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p---ink · 3 years

Text

Teach Me.

Author’s Note: So. I finally made a Peter Parker Fiction. And I know the gif is Arvin Russell, but that is for a reason, and maybe you'll see it, maybe you won't, BUT TELL ME IF YOU DO. So this is an unnamed OC fiction, but its mostly reader insert, aside from the fact that she’s black (surprise, surprise) and she has brown eyes. I made her an “OC” because of that fact. Also, get ready for some fluffy head cannons of Peter P. In the not-so-distant future though.

Summary: Maybe Peter Parker, isn't as innocent as he seems.

Warnings: Smut. Smut. and more Smut. Car-smut. Dark-ish Peter (Not really, but he’s not his usual wholesome self)

Song: Star-gazing by The Neighborhood. I literally based this entire fiction on this one song. Even if you don’t read the fic, you should listen to it.

Word Count: 5.5k

“If you don’t mind me asking,” She started, pausing a bit to give him time to look up at her, “ who brings a textbook to a frat party?”

His heart stopped for a moment when he realized who was speaking to him. But then he matched her grin shyly and replied, “It’s more of a conversation starter than anything.”

“Would you say its been working well?”

“I did somehow manage to get someone as pretty as you to speak to me.”

The smile that was already plastered on her face, grew wider along with her eyes and brows. “Wow Parker: Who knew you could be so bold after a few drinks?

“I’ve only had one, so the rest is all me.” He closed his book and readjusted his leg inviting her to sit. Then as if just realizing, he asked, “You know who I am?”

“Of course I know who you are. We went to Midtown together.” She said, getting comfortable on the couch.

“Yeah I know. But we barely spoke to each other. Sometimes I wondered if you even knew I existed.”

“I always kept tabs on cuties like you. Especially you, actually.” She declared.

“And you call me bold.” He muttered under his breath, a small blush creeping up.

“I’m always like this. Anyone who knows me, can tell you that. But anyone who knows you, would say the opposite. You were always so good.”

“Good?”

“Yes! Good. Innocent. Nice. Whatever floats your boat.”

“And I remember you being, bossy, assertive, and intimidating.”

She threw her head back in laughter before stating,“You say that like its a bad thing.” Coming down from her fits of giggles she adds, “You noticed me, too? Never thought I was on your radar.”

“How could anyone not notice you.” He asked. “We had English together our freshman year. First day of class, you challenged Mr. Frechowsky, for inflicting his political views on the rest of the class. He got so red in the face, after yelling at you for three minutes straight, but everyone was more shocked at you for being unfazed.”

“I forgot abou-”

“Sophomore year, you “accidentally” tripped Amy Shuemacker, after she made a rude comment about Ned’s weight. Junior year, you announced that you wanted to be not only the first female president, but the first who was black too. I remember telling myself you’d have my vote. Senior year, you almost had a mental breakdown when it looked like Michelle Obama was gonna run.” Peter finished, with not a hint that he was out of breath.

“I-” She was more than taken aback. “I’m embarrassed that you remember all of that. Its been like four years since we graduated. Frankly any other person would have forgotten.”

“I think its impossible for anyone who’s met you, to forget the day they did.” He admitted to her.

She just stared at him in awe for a moment. Mouth slightly agape from surprise. A shadow of a smile ever so present.

Even though he was the one to say it, it was his face that turned a tinge pinker than before when he realized the weight behind his words. He swallowed thickly, averting his attention to the patterns that lined the carpet, fearing that he made her uncomfortable. In all honesty, he used to have a proper crush on the girl, rivaled by even Romeo’s adoration for Juliet.

This was the same girl he once described as ethereal. He once told Ned that fairies wove the strands of her hair, and butterflies still lived there, claiming that he saw them playing beneath her braids. The sun literally lived under her skin, and it was the secret as to why it would glow, and why her smile was so bright. He would swear to anyone that listened, that the harp was made with her voice in mind, and that it, her voice, played a better melody. He used to be lovestruck. Guess those feelings still lingered.

If you asked him, two minutes ago had he gotten over it, his answer would’ve been yes. Would’ve been.

His sudden fluster—which she found adorable by the way, broke her from her trance as she grinned and said “Don’t act bashful now!” playfully shoving his arm as she uttered the words.

Quickly recovering from his earlier hiccup, he slowly returned her grin and tried to retaliate but before he could, “We have to go. Now.”

They looked up to see an irritated looking preppy girl impatiently scowling down at them. She couldn’t have been much older than 21, but no one told that to her clothes and aura. Her olive skin couldn’t hide the frown lines that had been assigned to her, nor the bags that would put a raccoon to shame. Besides the current circumstances that she would tell them in the next minute, Peter could tell on his own that the girl needed a date with sleep.

“What’s the matter Li? Is everything okay?”

“Yes, aside from the fact that Angie locked herself out of the apartment again.” She said sarcastically, muttering this last part under her breath “I swear I’ve had it with that girl.”

“Ah I see. Well then we better get going.” The girl affirmed, standing from her seat, making Peter rise from his. “Peter it was so nice seeing you. I hate to leave, I would’ve enjoyed catching up a bit more.” She said, turning to grab her coat.

“Well then we should catch up soon.”

She turned to nod her head, seemingly interested in his suggestion. “I’d love that. When did you have in mind?”

“How about now? if its a ride you’re looking for, I can drive you home.” Peter’s inner sixteen year old self, screamed at this opportunity. Time alone, with his four-year crush? He couldn’t not take advantage of the moment.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that. It’s all the way on the other side of town.” She informed him.

“But you’re not asking me to do it. I’m offering, because, ‘ya know; I haven’t seen you in a while and I’d like to catch up, too.” He said, second-guessing himself and praying that he didn’t come on too strong. “Ya know. Only if you want to.” He added just in case.

Taking too much time debating whether or not she should say yes, the girl’s friend did it for her. “Sounds great! I’ll see you at home.” Spinning on her heels, and walking out of the door.

“Well.” The girl started, smiling at her old schoolmate. “I guess that settles it.”

“Shit!” He cursed, killing the engine completely, and slamming his head back on the headrest. After a couple minutes of trying to get it to start, the boy gave up like his car did.

It had been a full three hours since Alisha left the party. The time was spent competing about who could find out more about the other. He learned that she still had a thirst for changing the world and community around her. She learned that the boy had been bitten by a radioactive spider and was now New York’s most friendly vigilante. She never knew that Peter could be so hilarious.

They were stranded on some back road, miles away from civilization, with rain coming down on the roof of the car like they owed it money.

“Peter, what did you expect?” She began to question, giggling as she spoke. “This car is so old, Fred Flintstone has a newer model.”

“Hey!” He cried, “Don’t badmouth Karen. She just needs a little work.”

“You mean a lot of work. Karen is ancient.”

“She’s been good to me.”

“Should I call Triple A?” She asked, ignoring his dramatics. “The rain will probably let up by the time they get here.”

“I’ve got this.” He sighed, readying himself to leave the car. “Besides, triple A doesn’t know Karen like I do. They won’t be able to give her the love and patience she deserves” He explained, the car’s rickety door sounding as he disappeared into the rain.

She heard that same distinct sound not ten seconds later, as he reappeared, soaking wet from the rain’s onslaught. His white t-shirt clung to his body, while beads of water raced down his skin. His messy locks, traded their dark brown hue for a jet black one, and his dirty converses shone a little brighter than they did before he left the car.

“Maybe that wasn’t the best idea.” He admitted, the leather making a squelching noise as he glued himself back to his previous seat.

“The offer for triple A still stands.”

“No. I’ll let this play out. But maybe I can call you an Uber.”

“There’s no way I’m leaving you out here all alone. We’ll let this play out.”

“But this may take a while.”

“I’m the reason you’re out here in the first place. And I like your company, so i’ll stay.”

Peter knew he couldn’t argue with that one, so he let silence befall the two of them. It stayed like that for a moment. It wasn’t quite awkward, but it was definitely palpable.

She thought to say something, he did the same, but neither could quite let their words come to life. It was unlike the girl he knew before, who said the first thing that came to mind. Unlike himself, who did the same, but in a less graceful way.

Finally, after what felt like hours of deafening quiet, Peter begins with, “How long have you and Brad been a thing?” The question fresh on his mind, since her phone rang yet again, with his ugly mug lighting up the screen. It was the fourth time she ignored the notification.

It was rare for Peter to hate a person. In fact he didn’t hate many at all. But there was something about Brad that always made his stomach clench. Didn’t help that he was sniffing around his girl.

“Hmm.” She pondered, tapping her chin with her index finger. Acting as if she was carefully thinking about it.“For about for-never and a day” She finally answered.

“Oh I thought, that since—“ Peter stammered, growing embarrassed by his assumption, and the disdain that coated his words.

“Anyone would have, with him blowing my phone up.” She sighed. “But alas, nothing will ever come of us. No matter how much he wants it to. Wish he’d take a hint.”

Back to silence. But this time it didn’t consume Peter. It gave him a bit of hope, enough hope to ask her his next question.

“Back at the party,” he started before pausing, which prompted her to question, yes, before he could properly collect his nerve to ask her what he wanted.

“Back at the party, you mentioned you always kept tabs on me. Especially me. What did you mean by that?”

“I may have had a small crush on you.” She answered without missing a beat. This of course took him by surprise, but not for long.

“Why did you never act on it?”

“Because I quickly realized you weren’t my type.” She said as if it was nothing in the world.

“Ouch. What did I do to make you realize that?” Peter asked. Though his tone was light-hearted, he tried not to let on that he was hurt.

“Nothing.” She replied. “You were just yourself. Peter Parker, the innocent good boy who would never harm a fly.”

Peter thought to himself for a moment. He thought long and hard before he decided to bring up the word she had uttered more than once tonight. “There goes that word again: innocent. What makes you think I’m innocent?”

“Come on Parker. Ned told me you once donated a one hundred dollar bill you found lying on the sidewalk to the local homeless shelter. And that was after you couldn’t find its original owner. That’s got innocence written all over it.”

“Does that make me innocent or a good person?”

“They’re one and the same.”

“There is a big difference between the two.”

“I disagree. The two are definitely interchangeable. Good people are the ones who haven’t been corrupted yet.”

“So does that mean you aren’t a good person?”

“I think I’m a neutral person. Not exactly good, not exactly bad. Just walking the tightrope. I probably would have taken the money, and felt bad about it later.”

They both chuckled at her statement, letting it end that segment of the conversation. Though Peter was done fighting with her about her type’s moral compass, he wasn’t done with the subject all together.

“So,” He paused, and she braced herself, taking notice of how every time he did that, a question she was reluctant to answer followed. “what exactly is your type?”

An uncomfortable breathy laugh passed through her lips as she answered. “I didn’t exactly know it at the time, but I’m able to put it into words now.” She admitted, taking her time as she explained.

“I guess ideally you were my type. Nice. Harmless. Smart. But I was also looking for someone who knew how to take control. I’m in control of everything in my life, so it feels good to meet a person who lets me relinquish that. Or in more crude terms, a person who has the ability to fuck my brains out.” She declared as she leered in his direction with a small smirk playing her lips.

She was only teasing. But she could feel that the air had grown thick on the side of the car that Peter had resided in. For a split second, she could have sworn that she saw something snap in him. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, making her feel as though she had imagined the entire thing.

But she knew that couldn’t have been right. Known for many things, her vivid imagination wasn’t one of them. His breath hitched. His shoulders tensed. She hadn’t imagined that. What he said next, after what felt like an hour of silence told her that she didn’t imagine anything at all.

“Did teaching me, ever cross your mind?” He asked. His grip on the steering wheel, turning his knuckles white. She saw his Adam’s apple bob after he spoke, and his chestnut eyes focused on the rain that splattered against the windshield.

“U-um I-,” She stammered, Peter catching her by surprise. She had to really think about his question. “I suppose it never did.”

“You still want me?” He asked her, turning his attention back on her.

“Huh?”

“Am I still your type? Aside from the fact that I can’t take control?”

She just swallows, before nodding.

Noting her surprise, but not relenting he says, “Then teach me.”

“What?” She questions, fearing she misheard him.

“Teach me.” He repeated, only elaborating when she scrutinized his face. “Show me exactly how you want to be touched. Kissed. Fucked.”

The way he said the word, fuck, was so filthy. It almost made her lose the rest of her composure. Not like she had much left. He had already rendered her speechless, now he was ruining her panties.

No. She wouldn’t let it play out like this. She had a reputation to uphold.

She peered over her shoulder, then back to him trying to assess whether or not he was serious. When his face showed no sign of amusement, she swung her door open, to trade her passenger’s seat for the back one.

The rain’s onslaught was still vicious, so her previously dry form was borderline drenched. July’s summer heat, did no favors in keeping her warm, and she had no idea if she was shivering from the rain or her nerves. “Are you gonna come keep me warm or what?” She challenged, trying to find her confidence again.

It was only seconds before Peter joined her, but it was no question that his body was shaking with anticipation. He looked at her expectantly, surveying her every move. From the way her eyes flitted to the ground, to the way her hands busied themselves by rubbing at her thighs. She was nervous.

It must have been a snowy day in hell.

“What should we do first?” She asked.

“Does the instructor usually ask the pupil what lessons they should start with?”

“Kiss me?” She suggested, half-ignoring his comment.

“Are you asking me, or telling me?” Peter remarked, amusement glinting in his eyes.

Annoyance overtaking her tone now, she demands this time, “Kiss me.”

“Say please.” He teased.

“Damn it Peter, fucking kiss m—”

And then he glued his lips to hers. They were sweet and gentle, like him, but still managed to convey his longing. He hoped the kiss would capture all the times he imagined doing it when she would flash those pretty brown eyes his way. When she would speak in a way that put an angel’s timbre to shame. Even when she would fucking breathe, he imagined kissing her until his lips fell off. He hoped the kiss would make up for all of the ones he was dying to share with her over the years.

The pads of his fingers roamed over her silky smooth skin, starting at her cheeks, ending at her neckline. He tasted the flavor of her strawberry chapstick, the same one that made her lips feel and look as smooth as butter. When he inhaled and tasted the faint scent of minty watermelon on her breath, he decided he couldn’t get enough. He wanted to kiss her until he committed to memory every bump on her tongue. Then he would be satisfied.

“Like this?” He whispered, pulling back to inhale the same air as her, almost turning feral at the sight of her swollen lips and blown pupils. “Or,” he started, leaning back in to go again, searching her eyes, “like this?”

Whereas kiss one was innocent and sweet, the way that Peter portrays himself, kiss two was the definition of what he could be…or maybe what he already was, she couldn’t tell. He was filthy with the way his tongue glided against hers. The hot wet muscle played hers like an instrument, before locking the two together. One of his hands planted itself on the nape of her neck, forcing her to feel every measure against her mouth. She couldn’t move if she wanted to, not that she wanted to. Just like him she wanted to relish the taste of him.

With his nose pressed against her cheek, and hers against his, they kissed like they wanted to touch the other’s souls. They began breathing in the rest of the other’s air, like they wanted to swap lungs. Exploring the other’s bodies, like they would die if they didn’t study the exact texture of the other’s skin.

It took everything in Peter to restrain himself. To keep his thumbs from traveling beneath her shirt. He nipped at his tongue to keep from nipping at her lips and skin. He tried shifting in his seat to distract himself from the shifting going on in his jeans.

It certainly didn’t help the growing tent in his pants when the girl planted her thighs on either side of his, rocking and rolling her hips to alleviate some of the tension in her panties.

She took over the kiss, setting the pace and overcoming the surprise from Peter earlier.

Her fingers, that were previously glued to his face, began fumbling with the hem of his shirt, peeling the wet material off and over his head. She marveled at his sculpted chest for a moment, before Peter followed suit, pulling her dampened top over her arms and flinging it over the seat.

A throaty groan passed his lips when she resumed her measures against his hips. Grinding herself down on his hardening member.

Her breathy whimpers intensified when his surprisingly warm hands traveled along her skin, caressing her soft flesh. She was getting more worked up the more Peter mimicked the movement of her hips, grinding upwards while simultaneously pinning her waist down.

She tugged harshly on the patch of hair that lived on the back of his neck, eliciting one of the sexiest groans she had ever heard. His heavily lidded eyes that held the same fire as hers, both scared and excited her.

As she leaned in closely, preparing her words carefully she ordered him to, “Kiss me here,” before planting her lips on his neck. Flattening her tongue to lick a stripe up the exposed skin, she began swirling the appendage before nipping, licking, and sucking until his skin had a reddish purple hue.

She got lost in the feel of him, succumbing to the sound of his hisses and moans only to yelp a moment later, when Peter mimicked her earlier actions.

With a fistful of her hair, and her exposed neck jutting out towards his lips he licked a stripe against the skin, just as she did earlier, only his measures were steady and calculated, taking note of every flinch and hitch of her breath. He found her sweet spot in seconds, focusing all of his attention there.

With her nails digging into his flesh, and her hips stuttering, Peter knew he had her where he wanted her. “Like that?” He rasped, pulling away to admire the strings of purple and blue that littered her skin.

“Fuck yea Parker; you learn fast.” She gasped, attempting at a laugh, as she peeled her chest off of him. She took a hand of his into hers, grasping two of his fingers as she bought them to her lips.

Hollowing her cheeks as she sensually sucked and lubricated his digits, she bought his other hand down to her shorts, beckoning him to unbutton them. “Touch me here.” She murmured, eyes taking in the wide curious ones staring back at her.

With the newly slick fingers, Peter did as she told him, dipping his fingers beneath the waistband of her panties and finding her nub instantaneously. “Right here?” He enquired, when her breathing turned shaky.

“Mmm, god yes!” She praised, as he worked his fingers over her.

Setting a consistent pace, Peter lightly grazed her clit, every time he ran his fingers up and down her folds. “Am I doing this right?” He questioned, flicking and teasing her core.

“Mhm” She mewled, “fuck y-your fingers feel so good” Her speech was now becoming slightly incoherent.

“Yeah?” He groaned, “What about my mouth?” He asked, just before unclasping her bra a little too effortlessly with one hand. Latching his lips against her perky chest, he massaged the other mound with his free hand.

Words were lost on her, as she became a wanton mess. She couldn’t fathom how he could be so skillful with both hands. How a person could multitask the way that he did was indescribable. His hand on her clit didn’t let up, but neither did the one that tweaked and pulled on her nipple. Not to mention the hot tongue that darted and sucked meticulously at her other. She couldn’t stifle her cries if she tried.

Riding his fingers, she pressed his head further into her chest, becoming greedy with his touch, as she sprinted towards her orgasm. She thought that this feeling couldn’t get any better.

Of course, Peter was full of nothing but surprises tonight, and needed to prove her wrong. He let two of his fingers slip inside of her, while a thumb replaced the ones that were glued to her clit. Rubbing circles against her sex, he pumped the two fingers furiously in and out of her hole.

“Does that feel good, baby?”

But the girl didn’t answer, Her mouth hung open as if she wanted to, but the words were jumbled somewhere in her throat. Her face twisted into pleasure, and she couldn’t do anything but succumb to his measures against her body.

It wasn’t long before she felt her stomach spasming, the heat pooling to her core, her already sensitive flower growing even more sensitive, as she came into his palm.

Her juices coated his digits, her walls fluttered around them, and her skin was now hot to the touch, as Peter forced her climax out of her.

Tears flooded her eyes, as she took in as much air as she could. When had she stopped breathing? Maybe sometime during the earth-shattering orgasm her old classmate was giving her.

Once the ringing in her ears subsided, and her lower region began to cool again, she thanked the boy and praised him as she said, “You did so well,” before planting hot wet kisses on his shoulder and neck.

She stopped when she felt his body shaking. Coming back up to eye him, she asked what he found so funny.

Peter tried to hide the smirk that plastered his lips but he couldn’t hold his act any longer. “You just don’t get it do you?” He asks as he casually licks and sucks at his fingers, just as she did earlier, relishing in the taste of her essence.

The confusion on her face and brain was evident. “Get wha—” He had her pinned on her back, before she could utter the last syllable.

The tight space was cramped, but the boy had more than enough room to stalk his prey. He hovered above her, ridding her of the rest of her clothes in one fell swoop, before delivering his monologue.

“I don’t know what it is about girls like you, but I swear you drive me crazy.” He admitted, before removing his jeans in a quick motion. “You always assume that just because I’m a nice guy, I won’t be able to fuck your brains out.” He informed, before revealing a hidden condom and rolling it on before lining himself up at her entrance. “But I hope that if tonight proves anything to you,” He starts, eyes finally darting up to land on her horror-filled ones, “it will be that your mindset can land you in a whole heap of trouble.”

And with that, he grasps the door above her head, before sinking himself into her.

Groaning at the feel of her, Peter’s facade dropped completely. Her tight little cunt feels even better than he imagined, and he hopes that he feels better than she ever imagined.

He starts slow, with the intent of her feeling every ridge of his cock, as it threatens to invade her stomach. Her soft tits bouncing with every thrust, send a jolt through his body every time her nipples graze his chest. The way his name falls off her sweet tongue, has him in shambles, as he picks up his pace, throwing slow and steady out of the window.

Her cries are loud in his ear, as he ruts against her sex. He’s so thick, its hard for her to think straight. He can feel the indents of her nails as they dig into his lower back; she tries to press his ass closer to her, never wanting him to leave.

Maybe if it were any other guy fucking her, she would have felt the seat buckle digging into her back. Maybe she would have felt her sticky sweaty skin on the leather of his back seat. Maybe the awkward position her head was in would have spoiled her experience. But with Peter, she could only focus on the pleasure.

His thrusts were relentless now. His hot breath was fanning the side of her cheeks. His previously damp hair, stuck to her neck, as he drove himself further into her skin. Nothing could distract him away from her in this moment.

Nothing but the faint glow of her phone, that is. It’s buzzing, and vibrations immediately catching his eye, as he held his head up. That same dangerous smirk that she saw earlier returning.

“Look who’s calling, baby.” He purred, overcoming the stutter of his hips. When he held her phone up for her to see, her heart sank at the mischief behind his words. Brad. “Should we answer it?”

“No, Pete!” She cried.

“Oh come on, that would be rude wouldn’t it?” He dared, before delivering a particularly hard thrust, that sent her mind into a haze. “We can stop so you can take this—”

“No! D-don’t stop” She begged, prying the phone from his fingers, and fumbling with the answer button.

“Babe? Hello?” Brad’s irritating voice answered flooding, her phone’s speaker. But the girl didn’t answer immediately, because she was too busy trying to stifle her whimpers.

“Hey Brad!” She finally choked out, sounding somewhat normal. How she managed to do it, she couldn’t say.

“Wow! Finally. This is like my eighth time trying you. I almost can’t believe you answered. What are you up to?”

“Should you tell him what you’re up to, babe?” Peter devilishly whispered against her skin.

“Nothing!” She whined into the phone.

“Whoa. Are you okay? You sound a little off?”

“You should tell him you sound like this because I’m making you feel so good.” Peter suggested, driving her body up and down the seats. “I bet he’d wish he were me right now.”

“I-I’m just a feeling a l-li-little sick is all.” She breathlessly stuttered.

“Should I come over?”

“Ah yes Peter!” She wailed, when the boy starts circling his fingers against her clit, while simultaneously grinding slowly but roughly into her. She’s no longer paying attention to the man on the other end. His curses don’t faze her, nor does Peter’s actions as he releases the phone from her grip.

“Hey Brad. Remember me.” He casually asks, ignoring Brad’s threats. “Yeah no man, don’t worry about her: I’ll make sure she’s real good and taken care of.” He promises, before ending the call, and tossing the device into the passenger’s seat. “Think he finally got the hint?”

Peter then takes the girl’s hips into his hands, lifting her inches off the seat, before pulling her body onto his dick at an ungodly speed.

Crying. She’s literally crying, with tears streaming down her face. Her voice is becoming hoarse with moans. She had never experienced such intense sex in her life.

Peter brings the hand that was previously plastered on the glass down to the girl’s face. “would this be the definition of fucking your brains out, baby?” He grunts, in reference to the girl’s constant repetition of his name. It’s the only word she can remember, as he fucks her into the chair.

His movements shook the car. The heat that their bodies radiated, fogging up the glass. The scent of their sex now embedded in the fabric of his seats. The boy was completely untamed.

Her screams were one among the things that set him off. The way her body writhed against his was another. The stutter in her speech another. But the unbridled lust that her eyes held, was the literal icing on the cake.

Thank fuck she came before him. Her tight little hole constricting and clenching his dick. And when he started slipping in and out, her eyes glued shut, and her chest started to rise and fall, he knew that she had came.

A sweaty fucked out mess before him, she needed Peter to finish her off before she was satisfied. “Drown me in your cum” She begged, and it was like he knew exactly what she wanted.

Unsheathing himself from her, he ridded himself of the condom, and started tugging violently at his cock. Fucking his hand, not unlike the way he fucked her earlier, he spurted his milky white seed all over her supple brown canvas, a husky groan roaring from his chest as he threw his head back in pleasure. His seed extinguished the heat that resided in her skin, and she closed her eyes shut, letting her head fall back down on the seat.

The image of his white paint, all over her stomach, chest, and tits, bleeding into his memory, as he came back down from his high.

Once back down to earth, reality began to sink back in. Immediately recomposing himself, Peter blurted, “Fuck are you okay? Was I too rough?”

His sudden outburst almost made her jump out of her skin, but she quickly recovered. “Oh god no Parker! I loved every minute of that.” She lazily smiled reassuringly. “Do you always fuck like that?”

Peter returned the smirk, blushing before saying, “I’ve always wanted to fuck you like that.”

After planting a final kiss on her lips, he reached into the center console, to scavenge a few wet wipes, cleaning her skin before discarding them.

Moments later, they reunited with their lost articles of clothes, pulling the fabrics over their limbs before crawling back into the front seat.

When Peter put his seatbelt back on, and cranked the car up with no effort, he felt the heat of the girl’s eyes on his skin.

“What?” He asked, dumbfounded by her glare.

“Was there ever anything wrong with the car?”

And then as if just realizing Peter mouthes oh, before telling her simply “No.” Adding on that he just wanted an excuse to spend more time with her.

“Well how the fuck did you know I wasn’t gonna just take your offer for an Uber?” She asked, more impressed than pissed.

“Because you’re a neutral person, and a neutral person would feel too bad about doing that.”

“There’s a lot of things I still have to learn about you Parker.” She admits, sinking down into her seat. Heat rising to her cheeks, as a new crush began to develop.

“Don’t worry. I’m willing to teach you.”

A/N: So like...don’t be afraid to tell me what you think. I swear I dont bite...unless you're into that. also this was edited it, but probably not well, so tell me if you see an error.

#peter parker x reader #Peter Parker smut #Peter Parker x black!reader #black!reader #Peter Parker fluff #spiderman x reader #marvel smut #marvel imagines #spiderman #Peter parker #black reader #smut #dark!peter x reader

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dashielldeveron · 3 years

Text

and i’ve gotta crow | takami keigo

hawks x pro-hero! reader. quirk unspecified.

summary: “You’re suffering from amnesia,” says Hawks to you, in your hospital bed.

No, you are not.

“We’re engaged to be married.”

No, you are not.

After an accident that was that bastard Hawks’s fault, you decide to play along with your diagnosis of amnesia, among other things, because how far can you make your former bully bend over backwards for you?

fluff/trickery??? completely avoidable angst, bc reader is a little shit. hawks is a scumbag bully at first. reader is honestly kind of violent. dealing with acne in a scene.

When the first things you saw after groggily blinking your eyes open were multiple IVs in the back of your hand, you flipped over and snuggled farther into your hospital bed to deal with it later, but against your will you were forced to lie flat on your back to stare into the hospital fluorescents.

When the nurse fiddling with your IVs came into focus, he said, “You need to lie on your back. You have deep gashes on your lower abdomen, and tossing about too much could open the stitches.”

That sounded like bullshit, but you were too out of it to care. “Yeah, okay,” you said through a croak, “Oh, fuck.” You wrestled a hand to your throat, massaging it. “Am I waking up from a coma? Don’t let anyone see me until I’ve done my eyebrows.”

The nurse laughed through his nose. “No, don’t worry. You’ve barely been—” He cut himself off and frowned. “The news should probably be broken to you when you have emotional support. I’ll be back soon.”

He left.

Emotional support? Wouldn’t that fucking gash on your stomach be—ooh, ouch, don’t move.

Where’s your phone? Where’s your goddamn phone; where’s any of your personal belongings? If they got crushed, you’re killing Hawks on sight.

Hawks, oh, my God. Where is he? He’s dead. If he still has the audacity to bully you professionally—fuck.

He’d cornered you on patrol earlier—whenever that was—and cut into you in that casually, negging-type way that wasn’t enough to report but enough to make you stay up late and freak out about being good enough. It hurt your chest whenever you thought about it.

But this was the first time he’d gotten seriously physical.

He’d alit on the top of the warehouse next to you, landing what would have been haphazardly for anyone else (the arch of his feet against the edge, his toes barely touching roof) and had crouched next to you, his scarlet wings completely blowing your cover as they stretched and shuddered.

“What’s a little girl like you doing in this part of town?” Hawks had propped his chin on both his fists. “Thought shoplifters were more your calibre.”

“Hawks, this is actually really important to me, so please, please leave,” you’d said, keeping your eyes on the group you could barely make out through the skylight. They’d already been partially concealed by crates, so they were hard to see.

“Someone else give you a tip for their location?” He’d tapped your opposite shoulder with the end of his wing, but you hadn’t even flinched.

“Bruh, you know I’ve been on this for weeks,” you’d said, shifting away from him, “I even shared intel at your last briefing.”

“Is that what you were talking about?” Hawks had scratched his chin. “I zoned out. Usually the little cases female heroes present aren’t in my circle, and I like to unwind when brain power isn’t needed.”

You’d planned to rip his wings out feather by feather while you’d gritted your teeth. “You can’t talk to me like that, Hawks.”

He’d laughed, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. “C’mon, babygirl, have a slice of chill, won’t you? I thought you were one of the cool girls. Relax. I don’t mean anything by it.”

“Leave me alone, Hawks. You’re not gonna bully me into joining your agency. You’re not gonna bully me into quitting being a hero,” you’d said, inwardly screaming, “I’d tell you to go talk to someone who’d fall for your shit, but then, she’d have to suffer, too. So, fuck off into a sewer, jackass.”

“Oof,” Hawks had said, placing a hand over his heart and shaking his head, “You don’t have to be such a bitch, sweetheart. I’m only looking for my better half. Didn’t think it could be you, but I’d thought I’d give you a chance to prove me wrong. Don’t take yourself too seriously; just be along for the ride like the rest of us.”

“Huh,” you had said, and you’d stood and strode to the edge of the warehouse to your harness and rope, and you rappelled down the side of it as stealthily as you came up.

“I’ve been watching you all these years, sweetness, and I know you by now; I know how you really feel,” Hawks had said a bit too loudly while he flew downwards at your speed (braggart). “Strip away all of your busy work, your so-called hero trappings, and we’d mesh together just fine. We may be rough around the edges, but we clean up really nicely, don’t we?”

You’d unclipped your carabiner and stepped out of your harness, stashing it in your pack. “Fuck off.”

You’d moved towards the back entrance, but Hawks had slammed a hand against the concrete wall in front of you. You’d ducked under it and carried on, and he’d grabbed the back of your shirt.

“C’mon, if we didn’t know each other, and our eyes met from across the room at some hero gala, you’d be all over me, wouldn’t you?”

You had swiped his hand away. “I’d be putting a lid on my drink.”

His arms behind his back, Hawks had followed you through the door and behind the exposed pipes and closer to your targets. “Saw you coming onto Todoroki at the last one. You looked fine in his colours, but you would’ve looked better in mine.”

Don’t grace him with an answer; don’t grace him with an ans— “I wasn’t coming onto Shoto,” you’d said, pulling yourself up a couple of pipes for a better view—and you’d hit him when he flapped his wings to hover the few feet you’d ascended, because the noise might alert them.

“Yeah, you just simp for him, right? Then you didn’t step outside your comfortable ice queen act?” Hawks had gripped onto a pipe just underneath your ass. “You’re too much of a natural tease for that.”

How can you report him when he’s the head of his own agency? You guess the commission might listen, but what can they do besides slap his wrist? There’s really no one who can stop him, is there?

You hadn’t replied but instead crawled onto the iron catwalk. If you could position yourself about three-quarters of the way across, you’d be able to effectively activate your quirk and get this over with—wait, why would you think like that? You’d been waiting for this for ages.

A hand spreading across the small of your back had reminded you.

You’d flipped over with fire in your eyes and kicked him away as quietly as you could, but all he’d done was sit back on his knees to grin down at you, army-crawling your way through a dirty warehouse.

Would he take credit for your work again?

You’d shaken yourself. Eat my entire ass, Hawks. And with that, you’d continued inching towards your targets. When you’d gotten into position to watch them, Hawks had merely watched you.

You had scowled. “I’m gonna tear you a—”

“You had a hard childhood, didn’t you?”

A chill had unfurled up your spine, simple as that. Hawks now not only had the annoying air of an arrogant pick-up artist but also gave you an intense sense of danger. You’d moved away from him, regrettably away from your target, but Hawks had followed you, getting closer until his body heat had seeped into yours, a self-satisfied smirk plastered across his dumb face.

“I could take suuuuch good care of you, little girl,” he’d said under his breath, “if only you’d let me. No one else is crazy enough to call me out or want more than the bare minimum.” His wings had folded in on his back, making themselves as small as possible to get closer to you. “If you give in, tell me yes, say please, you wouldn’t have to let any worries cross your pretty little mind. All you have to do is let me in.”

“Yikes,” you had said, sucking in through your teeth, “God, you’re a creep.”

Hawks had slammed you down onto the catwalk, iron reverberating through the warehouse as it struck your head, and your targets had looked up by the time the catwalk hinges had loosened and had come crashing down in the midst of their meeting.

You’re really not supposed to shoot guns inside. Don’t they know that’ll ruin their ears? No matter, really. You had fought them anyway, amidst crates splintering open from whatever they were shooting at you—fuck, that was a big hole. What’s oozing out of that? Gross, don’t step in it.

One with a normal revolver—his arm had given a woody crack when you’d bent it backwards—God, that was nice. Good sounds. If you could sample them into a rap track, you would.

You’d been planning a collab with a popular rapper while you’d hurled yourself at another villain, sawdust flying—just to keep your mind busy, really, but fucking—fucking Hawks had bested whoever he’d half-assed to the ground and had shouted your way.

“C’mere, you little shit—”

He’d scooped you up while you’d been taking care of it by yourself, and he had pinned you down behind a stack of crates that reached the remains of the catwalk, straddling you but keeping most of his weight off, his wings outstretched yet still hidden from the cloud of sawdust rising with deep gurgling on the far side.

“What the fuck is wrong with you,” he’d said over the chaos, spit flying, “You can’t handle this; you’re gonna get fucking killed. I can’t babysit you all the time.”

“Get fucked; I’m the number fourteen hero,” you’d said, deadly still, but twitching in fury, “I can handle anyth—”

“Aww, fourteen. And one day babygirl might reach the single digits.” Hawks had sneered in your face. “If she manages to fuck her way through them.”

Your jaw had dropped, and you pretended to cough on sawdust and kicked him off in the confusion. Hawks had grabbed a hold of your calf, grappling for your thigh, while you’d scrambled to climb over crates to the gurgling mess on the other side; you could handle it, and you would.

You’d slapped his hands away, wrestled out of his grasp again and again, and you’d launched yourself into the dust—

Yeah.

While the fluorescent lights flickered overhead, you picked at a hangnail. You hadn’t braced yourself for the explosion, so, you guessed you deserved whatever was wrong with you now. Big-ass gashes on your stomach. Probably broken ribs. Something felt off in your left leg, besides—oh, ho, what had the doctors thought when they’d seen Hawks’s scratches?

What an idiot.

When the door creaked open, the nurse returned with a mug of water for you, but—what? Who’s that bitch following him?

You blinked, twice. With his hands in his pockets and his nasty little wings tucked in behind him, Hawks meandered to your bedside, his gaze on your throat as you swallowed down water.

God, you’re too tired to deal with him. Let’s get this over with.

The nurse glanced over his clipboard. “I’ve already told your partner this, but I thought you would want him here.”

Maybe if you ignore Hawks, he’ll leave.

“You were very brave today,” said the nurse, “Your work as a hero is greatly appreciated. You’re on temporary leave to heal, though. Like I said, you’ve got three, major gashes on your stomach, and your leg’s broken—the fibula split, if you want to know. You’ll be on crutches for a while. You have four broken ribs, and—” The nurse bit his lip and softened his voice. “You hit your head pretty hard. Nothing’s broken, but you should have amnesia, with the trauma you’ve endured.”

Should have? They don’t know? You sure as hell don’t fucking have amnesia. It barely happens in real life, and it definitely hasn’t happened to you. You remembered every fucking infuriating thing Hawks did to ruin your mission, and if he doesn’t square up—

“I’m so sorry, baby,” said Hawks, grabbing your hand. He stroked the back of it with his thumb, and then he took his glove off to hold you skin-to-skin. “You remember who I am?”

You just stared at him.

“Your fiancé’s been a real presence in the waiting room,” said the nurse, “He hardly stopped pacing the entire time you were in surgery. He wouldn’t even talk to fans.”

Oh, my God.

Holy fucking shit.

“Oops, sorry,” said the nurse, covering his mouth, “I know you were keeping it a secret. Don’t blame him, please; he only told me to be able to see you immediately.”

Shutting your eyes, you took a deep, deep breath. You have been handed a golden opportunity on a fucking Hawks-shaped platter, holy fuck, and by God are you going to take advantage of it. Imagine how much you can fucking humiliate him, how far you can take it. How much you can make him pay for how he treated you, and now, if he says he’s your fiancé, then he’s gonna fucking worship you. You’re going to mould him into your little bitch, and he’s going to thank you for it. And you’ll get endless dirt on him just by seeing his place.

Don’t fuck this up.

Exhaling, you opened your eyes, blinking a bit. You curled your lips into your mouth, biting the lower one. “I remember you’re Hawks,” you said in a nervous voice, “and I remember, uh.”

“Don’t hurt yourself, sweetheart.” Hawks squeezed your hand, his tone kind. “It’ll come back in time.”

You clutched Hawks’s hand while the nurse rattled off instructions and gave you your crutches, and Hawks squeezed your hand back, softly smiling at you.

When the nurse left, you turned to Hawks and said, “I’m so, so sorry, but I—I feel like there’s something big missing that I can’t remember.” You scratched your forehead with your free hand, dragging the IVs with you.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Hawks tilted his head, still gazing decidedly down at you.

“Oh, God,” you said, “Oh, fuck. I don’t know. Um.” Take it back. Take it way back. That way he’ll dig himself into a deeper hole. The more lies he has to create, the funnier it’ll be. “Let’s see, I, hm.” You already weren’t speaking like yourself, but you looked upward as you faked combing through memories. “I don’t know how things work chronologically, but the most recent memory I have of you is—it’s after a press conference, and I’ve never been in the building before,” you said slowly, “And I can’t find the bathroom, but some press keeps following me, and I—I faceplant in between your shoulder blades, right between your wings. You—” You lowered your voice, shrinking a little in the hospital bed, “You got rid of them so easily, with just a gesture, and you put your arm around me. You were—” You shook your head, staring at both of your hands. “—so warm.”

Was that too thick? That was too thick, wasn’t it?

His free hand shot to his mouth, and he bit his knuckle. “But sweetheart, that’s,” said Hawks, his eyes watering, “That’s only around the third time we met.”

You know.

“Shit,” you said, widening your eyes, “How long ago was that?”

“Three years.” Hawks squeezed your hand and kept the pressure longer than was necessary. “Three fucking years. You don’t remember anything past that?”

You pretended to be scared to look at him. “I’m sorry; I’m so sorry—”

“No, no, you don’t have to be,” said Hawks, and he leant towards you to lift your chin, rubbing his thumb against it, “It’s not your fault.”

You had to hand it to him: Hawks was a good actor.

But so were you.

***

Hawks disappeared for a while after that, but he manifested the day you were loosed from the hospital, more than giddy to carry all of your shit all the way to your flat. He was probably getting some sick pleasure from watching you hobble on your crutches.

“I can help you, if you lean on me,” said Hawks, giving you an easy grin, “I don’t want you to be in any more pain than you have to.”

“This is something I should do myself,” you said in what was hopefully a tough-it-out voice, “I’d like to be able to walk without depending on anyone.”

“I honestly think you ought to be in a wheelchair.” His wings bristled. “But what do I know? I could fly us to your place, if you like.”

“I don’t like. I’ve gotta concentrate on limping. Stop talking, Hawks.”

You got to your flat, and Hawks had guessed which key opened the door on the first try. Drat! He was already doing a good job of acting like he’d been here before, like he’s not surprised that the number fourteen hero lives in a pretty shitty apartment (you started living here as a student and got too damn comfortable for your own good—plus, you didn’t want your cat to endure the trauma of moving).

Hawks plopped your keys in the bowl by the door with a clatter, and he shut the front door behind you, flipping one of the locks.

He set your stuff neatly on the kitchen table—your purse, your tactical pack, your ropes—and lay your dry-cleaned hero suit over the back of a kitchen chair, and his hands were on you the next moment to guide you to your tacky, sunflower couch. Removing one crutch, he put your arm over his shoulder instead, one hand planted on your lower back above your bandages, and he eased you down onto the cushions.

Hawks then stepped over your legs to sit on your opposite side, and he brought your legs to rest in his lap, his hand gripping your non-casted leg. “Gotta keep it elevated, chickadee.”

You let yourself giggle. Time to get this shitshow started. “Thank you so much for helping me, Hawks; I know I’ve been a real hassle these past few days, and you shouldn’t have to deal with that sort of stress. You’re already under so much. I don’t understand how the commission would let you date anyone, let alone propose.”

“Oh, I know,” said Hawks, spreading himself out on the couch. He shifted himself to face you in addition to accommodate his wings—he was now positioned so that they’d drape over the arm of the couch instead of being squished against the back cushions. That bitch, he probably wasn’t used to couches that weren’t custom made to his special body requirements. Spoiled fuck.

“The commission was really pissed when they found out. Do you remember how, sweetness? Right, I’ll tell you,” said Hawks, running an ungloved hand through his hair before shaking it loose. “You remember up to the press conference with the faceplant. Short version is that you hated me for a good year before something clicked. You started acting awkward whenever I was around, avoiding me, and stuff. Sometimes getting red. I thought it was cute.”

You ducked your head. Flustered. He probably likes easily flustered women.

Wait. That’s not who you are. And he’d like you for who you are, if you’re engaged.

But at the same time, if you’re (gag) in love with him, wouldn’t you be flustered by some of the things he says?

Easy, baby. Take it as it comes. Pick your battles. Go with your gut.

And gut says make Hawks eat shit.

“You think I’m cute?”

“I know you’re cute.”

You’re going to stuff his own feathers down his throat.

“We got together at that dinner Endeavor’s agency sponsored. Do you remember that at all? That place with the purple lights. You’d gotten nervous from the crowd and had gone to take some of your anxiety meds. I caught you in the hall back from the bathroom and talked you down before going back out there.” He grinned sheepishly. “I’d like to say I’m the one who kissed you, but you took initiative before I had the guts.”

Funny. Hilarious, in fact. That was the night Hawks had solidified himself as the Biggest Dick in the World, because yeah, he’d caught you in the purple-lit hallway, but he’d caught you on the way to take your meds, not on the way back. You were talking yourself down from a panic attack and couldn’t argue him away, so he’d followed you into the bathroom, running his mouth and acting like it was an accident when the tip of his wing had knocked your two capsules down the sink.

He’d told you that if you’re a big girl, you’d be able to handle the rest of the night. Or you could leave at any time with him, and he’d make excuses that everyone would have to accept.

Honestly, you’d love to let his fake memory be true, because then, you’d be able to wear purple again without feeling queasy.

Cocking your head, you smiled. “That doesn’t sound like something I would do.”

Hawks let out a light laugh, craning his neck to rest his head on the back of the sofa. “That’s what you said that night, too. About how it felt out of character.”

“Was I good?”

Lifting his head, he raised an eyebrow at you: probably the first genuine emotion he’s shown you the whole time he’s been here. “Hm?”

“When I kissed you. Was it good,” you asked flatly.

“Oh,” Hawks said, his wings puffing out just barely, “Oh, sweetheart, you were amazing. Groundbreaking. Show-stopping.” His tongue flicked over his lower lip, and he shifted underneath your legs, leaning slightly towards you but holding eye contact before carrying on.

You shook your head. “I don’t have the energy to give you the makeout session you deserve,” you said, envisioning drowning him in the bathtub, “I’m exhausted. Forgive me.”

“Always,” said Hawks, “Want me to keep going?”

“You can hardly eat me out when we haven’t kissed yet.”

“I meant,” said Hawks, pausing to visibly swallow (was it real?), “about our relationship, but if you wanna eat—”

“Nah, keep going. So, I started the relationship? I must be crazy. Neither of us have fucking time to sleep, let alone be in a relationship.”

Hawks never shut up about how he was taking time out of his endlessly packed days to spend time with you, how time was precious to him, and if he’s spending time with you, why, then, you’d better pay up, bitch (always accompanied with his hands on his belt, subtly pointing his thumbs towards his cock).

Hawks shrugged with his wings instead of his shoulders. Interesting. Has he ever done that before? “The commission said that, but after I insisted we’d make time, they relented. Eventually,” said Hawks, jerking his head to the side, “Our quirks don’t exactly fit well, so we haven’t worked with each other professionally too often, and, of course, we’ve had to hide our relationship so that we can’t be a public weak spot to each other. Plus, we’re more marketable as eligible, young heroes.”

“Fuck the market,” you said, slumping into the pillows.

“There’s my girl,” said Hawks, grinning with his tongue caught between his teeth, “There’s her spark. I know, baby. I feel the same way, but being made into libidinous body pillows pays the bills, y’know?”

Nodding, you brought one of the couch pillows around for you to hug, and you smushed your chin into it. “Hawks,” you said, so quietly you almost couldn’t be heard over the A/C kicking on, “How long have we been engaged?”

“Four months,” he said, his grin unconsciously fading until he was essentially baring his teeth, “Since the twentieth.”

Taking a moment, you said, “I can’t remember anything at all.”

“That’s okay. It’ll come back.”

“No, I can’t—” You slid your hands through your hair, pulling at it, and you heaved a sigh. “Goddammit, Hawks. I wish I could—fuck. I’m missing something huge. I know I am.” Make him nervous. Make him lie awake at night. “I’m sorry, Hawks. It’s probably something really important, and I—”

“Shh, shh, shh, shh, it’s all right,” said Hawks, and he stood to lean over you, his hands rising to cup your face, and holy shit, his hands cover so much of your skin; is that legal? He’s got hands. “Don’t worry, baby. You’ve had a big day. Turn your brain off. I’ll take care of you.”

Red flag! Big, red flag! Creep! He’s a creep!

Your gaze fell to his jacket pockets. Does he carry date rape drugs on his person?

“Hawks, I don’t wanna inconvenience you any more than I have.”

“I’m your fiancé,” said Hawks, actually looking you straight in the eyes and not breaking, “I want to take care of you.”

“Sure, in the way the mob takes care of people.”

Hawks’s mouth opened slightly, and his eyes narrowed.

Cover it up. “I’m not sorry. I don’t trust your cooking. You’ll poison my spaghetti!” You made a dumb gesture, pinching your fingers together. “Have you seen The Godfather? There’s actually a pretty legit spaghetti recipe in it; it’s not too bad, but it’s kind of watery—”

Hawks brought your hand to his mouth to kiss your knuckles and let his lips linger. “Watch it with me?”

You shook your head. “I’m too tired. I’m going to bed.”

“I’ll join you.”

“No,” you said, “My bed’s not made with your wings in mind.” Fuck off to your own little sex next, Hawks. Get out of here. “If they got hurt, it’d be my fault. Go sleep in your own bed, all right?” Go home. Get mugged on the way.

Hawks sighed, blowing his hair out of his eyes. “If you insist. But you’ve gotta reach out to me for anything you have trouble with, yeah? Memories, opening jars, orgasms, you know.”

“I’m leaving,” you said, reaching for your crutches, “Ten minutes ago.”

***

“You didn’t tell me how you proposed.”

Hawks froze mid-bite of his ramen, but after a quick beat, he slurped the rest of the noodle up. “I was hoping you’d recall that on your own, baby. Get your own feelings about it, instead of me telling you how to feel.”

If you weren’t faking amnesia, you’d fucking break his nose for that. Bastard.

“I imagine once you tell me, the feelings will rush in,” you said, clicking your chopsticks twice for emphasis, “I want to remember everything, and if I don’t, well, I want to fall in love with you again.”

Hawks’s gaze glazed over for an infinitesimal moment. Score.

“It’ll sound goofy once I describe it.” With his wings cramped against the back of the booth, Hawks scratched the back of his neck—a classic move for pretending to be embarrassed. “I’m not exactly known for being romantic.”

Yeah, he’s known for fooling around with anyone who’s glittery, like a goddamn crow. If you’re paying attention.

“Aw, but Hawks, you’ve been nothing but so effortlessly romantic to me since I’ve been convalescing,” you said, rolling up the paper wrapper of your straw and soaking it in the ring your cup left on the table.

“Right, well. I flew us out to the countryside, to this overlook halfway up a mountain. You liked going rappelling there a lot. To practise for missions.” Hawks had some of your habits down, at least. Bet he gets the location wrong, though. “We watched the sunrise. We shared a thermos of tea. I asked you once the sun had risen, but you didn’t say yes right away,” said Hawks, “You jumped off the overlook without your gear, and I caught you. You were furious about it—you didn’t want me to see you overwhelmed. But you said yes.”

Ugh. That sounded about right. That sounded pretty realistic. Hawks was a fucking stalker.

“Fuck,” you said, burying your face in your hands, “That’s cute.” You stretched the skin of your cheeks before releasing, and you returned to your ramen. “Question: did we put the ring into storage, or something? I don’t have the little indent on my ring finger from wearing a ring too long, and I haven’t found anything at home.” Make him sweat. Make him stumble. Where’s the ring, Hawks?

With a flash of his eyebrows, Hawks maneuvered his straw to his mouth using only his lips, looking quite stupid, in your opinion. “Figured you’d ask that at some point. I’m so overjoyed to see you every time that I forget to bring it up. The ring’s been sent off to a high-level, government-backed, support company. I’ve pulled in a favour from the higher-ups. I wanted to turn your ring into something a little more personal and incorporate one of my feathers into it,” said Hawks, taking a moment to slurp his drink noisily, “Depending on how well it goes, I’d be able to help you if we’re separated and know where you are. At the very least—” Hawks ducked his head to give the illusion of staring up at you with wide eyes, his blond eyelashes light against his skin. “—I’d be able to feel your heartbeat. It would bring me great comfort.”

Great, so he’d have a GPS on you at all times, knowing whether or not you went somewhere he didn’t want you to. He’d be able to tell if you went somewhere your non-amnesia self would know about. Great. Phenomenal.

“Hawks, that’s very sweet,” you said, fiddling with the remnants of your straw wrapper, now fizzled out of its snake shape, “Wouldn’t the process hurt you, though? Since you can feel it.”

“Nothing more than a twinge, sweetheart,” said Hawks, holding up his hands, “And I’d bear any amount of pain for your sake.”

You fantasised about beating his head in with the back end of a rifle.

***

When you were told Hawks was waiting for you outside of the recording booth, you told the messenger that Hawks could wait until you were finished with five more takes. You could picture Hawks’s little pout at the news, his feathers bristling despite the closed space, and resigning himself to sit in one of those clangy, metal chairs out front, having to hunch forward so that he didn’t crush his wings.

The idol group adored the ingenuity of bone-crunching as percussion in a song, and along with that and some other combat foley, you were singing the bridge with the rapper of the group (the dance captain would sing your part for live shows). It’d be a good promo for the girl group and for you, and the song, “Spine,” was going to be released as a single as soon as it was polished.

Hawks perked up the moment you stepped through the secondary door to the booth, his eyes brightening and wings spreading to take up more space. “I didn’t think I’d catch you,” said Hawks, standing to take your hands (the cold leather gloves sucked the heat out of your hands), “I’ve got to fly, soon, but I wanted to tell you personally.”

“You’re not pregnant,” you said, fighting the urge to break his goggles/visor/hat thing.

His lopsided grin widened. “Not yet, baby. There’s gonna be a heroes’ gala held at the end of the month, and I wanted to let you know that I’m doing everything in my power to make it a positive experience for you. Here, I’ve got this woman’s phone number,” he said, fishing a slip of paper out of his jacket, “She’ll help accommodate the venue for your leg.”

Stupid fucking bastard man. He probably wanted to pick out your clothes himself, infantilise you and dress you up like a goddamn doll. Deny you your personhood. “I’ll be out of the cast by then.” You slid the paper into your back pocket.

“I know,” Hawks said in a way that was a fucking lie, “I just don’t want there to be any accidents. I can’t have my babygirl any more hurt than she is.” Hawks placed his cold, gloved hand against your cheek, and you, shutting your eyes, made yourself lean into it. “But contact her. She’ll make it the safest place it can be for you, even when I have to leave your side.”

God, galas were great. Big events for villains to ruin. You licked your lips thinking about using a new move you’ve learnt to take a villain down (involving clamping your legs around the villain’s neck to choke him as he crumpled to the floor—your combat coach had banned you from the move after you made her pass out). “Are we announcing our engagement, then? If we’re going together?”

“I’d love to,” said Hawks, “but only if you want to. The ring could be ready by then, if I ask them to rush it—”

“Let’s do it.” If you plunged the ring into icy water, would he start to shiver? Ooh, your ring’s going to act as a fucking bay leaf in your soups for a while.

“Oh,” said Hawks, sighing lightly with his eyes fluttering shut. He pressed his forehead to yours and rubbed his thumb over your cheek. “You have no idea how much that means to me, sweetheart. You are so dear to me, and I want everyone to know it. The best damn thing in my life. Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, placing your hand on his face to push him away, “Don’t you have work to do, screw boy?”

***

“Did we have a date?” you asked from the edge of the bathtub.

Hawks dipped the razor in the water, washing off the hair and shaving cream. “We’ve gone on so many, darling; you’ll have to specify.”

“No, I meant for the wedding.” Let’s once again play: Can Hawks Cover His Own Ass?

Hawks dragged the razor down your freshly exfoliated, freshly-un-casted, freshly not-broken leg, starting at your knee. “Nope!”

“No explanation?”

“You wanna get married tomorrow? A six-month engagement is rather short, don’t you think?” His nose twitched. He’d said the scent of your shaving cream irritated his nose. Good.

“I don’t. Why didn’t we have a date for the wedding?” You eyed the actual and literal pile of your dead skin on the towel. Maybe you should make Hawks snort it.

“We were too busy working; you’d said you didn’t mind having a long engagement, so long as I was yours. Then, uh, you know. The accident,” Hawks said with a shrug—with his shoulders this time, because if he moved his wings while he was crouched in your bathtub, he’d soak them, and they were a bitch to dry, apparently. Suffer, you rat bastard.

“The commission isn’t involved in that decision?”

“I thought that was implied,” said Hawks, gripping your ankle to turn your calf to the side, “They don’t want it to be a huge spectacle, so even I don’t know how much of a wedding wedding they’d let us have.”

He’s too damn good at this. If he weren’t a pro-hero, he’d fit right along in a theatre troupe.

You’re going to wring his neck.

You caught him staring at the crotch of your underwear (bone-dry, you might add) while he shaved your thighs, and he spent more time rubbing lotion into your inner thighs than anywhere else. He tossed your dead skin before you could make him eat it, and he scooped you up against your protestations about your weight and capability, humming while he carried you to your bed.

The fucker tucked you in and rounded up your cat to place in your arms (your cat disagreed with him and promptly leapt off the bed).

“Let me stay with you,” said Hawks, kissing each of your fingertips. It’s an order.

Yet you shook your head.

***

“The doctors said you shouldn’t drink,” Hawks said under his breath, taking the champagne flute gently from your grasp.

“But I want to,” you said, sticking out your lower lip, “I’m wearing goddamn heels and a fucking dress. I’ve got on makeup, for Christ’s sake. I’ve done my time; let me drink.”

“Baby, you’ve got to stay safe,” he said, and he set the glass next to some 40s-level hero’s place at the long, white tablecloth. “There’s already press paying more attention to us than usual. You wanna make a fool of yourself?”

“Yes,” you said, lifting another champagne flute from a passing gala waiter, “Who gives a shit about the press.”

Hawks laughed too loudly to be natural before lowering his voice. “Baby, you are gonna be the death of me.”

“Promise?”

***

When “Spine” was released on a cool, spring morning to an excitable audience, you were lurking in alleyways by the docks, searching for a fight. When the music video dropped, you were smashing some guy’s face into a concrete wall. While more and more citizens recognised you and your talent, your work for the community, your connections, your popularity—with your rank steadily rising—you were rappelling down a port sewer to pummel a slime villain into dust.

You wiped his blood off on your pants, hands devoid of anything that could taint. You’d left the ring at home.

***

“You tricked me,” you said, scowling as Hawks pushed you forward, “This isn’t the rock climbing park.”

Once you deliberately smashed your face into the glass door and crossed your arms, Hawks held the door open for you. “Would you have dressed up so nicely for rock climbing?”

“A meta-game challenge,” you said, “to rock-climb in a long skirt.”

You glowered about the restaurant while you and Hawks stood in the lobby, his hand low on your back, suspiciously respectfully. You made no effort to hide your distaste: it was the place with the purple lights.

Over there at the absurdly long bar, Endeavor had drunk flat whisky without so much of a growl at anyone, despite it being his event. Hexagonal tables with lilac tablecloths dotted the floor—you’d hidden in one of the few booths, up against the exposed brick wall—but your hiding place had been ruined once a violet disco ball had emerged from the ceiling. Shiny, wooden floor that had reflected your post-panic attack face right back at you and let every shoe strike it with a clatter. No silence allowed.

The whole restaurant had lavender LED lights running around the walls, swathing the place in a distorted sort of purple haze, and any candles lit on the centre tables had indigo flames—you’d focused on how those might have been made in the process of coming down from your panic attack.

God. You’re going to throw up.

The hostess escorted you and Hawks to a farther back room, this one with booths separated by small, brick walls that didn’t reach the ceiling yet concealed the booths’ occupants from each other—unless you were passing directly in front of one.

Hawks made you sit in the booth first, trapping you in as he settled. He had to be on the edge, anyway, he told you, because of his wings. You’re going to rip them off and boil them in the soup.

The two of you ordered. You don’t remember what. You can only channel so much of your nerves into jostling your leg. This is not cool. This place is not cool. You need to get out.

“Hey, let me through,” you said, nudging Hawks, “Bathroom.”

Once there, you lightly slapped your cheeks a couple of times, trying to ground yourself through physical sensation. No use. Can’t they fucking use normal lights in this place?

You didn’t have your panic meds, because you’ve never needed them rock climbing. You can do it. You’re fine. You’re fine. Your tongue is too big for your mouth.

You took your time meandering back to the booth, coming to a halt at the end of the narrow hallway and ducking behind the corner.

Endeavor stood by your booth, his arms crossed over a flaming chest. You caught your breath at the sight of his orange fire, a comforting contrast to all the damn purple, but still—Endeavor. Talking to your (gag) fiancé.

Without the courage to interact with Endeavor, you listened at the corner for his departure.

“Nah, she can handle her bladder just fine. It’s her nerves,” Hawks was saying, hidden by the bricks, “She likes hiding. She doesn’t necessarily like being in the spotlight.”

“Yet she hasn’t completely withdrawn as Eraserhead has. You’ve picked a strange one to marry.”

From the angle Endeavor glared at him, Hawks must be slumping in his seat. “But that’s what so great about her. And it’s hard to process, y’know, like, she’s finally mine. You follow?”

“Regrettably,” said Endeavor, “Regardless, I offer my congratulations that your courtship finally worked out in your favour. You should have told me sooner.”

Courtship. That’s a funny way to pronounce bullying.

“Eh, I’ve gotta have some secrets, don’t I? Can’t betray my otherwise cool exterior.” Hawks laughed. “I can’t believe I’ve been allowed such happiness. The woman I’ve loved for years is gonna be waking up to me every day soon, y’know?”

Hawks has got to know you can hear him, otherwise he wouldn’t be saying those things. Endeavor must be in on Hawks’s ruse, since Endeavor is Hawks’s closest—actually, Endeavor isn’t the type to revel in romantic shit. Endeavor straight-up isn’t the type to revel. To the best of your knowledge, Endeavor doesn’t genuinely like Hawks as so much as tolerates him; when did they get so close? It must have taken a long time—

Time.

You could feel your IQ dropping as you actually considered: had you been in a legitimate coma? Had you (fuck) genuinely had amnesia?

No, no. You don’t live in Crazytown. Your eyebrows hadn’t been overgrown when you’d woken up in the hospital. You’d only been there a day.

Of course, Hawks is a vain piece of shit and does his own eyebrows, so he might have considered that yours were a piece of pride/insecurity for you and may have done them while you were—did Hawks do his own eyebrows? That spoiled fuck probably had someone else to do them for him. If they were naturally like that, you were going to throttle his ass.

You didn’t fucking have amnesia. Hawks is and always has been a stupid, clammy birdbrain. He’s always been cruel to you. He didn’t fucking like you.

He sure as hell wasn’t in fucking love with you.

Oh, my fuck, what if your memories of Hawks have been fabricated by a coma-addled mind and that—

“Hey, there,” said—said someone, some pale-ass, sleep-deprived freak who startled you out of your head, “Are you all right? You look—I mean, do you need some water? A chair?”

You blinked, yet he wouldn’t come into focus—you were taking in details about him, ones that didn’t fucking matter (chain on his wallet, three rings all on the left hand, a button-down missing the last button, a cloud of axe body spray), but he didn’t register as a human person. He couldn’t; you hadn’t grounded yourself yet. You yourself still had a frazzled, cartoon scribble buzzing inside of your chest, and until you vomited it up, a panic attack may yet still happen.

You can’t deal with anyone new right now.

A spark of recognition crossed the new guy’s face, and he, through a smirk, asked if you were your hero name.

Oh god oh fuck not now

“Sweetheart,” came Hawks’s melodious drawl (registering first his voice, then bodily warmth, then the wingtip covering your ass), “You were taking so long that I came to check on you.” He pulled you by the waist towards him, blocking the guy from seeing your face by pressing it into his chest. “Who’s this?”

Who cares. All you could focus on (sharp and overwhelming, nothing else but) was how fucking incredible Hawks smelled, and at this point, you’d use anything to bring yourself back down to earth. A small voice in the back of your head told you that freaking out to this degree in this particular situation was leaning towards pathetic, since basically nothing happened, besides being in an uncomfortable environment and being accosted by a fan at the wrong time, but you? You did not control the rate at which your brain panicked.

And really, no rhyme or reason played into why your grabby little hands itched for human contact once safe in the booth again, why Hawks’s scent lay on your tongue more heavily than your soup, why the overwhelming sensation of being so fucking spaced out of it threw its entire weight upon your shoulders—you couldn’t find yourself. You were lost.

And in this horrible, purple place, the only thing that’s familiar was Hawks.

When you scooted as closely as you could to him in the booth, keeping your glare towards your lap while you looped your arm under his to snuggle into it, Hawks cleared his throat to say, “What’s this?”

You scowled into his jacket, both hands gripping his forearm.

He set his chopsticks down. “How can I help, darling?”

Growling, you bonked your forehead against his shoulder, dragging your hands down to his.

“Hey,” said Hawks, and he guided your face towards his and stroked your cheek with his thumb, “Did that guy bother you too much before I got there?”

Turning your mouth towards the hand cupping your cheek, you kissed his palm, bit the leather, and kissed it again before burying yourself in his shoulder again.

He rested his hand on the crown of your head. “What’s the matter? Can you tell me?”

“Not sure I can put it into words,” you said, “I think I wanna go home.” You bit the fabric of his jacket and gnashed it between your teeth.

“I can handle that,” said Hawks, “Gimme a moment to get takeaway boxes, yeah? Then we’ll leave, and you’ll be safe. Don’t worry.”

Unfortunately, you were still clutching onto his arm by the time he unlocked his darkened penthouse (because you’re not gonna hold his hand. God), but you slapped his hand away from the light switches.

“Turning them on would be too much stimulation,” you said, “Please don’t.”

Hawks hummed against the top of your head, placing keys and both of your phones on the kitchen counter. “Bed or couch?”

“Window,” you said.

“Window?”

“I’m assuming you’ve got one.”

“I do,” said Hawks, guiding you through his dark apartment, probably past scarily expensive, posh shit. He led you to what was most likely his living room, with the cool, dim light of the night sky through a vast, single-frame, wall-to-floor window illuminating furniture custom built for his wings, but he eased you down onto the carpet, tugging your shirt upwards so that the window would be touching your bare skin on the small of your back.

Hawks yanked his boots off, late, instead of at the door, and he tossed them over his shoulder. He took yours off, too, and once he’d set them aside, he sat next to you against the window, a hand on your thigh.

“Better?”

“Probably,” you said, staring at the triangle of light beige carpet between your crossed legs.

“Need me to talk? You need to talk?”

“Not right now.”

Hawks was a dumbass. He’s such a fucking dumbass. But he’s a dumbass who’s here right now, and he’s interested (?) in you, interested in helping you. And good golly, you have to be touched. Hawks’s offering warmth, freely, potentially lovingly, and all you had to do was reach out to take it, even if you didn’t reciprocate whatever sentiment was motivating him yourself.

Do you really want to take what you have no feelings for?

Hawks lies a lot to Endeavor. To everyone. He might not have been lying earlier. What reason had he to lie?

Guess it didn’t matter, because you were lying.

But good God, you haven’t been kissed in a long time. Haven’t felt safe or loved. You could…you could indulge for a few hours in order to calm down. You could pretend.

The last ten months had proved that.

“Hey,” you said idly, reaching out to grab the inner fleece lining of his jacket to rub it between your fingers, “Hawks, I’m gonna—I’m gonna put my mouth on your mouth. Okay?”

Hawks’s wings ruffled and constricted themselves so that he could move closer to you, and his hand has migrated from your thigh to grip your hip—how could anyone’s hands encompass that much of you? Your fucking hands couldn’t, not in the way his does.

(Bird man big and safe.)

([No, fuck you, don’t think that.])

(BIRD MAN SAFE—)

Shoved is how you’d describe the first few seconds of the kiss, followed closely by wet and you’d think his teeth would be sharper. Your lips didn’t line up with his completely until he adjusted your chin with two of his fingers, guiding it open just barely, as well, so that his tongue could graze your teeth—it took you a moment of processing before parting them, with a final don’t think! shouted to your neocortex.

Birds have a higher body temperature than other animals, on average having a body temperature of 105 degrees Fahrenheit (40 degrees Celsius). The colour of their feathers, of course, affects how much light and heat they absorb, with the lighter coloured feathers—say, red—reflecting more, rejecting outside heat sources.

Yet Hawks gripped you like he’d fucking freeze if he weren’t clutching you, if he weren’t straddling your legs, one palm flat against the cool of the window by your head. The other snaked around you, his forearm lying almost vertically up your back to press down between your shoulder blades, keeping you as near to his chest (he probably didn’t realise it, but his fingers ran across the curve of your shoulder blades where his wings were on his own body.

For some reason, the thought crossed your mind that you weren’t enough for him, because you were too dissimilar.)

Don’t think!

When he massaged your tongue with his, applying pressure sporadically, you returned the action—have you ever seen a bird tongue up close? They’re fucking nasty little things, looking more like a grub than anything else. Thank God Hawks had a normal, human tongue that performed particularly delightful, normal things, like drag across the roof of your mouth and aid in sucking phenomenal hickeys onto your jawline, licking over where he’s bitten and kissed.

Stop thinking about bird anatomy. Hawks has no discernible bird traits except for his fucking wings. He’s not a fucking bird man. He’s just some dude with wings. And not all birds have functional wings; for example, the ostrich and the penguin do not have wings to be used in flight—

Oh, my fuck. Turn your brain off.

Your stomach lurched. That had been something Hawks had told you too often, back before your accident.

It’s what he wants.

Hawks fucking whimpered when you pulled the shorter hairs at the back of his neck, prying him away from your skin with great difficulty—he kept trying to touch you with his mouth and tongue in the process.

“Let me have more,” he said, panting, his breath heavy and just below your ear, “Please.” He pressed his lips to the spot in front of your ear in a weak kiss, having spent himself for the most part. “I’ve missed you so much, baby. I’ve been waiting for you to come back to me for so long.”

“I don’t—” You fake-stuttered, but it turned out you needed the time to put your thoughts into words. “I don’t think I’m back yet. I’m,” you said, taking as deep a breath as you could with Hawks smushed against your chest, “Something’s missing. Something big.” That’s right. Steer it back in his direction. Make the bird man sweat. “I don’t—something doesn’t feel right.”

It took a moment, but Hawks nodded fervently, shutting his eyes. “Of course. Yeah. Yeah, I get it, sweetheart. Can’t do anything when your heart’s not in it.”

Your heart’s not the problem. “Thank you for being so understanding, Hawks,” you said, untangling yourself from underneath him, “Would you just, uh, hold me for a while?”

His wings wrapped around the both of you on his enormous bed, still fluttering with each slow breath he took. Hawks almost looked genuine while he slept, and probably for the best—at least he was getting rest; at least his guard might be down.

You couldn’t sleep. Your mind was racing.

***

“Rank speculation is out,” you said, scrubbing the pumice stone over a patch of dry skin on Hawks’s back and scrolling through the twitter with your other hand, “Take a look.”

He opened the link you sent once he’d safely removed a dead feather that had been lodged in an odd spot in a wing. “Huh. Think I could truly take on Endeavor?”

“Well, he’s got that abusive-to-his-family thing, while you’re rocking the preparing-for-my-wedding look, and he can’t network non-aggressively to save his life.”

“Nor can you.” Hawks shot you a smirk over his shoulder.

“Zoom in on my speculated nine, baby,” you said, flicking away some dead skin with a satisfied/disgusted sneer, “And I didn’t have to sleep my way there.”

“Ah, ha, ha,” said Hawks, “Knew you could do it. Whoever’s told you that is gonna have to deal with my foot up their ass. You’re more than capable of getting there on your own.”

“Which I did. I have.” Wait. Hawks told you that. No, it’s fine. It’s fine. It’s a commonly said, misogynistic comment towards women heroes. Hawks isn’t special. “But having your foot up someone’s ass wouldn’t be good for PR, unless you wanted to advertise that you’re a kinky son of a bitch who’s cheating on his fiancée.”

“I would never,” said Hawks, and, contorting his arm, he grabbed your hand with the pumice stone to kiss the back of it, “But my PR is solid, regardless.”

“If the public knew how much time you had to spend preening these fucking wings, they’d probably appreciate you more. Or call you conceited.”

Hawks hummed. “It’s a necessary evil,” he said, returning to his wingtip to search for dead feathers. “Thank you for helping.”

“No problem. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t get to see how—Hawks, holy fuck. Do you feel that?” You ran a finger near the base of a wing.

“It’s your finger?”

“No, this,” you said, tapping the spot.

“No?”

“My God. It’s a dilated pore of a winer,” you said, already reaching for the tweezers, “Right at the base of your wing. It’s basically an enormous fucking blackhead. I’m popping it. Oh, my God. I’ve never seen one in real life.”

“You’re popping it?”

“You didn’t have a problem with my getting the ones where your costume sits.”

“No,” said Hawks, rolling back his shoulders, his wings spreading with them, “Gotcha. Get on with it.”

“Can I film it?”

“What? No,” said Hawks, “No one can see me preening, let alone dealing with acne.”

“There’s sure to be another hero out there with a wing quirk, right? I don’t know how you can’t feel it.”

“Yeah,” Hawks said slowly, “Since my feathers can feel—I suppose where the wings merge with my skin is pretty numb. I haven’t ever had to think about it.” He licked his lips. “Funny.”

He continued to scroll through his feed and tend to his feathers while you worked at his back. “Bad news: the tabloids got a hold of our grocery list from the last time we went to the shops. I must have dropped it at some point in the store.”

“Oh, so do they know what kind of ice cream we prefer? The horror.”

“No, but they’ve brought in some hack handwriting analyst. Talking about our annotations for each other on the list. Something about how you’re logical and I’m a romantic. The writer of the article is practically swooning.” Hawks pulled out a clot of feathers with his teeth and spat them aside. “With good reason, though. The trashy pictures they snapped of us are hot.”

“Describe them to me.”

“I can show you—”

“No,” you said, concentrating on your work, “I don’t want the image imprinted on my brain. Describe them in your own words.”

“All right,” said Hawks, crossing his legs and placing his phone on the coffee table in front of him, “To start, the flash is on.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“Yeah. We’ve got that distantly surprised look going on. It looks like we’re near the eggs and cheese. You’re not looking at the camera, but I believe it’s in the moment I caught it.” Hawks flicked away a feather and let it fall to the carpet. “My hand’s on your waist. The other’s on the cart. You’ve scrunched your face up in concentration; it’s really cute.”

“Aw, we should get it framed,” you said, wiping away the gunk with a tissue and wadding it up so that no one will ever have to see or touch it ever again.

“Never,” said Hawks, “The first picture of us I wanna get framed should be on our wedding day.”

“It’s coming along quickly,” you said, setting aside the tweezers, “Bit more quickly than I’d thought it would.”

“Yeah, I can’t wait,” said Hawks with a light laugh, and you ducked to rest your head against his shoulder, straining your neck to reach him over his wing.

Hawks clicked his non-nasty, non-bird tongue. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

Sighing, you said, “Turn your head this way.”

He did you one better, since he anticipated your plan. He twisted around, keeping his legs crossed as he pulled you into his lap. His wings initially bristled but wrapped around you when his arms did, and Hawks kissed your cheek, once, twice, until he arrived at your mouth, where he barely grazed your lips, rather letting his hot breath spread over your face—and he grinned up at you with half-lidded eyes (he’d left off his eyeliner today, but the natural marks below his waterline kept his eyes sharp, anyway).

“Kiss me, you fucking idiot,” you said, overriding whatever he was about to do by kissing him yourself, hard and open-mouthed, almost violent in its fervent. Yet Hawks held you lightly, delicately, but still close enough to freeze.

You ran your cold, cold hands over his bare abdomen, pressing your thumb down with considerable force to trace his muscles (he grunted at that, and that’s it; that’s right—make him squirm; make him sweat; make him yours). His finger only toyed with the hem of his shirt that you were wearing, as if waiting for you, which didn’t line up with what you had garnered about Hawks at all, but c’mon, man, come on; didn’t you want this all those months ago? Almost a year, now? Years, if what he said to Endeavor is true? But when he flinched away with a shaky breath once your cold fingers circled his nipple, you knew this was where you were supposed to be: right here, in Hawks’s lap, completely destroying him with hardly anything at all. Nothing but light touches and a strategic flick of your tongue. Idiot man. He must really like you if this is doing it for him.

You slowed and opened your eyes at that thought, frowning, and you pulled away. With the back of his hand, Hawks wiped saliva off of both of your mouths, yours first.

He waited for you.

“If you can’t take all of me, then what’s the point?”

He tilted his head. “I’ll take whatever part of you you’re willing to share.”

“I’m missing something.”

“I know.”

“I want to find it before we get married.” You laid your palm flat on his chest, and he grinned at the cold.

“You can find it,” he said, “I know you can.”

“I don’t know what I’m blocking out,” you said, lying—or maybe you weren’t? Fuck it. “Whatever I’m repressing is really fucking with me.”

“Take your time,” said Hawks, running his tongue over his lower lip. “I’m here for—”

“Hawks,” you said, faking the light of realisation in your eyes, accompanied with a sharp inhale, “I can’t remember your name.”

Hawks’s mouth snapped shut.

“You told me once. I know you did,” you said, moving to cup his cheek after tapping the mark underneath his eye, “but the memory—there’s a blur where you spoke. I—” You cut yourself off, biting your lip. “That, that might be it. I don’t know. Everything else about the scene is in perfect detail. I remember what fucking socks I was wearing, for Christ’s sake. But you. What you said. Maybe it’s something so personal, so intimate, that I’ve repressed it. Maybe it was too much for me to handle.” You cupped his face with both hands now, forcing him to look at you. If you hadn’t been scrutinising him for some evidence of breaking character, you wouldn’t’ve seen the minute quivering of his upper lip. Hardly there, but it was there. “It’s a part of you that I want. Even if I couldn’t handle it before, I want to try now.”

Hawks averted his gaze, even though he couldn’t move his head. And bang, you’ve got him. Hawks’s name was still strictly secret, hidden by the commission, but if he’s genuinely in this dumbass situation for the long haul, if he’s truly in it for you, then he would have told you. Even if he wanted you to continue to call him Hawks, your own fiancé would have told you his damn name.

So, this is it. The way out.

Hawks was going to feel so stupid when he found out you’ve been faking all this time. Good. Let each feather burn.

“Keigo,” he said, staring into your eyes with a newfound determination, “My name is Takami Keigo.”

Oh, shit—you clapped a hand over your heart, your eyes widening. Maybe you could play this off as memory recovery instead of absolute shock? But you hadn’t any memories to recover, probably. Holy fuck.

Where do you go from here?

You tried to say his name but ended up simply mouthing it, and after clearing your throat and coughing a bit, you managed to say it aloud. “Keigo,” you said softly, reaching for his hand, “Keigo, I fucking love you.”

You’d only been kissing him for a few moments before his wings shuddered in a muscle spasm and flung you off to the side.

***

Only a commission higher-up witnessed your wedding. She stood silently to the side the entire ceremony in the courthouse and only shook Hawks’s hand afterwards.

You and your cat essentially moved into his penthouse and adjusted. Your mostly empty apartment stayed leased under your name.

Sometimes, you’d note that you turned your brain off and instantly be hit with a lightning strike of self-loathing—but you didn’t have to consciously decide to be affectionate with Hawks. Being with him came naturally and easily. Probably for the best, since if you had to think about it, you’d screw it up.

You stayed together. Supported each other. Sneaked out to see the other on patrol. Took care, listened to each other. Defended each other. Worked it out.

And now, you stared up at the ceiling fan whirling in your darkened bedroom, Keigo lying on his stomach next to you in the bed as he slept. Your cat catloafed between his wings and nestled into them, rising and falling with each breath he took. Hawks was perfect, always saving the day, working up a routine to mesh with your fighting style and quirk, always charming and easygoing with the people he rescued, indulging you in your ferocity, and Keigo, Keigo whispered sweet and dirty things into your ear when he spotted you in public, made you laugh, worked wonders with his cock, helped you clean up before he even thought of preening himself, held you, and made you feel held. He’s got it bad.

And maybe you do, too.

Hawks was going to feel so stupid when he found out.

#bnha #mha #hawks #keigo takami #takami keigo #hawks x reader #hawks/reader #hawks imagine #hawks fic #hawks headcanons #hawks fanfic #hawks fanfiction #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo/reader #takami keigo imagine #takami keigo fic #takami keigo headcanons #takami keigo fanfiction #takami keigo fanfic

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kissypoets · 4 years

Text

Liability (Reprise)

In which Harry panics about getting mobbed while out for dinner with you and tries to make up for his mistake.

a/n: hihihi omg... this is my first time posting my work on here [ or anywhere, actually ] so please be kind. this was inspired by the song liability (reprise) by lorde!!! was listening to it and this idea just came to me and I really loved how it turned out and really wanted to share. I hope you enjoy :] !!

Word Count: 6, 543

Harry unbuttons his sheer dress shirt, blowing out a puff of air as his chest and stomach relaxes due to being released from the tight space. He folds the sleeves up to his forearms, inked skin being exposed to the cool air in his quiet bedroom, the dimmed iridescent light making his tattoos vivid and clearer than ever before on his tan skin. All the jogging Harry has done at the beach has certainly paid off. His skin was glowing in golden hue, highlighted parts burnt and sunkissed to perfection, leaving a darkened red tone that made him even more captivating. This has always managed to strengthen Harry’s external confidence, finding extra comfort in his tattoos becoming more visible knowing that they covered a part of him he couldn’t imagine exposing bare and blank.

Silence surrounds him as he tears his eyes away from his arm, sitting down on the edge of his bed and letting out another large exhale.

It hasn’t been a great night for him and the fact that he has to come home in a massive space that was filled with nothing but eerie silence certainly makes it worse. He was hoping to stay out all night with you but the moment people got a hold of his whereabouts, he knew better than to sit still and wait for the chaos to slap him in the face. Instead, he rushed both of you outside the restaurant and worry has taken over him completely to the point where taking you home seemed like the best idea to keep you away from the hysteria. You had hoped he was thinking of a more secluded place to bring you to, but when he said you should go, you swallowed the thickening lump in your throat and just nodded your head, trying your best to be understanding of the situation.

He felt beyond stupid thinking about it now. Enraged, dismay and dejected doesn’t even cover the feeling in his gut. Harry was disappointed in himself more than anything, feeling like he’d let you down just within months of being together.

Settling his elbows on his knees and leaning forward, his fingers rubbed his temples due to the pain that was starting to flourish in his dome. He could have done so many things in order to prolong the night and make an effort in your guys' relationship, yet he let the intense fret win him over, causing panic in his brain and feeling like he had no choice but to take you home.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he mutters under his breath as he clasps his hands and pressed it hard against his forehead, “you could have taken her here and cooked a lovely dinner, you dimwit.”

Harry also knew he could’ve been the one to keep you safe tonight. If he was going to cause mayhem in your life, the least he could do was bring you some sort of consolation and protect you from all of it.

He feels so beyond disappointed in himself that the ache in his head has started to squeeze his cranium, agonizing pain rushing through every vein in his body. He was so tired of this continuously happening to everyone important in his life. Even though he loves what he does and feels such vigorous happiness and triumph from it, he still looks at it as a miniscule disadvantage for all his friends, family and partner. If Harry kept tabs on how many times the media and a large crowd has hurt the most important people in his life, then he’ll have an endless stack of it collecting dust in a separate room in his large residence.

Harry takes a few more deep breaths until his shaking ceases, doing what he was instructed by his therapist when needing to calm his anxiety and getting rid of the trepidation forming in the pit of his stomach and on the deep end of his throat. He swallows thickly and straightens his back, inhaling and exhaling one last time.

Calling you to explain himself and checking in on how you were doing was the right thing to do right now. He reaches in his pockets, pulling out his phone and instantly putting you on dial. He has your number memorized and favorited in his contacts, the bold font of his nickname for you listed first on the section.

The phone rang once, twice, then four more times before it went straight to voicemail. It didn’t even vex him, he just stayed on the line and listened to your sweet voice echo through his ear drums, savoring every syllable that left your mouth. You sounded like how it felt to touch velvet, or the feeling of bliss that rushes through him whenever he finishes a song. You felt good, you sounded good.

A wave of calmness hits his body, the frustration and disappointment in him halting for a second as he focuses on your saccharine voice, “hey! So sorry for not being able to pick up your call. Chances are I’m sleeping or completely engulfed by a book. I promise to get back to you as soon as possible. Hope you’re well, bye!’

When the line cuts off, Harry looks at his phone screen, enthralled by the brief message. He wasted no time dialing your number again, standing up to pace around the room when worry creeps back in his abdomen. Hands settled on his hip, he bites his lip as he waits in vehement anticipation for you to greet him through the phone. But after several rings, it leads to your voicemail again and he’s left even more concerned.

“Fuck,” he tilts his head back and closes his eyes, shoving one of his hand inside his pants to bring some comfort in his physique, “one more call.”

The airconditioning in the room roared loudly, coming to life and blowing soft, cool air from the ceiling. Harry’s forgotten that he still had his dress shirt on, opened wide on the center and exposing his abdominal muscles and the large butterfly inked on the center of it looking glorious and fresh. The ventilation blew air right on his skin and he can feel the hair rising due to the coldness, not helping the nervousness that was already swallowing the entirety of his stomach.

He continued pacing as the line rings, his breathing in sync with each pause. He wasn’t entirely sure anymore if you’d pick up at all, but when the ringing stopped and there were seconds of silence, he looked at his screen and noticed the time stamp going.

He stopped in the middle of his bedroom and pressed the phone back to his ears, certain you’ve picked up. The knot on his stomach tightened and his chest started beating rapidly, palms sweating inside the pockets of his slacks. He wanted you to pick up but after already failing to hear from you twice, he wasn’t expecting it on the third call.

“Baby?” Harry calls. There was some groaning.

“No idea who the fuck this is, but some of us are trying to sleep, mate,” a deep voice rings through his drums, tiredness and sleepiness evident. Harry’s stomach drops as he stares at the wall in front of him. A male?

Harry’s head starts racing and he swallows a thick ball of swelling anxiety in his throat. He can feel his breathing becoming uneven. He checks the screen of his phone again, making sure that he called the right person. After seeing your nickname still typed out neatly and boldly on the front, he feels a quarter of relief. He shouldn’t think the absolute worst because it could be anyone. Harry has earned multiple different titles under the category of being overly jealous and he admits that it turns him into an arrogant son of a bitch, but he just really couldn’t help it. He wants to be the only one.

“Hellooooo?” the voice on the other end startles him out of his thoughts and he focuses back on the call. The man sighs when Harry doesn't answer. “Look, you’ve called three times on her phone while she was passed out on the couch. She’s in the shower now and I’ll let her know that a--hang on--” he looks at his screen, “that a Harry rang, cool?”

Whoever answered your phone didn’t even bother to wait for Harry to agree, he just hung up and did as he said.

The grip on Harry’s phone tightened without control, his eyes starting to water due to the intense stare he gave his wall. Shower? Why were you so tired beforehand? Who was that? Why, why, why… Multiple questions raced through his brain and he rushed to sit at the end of his bed. You’re too good and you’d never do anything to hurt him like this, he knows that. Or does he? His jealousy is getting the best of him and he senses it. He does his breathing exercises again as he waits patiently to hear from you this time.

The airconditioning starts to die down, the noise it was making starting to decrease and heat starts to radiate throughout Harry’s body. He wasted no time ripping his dress shirt off, fully exposing his toned thorax, muscles flexing due to his nervous breathing and brood.

You’ve mentioned Effy to him multiple times before, considering the amount of interesting stories you’ve told him about your drunken nights together and spontaneous trips; stories he’s certainly loved hearing and continues to anticipate whenever you’re together. He knew that she was your only roommate, that she’s enthralled by women and that you haven’t mentioned any guy friends yet. He even remembers correctly that you’re the only child, your family living across the globe and that the closest thing you have to a relative here in Los Angeles is Effy, no brother and no cousins.

Harry tries not to continue overthinking but he’s really shit in that department. It’s one of the many traits that he despises the most in himself, knowing that his past relationships had gone wrong because of it and he refuses to let that happen again.

Thank god his thoughts were cut off when his phone starts to ring and vibrate on his hand, the same nickname you’ve become accustomed to shining brightly on his phone screen. He stands up from his bed and quickly answers, “hello? Hi. I’m--”

“Harry,” you sigh in relief at the sound of his voice. He doesn’t know that you’ve been expecting a call for over two hours now since he dropped you home, “hi, baby. Are you okay? Finn said--”

“Finn. Is he-- who is he, exactly?” You notice a tint of vulnerability in his voice.

Harry looks down at his feet that were covered in baby pink socks, a hand on his hip while he waits for you to answer. He hopes he didn’t sound pathetic asking that. He felt ridiculous enough as it is and absolutely stupid for not asking about your wellbeing first. He was about to retract and take it back but you’ve managed to chuckle through the phone before answering and Harry bites his lip.

“Effy’s brother. He’s got a research trip down in San Diego so he’s here for a visit. Sorry for however he acted over the phone. I promise he’s a great guy,” you say, “how are you? I so badly wanted to call but I wasn’t sure if you wanted to talk especially because of what happened at Perch.”

You were always so honest and straightforward with your thoughts. Harry loves that so much about you. Somehow, it boosts his confidence even more whenever he’s around you and he’s never afraid to speak his mind and act however he wants. What he lacks in being able to communicate properly with his partners you make up for in the relationship and he was more than grateful.

“I’m fine. I’m,” Harry pauses for a second before exhaling and changing his words, “I’m not fine actually. I miss you and I’m so terribly sorry for dismissing you. It wasn’t your fault, I swear, I’m just an arse.”

He continues before you can disagree, “I got nervous. That was the first time that’s ever happened while I was with you and I didn’t want it to change anything between us. I didn’t want you to feel differently. I want you now. I mean… I want you to come over now. I want to cook dinner for you and make up for what happened.”

Harry’s heart starts to beat even faster against his chest as he admits his feelings in accurate words. He’s aware how late it is already and you probably have classes tomorrow but he’s hoping you’ll agree anyway so he can fix a wasted and ravaged night. He also thinks he can persuade you into wanting to stay, the need to hold and kiss you intensifying the more he thinks about it. He wants to show you just how sorry he is. He wants you to forgive him and let him show you just how important you are to him. He wants to make you his favorite homemade meal and demonstrate his outrageous skills in bed, which you have been pining for and missing so much.

You were about to answer but he cuts you off once more. You smile slightly as you listen to him speak, “fuck. How are you? How are you feeling? Sorry.”

“Deep breaths, please? You sound really nervous and you have no reason to be, it’s just me,” you have no idea how nervous you make him and how much he worries about you, but he refrains from saying it out loud, not wanting to speak over you again. “I’m bummed about what happened because I really wanted to have a lovely dinner with you but I also understand. I understand and I feel better now that I’m hearing your voice. You have nothing to apologize for, Harry.”

“I do,” he mutters and toys with his belt, eyes still on the floor, “if it weren’t for me, no crowd would have showed up and we would still be sitting on that rooftop with a nice glass of extremely expensive wine. They’ll have no choice but to kick us out.”

You giggle and the sound makes Harry’s anxiety melt away. The tension in his muscles starts to soften and his heart starts to slow down, instantly feeling healed.

Harry looks up and his lips finally curl on its sides, dimples popping out on both of his cheeks and he feels more than relieved. He had no doubts about you understanding the unfortunate circumstance but he was one to always need validation and he feels undeniably reassured by your simple words, and even just the sound of your laugh.

At times, strange happenings like that would commence an argument with his exes. Looking back at it now, it was very odd to him considering he had no control over it. Plus he trusts his fans enough and knows that they wouldn’t do anything to put him and his loved ones in danger. Though mobs happen, he’s aware that they will never cross a line that damages his respect for them.

But you discepher and accept it, without him having to beg you to or explain to you. Another reason why he’s so enamored by you. You just know.

“Yeah, that would have been lovely. But we can always go another time. I saw you today and it was enough for me,” you replied. Harry’s cheeks tightens as he smiles wider, dimples deepening and crinklers appearing beside his eyes. He feels himself flush because of your words and he crunches his nose to calm himself.

“We can try again tonight,” he brings his suggestion back into the conversation, “so, will you come? I can pick you up, I don’t mind.”

You frown. “I’d love to but, it’s almost eleven, classes tomorrow and Effy--”

“Please, darling?” Harry begs, sitting down on his bed again. He hears you inhale upon hearing the sudden word of endearment and he grins. He knows how much you love it when he calls you random pet names, but mostly the sweetest ones that will have you turning into goo.

“God, you’re good,” you admit and tilt your head back, laughing quietly. Harry’s grin grows, “fine. But I can drive myself.”

“No,” he butts in. “I can pick you up. It’s just a twenty minute drive.”

It was a tactic. Harry figured that if you didn’t have your vehicle with you then you will be more likely to stay. But he knows that he’ll cave in on driving you back anyway if you really wanted to go home for the night.

“Harry,”

“Honey,” he throws in another nickname. You inhale. He smiles.

“Fine,” you say in defeat.

Harry’s heart almost leaps out of his chest in triumph and excitement; the fact that he’s seeing you again tonight lit up something in him. He’s grateful that you can’t see the idiotic smile he’s sporting right now, otherwise his body will flush in humiliation and you’ll tease him about it all night. Little does he know, you’ve got the same look on your beautiful face, also thankful that he couldn’t see you. You’re both a mirrorball to each other’s life, lighting one another up in a way that you’ve both always craved.

“See you then, baby,” he says.

___

Due to the lack of traffic, Harry was able to make it in your apartment complex in just under 15 minutes. Mulholland Drive was packed as usual but it still didn’t prevent him from arriving too late. Dressed in black joggers and a black hoodie, curls tied up in a black scrunchie and pushed back in a red bandana, he looked absolutely cozy and at ease.

The brief conversation between the two of you over the phone has brought him slight serenity. He’s still hoping to somehow bring it up tonight and apologize once more knowing what he said through the phone wouldn’t be enough. And he also wants to put his compelling abilities in bed to good use as a way to show you how sorry he was, if you’ll let him.

He adjusts the cool air that left his car’s ventilation, making sure it wasn’t too warm nor too cold once you get in the car. He stares at the open space of your building, waiting for you to come down through the stairs while exhilaration rushes through every vein in his body.

Harry feels absolutely nonsensical because of how much he misses you despite seeing you hours ago. A minute, hour, day or weeks even, will never be enough time and he’s fully aware of that. But thinking about everything he wants to do with you just brings back the same intolerable thoughts; getting mobbed, harassed and surrounded by hundreds of people even if you’re just having dinner in a public restaurant together. He suddenly starts to feel unsettled, desperately needing you to show up within his sight already so he can forget about everything and just focus on you and taking care of you, which is what he has started to love doing most.

Just in time, before Harry’s thoughts can get darker and deeper, he catches you walking carefully down the stairs looking irresistible as always. Your hair was in a low bun, bits of hair falling loose around your face while you sported a lovely white frock dress and matching fluffy slippers.

His whole face lights up in jubilation, mouth almost hurting due to how big his smile was and the wild elation in him sharpens. Harry chuckles as soon as you get in the car, more than delighted to see you. Your scent engulfs him in a wild wave, the air conditioning circulating it throughout his car and he didn’t mind it one bit. He hopes that it would stay in there forever, surrounding him to bring a sense of tranquility.

“Hi, sweet girl,” he greets you, wasting no time and leaning forward to catch your soft lips with his. He feels you take a deep breath and you can feel his smile against you, his hands coming up to stroke your cheeks. Your shock is evident when you laugh quietly while his lips continue to tackle yours, cupping his jaw as you kiss him back and Harry slowly melts due to the feeling. His body slumps from where he sat, savoring your taste and marking you with his.

You pull back, pecking him lightly once more before greeting him back, “hi, handsome.”

His body heats up as he leans back in his seat and starts driving, “cool enough in here for you?”

“Yeah, thanks,” you answer, putting your seatbelt on. “How was the drive?”

“It was fine, no traffic so we’ll be home in no time,” he says, catching a quick glance at you while you fixate your eyes on the road, “you look beautiful, by the way. Love the dress.”

Your breathing changed for a second upon hearing the word home, but you chose to ignore it. Instead, you smile lovingly at him, your hands reaching out to lightly massage the back of his head. He hums at the soothing feeling.

“Thank you, baby,” you reply, a tint of blush creeping up your cheeks. “I missed you.”

Harry feels his body heat up at your confession. He has no idea why you have this much of an effect on him but he loves it. He feels utterly loved and happy, which is something he hasn’t felt in awhile and always wanted to have. Instead of saying it back, he teases you, “sod off, you just saw me hours ago. Clingy much?”

You look over at him in slight surprise, not missing the humor behind his words. He glances at you sideways, lips tilted up in a smirk and his eyebrow lifted jokingly. You pull your hand away and cross your arms over your chest, “you know what, yes, absolutely. I can’t get enough of you.”

Harry didn’t expect you to say that so when you notice his face getting flushed and serious, you couldn’t help but giggle. His whole body went rigid for a couple of seconds, eyes still focused on the road. Instead of answering, his hand reaches towards your thigh, giving it a soft squeeze to show his appreciation. His thumb brushes against your skin a couple of times and he feels it get bumpy, hairs rising because of how good it was making you feel. Harry grins to himself, perceiving the effect he had on you and completely enjoying it.

You put your hands on top of his, feeling the warm veins against your palm and you look out the window, watching the bright lights pass by.

Harry loves going on drives with you as much as you do with him. He hates it that his radio was old and wouldn’t work, but he also refuses to get it fixed. He finds comfort in the silence within the confined space and also enjoys the way the noise outside surrounds him. He loves it even more when you’re on the passenger seat experiencing the therapeutic moment with him. Knowing that he can be with you in comfortable silence gave him a lot of hope in your relationship.

Minutes pass by and only a couple of miles are left until you reach his beautiful Malibu home. Harry remembers the elephant in the room, his chest tightening upon the thoughts of what brought you two in this situation in the first place. Should he address it now or wait until you both get to his house? There’s never really a right time and he knows that. He wasn’t even sure if it was something you want to talk about or if you wanted to ignore the whole thing and instead continue on to have a peaceful time together.

But, you were just patiently waiting for him to address it. You knew that if you brought it up, it’ll make him uncomfortable and he’ll start blaming himself. It was an admission in his part that you certainly want to avoid. The thought of him feeling like he puts you in a dangerous environment squeezes your heart so disturbingly that you can feel it all the way up your brain. You’ll get upset and he might assume the worst; when really, you just want him to understand that you know he can’t control it and that despite everything, you adore him and will never leave, unless, for unbeknown reasons and god forbid, he wants you to.

“Almost there, love,” he cuts his own thoughts off, including yours, clueless about how in sync they were. You look over at him the same time he took a quick glance at you. He looks back at the road and whispers something about how pretty you are but it was so quiet you could barely hear it.

Instead of acknowledging it, you put your hand back where it was on his hair and softly massage his scalp. You feel him lean back a tad, clearly finding peace in your touch. You bit your lip to keep yourself from saying those three words you didn’t know he wanted to say too, both of you too scared to admit and profess it out loud.

_____

“Is there anything I should be doing?” you ask Harry from where you sat in his kitchen, a glass of extremely expensive red wine in your hand. He wanted to open a bottle of Ichiro’s Malt, hoping that it’ll make up for the ones you both could’ve had at Perch.

He twists his body slightly to look at you, answering in the sweetest tone, “nope. Sit there and look pretty, that’s all. I’m making this for you.”

Harry looks absolutely handsome, striking and sexy from where he stood, chopping a bunch of vegetables like it was his professionalism. He’s changed to a plain black shirt, the material hugging his toned body perfectly and emphasizing the muscles on his arm, back and stomach. He even had a dish towel thrown over his shoulder, adding to the whole look. You sipped your wine as you continued to stare, noticing the way his body is flexing as he moves and his tattoos moving along on his skin. You sighed, feeling so lucky.

You decided to walk over to him to catch a glimpse of what he was doing. Harry has certainly mastered the art of cooking; having been able to experience life in Italy, he had acquired the new skill flawlessly. It’s something he’s always wanted to be better at, considering the only thing he knew how to make was his grandfather’s special sandwich recipe and god only knows how tired people are of eating it.

Harry feels your presence beside him as you lean back against the smooth counter, sipping your wine. He looks over at you as he cuts the food, holding an admirable smile on his face. He loves having you here. He loves being this close to you, knowing that you’re within his sight and he was able to be unapologetically affectionate without the judgemental eyes and words of the public.

He speaks when you look back at him with a shine in your eyes, “how’s the wine?”

“Hm, tastes like money,” you say jokingly. He laughs at your answer and you smiled so wide at the sight of his head slightly thrown back, white and perfectly aligned teeth showing with his nose scrunched up.

“I have no doubt about that,” he says, looking back down at the cutting board.

The bottle costs roughly around twenty thousand dollars, more if you count it in pounds. But he chooses not to say it. Instead he asks about your day, as he usually would every single time he sees you or talks to you over the phone, “how was your day? Any progress in your thesis?”

Your ears perk up at the question about your dissertation. Harry has always been interested in it and you fail to understand the fascination. You’ve asked why before and he always admits that it was something that matters to him too, but you feel like that isn’t a good enough reason to be rapted in a boring essay by a grad student.

He tremendously admires the fact that you’ve continued your studies to get a masters in English. He envies it and he wishes he had taken your footsteps. But Harry is so beyond proud of you and just the thought of you becoming a famous novelist like you’ve always wanted makes him feel over the moon. You deserve nothing but good things and he can’t wait until you finish uni and finally build your self publishing pursuit.

“A lot of progress which I’m so relieved about. Remember when we read Course of Love together? I annotated it in the process and a lot of the quotes really came in handy for my essay,” you tell him, “I’ve reached probably eighty-nine pages and we only needed to write a hundred, but I’m aiming for one-fifty, max.”

“Always pushing yourself to work harder than you need to,” Harry says with a soft smile on his face. He starts to mix his ingredients together in the pan on the stove and you watch him work his magic cautiously, “but that’s really good, love. I’m proud of you. I know you’re gonna kick ass and everyone else's thesis will suck.”

“Oh, without a doubt,” you nod teasingly. You’re actually really nervous about it and he knows that. But you’ve mentioned before that talking about it doesn’t really help calm you so Harry doesn’t take the conversation further than that, “what about you? How was your day? Wrote anything new?”

Harry shakes his head and looks over at you as he starts to shake the pan to mix whatever was on it, “you haven’t even told me how your day was, babe.”

“Crap, sorry,” you have a habit of completely disregarding certain parts of a conversation. He found it adorable most of the time but when it came to arguments or discussions between the two of you about serious topics, it vexed him to no end. He remembers you missing the whole point of your conversations sometimes and he loathed it then, “one of my professors ditched today so I only had one class. Took a lot of naps after lunch which was nice then-- then whatever happened at Perch. My day was alright.”

You try to soften a part of your answer with the last statement but it was very clear Harry didn’t miss it. He looks over at you for a quick second and you sipped your wine to avoid eye contact.

You didn’t mean anything by it. It happened today and he was asking about today so you decided to slip it in there in honor of your promises to always be honest, free-spoken and up front with one another. It didn’t necessarily ruin your day, it was just simply dejecting and unlike anything you’ve had to deal with before. But you’re with him now and he’s cooking you something that already smelled absolutely delicious so you were willing to look past it. But Harry couldn’t and you knew that.

He lowers the heat on the stove to keep the food sizzling but not to the point where it’ll burn. He wipes his hands with the towel on his shoulder before approaching you with an unreadable expression on his face. You lean back further against the counter as his hand guides your arms to wrap around his neck, putting his hands on your waist and squeezing affectionately. He stares deep into your eyes and you wondered how he was so good with that; how it didn’t make him look nervous despite being the shyest person that you know.

Softly, he speaks, “I’m sorry. I’m really fucking sorry about that. I’m a dick.”

Mirth creeps into your eyes at his last word and your lips unintentionally curls on its side. He has no idea why you started smiling but he did too. He feels you interlock your fingers against his skin as you answer him, “the way you say dick is really amusing. But you aren’t and you have nothing to apologize for. You have no control over it.”

You’re so humorous and he loves it so much. He loves you. “I am a dick and I will apologize because even if I can’t control it, I’m still the reason why it happens. The way I acted afterwards was very irrational too. Just admit it, I’m a dick.”

“If I agree, will you stop apologizing and calling yourself that?”

“Yes,”

“Fine, you’re a dick,”

“I know and I’m sorry,” he smiles at you.

You squint your eyes as his whole face beams, your hands squeezing his face and squishing his skin, “cheeky.”

He laughs and pulls you closer to him, “come here, baby.”

Your noses touch as he leans down to get closer to your face, his lips barely touching yours. Whenever he inhales, your engrossing scent engulfs his nostrils and it brings him great comfort. Your hands cup his jaw, thumb caressing his cheeks as he opens his mouth once more, “I mean it. I regret taking you home and acting the way I did. I should’ve apologized right there and then. I should’ve taken you here and found a way to make the night better but I’m trying to make up for it now. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me in a really fucking long time and I don’t want things to change because you finally got a glimpse into another part of my life. I won’t let anything happen to you, please know that, but it will get worse. Mobs happen and it’s horrifying at times.”

It’s something that really worries Harry and you see it take over his whole figure. His face shows vivid perturb and his body has become slightly tensed from his words. It’s true; it will get worse and when you witness it, you will be horrified. It’s something Harry has always had to worry about before making the decision to fully commit to someone. It’s affected his past relationships abdominably and he doesn’t want the same thing happening between the two of you. Like he said, you’re far too important to him and for something as riotous as this to come in between that will be heart shattering and utterly painful. This was his life, it will always be like this and if you can’t accept nor understand that, then who will? He only wants you.

You have no idea what to say, eyes boring straight into his pale irises, clear brood written all over it. Your thumb continues to massage his skin which slightly soothes Harry’s tensed muscles and he’s worried about what will come out of your mouth. He leans back a little to read your face but your mind is so empty that the only thing you can utter really was, “I love you and I’m here for as long as you want me to, okay?”

Your words made Harry lean back further out of reflex, a sharp intake of air filling his lungs upon hearing your revelation. The sudden realization of what you just blurted out forced your eyes shut, hands covering your face in slight embarrassment. You weren’t ashamed that you said it, you were just scared whether or not he felt the same way. You hear Harry laugh and you peak out of your fingers, making him laugh harder. You take your hands off to playfully scold him, your skin saturated with redness, “oh god! Will you stop? I love you and I’m not scared to say it. Nothing’s funny about that.”

Harry chuckles some more, making his way forward to you again and takes your hand in his. He wraps it back around his neck, leaning down to take a good look at you.

His heart is beating so fast in his chest and he was so happy that he didn’t even care if you could hear it. He’s been wanting to say the same three words to you every single time he’s with you; even when he’s just admiring you while you read a book or watching a movie, or when the two of you are simply hanging out and talking. He catches the obvious adoration in your bearing and always notices the twinkle in your eyes when you look at him. He hopes he’s been showing it as well because there’s no better feeling than loving you and he wants you to know that.

You shy away from his stare and he titters. He tilts your chin up, teeth on full display on his face while his cheeks deepen into dimples, “you love me?”

“Yes,” your noses touch and you sigh. “I’ve said it like twice already and you, zero times.” You poke his chest in a light hearted manner.

“Actually, you just couldn’t take the hint before,” he teases you. “I thought it was very clear that I love you.”

You bite your lip to keep your smile from widening and you close your eyes momentarily before locking eyes with him again. He scrunches his nose to keep himself from becoming too joyful because of the exchange between the two of you. You tease him back, “you’re just doing a shit job at showing it, that’s all.”

Harry gasps at your comeback and wraps both of his arms around you without hesitancy, squeezing you as tight as he can and lifting you gently off of the floor. You laugh so loud that his ears perked up at the sound, making his heart beat rapidly and somehow faster than it has ever done before.

He loves you. And you love him back. There wasn’t any doubt about it between the two of you, it was just a matter of finding the right moment to admit it at last to each other. And what better moment is there than this one in the kitchen, where the food on the stove is at its edge of burning without the two of you even noticing.

Harry puts you back down on the floor and both of you catch your breath. You took the lead this time and grabbed his face, smashing your lips against his. He didn’t even flinch. Instead, he grasps the back of your neck with one hand and the other softly cupping your jaw. He smiles against you and you feel it, butterflies forming in your stomach as you tangle your fingers in his soft curls. He kisses you so deep, hard, full of love and savors your taste like there was no tomorrow. You feel his hand start to crawl up to grip bits of your hair but before you can let it get further than that, you pull back and you both inhale so loud it erupted an echoing chuckle.

“Food’s gonna burn, babe,” you tell him, breathing hard.

“I’m so in love with you,” he simply says back.

832 notes · View notes

hoeforhops · 3 years

Text

Us Fragile Things ― September, part two.

in which Valerie Martin and Billy Hargrove find each other for the first time in four years in a dive bar and realize the difference those four years can make.

an explicit Billy Hargrove x OFC fic. rating: explicit, 18+ word count: 9.9k cross posted to AO3. warnings: alcohol/tobacco use, strong language, dirty talk, unprotected sex, oral sex (female rec), fingering, vaginal sex.

SEPTEMBER 12th, 1989

The note Billy had left spent nearly two weeks in the drawer of Valerie’s nightstand, other than the few times she’d pulled it out to stare at it in the effort of working up the nerve to actually call him. She had his number memorized by the second time she pulled it out, and the brevity of the note itself was burned into her mind.

It was good to see you. Call me. 923-0427. It was good to see you. Call me. 923-0427. It was good to see you. Call me. 923-0427. It was good to see you. Call me. 923-0427. It was good to see you. Call me. 923-0427. It was good to see you. Call me. 923-0427.

She found herself repeating the note at random, hearing it in his voice like it was damn near haunting her.

Valerie told herself she was trying to focus on getting back into the routine of classes. On top of her usual coursework, she’d started her classroom observations, sitting in on classes at the local high school twice a week. She’d also taken up working a few shifts a week at the reception desk in the education department, trying to stash away whatever money she could. There was little time in her schedule for boys, she had decided.

That had never been her rule before, but Billy Hargrove had never been part of the equation. But that didn’t stop her from thinking about him.

He kept creeping into her thoughts, far more than usual. And not just her thoughts, but her fantasies. Valerie had realized a couple of days after seeing him that it had become impossible to get herself off without recalling the memory of his fingers pumping into her, the way he’d praised her, and the weight of his body hovering over hers. He had made sure she couldn’t forget about him for the first several days, considering he’d left a slew of hickeys and marks along her chest.

It was a Tuesday evening and she’d just finished doing 60 pages worth of reading for one course, feeling like her brain was about to melt out of her ears. Charlotte was out with Amy, and when Valerie’s eyes landed on the phone across the room, Billy’s number started repeating itself in her mind.

923-0427. 923-0427. 923-0427. 923-0427. 923-0427.

Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she got to her feet and approached the phone. She picked it up and dialed his number quickly, proud of herself for even doing that much. With a white knuckle grip, she lifted the phone to her ear as it rang.

And it rang, and rang, and rang.

She hung up after letting it ring plenty of times, realizing he must not have an answering machine.

At least she’d tried.

SEPTEMBER 13th, 1989

Valerie had hoped that calling him once, even if she didn’t get an answer, would get it all out of her system, but it seemed to only make it worse.

Charlotte had been bugging her to call him since the minute she’d heard they slept together, adn Valerie had made the mistake of letting it slip that she finally had, which only lead to Charlotte telling her to try it again.

So she did.

It only rang a few times before Valerie heard a soft click, her heart jumping in that beat of silence.

“Hello?” A female voice. Max?

“Hi, uh, is Billy around?” she asked, clearing her throat and trying her best to relax.

“No, he’s at work.”

“Oh, okay.” A pause. “I’ll just call back.” Would she though?

“Is this Valerie?” she asked, and Valerie froze.

“Yeah,” Valerie responded with a slight laugh, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Max, right?”

“Mhm. Billy said he ran into you,” Max told her. “I’ll probably take you up on the offer for some help with English comp.”

Valerie smiled to herself, glad that he’d mentioned that to Max. “Yeah, I’d be happy to help, just let me know.”

“Do you want me to let Billy know you called?”

“No, uh, don’t worry about it. I’ll just call back and try to catch him.”

“I think he’s off tomorrow night, maybe try then,” Max suggested, and Valerie nodded even though the girl on the phone couldn’t see her.

They said their goodbyes and she all but slammed the phone down, looking up to realize Charlotte was watching her with a wide grin.

“No luck this time either?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

Valerie rolled her eyes, moving across the living room to drop onto the sofa. “I’m glad you think this is funny, at least,” she said, giving her roommate a pointed look.

Charlotte shrugged. “I guess I’m just not used to seeing you act like this over a boy,” she teased, still grinning either way.

Groaning, she sank further into the sofa and looked up at the ceiling. “I know, I’m not either, and I don’t like it,” she grumbled, pulling one of the throw pillows into her lap. “I feel like I’m back in high school, vying for the attention of ‘King Billy.’” She made a face as she spoke, scrunching up her nose.

“Yeah, but you’re not. You’re a cool, hot grown up who can buy your own alcohol,” Charlotte assured her, joining her on the sofa. “And from what you told me, he doesn’t sound like he’s the same person he was in high school either, so if you like him, or at least like his dick, it’s probably worth trying to call again.”

Valerie nodded, sucking on her teeth as she picked a piece of fuzz off the pillow in her lap. Charlotte was usually right about these kinds of things, something Valerie had learned in the last several years of living together.

SEPTEMBER 15th, 1989

Valerie didn’t call the next day, Thursday, like Max had suggested. She certainly hadn’t forgotten, but buried herself under a mountain of homework and reading to distract herself. His number had repeated itself in her mind for most of the evening, leaving her to steal glances at the phone from her spot at the table where her books and papers were spread out in front of her.

It was Friday though. Two weeks since the night at the bar whose name Valerie had never figured out. Charlotte was at Amy’s for the night, leaving Valerie to entertain herself. The thought of going back to that bar had crossed her mind, but she told herself she was content to get a chunk her weekend assignments out of the way.

By the time it was dark, she’d given up on reading for the night. With a glass of wine in her hand and the TV on, her eyes had started to drift toward the phone.

He probably wasn’t even home. It was a Friday night, after all. He was probably out drinking like he had been two weeks ago. Those thoughts were what actually made it easier for her to get off the couch and cross the room to the phone. Even if he wasn’t home, she could tell Charlotte that she had tried. She dialed quickly before she could stop herself.

923-0427.

The phone rang three times before the soft click of the line being picked up made Valerie jump, having felt so sure that no one would answer.

“Hello?” There was no mistaking that voice.

“H-hey. It’s Valerie,” she said, already chewing on the inside of her cheek. She couldn’t believe all it took was a single word from him to make her palms sweat and her heart race.

“Well, Val, it’s about damn time,” he told her, scoffing softly.

“Yeah, sorry, I’ve been busy trying to get into the routine of classes and stuff,” she told him, hoping to laugh it off.

“Uh huh,” he hummed, tone laced with disbelief. Valerie blinked, pausing for a moment. “You know, until Max told me you called the other day, I thought you’d forgotten all about me.” She could practically hear him smirking, knowing from the sound of his voice that he was already toying with her. Valerie suddenly wished she’d had more wine before calling him.

“Maybe I had,” she said, trying her best to sound cool.

Billy actually laughed. “I’m surprised you’re calling on a Friday night. Figured you’d be out prowling for another idiot you went to high school with to take home and rock their world before forgetting about them.”

Snorting softly, Valerie twirled the cord of the phone around her index finger. “It’s early, I’ve still got time,” she said, grinning to herself.

“C’mon now, don’t break my heart like that,” he told her with that charming inflection of his that made her willing to do cartwheels.

She paused, pressing her lips together. “Did I really ‘rock your world’? The sex was that good?” she questioned, curiosity getting the better of her. It had only been a few minutes of conversation, and he already had her wondering if it was all a game. God, she hated feeling like a giddy teenager, but at least he wasn’t there to watch her squirm over it.

“What, you didn’t think it was?” Billy responded, sounding mildly surprised by her question.

Valerie exhaled a breath of laughter, picking up the phone and bringing it with her to sit in the nearby arm chair. “I never said that. King Billy’s the one with the long list of five star reviews, just wasn’t sure where I’d rank amongst them,” she said, kicking her feet up on the coffee table to settle in more.

“Baby girl, you’ve got no fuckin’ clue how crazy you made me,” he said, tone low and dark to the point that Valerie held her breath.

She was silent for a moment, his words echoing in her mind before she cleared her throat. “What about you, huh? Why are you home on a Friday night to answer the phone?” she asked, toying with the phone cord again.

“I worked early this morning. I planned on having a quiet night at home until you called.” He sighed softly, teasingly like she’d ruined his whole evening.

“And I changed that?” Valerie was grinning to herself by then.

“Maybe.” His voice was warm and she could picture his smile, that genuine one that felt like a reward to see. “When can I see you again?”

The question surprised her for some reason and she blinked. “You busy tomorrow?” she asked, practically holding her breath as she waited for him to answer.

“Yeah, I’ve got an late shift tomorrow. I’m free Sunday night though.”

“Uhh, yeah, Sunday’s good for me,” she responded, clearing her throat as a fresh wave of nervousness swept over her.

“You wanna come to my place? Max will be out, we can watch a movie or something.” For a short second, he sounded unsure of the proposed plan. The thought of being alone with him made her mind flash back to the desperate sound of their breathing, the intoxicating feeling of his body pressing against hers, and her palms were sweating again.

“That sounds good,” Valerie said, licking her lips as she sunk into her chair a little more. “What time?”

“My shift goes until 5:30, so 7:00 maybe? I’ll make dinner for us.” Now that surprised her, making her eyebrows raise.

“I never really pictured Billy Hargrove as the culinary type,” she admitted, toying with the ends of her hair idly as she grinned.

“You can add that to the list of what’s ‘different’ about me now, I guess,” he said, and Valerie could hear his lighter click a second later.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Valerie licked her lips, picturing him in his apartment. She wondered what his place looked like, where he was right now, what he was doing. It all seemed like such a mystery. “Can I ask you something?”

“You just did.” Valerie rolled her eyes, letting out a quiet huff of breath that he must’ve heard. “Shoot.” The word was laced with a smirk again, she could just tell. She could hear him inhale, taking a drag from his cigarette.

“Did you mean what you said when I was going down on you, about how you used to watch me in chem?” Her mind had drifted back to that statement of his so many times over the last couple of weeks.

Billy was silent for a moment before exhaling a soft laugh. “Yeah,” he told her, and she wished she could see him for that reaction. “That damn oral fixation of yours was so fucking distracting.”

Valerie’s eyebrows knit together, about to argue that she didn’t have an oral fixation until she realized that she had started chewing on her thumbnail after asking her last question. “Didn’t stop you from passing the class though,” she said, again trying to put on that cool tone that matched his despite the fact that her cheeks were flushing.

“That’s true, but let me tell you, I took some community college courses when I was living in California, including chemistry, and just hearing the word ‘stoichiometry’ was enough to get me hard. Fucking Pavlovian, or some shit,” he said, and Valerie grinned even as she felt the flush make it’s way down her neck.

“You should’ve said something, y’know,” she said after a pause, despite knowing full and well that she never would’ve believed him back then if he’d expressed interest in her. She likely would have laughed in his face in all honesty, the thought of it too absurd to even entertain.

“I would’ve ruined your fuckin’ life, V.” Billy chuckled, and she laughed with him because she knew he was absolutely right. She imagined him grinning, the one he used right as he trapped his prey, knowing when he had her caught. “Be grateful that you’re getting this version of me.”

“Who says I’m not?” she countered, leaning forward in her seat. Valerie was glad she’d thought ahead enough to bring the whole bottle of wine into the living room with her earlier, pouring another glass. A pause followed, and because the silence made her nervous, her mind circled back to another thought curiously. “Why’d you stop?”

“Stop what?”

“Stop taking classes.”

“Oh,” he said softly, like he hadn’t expected such a question out of her. “D’you really wanna know?”

“I don’t ask questions I don’t want to know the answers to,” she told him, bringing the glass up to her mouth to take a drink.

Billy sighed softly. Hesitation seemed to hang between them, and Valerie honestly wasn’t sure what he’d say next. “It’s a long story, angel, I’ll tell you sometime, okay? Promise.” He sounded sincere in the avoidance, and Valerie bit her lip as she pocketed her curiosity.

“Okay,” she responded, nodding once to herself before swallowing the last bit of her wine. He was quiet for a beat and again, she was picturing him, wondering what his expression said.

“You wanna know something?” he asked, in that tone that left her hanging on his every word as he changed the subject.

“Shoot,” she responded, just as he head earlier.

“I regret not going down on you when I had the chance.” Billy said it all so casually, fitting it into the conversation with ease and Valerie couldn’t help the burst of laughter at the bluntness of his statement. Her cheeks felt hot and she told herself that it was from the wine.

“Is that at the top of your to do list for Sunday?” she asked, holding the phone with her shoulder as she leaned forward to put her empty glass on the coffee table.

“Oh, absolutely,” he hummed in response, making her suck in a breath through her teeth. “Might not even be able to wait until after dinner. I’ve barely been able to keep my mind off it. I didn’t pay nearly enough attention to your tits either.”

The thought made her feel warm all over, her blush returning with vengeance as she licked her lips. “Have you been thinking about me a lot?” she asked, settling back in her seat again as she put her feet up on the edge of the coffee table.

“Way too much, honestly. I haven’t been able to get those sweet sounds of yours out of my head, it’s been driving me fucking insane,” he admitted with a slight groan to the words as Valerie grinned to herself. “I didn’t expect you to be so bratty.”

“Want me to turn it down a notch next time?” Her voice carried a teasing tone to it, and she realized that she was pressing her thighs together as she anticipated his response.

The chuckle Billy let out rattled through her, renewing the heat that had flooded through her earlier. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare, Val,” he said with a hint of that deep chuckle and Valerie could’ve actually screamed. “You been thinking about me, huh? Slipping your hand into your panties late at night, playing with yourself while you think about how good I made you feel?”

“Christ, Billy,” Valerie muttered as if it wasn’t truth, feigning innocence. His scoff said he saw right through it. “Maybe I have been, so what?” There was no point in denying it, she decided.

A silence hung between them for a moment.

“Do we really need to wait until Sunday? I can be at your place in 10 minutes,” Billy said.

Now that was tempting. Valerie thought about it, biting her lip. It would be so easy to let him come over and rock her world again, to let him leave her absolutely desperate for more of him, but her nerves got the better of her. She let out a sigh and shook her head.

“Not tonight,” she told him, as if she wasn’t already ridiculously turned on.

“I had to at least try,” he said, tsking softly. “I’ve waited two weeks, I can wait another two days.” Valerie grinned, unable to stop herself considering he was just as fucking charming as he’d always been.

“It was a good effort,” she assured him, and they laughed together. She already regretted turning down the offer.

They chatted for a while longer, until Max got home and Billy said he needed to go. She got directions to his place before they said their goodbyes, and after hanging up the receiver, Valerie pushed a hand through her hair. Leaning back in her seat again, she scoffed to herself in disbelief that that conversation had happened. She was still flushed and slick between her thighs as she started to chew on her thumbnail.

Billy Hargrove still might ruin her life.

SEPTEMBER 17th, 1989

Valerie somehow made it to Sunday evening, though it hadn’t been easy. She’d spent a good chunk of her Saturday at the library on campus, but hadn’t been at all productive considering the fact that Billy was plaguing her thoughts. She could barely focus, her shoulders tense with anticipation as the minutes passed slowly.

She slept in on Sunday and finished up her readings before getting ready to go to Billy’s. The shower she took was long and relaxing, and she used the fancy body wash her aunt had sent for her birthday several months ago. Waiting for her hair to dry, Valerie put on some make up, then pulled on pretty underwear under the knee length skirt and v-neck sweater that she’d laid out.

It was a little after 7:00 when Valerie parked on the street outside what she hoped was Billy’s place. The street number matched at least, and she headed up the walkway toward the grey duplex with a bottle of wine in hand. Nervousness twisted in her stomach as she stepped onto the porch and knocked on the door to the left like he’d told her.

She didn’t have to wait long for him to open the door with that signature grin that made her knees weak. He invited her in, his eyes dropping quickly to glance her over before motioning for her to follow him.

Valerie hadn’t been sure to expect out of Billy’s place, and she looked around curiously as she followed him to the kitchen. She caught a glimpse of floral wall paper in the living room and smiled, before her attention focused more on him.

“Dinner should be ready in a few,” he told her, taking the bottle of wine from her. He was in a tight shirt and tighter jeans, nothing out of the usual, really, but it still astounded her that he always managed to look that good.

“What are we having?” she asked, leaning back against the edge of the counter as he sifted through a drawer before pulling out a corkscrew.

“Chicken with zucchini and risotto,” he said as Valerie enjoyed the way his shoulders moved when he opened the bottle of wine. She was impressed, both with the menu and how easily he pulled the cork out. “I don’t have wine glasses yet, so we’re stuck with regular cups.”

“That’s fine,” she assured him with a soft laugh, watching as he pulled a pair of cups from the cabinet. She thanked him softly when he handed her one of them a second later, her eyes meeting his as he poured wine for her.

“It’s good to see you,” Billy said, taking a sip from his own glass. His eyes were on her and Valerie could feel her cheeks flush as a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“It’s good to see you too,” she responded, batting her lashes before tilting her glass back for a drink.

It was odd to see this sincere part of Billy, both in tone and action, and pair it with the way he was looking at her, even having the audacity to lick his lips. Her free hand came back to grip the edge of the counter as silence hung around them. A timer went off, the abrupt sound cutting through the building tension, and Valerie was almost grateful for it, considering it curbed her urge to absolutely pounce on him.

Dinner was great, leaving her absolutely stunned by how good the food was. They chatted as they ate, easily finishing off the bottle of wine between the two of them. Talking to him was easy, Valerie realized, and they stayed seated at the small table with empty plates in front of them for a while before they rose to clean up.

Valerie was a little tipsy as she dried the dishes as he washed, and he kept glancing at her. She nudged him with her elbow eventually, passing it off as an accident as she reached to put the last of the plates in the cabinet. The dish towel she’d been using had barely left her hand before he had one hand on her waist, the other on her jaw to guide her mouth to his.

The kiss surprised her, leaving her to gasp softly into his mouth before relaxing against him. She was on fire immediately, kissing him back as he pressed her back into the edge of the counter. Billy was taking his time and his hand dropped to her hip as he hummed.

She looped an arm around his neck and let her teeth tug at his bottom lip, practically daring him to take things further. The way he’d watched her through dinner as he listened to her speak had been enough to turn her on somehow, and she was ready for her patience to be rewarded. His tongue flicked against hers teasingly, making her arch toward him just as his mouth left hers.

“D’you still wanna watch a movie?” he asked, a little breathless as his forehead rested on hers.

“Are you serious?” Valerie responded, laughing when she saw his smirk.

“Just wasn’t sure how attached you were to the idea.” Billy’s words were punctuated with a brief kiss, his hand moving to squeeze her ass. She moaned into his mouth and gripped the fabric of his shirt in her hand as she tried to press herself closer against him.

“I’m far more attached to the idea of you eating me out,” she admitted, the frankness of her words making his eyebrows raise slightly. She wasn’t sure if she’d surprised or impressed him, but she liked the reaction either way. His smirk returned almost immediately, nodding once before kissing her again.

The kiss was hungry, and it felt like his hands were everywhere, squeezing her hips and her ass as she pressed toward him. She used the hand twisted in the fabric of his shirt as a way to keep him close as he sucked at her bottom lip.

“Where’s your room?” she asked, her mouth barely leaving his. He hummed in response, both of his hands cupping her face briefly before finally pulling back. Valerie had expected him to step away from her and pull her through the apartment, but instead, he sank to his knees in front of her. “Jesus, Billy!” Her words were laced with laughter as his hands slid up the outside of her thighs, then higher still until they were under her skirt.

“What?” he questioned with a filthy smirk and a raised eyebrow as he nudged her thighs open further. “Just be grateful I made it through dinner without slipping under the table to do this.” His eyes were still on her face as he dragged his thumb over her folds through the damp fabric of her panties, watching the way her body reacted to the contact.

That was all it took to have Valerie tugging the material of her skirt higher until it was bunched up around her hips, and his eyes dropped to her newly exposed skin and panties. She heard him groan softly and then he was leaning forward more, his mouth already settling on the inside of her thigh.

“I like these,” Billy murmured, his voice rough as he glanced up at her again. His thumb repeated it’s previous action, pressing just right against her clit to make her squirm as she leaned back into the edge of the cabinet. He was close enough that she could feel the heat of his breath on her thighs, and Valerie’s hands were already shaking.

Impatiently, he pressed an open mouthed kiss to her folds through her panties with a soft moan. His palms slid over the swell of her ass, then higher to start tugging her underwear down easily. As soon she was exposed to him, his mouth was on her, letting his tongue slide through her folds to collect the wetness that was already pooling there.

“Oh my god,” she breathed out, her thighs parting further for him instinctively after kicking her panties away. Her hand came down to the back of his head and her fingers threaded through his curls as his tongue teased at her entrance.

“So fuckin’ good,” he groaned, squeezing her ass and pulling her hips even closer to him. Billy licked a firm stripe from her entrance to her clit before sucking the bundle of nerves into his mouth. She was practically panting by the time he pulled off with a soft pop , then he was exploring her folds with his tongue again, eyes lifting to look at her face.

He really could get used to this view, loving the flush that colored Valerie’s cheeks and the way her hair fell over her shoulder as her head tilted back. She tasted better than he ever could’ve imagined in the times that he’d gotten himself off in the last few weeks, thinking about having her just like this. His hand slid down her thigh slowly, guiding her to settle her leg on his shoulder as her hand tightened in his hair.

Valerie wouldn’t have been able to hold back the wanton moan that left her if she’d even bothered to try, breathing out a curse as he lapped at her folds hungrily. Her eyes were squeezed shut and she rocked toward him lazily, seeking out whatever extra friction she could find. She was so slick, a mix of her own wetness and his saliva, and if it didn’t all feel so good, she might be embarrassed by the constant slew of whines and moans that were leaving her. The sounds of his mouth working against her, sucking at her folds, were absolutely filthy, and when she felt his two fingers tease at her entrance, Valerie nodded with a soft plea, eager for whatever he would give her.

“Yeah?” he hummed into her, letting them sink into her just barely. “You want my fingers in your pussy while I suck your clit?” He barely pulled away to speak, his lips brushing over her before he licked around his fingers teasingly.

“Billy, please,” she breathed, finally tilting her head to glance down at him.

“You gotta say it, sweetheart,” he mused, glancing up at her with a quick smirk before he was opening his mouth against her. As always, heat rose up her neck in response to his dirty talk and she let out an impatient sound when he didn’t immediately give her what she wanted.

“I want you fingers inside me, please, I need more,” she managed to plead, her hips already pressing toward his hand desperately. Valerie’s fingers tightened in his hair enough that he hissed softly, and she saw darkness flash in his eyes when he looked up at her. He must’ve decided that was good enough considering his digits sank deep into her. Her head fell back as she cursed, her body already clenching around him.

Billy fingers fucked into her expertly, just as they had last time, curling against the spot inside her that made her gasp. He was watching her, looking up her body as he sucked her clit into his mouth, enjoying the way she rocked toward him. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted as she moaned for him again, and he scissored his fingers inside her to see what other sounds he could get from her. The motion didn’t disappoint, and when he slid his other hand up the outside of her thigh lightly, he could feel that her legs were shaking.

She was slick around him, that fact highlighted by the sound of his fingers pumping into her, her face flushing darker as her head fell back. Valerie couldn’t help but tug at his hair, still wanting him closer, and when he chuckled in response, the sound vibrated through her. She felt hot all over, her sweater clinging to her as her other hand gripped the edge of the countertop for support. Practically chanting his name, her hips rolled against his hand, already feeling the pressure building low in her stomach.

Just when she was towing that line of falling into her orgasm, Billy pulled back, and a frustrated sound left her at the loss of his mouth. When she looked down at him, he was smirking, his thumb already moving to rub firm circles against her clit. His mouth was slick with her wetness, the sight alone making her whine as his fingers continued to fuck into her.

“You gonna cum for me, angel?” he murmured, turning his head to press a kiss to the inside of her thigh.

“Yeah,” she sighed out, nodding as she continued to rock into his hand. “Wanna cum for you, Billy.” Her voice was weak as she teetered on the edge and he hummed in approval, his mouth settling on her folds again.

Valerie’s nails sank into his scalp as she cried out, her head falling back when the pressure inside her exploded. She rocked desperately against Billy’s hand and his mouth, a slew of curses leaving her as she rested the majority of her weight on the cabinet behind her. Pleasure coursed through her as her body tensed, whining his name as he worked her through it. He watched her the whole time, loving the way her features twisted as she came for him.

When she finally came down, her shoulders sagged and she felt like she could barely keep her head up as her fingers carded through his hair. Still breathing heavily, she managed to open her eyes and glance down at him, her cheeks flushed. If his mouth wasn’t still on her, lapping lazily at her sensitive folds, he would’ve been smirking at her, and another shudder ran through her.

“Mmph, too much,” Valerie whined, feeling over-sensitive after another moment of enjoying the slow motion of his fingers still working into her. He pulled back when she pushed at his head gently, already licking his lips as he pulled his fingers from her.

Billy guided her leg off his shoulder, keeping his hand behind her knee for a moment to make sure she was steady. She watched as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then sucked his fingers clean before getting to his feet again. As soon as he was at her level, her arm looped around his neck to pull him toward her.

Kissing him hungrily, Valerie hummed into his mouth, enjoying the taste of herself on his warm, plush lips. The hem of her skirt dropped to cover her, but her hips were already pressing toward his. She could feel the hard line of his cock straining against the fly of his jeans and she licked into his mouth, enjoying the sound he let out.

“Want me to take you to bed?” he asked, mouth barely leaving hers as his hands slipped under her sweater impatiently. Valerie’s mind was still buzzing as she nodded, glad to feel his hands moving over her skin finally. “D’you think you can walk?” The teasing tone to his voice was obvious as he pulled away, and Valerie rolled her eyes with a grin.

“I’m surprised you don’t want to fuck me right here,” she teased, already tilting her mouth up to kiss him again.

“Trust me, I do,” he responded with a chuckle, his hands sliding down to squeeze her ass through the fabric of her skirt. “Max and I agreed not to have sex in the common areas.”

“Oh, but going down on me here was fine?” she countered, letting out a contented sound as Billy’s mouth moved over her jaw.

“Shh,” he hummed, holding his index finger up to his mouth to earn a laugh out of her as he pulled away. His hand slipped into hers and he nodded toward the hall.

Valerie glanced around curiously as they moved through his place, noticing the stack of textbooks on the coffee table, and the framed photo on an end table of Max with people she thought she recognized from Hawkins. The walk was short thankfully, and when Billy let go of her hand to turn on the lamp next to his bed, she took the chance to look around.

She’d always expected his room to be dark, maybe a little cluttered, with posters of half naked women on the walls, heavy curtains, and an unmade bed. Instead, the room was a pale yellow that glowed warm from the low light of the lamp. There wasn’t much furniture, just a dresser next to the open closet door, the end table that housed the lamp, and his bed, that was in fact made. It was tidier than her own room, Valerie realized as her eyes drifted back to Billy.

He had already sat on the edge of the bed, leaning back with his weight on his hands as he watched her. His legs were spread, and he lifted a hand, motioning for her to come toward him. Valerie grinned as she moved closer to him, acutely aware of how wet she still was as she realized her underwear were still on the kitchen floor. His eyes were glued to her, even as he pulled his shirt off and tossed it in the direction of the hamper across the room.

Valerie did the same, tugging her sweater off as she stood between his parted thighs. His head was tilted back to look up at her, and her hand moved to push his hair back gently, feeling him lean into the touch. She pushed at his shoulder and Billy took the hint, leaning back onto the mattress as she reached around her back to unfasten her bra.

He cursed under his breath, hands already moving to unbutton his jeans so he could push them down his hips as Valerie kicked her skirt away as well. Billy sat up enough to reach for her, all but pulling her down to him as she straddled his hips. She leaned over him with a hand on either side of his head, biting her lip as she rocked herself along the obvious bulge of his cock, his black underwear the only fabric between them. His hand slid up her bare back with a pleased sound, leaning up to kiss her hungrily.

A frantic energy seemed to fall over them then, with Valerie moaning into his mouth when his hand came up to cup her breast. His thumb dragged over the hardened peak of her nipple to make her whine, her back arching into his touch. He moved his other hand from her hip to between her thighs, letting his fingers slide through her folds like he couldn’t help himself. The touch made Valerie keen softly, and just as quickly as he’d touched her, he was lifting his hips to slip his underwear down and free his cock.

He was still leaning up to her slightly when his mouth moved to her throat, settling on her pulse point as she felt his dick throb against her thigh. Valerie felt like she was burning, unable to get enough air in her lungs as she rocked toward him with a heady sound. He was still teasing at her nipple, twisting and tugging at it lightly between his thumb and forefinger to make a visible shiver run through her.

“C’mon, V,” he murmured as she forced herself to sit up more, her hands pressing against his chest. “Ride my cock, angel, wanna feel you around me again.” And how on earth was she supposed to say no to a request like that?

She shifted over him again slightly, one hand slipping between them to guide him to her entrance, and she noticed the way his eyes dropped as well to watch as she sank down onto his length. They groaned in unison as Billy’s head dropped back onto the mattress, his hands settling on her hips where he couldn’t resist squeezing her supple flesh. Valerie was trembling slightly by the time he was fully sheathed inside her, her hips flush against his as she took a few deep breaths. His hands didn’t stay where they were for long, with one of them sliding back up to her breast when she slowly let her hips grind down toward his.

The sight of Billy Hargove sprawled out beneath her like that was something she knew she wouldn’t forget any time soon. His curles were already a mess from how rough she’d been with it when he was on his knees earlier, and his pupils were blown as he stared up at her. Valerie could practically see the restraint buzzing through him as her hips rose from his slightly before rocking down again. The motion earned a moan out of him, and the hand that had been on her hip moved to squeeze her ass.

Still sensitive from her earlier orgasm, each movement of her hips had Valerie sucking in short breaths and gasps as she settled into an easy rhythm of riding him. He felt bigger at his angle, and her nails scratched along his chest lightly as her jaw clenched.

“Fuck, that’s good,” Billy breathed appreciatively, his eyes dropping again to watch his dick sink into her. He was toying with her nipple still, palming at her breast with sounds of appreciation as he rocked up just slightly to meet the rock of her hips. “You look so fucking sexy like this, Val, holy shit.”

Panting, Valerie grinned and tried to focus more on keeping a steady rhythm versus speaking, unsure if she could ever string a sentence together by then. Eager to hear more praise from him, she started rocking down harder against his lap, enough that he groaned loudly for her. The slide was easy, given how soaked she was, and with each motion, his cock slid over her g-spot in a way that had her whimpering.

In need of more contact, Valerie leaned over him again, and Billy’s hand was quick to move from her breast to her jaw so he could guide her mouth to his. He licked into her mouth hungrily, still holding her jaw to keep her where he wanted her. The inside of her thighs were burning already, and her pussy tightened around him as she continued to ride him. She could feel Billy rolling his hips up into hers, and the way her clit pressed against his pelvis had her whimpering.

He swore loudly, and Valerie felt his arm wrap around around her waist tightly before he turned her onto her back. She was grateful for the change of position honestly, knowing that her rhythm had already grown sloppy as she got closer. His cock slipped out of her, and she made an annoyed whine. Billy chuckled softly with his knees planted between her thighs as he leaned over her. He was supporting himself with one hand on the mattress, the other between their bodies to just barely guide the head of his cock into her.

When he didn’t sink into her again, instead pulling back to slide through her folds, Valerie sucked in a breath through her teeth. Billy met her eye and he was smirking, loving the way her hips rocked in an attempt to guide him back inside her.

“You want it so bad, don’t you, sweetheart?” he mused, making her huff out a heavy breath.

The way she said his name was somewhere between a threat and a plea, her arm looping around his neck to pull him down to her. He was smirking when his mouth found his and didn’t bother teasing her further considering he was just as desperate for her as she seemed to be for him.

Billy pushed into her in one easy motion, dragging a high sound from her. His hand found the crook of her knee, guiding her leg over his hip as his hips snapped forward into hers. The firm thrust took her by surprise, making her groan as he built a rough pace.

Valerie’s hand slid along his back, her nails scratching over his skin as she tried to arch up toward him more. They were both breathing heavily and moaning as their mouths brushed together, lacking much finesse as they chased their highs. Billy’s mouth moved down her throat, nipping and sucking as he went, and the feeling of his teeth in her pulse point had Valerie moaning desperately beneath him.

“More, Billy,” she breathed, her nails sinking into his shoulder as his tongue traced her collarbone. He hummed in acknowledgement, his hips pounding into hers at just enough of a different angle that it made her body jolt up towards him. The head of his cock was hitting her g-spot with each thrust, making short gasps leave her as her eyes squeezed shut.

He was murmuring to her, filthy things that she could barely hear over the sounds of her breathing and her heartbeat racing in her ears. It spurred her on either way, digging her heel into his ass for leverage to try and get him deeper still. She could feel herself tightening around him as pressure built up inside her again, leaving her practically clinging to him.

“Think you can cum for me again, V?” he said, his tone gravelly and suggesting he already knew the answer. As she nodded frantically, trying to push her hips toward him for whatever friction she could find, he sucked her nipple into his mouth with a groan.

His hand had slipped between their bodies to find her clit with ease, rubbing firm circles against the swollen bundle of nerves as his thrusts got a little sloppy. She was absolutely drenched, and hot against his hand, and he cursed, leaning up to kiss her hungrily.

Valerie welcomed the kiss, though it was all teeth and moans as her arm tightened around his neck more to keep him there. With the way he was pounding into her, still toying with her clit, it was easy for her to fall over the edge, and she did so with a loud groan of his name.

Her head fell back against the mattress as her hips rocked without much direction, just needing whatever she could get from him as her orgasm tore through her. Billy’s mouth had settled on her throat again, his breath hot on her already flush skin as she came around his dick, She didn’t doubt that he’d have raised scratches along his back and shoulder from her nails, but she couldn’t bring herself to care about that right now.

Over the roaring of her ears, Valerie heard him curse loudly, and she made a sound of protest when he pulled out of her. Billy fucked into the space between their bodies, spilling hot onto her stomach with a deep grunt. Starting to come down from her high, Valerie’s eyes opened to see his brows knit together, face creased with pleasure as his head fell forward slightly let his nose nudge against hers.

They were both panting, and Valerie felt like she could absolutely sink into the mattress. When Billy started to untangle himself from her, she made a pouty sound that made him grin as he dropped onto the bed next to her. Settling on his side, he was still breathing heavily, pressing his face against her shoulder. Valerie draped an arm over her forehead when she remembered how to move again and she could feel that her body was slick with sweat, as was Billy’s next to her.

Her body was still buzzing when his hand slid along her jaw to turn her face towards him. She opened her eyes to see him already looking at her, his blue gaze soft and adding to the fact that the blood in her veins felt like lava. His thumb brushed over her lips, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as they stayed like that for awhile.

Billy was the first to move, exhaling a sigh as he pulled back and pushed himself into a sitting position. She noticed the way his eyes swept over her naked frame, lingering on the cum that he’d coated her stomach with, and she licked her lips as she rose her arms above her head to stretch out on the mattress.

“Stay put, okay?” he said, letting his knuckles brush over her knee lightly as he got to his feet. “Gonna grab a towel to clean you up.” Valerie nodded, not sure she would’ve been able to move much if she’d wanted to.

She watched him walk naked to his closet, turning her head to keep her eyes on him as he returned with a towel. It was dark outside already, the room still filled with the warm glow of the lamp on his end table.

“What time is it?” she asked, her eyes on his face as he wiped up the mess he’d left on her stomach.

“A little after 9,” he responded after glancing at his alarm clock. He tossed the towel aside and leaned over her again to press a short kiss to her mouth, which took her by surprise.

Valerie didn’t doubt that her cheeks were still flushed, and her head still felt a little hazy by the time he pulled back. She finally sat up, smoothing her hair down as she glanced at the pile of her clothes on the floor, deciding that getting dressed was too much effort for the time being.

Billy had pulled on a pair of briefs and grabbed a pack of cigarette and a lighter off his dresser. When he moved back to the bed again, he had a black t-shirt in hand that her offered to her. She thanked him softly as he sat on the edge of the mattress next to her, pulling the shirt on over her head. It was impossible to ignore the smell of his cologne and smoke that clung to the fabric that made warmth settle in her chest. He was close enough that his thigh was touching hers, his eyes lingering on her as he fished a cigarette out of the pack.

“You want one, or are you just going to steal hits from mine again?” he asked, his voice a gentle grumble as he brought it up to his mouth to light. Valerie grinned, licking her lips quickly as she watched the end of the cigarette burn red.

“If you gave me one, most of it would go to waste,” she responded, tucking her hair behind her ear. “So really, it’s better that I just take a few drags from yours.” There was a matter of fact tone to her voice that made Billy scoff softly as he shook his head.

“Yeah, yeah,” he murmured, taking a long hit from the cigarette before offering it to her. He sucked a breath in through his teeth as she took it from him, his eyes on her as she lifted it between her lips. “You gonna leave your number for me so I don’t have to wait another two weeks for you to call me again?” Smoke billowed from his mouth as he spoke, making him look like every bit of the sex god he was.

Valerie rolled her eyes, laughing softly before taking a drag from the cigarette. She was grateful that the smoke in her lungs gave her a moment to mull over a response. “I’ll think about it,” she told him finally, and it was his turn to roll his eyes, shaking his head as she grinned. She exhaled, then took another hit before passing it back to him.

They were sitting close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating off of him, and her eyes moved over the lines of his chest and shoulders. Part of her wanted to lean into him, because she had decided that she liked the feeling of his body against hers, regardless of if his dick was involved or not.

Silence had settled over them, and Valerie’s eyes kept drifting back to his face. She had slept with him twice now, and was still struggling to believe that it wasn’t all some sort fever dream. Despite being unsure of what his game was, what he was after, right then didn’t seem like the best time to ask.

“You busy Thursday night?” Billy asked, leaning to tap the cigarette on the edge of the ashtray on his nightstand before offering it to her. Her fingers brushed over his as she took it from him, raising an eyebrow as she ran through her schedule in her mind.

“I don’t think so. Just got class until 2,” she responded, holding his gaze as she took a drag. “What’d you have in mind?”

He shrugged with one shoulder, running his tongue along his teeth. “Thought we could see a movie or something.”

Both of her eyebrows raised then as she took a final hit from the cigarette before passing it back to him to finish off. “D’you actually want to watch the movie, or is seeing a movie an excuse for you to finger me in public?” she questioned, the teasing tone obvious in her voice.

The question made him laugh loudly as he shook his head. “What kind of Don Juan do you think I am?” he asked, still grinning as Valerie mirrored the expression.

“Oh, was that rumor about you getting Lisa Kramer off during a football game completely false?”

Billy’s eyebrows knit together as he thought about it. “Probably not, but remember, Val, I’m a changed man,” he assured her in an exaggerated tone as if he hadn’t just eaten her out in his kitchen before fucking her into the mattress, and they laughed together again. “Okay, but really, which one was Lisa Kramer again?”

Valerie snorted, closing her eyes briefly as she tried to picture what the girl looked like. “Uhh, curly blonde hair, drove that car that was a really ugly shade of green,” she said, enjoying this relaxed, funny side of him.

Billy tsked softly. “Yeah, that rumor was entirely true,” he admitted, getting a burst of laughter out of Valerie. He was wearing that warm, genuine smile when she met his eye again, and it was one of those moments where it felt like time had frozen around them.

She had forgotten over the last several weeks that even talking to him felt good and natural, even if it was just them sitting there, still half naked and sharing a cigarette. The realization of how calm he seemed struck her, considering how anger had always seemed to vibrate from him before. Valerie still worried that she was wading into dangerous waters with him, but when he looked at her like that, the prospect of drowning didn’t sound so bad.

Valerie watched as Billy shifted to lean back against his headboard, and he watched her right back before he tilted his head toward the empty space next to him. She knew if she got more comfortable than she already was, she wouldn’t want to leave.

“You gonna sleep over?” he asked, seeming to sense her hesitation. Grinning apologetically, she shook her head.

“Not tonight,” she said, wishing she was giving him a different answer. “I’m observing at the local high school tomorrow, so I’ve got to be up by 6.”

“I’ve got an alarm clock,” he countered, head tilted to the side slightly. He had to at least try, and it actually made Valerie feel good to know that he wanted her to stay over enough that he was trying to convince her. The grin she gave him made it clear that he wouldn’t be able to talk her into it. “Do you have to be up that early every Monday?”

“Yeah. On Wednesdays, too,” Valerie told him, and his nose scrunched up at the thought of having to do that twice a week. His expression made her grin, and she finally got to her feet to gather her clothes from the floor.

“You takin’ off now?”

“I probably should.” Disappointment laced her tone as she stepped into her skirt, and Billy sucked his teeth with a nod. His eyes were on her as she removed the shirt he’d given her and tossed it onto the bed.

“I’ll walk you out,” he said as he watched her fasten her bra before she pulling her sweater on.

Valerie nodded as he got to his feet and stepped around her to approach his dresser. He grabbed a pair of sweats and stepped into them, and somehow the sight of the sweats sitting low on his hips had her contemplating sleeping over.

“You decided if you’re gonna leave me your number yet?” Billy asked, licking his lips as he moved closer to her. He picked up the shirt she’d left on the bed and pulled it on, and it was her turn for her eyes to linger.

Laughing, Valerie nodded. “Yeah, I guess I can do that,” she said with a wide smile, her hands coming up to his shoulders before wrapping her arms around his neck.

“There’s a pen and paper by the phone. You jot your number down, and I’ll grab your panties from the kitchen,” he told her, smiling as he leaned to just barely brush his lips over hers. She exhaled a breath, hating that that light kiss was all it took for her to want to start pulling her clothes off again already. Billy obviously knew what he was doing, considering the smirk on his face when he stepped away from her again and nodded toward the door.

She found the pen and paper where he’d said it wold be, and she wrote her number down with a V next to it. He was back from the kitchen by the time she was finished, dropping he previously discarded underwear into her hand with another knowing smirk. Valerie put a hand on his shoulder for support as she stepped into them and he chuckled softly.

“You’re lucky I didn’t try to keep them,” he teased as she righted herself, his body still close enough to hers that he could easily have wrapped himself around her if he had less restraint. She scoffed in response to his word, rolling her eyes before she stepped away from him.

He watched her walk to the front door to step into her shoes, and he followed a few steps behind her to do the same. Reaching around her, he opened the front door for her and let her step onto the porch first.

“So, Thursday?” Valerie said as they crossed the street to where she’d parked her car.

“Yeah, Thursday,” he responded with a nod, licking his lips as she turned around to face him. “I’ll call in the next couple days to hammer out the details.”

“Okay, sounds good.” She smiled warmly at him as she nodded back, her keys in hand as she hesitated, content to linger there with him for a few more moments.

“It’s not too late for you to come back inside and get back in bed,” Billy reminded her with an earnest grin, enjoying the laugh he got out of her.

“Next time,” she assured him, her hand coming up to tuck her hair behind her ear.

“Next time,” he repeated with a brief nod as she watched his eyes dropped to her mouth.

Valerie wasn’t sure which of them had moved first, just that his lips crashed into hers as his arm looped around her waist. His other hand was on her jaw, holding her in place there as he hummed into her mouth. She felt dizzy from it quickly, both of them hanging on to the last thread of their evening together. Pulling back, she rested her forehead against his as she took a breath, then pressed a soft, short kiss to his lips.

“I’ve gotta go,” she said quietly, laughing as she untangled herself from him. Billy pressed a kiss to her temple before he released her, taking a step back to give her room to open her car door.

“See you in a few days,” he told her, licking his lips again. She nodded with a smile, closing the door once she was in her seat. He exhaled a big breath as he started back toward the house, shoving his hands in the pockets of his sweats.

Valerie pulled away from the curb and exhaled a breath of her own, a contented, pleased smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

****** post notes: And, we're back! Obviously, I don't know much how you all are feeling about the story so far, but I really like this chapter, and I really enjoy exploring the softer, more mature side of Billy. The next chapter is going to be more about his perspective and the things that have changed in his life between the end of season three (sans him dying, obvs) and when he found Valerie at the bar!

#Billy Hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x oc #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove fic #stranger things fic #stranger things smut

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harrysweasleys · 4 years

Text

A Change Of Heart

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: Being Snape’s daughter, people think you have it easy at school, despite being a Gryffindor. But they treat you differently, no one really wants to be around you due to Snape’s reputation. And lucky for you, the only person who understands is Draco. [3rd year.]

Warnings: None

Word count: 2,140

A whisper made its way across the class as your father walked in. Usually, people whispered about him anyways, but considering Lupin was supposed to be teaching instead of your dad, they seemed a little more irritated than usual.

You lowered your head, avoiding the confused glares people sent your way about why he was here. The blinds were suddenly shut and darkness spread across the quiet room as your father turned to face the class.

“Turn to page 394.”

You noticed the thick book in front of you that you didn’t remember bringing in at all. Sharing a look with Hermione who seemed as startled as everyone else, you slowly started flipping to said page, passing the lessons you should have bee doing today.

“Uh, excuse me, sir?” Harry’s voice broke through the stillness, “Where’s professor Lupin?”

You kept your head lowered, knowing that your father’s relationship with Harry often got quite ugly, and you didn’t want to deal with that right now.

“That’s not really your concern, is it, Potter?” He spoke slowly, before raising an eyebrow and walking to the back of the class, “Suffice it to say your professor finds himself unable to teach at the present time. Turn to page 394.”

You heard a thud of pages to your left and Ron Weasley let out a gasp, “Werewolves?”

You scanned across the page, noticing that indeed, you guys were going to be learning about werewolves. Why, you had no idea.

“Werewolves? But sir, we just started learning about redcaps and hinkypunks. We’re not meant to start this for weeks.” Hermione spoke up, catching the attention of your already pissed off father.

He glared at her, his gaze softening once it landed on you next to her, “Quiet. Now, can anyone tell me the difference between a werewolf and an animagus?”

Looking around and noticing no one else had raised their hands, except for Hermione of course, your slowly raised yours.

“Y/N?” Your father spoke slowly.

Hiding the redness creeping up your neck from the sudden attention, you steadied your voice, “An animagus is someone who elects to turn themselves into an animal. A werewolf has no choice. With each full moon, he or she forgets who they are, they’d kill anyone who crossed their path.”

Your father smiled briefly at you before covering it with a glare at the rest of the class, “Good. Now, by Monday morning on my desk I want two rolls of parchment on the werewolf, with emphasis on recognizing it.”

The class broke out into groans, mostly from the loud Slytherin boys at the back of the class. You ducked your head, knowing people were going to make snide comments to you about how strict your father is when you went back to the Common Room.

“Sir, it’s Quidditch tomorrow,” Harry groaned, stopping once he was face to face with the angry professor.

“Then I suggest you take extra care. Loss of limb will not excuse you,” he spoke in Harry’s face before turning back to face the rest of the class and continuing his lecture. You tuned him out slightly, scribbling little notes in your book now and then when your ears caught certain words, but apart from that, you weren’t paying attention.

What felt like four hours later, the class ended and you grabbed your books, moving as quickly as you could out of the class to avoid any confrontation.

“Snape is the worst, wish he’d just jump off a cliff,” a girl muttered to her friend as she pushed by you, her friend agreeing with her.

“Can’t believe he’s got us doing all of this, doesn’t he understand that he’s not the only professor in the entire school,” Harry grumbled to Ron as they turned the corner away from you. You tuned out the crowd, rushing to a corner to take a breath. You hated how all you ever heard was how terrible, cruel, awful, disgusting your father was. Sure, you disagreed with his methods sometimes, but you loved him.

You felt tears prick your eyes and you tried your best to hide them as you hid your face, letting the crowd of students pass by in a rush to get out of Defence Against the Dark Arts.

As the crowd died down, you took a deep breath and prepared to go back into the hall, but you were interrupted by a voice from right beside you.

“What’s got you looking like you want to cry in the shower for eight years?”

You snapped your head to the right, eyes immediately landing on Draco Malfoy leaning against the wall, eyes on you.

“It’s nothing,” you hid your face in your hair once more, looking down to the books you were clutching in your hands, hoping he’d drop the subject with lack of care.

“Oh, please, I know that look. I see countless people crying in hidden corners every day,” he crossed his arms, not breaking eye contact. You had never really spoken to him, but you knew all about him and his family from your dad. They were, what you could call, ‘work buddies.’

“Draco, just leave me alone,” you sighed, pushing your hair behind your ear to face him. A look of sympathy crossed his face as he noticed how upset you actually were.

“Come with me.” He grabbed your arm gently and pulled you down the hall. You barely knew him, but for some reason you found yourself following after him without fighting. He pulled you down hallways, ignoring the strange glances people shot your way, and pulled you into a quiet classroom. You had never been in here before, and by the looks of it, it hadn’t been touched in years.

“Talk. I’m a good listener.” He shot you a genuine smile. You cocked an eyebrow, wondering why he was being so kind to you, but you didn’t feel like arguing.

“Fine,” you sat down on a dusty chair, “It’s tough being Snape’s daughter. Don’t get me wrong, he’s… a great dad, but the stuff that students say about him gets to me.”

He nodded slowly, “I get it.”

“You do?”

He smiled at you, nodding his head, “Yeah, kind of. My father has a reputation too. Not a good one. I know that people talk about him when I’m around. It sucks.”

You nodded slowly, “That does sucks, I’m sorry.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “Don’t be sorry, I’ve dealt with it my whole life. I had a feeling that’s what was bothering you. Anyways, all I’m saying is you can’t let them get to you. No one ever really likes their teacher. There’s nothing anyone can do about it.”

You laughed sarcastically, “Wow, really helpful, thanks. I feel loads better.”

He stepped off the desk and walked closer to you, “I’m serious, you can’t let what other people say affect you. Your dad doesn’t care what people say about him, so nor should you.”

He was right. Your dad didn’t care what people thought of him. You figured you might have overreacted slightly, but he was your family. You didn’t want people talking about him that way.

“You’re right,” you muttered, looking up at him with a little more determination, “You’re right, I shouldn’t let what people say affect how I feel.”

And from then on, you tried not to. You’d ignore the glares, the negative comments, and you even got closer to Draco. He sometimes sat with you in Potions where he knew students would treat you a little meaner. You’d hang out with him in the evenings to avoid the Common Room, and sometimes you’d find yourself hanging out with him without even having an excuse.

“So, that’s when I told him that I’d shove my wand so far up his nose it’d come out the back of his skull,” you finished your story, Draco bursting into laughter, his shoulders shaking.

“That’s how you get someone to leave you alone!” He continued laughing, his cheeks turning slightly pink and his hair falling into his face. For some reason you found yourself wanting to gently tuck the strand back with the rest of his hair, but you couldn’t figure out why the sudden urge. You shook your head, clearing yourself of your thoughts before cracking a smile.

“I guess it is,” you smiled, hiding the blush that crept onto your cheeks. Damn Draco Malfoy and his stupid charm.

“So, I’ve got to run off to stupid Transfiguration, talk to you later,” he picked up the book on his lap and stood up, waving goodbye and taking off down the courtyard and into the castle. As he disappeared inside, you let out a sigh, leaning back against the cold bench and shaking your head. You knew damn well you were developing feelings, but there was no way in hell you were okay with it.

You stood up, trying to clear your head before taking off into the castle. You slowly made your way up to the Common Room, taking your time as you didn’t really have anywhere else to be. You spoke the password to the fat lady and walked in, plopping down on the couch in front of the crackling fire.

You sat there for what felt like hours, the clouds rolling in and the magical fire not dying down in the slightest, before you heard a faint knock at the door. You had never really heard anyone knock before, so you got up, figuring Neville or Ginny had forgotten the password again, but stumbled back in shock when Draco stood in front of the doorway, hands in his pockets and an awkward smile on his face.

“Draco?”

“Yep, hi.” He grinned, motioning for you to step outside, which you did.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, moving out of the way to let a group of Gryffindors walk past the painting. Draco shrugged, seemingly embarrassed.

“Do you, I don’t know, wanna go for a walk?” He asked nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders once again as if he had an irritating twitch and something on his mind.

“Sure,” you grinned, letting him lead the way down the stairs. You walked in silence for a while, almost as if Draco wanted to lead you somewhere private to talk. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but you knew that he was taking you on a walk for a certain reason and you could feel unwelcome nerves bundling in your stomach.

“Where are we going?”

He didn’t answer, but his pace quickened and you followed suit. Eventually, you found yourself in front of the same classroom as he had dragged you in a week before, and you followed him inside without saying anything. You felt your heart beating against your ribcage, slightly out of breath from the half-jog you did the whole way here.

He shut the door behind you, his breathing picking up.

“Draco, you’re being weird… are you ok?” You asked, approaching him cautiously.

He turned to face you, eyes wild and cheeks still slightly pink. Before answering you, he grabbed your face and pulled your lips to meet his. His lips were soft, despite his actions, and you felt your knees buckle.

He immediately pulled away, “I- I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry.”

You felt your cheeks flushed as you tried to wrap your head around what just happened. He noticed your silence and nodded his head slowly, making his way back to the door. Holy crap.

“Wait, Draco,” you tried to speak but it came out as more of a squeak. He turned around, eyes slightly hurt but he stayed to listen.

“Come back here,” you smiled, watching his slow steps as he took his sweet time walking back to you.

As he stood in front of you, his breathing still quick, you gazed up into his eyes and lifted your arms, wrapping your arms around his neck and running your fingers through his hair, pushing his head down, connecting his lips with yours.

He leaned into you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his body flush against yours. You smiled into the kiss, loving the feeling of his lips moving against yours. He lifted you up slightly, lips not leaving yours, and placed you on a desk, one of his hands finding its way into your hair as the two of you started heating up.

He started placing kisses down your jawline and onto your neck, his gentle hands gripping onto you as if you were to disappear between his fingers. Before he could make his way back to your lips, the door swung open and an angry figure stood in the doorway. Draco pulled away in a second, shielding you from whoever’s eyes were on the two of you.

“Malfoy, what are you doing to my daughter?”

#draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy one shots #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader

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jerisch · 4 years

Text

Comrade-in-arms

A commission I got from @writer-ofstuff, involving Derek from Teen Wolf,kinks warning: Feet and musk.

———————————————————————————————————

Derek walked I to the new bar and grill restaurant thar had recently opened up in Beacon Hills. He was suppose to meet Stiles here for the two to have a date night, only Stiles was running late thanks to his shift at work going into overtime thanks to his co-worker calling in that they would be late.

Derek took a moment to admire how nice the place looked, he glanced to the bar, heading over there to wait for Stiles since it was close to the door, that way he can look over the menu and decide what he would like to order once his boyfriend got here.

He sits there alone for a few minutes, his attention focused on the menu when he feels a presence behind him. Before Derek could turn around, strong hairy arms wrap around his torso and Derek is pulled into the embrace of a large sweaty torso, making Derek shudder with surprise and disgust, his nose hit with a strong foul musk that makes Derek want to shove the random man away from him.

"Drew? Why didn't you tell me you were back in town?" Exclaimed a deep voiced man, sounding excited that Derek is his friend.

Derek stands up and pulls away, looking at the guy. He has a short crew cut style hair cut, his muscles filled out his grey v-neck fairly nicely, almost looking painted on this brutes well sculpted body. His armpits are stained with sweat and Derek can see tufts of chest hair peeking out of the v-neck's collar. He even has a few dog tags around his neck, making Derek wonder if he was in the military or knew someone who was.

The man's face was rugged, looking to be a couple years older than Derek with a good few days worth of scruff coating his strong jawline. His brown eyes made him think of Stiles's eyes, only this guys seemed to be a lighter shade of brown, in the lighting at least.

"Oh shit, sorry man. Confused you for a good friend of mine." The guy apologies sheepishly.

"It's fine, really don't worry about it." Derek says. He doesn't want to be rude, but Derek isn't too pleased with this guy standing so close to him so he is forced to smell this guys strong musk. Derek is almost impressed with how strong it is given the fact they are in a restaurant and it is cutting through the smell of all the food, drinks, and other restaurant guests scents.

"Let me buy you a drink as a apology." He offers.

"No, really that's fine." Derek protests, but the guy is taking a seat at the bar next to Derek's bar stool he was sitting on.

"Oh please I insist, I know it must be weird to get hugged by a stranger." The guy says.

Derek takes his seat, figuring he will humour the guy as he waits for Stiles, and it isn't like Derek can get drunk for the drink so he figures he will accept the offer, down the drink, then excuse himself once Stiles gets here.

"My name is Evan by the way." He introduces.

"Derek." Derek replies, shaking the guys hand, he is surprised by how soft the guys hand is, a big rugged guy like this he figured would have rough hands.

Evan orders them two beers, Derek taking a sip, and making a face at the bitter taste of it, thankfully Evan was distracted by his own drink to notice.

"I'm sorry again for hugging you, it's just crazy how much you look like my buddy Drew from behind." He tells Derek.

"It's okay, no harm done." Derek says, although he is still grossed out by this guys strong musk and the fact he can still feel the sweat the guy smeared on his back when he hugged him, which as it started to get cool and make Derek feel even more grossed out.

"We were supposed to meet up here to have a few drinks, talk about our army days." Evan says, pausing to take a sip of his drink.

"Yeah, I'm waiting on my boyfriend to come here so we can have dinner." Derek says, as to not be rude by just sitting there and saying nothing.

"Oh that's nice. It's good to see other gay men in town. How long have you two been together?" Evan asks.

" A year now officially, but we've known each other for a few years." Derek tells him.

"That's good. Drew and I were a thing when in the military. We went to the same boot camp and bunked together. At first we hated each other, argued quite a bit that got us in trouble with the Sargent. But then we were instructed to work on an exercise together, and I don't know, something just clicked with us after that." Evan paused and took a sigh of his drink.

Derek frowned, wondering why he was starting to envision what Evan was talking about. He could make out a military bunk in his mind, the image of a young slender Evan in his mind, he could even recall someone arguing with him over something so minuscule.

He even sees a older Sargent coming in, the sargent towering over both men in Derek's vision, yelling at them for being disrespectful to the other cadets and themselves with all this pointless bickering.

Derek rubs his head, taking a sip of his drink again and the thought flees from his mind, which brings Evan to telling another story.

"When we got done with bootcamp training and later we even ended up stationed together. We were friends by then, we didn't start to actually develop feelings for one another till we were stationed overseas. Of course neither of us acted on them, cause you know back then it was frowned upon and we were young and confused at these feelings, but then Drew saved my ass one day and well I kinda acted on impulse and kissed him, which I was so glad to when he kissed me back." Evan tells Derek the story.

He thinks how nice that sounds, he became so engrossed in Evan's story he didn't even notice he isn't disgusted by Evan's smell anymore. Nor does he realize that the sweat on his back as it began to traverse through his shirt, even sinking into his skin. The sweat absorbed into Derek's body began to make it expand a little in size, his back growing broader, while his triskele tattoo started to fade away leaving behind unmarked skin.

Derek sputters when he takes a sip of his beer. He gets another flash of a vision that matches Evan's story. Recalling being on a army base somewhere, rooming with a bulkier Evan's, Derek wonders why he is having these memory flashes like they are is own, making out the details of the bunks, of Evan's and his voice, even recalling conversations they've had.

He even sees an incident where he acts quickly and shoves Evan's away from a small explosion that would have injured him, laying on top of each other, feeling Evan's lips on his, how good it felt.

"From there we kept our relationship to ourselves for a few years, in that time we discovered we were both kinky fuckers." He laughs at that before he continues.

"We were crazy for the other's musk and sweat. Drew having some of the stinkest feet any man I've known had, drove me wild." Evan tells him.

"Of course he loved my feet as well, with how big they are he enjoyed the, around his dick, jerking him off." Evan adds.

Derek is confused by all this, wondering why Evan is telling him such personal information about him and his lover's sex lives. Derek doesn't care about any of this, he is disgusted by it in fact, and yet once again he can feel these memories creep into his mind, feeling a phantom touch around his dick even, as if someone's large dorty feet were rubbing his dick.

He hates how hard he gets from it, his face flushing when he hears moans in his head from the intimate memories he has of Evan and his lover.

Derek's too focused on his thoughts that he isn't quite aware of the changes befalling his body. His muscles packing on bulk, making his toned well defined body surge in size with pure muscle thanks to years of training in the military and keeping it up with hard gym workouts.

He can vaguely hear Evan continue on about his and Drew's sex life back in the army. How wild and dirty it would get between them. Hearing the words Evan says ans then seeing those images in his own mind sends Derek into a lustfully state, he growls, turning to face Evan's grabbing him by the collar of his shirt so the older man is facing him.

"Shut up." Derek growls, his voice getting deeper, he leans forward, pressing his lips over Evan's kissing the older man hungrily. Derek knows this is wrong, thinks about Stiles, but his dick is so painfully hard in his jeans, and he sees this disgusting raunchy man in a new light, wanting to experience for himself what he envisioned from his stories.

Evan kisses Derek back, his large hands coming up and cup Derek's face, deepening their kiss. Derek's stubble thickens into a fuller beard upon Evan's touch. No one around them notices them, not saying a word as the two men make out at the bar.

"I want you, now." Derek growls. He doesn't know what's going on with him, grabbing Evan by the hand and dragging him to the back of the restaurant, the two men ending up in a supply closet. Their hands roaming over the other's bodies, Evan's hands making Derek even more muscular, body hair spreading all over Derek's broader muscled torso from Evan's hands gliding over his skin as they kiss.

Derek pulls away from Evan, just so he can get onto his knees, he takes off Evan's boots, inhaling the scent of them and the musky prize he has been craving.

"Holy fuck look at your feet, they'd make Bigfoot jealous." Derek blurts out as if this was common banter between them. He immediately sets to worshipping Evan's feet, sucking on Evan's toes that he can feet in his mouth, rubbing his thickly bearded face along the soles of his feet.

Derek's face began to ripple, aging up in years till he was around Evan's age now. His facial attributes became more rugged and different than who he should be. If he were to look in a mirror he wouldn't even recall who he was, because he doesn't even look like Derek anymore.

"Oh fuck Drew, you pervy bastard." Evan moans and laughs. Hearing himself being called Drew makes it all that much clearer to Derek. It was why the stories Evan told seemed so familiar, they were his memories too. Derek recounting them even more clearly than before among other memories of the two men together. How they stuck together through their army days up till a few months ago when the two both retired early from the army.

How Drew went back home to make plans to move out here to be with Evan, the two 35 year old men even planning their wedding next once they got fully moved in and their new gym they own and run now set up.

Drew is sucking on Evan's big toe once more, bobbing his head up and down on it, relishing in its musky taste and scent when he realizes what he is doing, how this isn't right.

"Stiles." He mutters, pulling off Evan's foot.

"This isn't me, I'm not the ex military guy named Drew.' He says getting to his feet.

"My name is Derek Hale, and I'm." Derek doesn't get to finish. Because Evan is putting the dog tags he was wearing around Derek, and then kissing him. Derek falling under the enthrall, relaxing into the kiss.

"It's okay now Drew." He whispers against Derek's lips, his hand groping over Derek's bulge, the sensitive feeling making Derek come right then. His orgasm expels Derek's old self from his mind, allowing Drew's memories to dominate and take over. Drew snaps out of it, his clothing changing into a beige t-shirt and pants that are now soaked in his come.

His beige shirt becomes damp and stained from his sweat. Drew looks into Evan's brown eyes, smiling fondle at his lover.

"A supply closet? Not that weirdest place we fooled around in." Drew says teasingly.

"How about we get out of here and head home, so we can have more privacy with what I want to do to you next." Evan suggests. Drew simply grins, taking his lover by the hand and leading them out of the supply closet. Making a beeline for the entrance.

"Excuses us kid." Drew says when they walk by a younger man with messy brown hair wearing a flannel shirt and graphic t-shirt. Drew unaware how important thar young man was to him once before, getting into his truck with Evan taking a seat in the passenger side, the two military men lean over the console and share a kiss before Drew cranks up his truck and pulls out of the parking lot and onto the road, eager to get home with his love.

#transformation #mental change #feet feitsh #military #musk #reality change

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footballxwrites · 3 years

Note

Ridiculously in love with your writing so giving another one😂

So read reports that Christian pulisic maybe going back to the bundesliga to play for Bayern so maybe you could write one on that where he feels guilty for not having been able to probably make it work in Chelsea. He’s been with his fiance since they were like 12 and she’s a British citizen and an arsenal fan so she was definitely the happiest when they moved to london as because she runs her own company and their main office is in London. Christian feels like a crap fiancé also because now she’ll have to travel up and down every other week like she did when they were in Dortmund, and she’s done and sacrificed so much for him and he couldn’t even make it work so she can be in her hometown for once and also be with her family, plus they’re looking to start a family so this travelling business and not having grandparents around the corner isn’t ideal either. With all this plus not starting games plus family stuff weighing him down, he starts to be distant from her and she obviously notices. She gives him a bit of space at the beginning but then quickly realises that they should talk about it like they always have in their relationship. So she brings it up and he lets out everything and she’s like “ don’t be stupid, I want the best for your career and if that’s in freaking Finland well go there, you’ve had a tough year and not the ideal start to your time at Chelsea ans that’s okay. Everyone has set backs but we need to make a comeback so we’re gonna do what’s best for you and then go from there. Europe is small and London to Munich or wherever it is isn’t too bad at all, plus you know I genuinely like travelling for work. And when the kids come we’ll just figure out a schedule that puts them first and have you seen our parents, they’re gonna be coming and seeing us all the time. It’s fine, we’re gonna be fine, you’re gonna be just fine” and then Christian is just crying by then because how did he get so lucky blah blah blah... can’t wait for this one xxxxxx

Long Distance Love ♡

𝖧𝖺𝗁𝖺 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎! 𝖨 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖨 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 (𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗅)...𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗌 𝖨 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗈 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝖾 😅𝗑

January 10 2021

Suddenly, you felt him stir slightly, readjusting his arms that were snaked around your body, which made your head shoot up to gaze at him, seeing his eyes fluttering open and a lazy smile creep upon his lips as he leaned into a kiss. His arms were quick to pull your waist against his so your head was flat on his chest, listening to the peaceful sound of his heartbeat, instantly making you feel at home. You little moment was cut short when his phone went off and he rushed out the room with a groan, leaving you annoyed and your heart pounding, having a feeling you knew exactly what the phone call was about, hoping he come back and give you the answer you wanted to hear...

“It’s gone through...the transfer” he sorrily spoke, making your breath hitch in your throat, although knowing it was a high possibility of the move actually happening, a part of you was certain he’d be staying here in central London for at least another year. “Guess you’d better get packing then” you softly laughed, feeling disheartened to say the least, the words of “it’s happening” not being the ones you wanted to fall from his lips, “look can we talk about this properly-“ he began, reaching for your hand as you swiftly dodged his grip and made your way to the bathroom, ready for a complete meltdown about everything, “No I have to get ready for work...while I still have my own business” you trailed off, letting the door close behind you with a slam...

————————————————

January 2 2019

"The real question is, how did I get so lucky?" you giggled before he gently pushed the mug of coffee into your hands while leaning in to plant a small kiss on your forehead. Instantly, that warm feeling flew through your body just from the smallest, loving touch he gave you, it never getting old. “Good morning, beautiful." he mumbled against your lips, before wrapping his arms around your neck and resting his head on top of yours, “and a very good morning to you handsome” you smiled, feeling the most relaxed you’ve felt in a while, lifting your gaze to him, love dancing in your eyes as you leaned in to clasp your mouths together.

"Kissing you never gets old," you mutter softly as you both pull away, Christian flashing you a cheeky grin before spotting his luggage packed and ready for the off beside the front door of your new complex, a sigh falling from his lips, “can’t believe I arrived here a week ago and I’m already flying back to Germany” he frowned, pulling a pout. “It’s only six months and it’ll be over before you know it, I’m not going to lie I will miss living over there, especially the weather” you giggled, messing up his perfectly gelled hair to which you got no thanks for, “hands off, this took ages to do” he said, pretending to be serious and grabbing your hand as if to say ‘go on do it again I dare you’. “I’m gonna miss you, the apartment’s gonna seem empty without you here...and it means I have to build all the flat pack furniture from IKEA myself” you huffed, pointing at the hundreds of cardboard boxes filling the spacious room as he laughed, culling your face and running a finger along your cheek, “you’ll be fine, we’ll FaceTime every night and whenever we have a minute spare because you’re gonna be busy as hell now...my super business woman” he winked as you shook your head, still not quite believing you actually own a company, like a whole ass company belonged to you and it was mad to just even picture it.

“Ah shut up, you’re making me blushing Mr Pullisic, now go before you miss that flight of yours” you grinned, going in for one last peck while shoving him out the door with a struggle, feeling like his clingy self wasn’t ever gonna leave, “I love you, see you in half a year” he happily said, grabbing his many cases and walking out, letting the door gently fall closed...

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July 1 2019

The classic iPhone ping went off as an incoming text message lit up your phone screen, instantly opening the pic attachment of him saying ‘en route’ which meant he was on his way and by god you couldn’t wait to just see him in person after all this time. He barely got through the front door before you took a leap, linking your legs around his torso as his hands secured under your thighs to carry your weight. Squeezing him tight, you rested your head in the crook of his neck, enjoying his presence as a laugh escaped his lips, “missed me just a bit?” he stupidly asked, not even bothering to let you answer before smashing his lips on yours for the first time what felt like in forever.

Gently tapping your legs, he slowly placed you feet on the ground and then cupped your face, pulling you in for another long, loving kiss, “so how’s everything been then, and by the way you’ve done a good job decorating this place” he nodded, eyes gazing at all the modern interior, “funny you asked, I managed to open two more branches this week, one in Gateshead up north and the other in Manchester!” you exclaimed letting out a small squeal, not able to control your excitement any longer as his eyes went wide with joy. “I didn’t think you could make me any prouder but I guess I was wrong eh” he gushed, heading over to sort out his cases, “I’m saying the same about you” you laughed as he pulled out a couple man of the match awards along with a jersey signed by all the teammates. “It felt strange to say goodbye to them after all these years...but it’s time for a fresh start, here in London with Chelsea Fc and with you” he whispered, excited for the new chapter in your lives to finally begin.

——————————————————

The next year could only be described as perfect for the both of you, his career taking off and loving every moment at the club, getting along with everyone in the dressing room and then loving the fans and atmosphere within the stadium, and knowing you were in the stands somewhere cheering on your ‘captain America’ made it all the more special. As for you, your company was doing beyond amazing, going from National to world wide, owning buildings in Dubai, Spain and you’ll never guess where, Germany. Your main branch was of course London, where the company was founded and to which was the office you managed and were based at, meaning you rarely visited the abroad ones but you weren’t complaining, with you being a London gal to be in your home city with your own bloody business was unimaginable, not to mention you were only a 20 mins drive from your family.

Oh yeah and he popped the question about four months into the move on your eight year anniversary which you of course said yes to, already having planned out your dream wedding, the pair of you agreeing to have it here rather than America with work and travel and all that malarkey.

For the first time in ages, it all seemed to be coming together for yous...

———————————————————

January 10 2021

8 hours later and the two of you hadn’t spoken all day, with him going off to what you assumed was his last training session and proceeding to ignore you and your many questions, you decided to go to work too, trying to get this whole moving countries once again after only one fucking year back home thing off your mind.

“Right that’s it, you’re going to talk to me Christian because you must think I’m a mind reader or something and I can just tell what’s going in in that brain of yours” you said, stumbling through the door and throwing your keys in the side before throwing yourself on the sofa beside your sad looking boyfriend. “I’m sorry” was all he could say, looking down at the ground leaving you with a confused frown on your face, “enough with the apologies, I just want to know what this means, for us” you sighed, placing a hand on his cheek and giving it a small pinch, hoping it’d put a smile on his lips.

“Well I’m definitely leaving Chelsea, guess not everything works out...but it means I’m back off to Germany” he said as you slowly nodded, “you have to do what’s best for your career, ok?” you smiled, running a hand through his hair as he was quick to shake his head, “no I can’t. I don’t wanna leave you, not again. And anyways we’re supposed to be trying for a baby and that’s going to be a challenge if we’re in different countries don’t you think?” he’s spoke with a slight laughter. “I’m not arguing with you Pullisic, go and sign that contract and get yourself away to Germany to revive your job. I’m not saying I’m going to drop everything and move again because I have my work and life, but I can easily fly out and visit, you’re forgetting I have an office over there. As for kids, we’ll get to that part when it comes around...so just take one step at a time and get on the phone to your agent to tell him you’re taking the transfer” you blurted out with a soft smile, knowing exactly what you were saying and that this was just another step in your life, at the end of the day, life isn’t life without it’s challenges along the way...❤️

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If you got this far reading it, I hope you enjoyed it! x

@kingkepa @champagne-coys @footballcloud @footballmagical @alexajanecollins @masonmounts @hoely-pavard @hazardybala @jamesmaddiscnx

#football #footballer #football blurb #footballer imagine #christian pulisic #chelsea fc

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nalgenewhore · 4 years

Text

Slipping Through My Fingers - Fifteen

masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter

warnings: none

an: well.

Lorcan was tinkering with an engine, only half-listening to whatever music Fenrys had chosen for the garage when Ansel rapped on his door, poking her head in.

“Hey, man, the kids are here,” she said, her grin falling off her lips as he nodded vaguely, hardly hearing her. “Lorcan. Lorcan. Lorcan. Lorcan. Lor–”

“Fucking hell, what do you want, Ans?” he snarled, irritation flashing in his eyes.

Ansel rose a manicured wine-red brow, glancing over her shoulder before she stepped in and closed the door, leaning back against it. “Excuse you?” He held her stare until he glanced away, shaking his head. “Really? You’re just gonna ignore me?”

Lorcan cocked his jaw and crossed his arms, decidedly staying silent.

Ansel sighed and swaggered over to the other stool, sitting down and kicking his foot with hers. “So, uh, Elide took the day off. Apparently she’s been calling in sick the entire week,” she commented, her face impassive as he snapped his head up and breathed in sharply.

Then, Lorcan shrugged and sniffed, looking down at his hands, “Guess she isn’t feeling well.”

“Stop it,” Ansel hissed at him, her eyes narrowing, “I went to Aelin’s. I saw her, Lorcan.”

“Aelin’s?” Lorcan didn’t know that. He didn’t know she was staying with her sister. Rowan hadn’t told him that.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Well…” he trailed, unable to figure out what to say.

“What happened?”

He shrugged again and muttered something unintelligible, picking at his nails. “We’re just taking a couple weeks, you know. No biggie.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Lorcan,” Ansel told him, her voice hard. She opened her mouth to say something when the door was slammed open and two ankle biters raced in, yelling at their parents.

Esther was chattering, as usual, in her mother’s native tongue as Ansel scooped her up and smiled down at her. “J’ai fait un dessin d’un ourson et son maman sur son plâtre.” She pointed over to Kohana’s cast where there was indeed a drawing of a bear cub and its mother.

“Bien fait, ma chère,” Ansel murmured, brushing back her daughter’s hair and kissing her head as she glared daggers at Lorcan.

Lorcan rolled his eyes and smiled softly at Kohana, accepting the hug his son offered him. “Hey, kid.”

“Hi, Dad,” Kohana said, climbing onto his father’s lap and cuddling into his chest. “When do we get to go home?”

“Soon,” Lorcan promised him, the two of them saying good-bye to Ansel and Esther when they walked out. Kohana stepped down onto the floor, running his hand over his cast.

“Dad?”

“Mm-hmm?” Kohana didn’t answer and Lorcan looked up, his eyebrow arched. “K-Man?”

“…does Ellie need space from me at school, too?”

“What? No, not at all,” Lorcan said, his heart clenching. “She doesn’t need space from you, she needs space from me. None of it is because of you, ok?” Kohana looked up at him, his eyes big and filled with tears as he sniffled. “Oh, kid, c’mere.” Kohana launched himself into Lorcan’s arms, crying into his shirt.

“I miss Ellie,” Ko cried, burying his face in his father’s chest. “I didn’t want her to go.”

All Lorcan could do was hold his son close and kiss the top of his head, whispering soothing words of comfort as he silently cursed himself and all he stood for.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

The rain was coming down heavy as Lorcan slammed his car door shut and jogged around to open up Ko’s. “C’mon, man, we gotta go.”

“I’m comin’, Dad,” Kohana grumbled, not at all pleased with what they were doing, but they needed groceries and he couldn’t be left at home. The little one refused to move after Lorcan undid his seatbelt, so Lorcan picked him up and walked quickly over to the grocery store.

“Ko, stay here,” Lorcan said as he put him down, “I’m gonna grab a cart, alright?”

Kohana didn’t say a word and wandered a couple steps inside the store, pushing his hood back and pulling his braid out. He became fascinated by the way his frog gumboots squeaked on the linoleum and started walking around, staring intensely down at the sound, a happy little grin on his round little face.

He pattered around in a circle, twisting his feet and giggling gleefully at the resulting sound. He bumped into someone’s legs and reached up, grabbing two of their fingers and staying in place as he moved his boots back and forth. “Dad, look, look at my bo–”

It was at that moment Kohana looked up and gasped, his heart dropping when he realized the person he’d been talking to and whose hand he’d been holding onto was not his father.

“Ko?”

Kohana worriedly turned around and ran back to Lorcan, too upset to feel any sort of joy at the squeaking sound of his boots. “Até,” he cried, ducking behind his father and hiding as he gripped Lorcan’s painter pants tightly with his unbroken arm.

Lorcan chuckled and looked down at him, fondly stroking his hand over Ko’s head. “Prince, what happened?”

Kohana just shook his head and carefully peeked out at the stranger before hurriedly looking away again. Lorcan laughed quietly again and picked him up, turning to the other man as his son buried his face in his shoulder, his round cheeks fiercely aflame. “Sorry ‘bout that, man, he’s a little shy sometimes, ain’t that right, K-Man?”

Again, Kohana didn’t answer and the two adults chuckled. The other man said something and departed, continuing on with his shopping as Lorcan looked at Kohana whilst he lifted his head. “I thought he was you, Daddy. I didn’t mean to.”

Lorcan smiled softly, his eyes turning gentle as he put Kohana in the cart, “I know, baby. It’s ok, you’re ok, yeah?”

“Yeah… I’m ok,” Ko whispered, smiling shyly, his cheeks still tinged pink. “I’m very ok, Dad.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Elide ran through the rain to the grocery store, leaving Aelin in the car to wait. Since they only needed a couple things, it was a one-person job and Elide had lost rock-paper-scissors once again.

She shook off her hoodie hood, regretting wearing her cotton sweater in the rain. Elide grabbed herself a basket and walked quickly into the store, just wanting to rush home and make dinner with her sister.

Elide idly perused the aisles, pulling things into her basket and tapping against the handles a random beat, humming low under her breath. Her eyes got caught on the brand of tea she had at home and she almost fell, tripping over her feet.

Home. It didn’t feel the same anymore, not without him. That was why she’d been staying with Aelin for the past five days. Maybe she was kidding herself by saying that she was just taking time to heal and maybe she was being a coward, but… she just couldn’t care right now.

It was nice to be with her sister, even if she did feel a little bit bad for kicking Rowan out.

Elide just shook her head to dispel her thoughts as she blinked her tears away and hurriedly exited the aisle, not seeing where she was going as she crashed into somebody’s cart and floundered to keep from falling when whoever it was wrapped their hands around her biceps and righted her.

Her cheeks were aflame as she stepped away, “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going and it’s–” her words fell away when she looked up, seeing Kohana sitting in the cart and Lorcan, half a foot away from her.

Immediately, tears sprung in her eyes and her throat ached. Damn it, she did not want to cry in her local grocery store. Elide backed away further, protectively shielding her basket, though she didn’t know why.

“Ellie! Hi-hi!”

“Hey, Kohana,” she breathed, her voice wavering. While she addressed Kohana, she looked at his father, biting the inside of her bottom lip to stop it from trembling. She was not going to cry today. At least, she wasn’t going to cry in the store. Once she was in the car or even outside the store, all bets were off.

Lorcan bent down and that was when Elide noticed that most of her groceries had fallen to the linoleum floors. He passed her a can of coconut milk and she nearly dropped it again when their fingers brushed and she snatched her hand away, looking at him like he had burned her. He opened his mouth to say something, but she spoke first.

“I ca- I can’t- I have to go,” she whispered, waving an unenthusiastic farewell to Kohana as she hurried off, already feeling a tear slip free. Elide rushed through the self-checkout, her head ducked down as more hot tears blurred her vision.

She hastily paid and didn’t even wait for the machine to spit out her receipt before she ran out to the car, crying as she threw herself into the passenger seat.

Aelin stared at her with wide eyes as she blubbered and weeped, gesturing vaguely to the store and then to the bag. The blonde just sighed softly and pulled Elide in for a hug over the centre console. “Let’s go home, babes. I’ll cook!”

That had Elide laughing, albeit tearfully as she sniffled and wiped her eyes, “That’s really sweet of you, but I’d rather see Lorcan than eat your food.”

“Well, now, that’s just rude.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Lorcan slowly closed the door, smiling as Kohana sighed sleepily and cuddled onto his side, hugging his stuffed hippo tightly. Tigger stood watch at the end of his bed, his yellow eyes glowing bright. Fuck, that cat creeped him out.

He carefully walked downstairs, trying to not let them creak too much. Then, he walked over to the TV cabinet, rifling through the shelf until he located the baby videos of Ko. He popped one of them into the DVD player, standing and crossing over to the couch. He sat down heavily, nervously bouncing his knee up and down.

With the remote, he pressed play and tossed it to the cushion beside him, running a ragged hand down his face, reaching his other hand up to finger the ring hanging from the chain around his neck.

His eyes were already burning with tears as the video started. The footage, slightly grainy, was of Essar, rocking a little bundle to and fro as she sang a gentle, seaside melody from her childhood. Her tattooed lips pulled into the happiest grin he’d ever seen as two little hands reached up, patting the ink on her chin and batting the air as the bundle gurgled.

Then, Essar looked up at the camera, rolling her eyes playfully, “Are you seriously filming right now?”

Lorcan heard himself laugh and then his younger self appeared in the frame, walking over to the two of them and peering down at the very precious cargo Essar carried. “I like it when you sing, Ess. Prettiest voice in the whole dang world.”

A soft blush pinked her cheeks and she smiled up at him, laughing when Kohana demanded their attention by waving his fists aggressively. Lorcan laughed as well and pulled the top of the blanket down. “Hey, kid. You’re pretty cute, you know that?” He sat down on the edge of their bed and pulled Essar down onto his thigh, resting his chin on her shoulder and twining his arms around her waist. “You just might be the cutest kid in the world. You wanna know why?”

Essar answered for their son, leaning back against him as Kohana wrapped his hand around Lorcan’s finger. “Why, o husband of mine?”

“‘Cause his momma is the most gorgeous girl around and his pops?” Essar turned to look at him, a fake warning in her eyes. “He’s the luckiest man alive.”

Essar smiled and he pressed a chaste kiss to the skin beneath her jaw. “I love you so fuckin’ much, Essar.”

“Language,” she chided him, resting her head on his shoulder and gazing down at their child. “I love you too, Lorcan. So fuckin’ much.”

Lorcan faked an offended gasp and delicately covered Kohana’s ears, “Ms. Tangaroa-Salvaterre! There is a child, an infant in your presence. I am going to have to ask you to,” he dropped his voice into a low hiss, “watch your language, ma’am.”

“Oh, shut it,” Essar said, smacking his tattooed chest as an upright, grey tail came swishing into view. She saw what her cat was going to do and cried out, “Tigger, no!” just as Tigger, that blasted creature sent from hell, knocked over the camera.

The screen went black, but Lorcan heard himself sigh and mutter, “I hate that gods-damned cat.”

Tears were rolling down his cheeks and his breathing was ragged as he pressed his hand against his chest, trying to push his heart back together. He wanted to yell, to scream at his wife, demanding why she had left him, why she hadn’t stayed.

Logically, he understood Essar had no choice in the matter and the last thing she had ever wanted to do was leave him, leave their little coconut. But still, he couldn’t help but feel cheated, feel like she’d abandoned him.

The screen went from black to white, then Essar’s giddy face as she toggled with the brightness. Her hair was falling around her face and she pushed it back with her free hand as she held the camera facing towards her and she walked through their shitty little apartment.

Her eyes looked at something behind the camera, her eyes bright as she pushed open a door and creeped in, biting her tattooed lip before she turned the camera to show what she was so amused by.

It was him, dead asleep and sprawled across their bed on his back, but cradled on his chest was Kohana. He was so itty bitty compared to Lorcan as they snoozed.

Real-time Lorcan smiled through his silent tears as baby Ko stretched out, his little fists stretching all the way up before he settled back down. “It’s kinda creepy of you to stand there and film us, Ess,” Lorcan commented without opening his eyes, rubbing Kohana’s back when he squirmed and whimpered, kicking his footie-pajama feet out.

“It’s noon, babe, why are you asleep?”

“Well, you were studying all night and I had the distinct pleasure of soothing your screaming son back to sleep four times,” he said, utter exhaustion in his voice. He held out his hand for her and Essar put the camera down, not bothering to stop recording as she pranced over to the mattress and eased down beside them both, curling into Lorcan’s side.

“Why is he my son when he does the things you don’t like,” she muttered, resting her hand on the back of Kohana’s head, softly rubbing her thumb over his soft hair. “He’s half you, you know.”

“Oh, don’t fret, my darling, I know. Never forgot it,” he whispered. “You gave me my dream.”

“Your dream?”

“Mm-hmm,” Lorcan hummed, not once opening his eyes. “You and Ko - that’s all I need.”

The video faded out and he supposed the next one began, and the one after that, because the next thing he saw was the TV shutting itself off. Then, he heard two little feet padding down the stairs, the sound of soft paws accompanying them.

“Até?”

Lorcan looked over his shoulder at Kohana, who was half-hiding behind the staircase banister. Tigger stood, ever watchful, on the step below him, his head poking through two balusters.

“Até, can I come down, please?”

He nodded and wiped his cheeks, “Always, coconut.” Kohana smiled and hurried down the stairs, racing over to him. He sat on the cushion beside Lorcan, dragging Tigger up into his lap.

Kohana’s eyes went wide as the moonlight cutting through their windows made the tear tracks on Lorcan’s face shine silver. “Are you crying?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Why?”

“Remember last week, when you hurt your arm and we were at the hospital?”

Kohana nodded vigorously, gesturing to upstairs, “Yeah! I got a stuffy and some candies. My stuffy was a bear, but the one I got for Essie was a shark ‘cause she likes sharks.” He became quiet and still as Tigger slinked out from his hold. Slowly, Kohana shifted so he had his head against the cat’s side. “But… Ellie left. She didn’t say bye-bye to me.”

Lorcan sighed heavily, picking at the skin around his thumb. “Well… yeah. I know. That’s ‘cause I said some mean things to Ellie and she needed a break.”

“Why did you say mean things?”

He exhaled slowly and looked at Kohana’s cast, covered in idle doodles, no doubt Esther or Fenrys’ handiwork. Ko wouldn’t let anyone else get close to him like that and the others claimed they were above such silliness. “I was scared, prince, and sometimes, when we’re scared, we say mean things. I told her she did something wrong.”

“But Ellie didn’t do something wrong,” Kohana said quietly, cuddling into Lorcan’s side.

Lorcan hugged his son, “I know that. Now. But I didn’t know that earlier.”

Kohana hummed and they sat in silence for a bit until he spoke up again, “Did you say sorry? I think you should say sorry.”

Huffing a laugh, Lorcan looked down at his kid’s head, brushing back his wild hair. “Maybe I’ll try that, kid.” Kohana nodded, as if he had solved all the problems and like adults were so stupid sometimes. “When’d you get so wise, K-Man?”

“I’m in school now. Big boy means big brain.”

Well, that pretty much said it all, he supposed.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

When Lorcan walked into work the next day, Malakai gave him a weird look from behind the front desk. “Why’re you here?”

“Um… I work here? I think you’re getting a lil old, pops.”

Malakai glared and stood up, walking over to him, “I know you work here, boyo. Rowan and Fenrys told me you were taking the day off.”

Lorcan scrunched his brow in confusion, tilting his head to the side. He opened his mouth to reply just as someone tapped his shoulder and he turned around to see Rowan standing there, an unimpressed look on his face. “You ready?”

“For what? The fuck is happening, man?”

“Get in the car,” was all Rowan said, jerking his thumb to his car waiting by the curb.

Lorcan could see he didn’t exactly have a choice and sighed as they walked over and got in. Rowan didn’t say a word as he turned on the ignition and pulled away from the curb, driving down the street. “Really? You’re not gonna tell me where we’re going?”

“Shut up.”

He clenched his jaw and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring out the windshield as they continued on. Neither said a word.

It was only a couple minutes later that Rowan parked in front of the boxing gym they frequented and told Lorcan to get out and get his bag from the trunk.

“What bag?”

“Just get it.”

Murder is bad, you can’t see your kid in prison, murder is bad, you can’t see your kid in prison, murder is bad, he recited silently as he popped the trunk and pulled out his gym bag, not even going to ask how Rowan got it.

They signed in and went into the changing rooms, efficiently getting dressed and heading out into the gym.

Lorcan put up his hair as Rowan signed out a ring for them and then they both wrapped their hands. Rowan still hadn’t told him what they were doing.

His green-eyed brother was already waiting as Lorcan ducked under the ropes, bouncing on his toes. “So, you finally gonna tell me what we’re doing?”

“You haven’t seen Elide in… what, a week now? You need to fight, ‘cause I know you aren’t gonna talk,” Rowan said, holding up his fists and nodding at Lorcan to do the same.

He did and they bumped their knuckles before assuming their positions.

The brothers exchanged a few casual shots, easy ones to get them warmed up. Then, Rowan nailed in him the ribs with a wicked left hook and Lorcan hissed through the pain, glaring at Rowan. “Man, the fuck?”

Rowan just glared back and upped his game, raining quick and hard shots down upon him. Usually, Lorcan would’ve blocked them effortlessly and returned with his own, but he just couldn’t keep up. Eventually, after Rowan hit the same spot on his ribs, Lorcan flipped, shoving him back, “Fucking stop, Ro! Just stop.” He shook his head and looked down as he started unwrapping his hands, but they just got tangled up in his distress and he swore low. “Fuck this.”

He finally got it and threw them to the ground, dragging his hands through his hair. “I really fucked it up this time, didn’t I?”

“Yeah. You did,” Rowan said, pushing him out of the ring and to the nearest bench.

Lorcan braced his forearms against his thighs and dropped his head, “It was going perfect, alright? And then I just… I pushed her out.” He sniffed and bounced his knee up and down, unable to stop it. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Rowan scoffed, “Nothing’s wrong with you, it’s just your stupid brain being a dick. You got scared, man.” He slung his arm around Lorcan’s neck, pulling the dark haired man into his side and pressing a kiss to the side of his head. “But this radio silence or whatever the fuck y’all are doing isn’t helping. You need to call her, L.”

Lorcan stayed silent and Rowan went on to add, “If you give her up, if you won’t even make an effort to keep her, then you’ll hate yourself for the rest of your life, man. I have, not once in the past four years, seen you smile like you smile around Elide.” Lorcan glanced at Rowan, obsidian eyes meeting ones of pine. “She isn’t gonna wait around for you to get your shit together. So either fix shit with her, or let her go. But you can’t keep dragging her along and acting like you guys are just done after a fight.”

“Ok, it wasn’t a fight, I said some–”

“I know what you said and I’ve had to physically restrain my girlfriend from jumping you, so call your girl. Say you’re sorry. Tell her you love her. Just stop being a little bitch boy.”

“Fuck you.”

“No, I said fuck you.”

“Stop copying me.”

“I’m gonna fucking stab you in your sleep.”

“Stop it.”

“You’re a fucking child, Rowan.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Lorcan said a quick good-bye to Kohana and Rowan, who had decided it was time for Ko to have another sleepover with his favourite uncle. The kid was beyond excited, his body practically buzzing in the backseat of Rowan’s car.

Walking back inside, Lorcan shut the door and moved to the kitchen, taking a seat at the island. He took his phone out of his pocket and tossed it on the island top, unlocking it and clicking on the phone app.

He stared at Elide’s contact for a long, long time before pressing on her number. Lorcan’s heart was in his throat as he held it to his ear and bit his thumbnail, hearing it ring three times.

“Hello?”

“Hey. It’s… me.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

@mythicaitt @tinywolfofeyllwe @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior @empire-of-wildfire @rhysands-highlady @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @ttakeitbacknoww @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse @flora-and-fae @thesirenwashere @queenofxhearts @maastrash @mynewdreamwasyou @cursebreaker29 @superspiritfestival @empress-ofbloodshed @queen-of-glass @sleeping-and-books @beccasophia95 @exersize-me-i-dare-u @thewayshedreamed @hizqueen4life @ifinallygavein @bat-wing-rhys @awkward-avocado-s @b00kworm @mu-si-ca-l @lovemollywho @tacmc @soitsgorgeous @staarligght @starrynightsbooks @keshavomit

#slipping through my fingers #stmf chapter fifteen #elorcan #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #kohana #isa writes #nalgenewhore #omggg two chapters left! exciting 👀

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