her coat.

“It’s not and you know that. I was an asshole and made you feel like shit.”

“Yeah you did.” she said in a quiet voice. “But I got it resolved.”

“You did?” he asked, curiously as he got into the street.

“Yeah, I called Beto after you made me cry because he’s the one who takes my cars in for maintenance and when I told him how much I paid he called me a dumbass. I cried more and I left the coffee shop. I overheard Mr. Stavros speak in Greek so I asked him ‘are you Greek?’ in Greek and from there we just started talking. I told him how this felt very familiar because my grandpa is also Greek and owns a car shop, but in LA. Then I casually brought up all the services Jared, who I’m assuming is his son because they look alike, charged me for and is doing it. He got mad and cursed Jared out then he gave me a refund. I felt bad that he had to redo what Jared did, so I paid him five hundred.”

Jack hummed in response. Miriam pulled out her book and kept reading while he drove. He heard her stomach growl, so he made a stop at chickfila. She was so focused on her book that she didn’t notice him get out and get food for them. By now she would have been dipping her fries into her oreo shake.

Truthfully Miriam was still mad at Jack. He knew that one of her biggest pet peeves is when someone questioned her intelligence and made her feel like she’s incompetent when she wasn't. Sure she got scammed out of a lot of money, but she was able to fix it. She was more embarrassed that he was able to see that she got played and instead of reassuring her that it’s something that could happen to anyone, he scolded her.

Jack reached over and shook her shoulder. “We’re home.” he said.

She nodded and put the receipt in her book to save her spot. She got out and followed behind him. The ride up the elevator was silent; they were on their phones. When they reached the floor to his place, Miriam went straight to the living room, but Jack caught her arm. She looked up to his apologetic blue eyes.

“What?” she sighed defeatedly.

“I am sorry for how I responded. It was shitty of me to talk down to you as if you were a child. You don’t deserve that and I apologize.”

Miriam couldn’t hold back her tears and teared up immediately. She turned away, but pulled her to his chest. She wrapped her arms around him and cried. Jack rubbed her back, letting her cry until she felt better.

“I’m sorry for acting like a baby.” she said quietly.

“You shouldn’t have to be apologizing. You're not the one who acted like an idiot.” Jack reassured her, leaning down to kiss her.

“Honestly, if your car got messed up I would have just bought you a new one.” she said, pulling away to get her milkshake.

Jack smirked. “With what money? You spent it all on premium air.”

“You’re not getting any tonight.” she deadpanned.

He feigned offense, pouting he asked, “Then how am I supposed to make it up to you?”

“Figure it out, Mr. I have solutions for everything.”

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#jack and miriam #jack harlow #jack harlow smut

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