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scarlettriot · 3 years

Text

Along for the Ride PT 1

Pairing: KirishimaxF!Reader

Summary: A drunken mistake had you marking the little Plus One box to your snobby cousin's wedding. Kirishima told you not to worry, if you couldn't find a date, he'd go with you. When the wedding gets moved up, there's absolutely no time to find a date and you're now about to be traveling to America with Kirishima on a private jet no less, dreading having him meet your rude and impossibly arrogant family.

Contains: Kirishima and Reader both come from very well-off families. Plus-Sized Reader. Fluff. Hurt/Comfort.

Warnings: Kinda smutty for a minute. Minors DNI. Drunken Sex. TW: Manipulative Family Relationships. TW: Body Image Issues

A/N: This story has been rolling around in my head for a while now. I might rewrite this and repost. Or I might just post the whole thing soon. I dunno yet. It does get smuttier.

Word Count: 4,974

"What's up with Y/N?"

Eijiro stepped out of the locker room with a towel slung over his shoulder and made his way into the kitchenette where Mina was chugging a bottle of water before getting back to her patrol. His eyes were trained on their mutual friend out on the patio, pacing.

You had your phone pressed to your ear, the high neck of your hero costume unzipped to your collarbone and he noticed your gloves discarded on a chair.

"No clue." Mina shrugged. "She got back from patrol and she noticed a bunch of missed calls from her mom. She's been out there, flailing on the phone for the last fifteen minutes now."

The three of you had met in your second year at UA when you transferred into their class and were quickly accepted by their little squad of friends. You were a bit quiet at first but quickly found comfort in the group. Eijiro had grown especially close to you when you both interned with Fat Gum.

Late nights traveling on the train back to school, a few close calls while helping patrol, and days spent playing cards while you both healed up in the hospital left plenty of time for Eijiro to get to know you better than most. It was how he knew you had a pretty bad relationship with your family, why you hated returning home for the holidays almost as much as you hated any and all forms of tomatoes.

He considered going out there just to see if there was anything he could do but before he had the chance, you were sliding the glass door open. "Oh, good, you're back." He offered you a bottle of water for your throat that he assumed was sore after that argument. "I- um- can I borrow you for a second? Alone?"

Mina snorted a laugh. "If you guys wanna bang it out on the counter you can just say so. I gotta go to work anyways."

Eijiro threw the towel at her as she left the room leaving you two alone. "What's goin' on?"

You hoisted yourself up on the countertop while he leaned against the fridge. "You remember my cousin's wedding that's happening this winter?"

He nodded. He vividly remembered the both of you getting waste a few weeks ago when you were filling out the RSVP and accidentally marking 'plus one'. Then you ran around trying to find White Out but he'd told you if you didn't find a date or have a significant other by the time of the wedding, he'd just go with you.

You argued that your family was bat shit crazy, had more money than they could spend in their lifetime and because of that, they were among some of the rudest people you knew, and you didn't want Eijiro or anyone else around that.

The thing was, Eijiro already knew that and was still okay with going. He came from money too. A lot of it. His family was just more welcoming than yours, the wealth never really going to their heads. But, he reminded you that he'd ran into enough people like those in your family that he knew how to handle them. You finally agreed to let him accompany you, leaving the plus one box checked but the name line blank.

"Well, my cousin just found out that surprise, she's pregnant! And, obviously, she can't have a wedding while seven months along so they've decided to move the wedding up to this weekend."

He nearly choked on his own spit. "This weekend? As in four days from now?"

"Yup! Saturday at 4 in the evening. Oh! No one's supposed to know she's pregnant either. So, I'm just supposed to compliment her on how flattering her dress looks, how thin she is," Your hands strangled the water bottle between them, "And I have to find something flattering to my figure because my mother has seen me in my hero outfit and she's so glad I wear a mask because if anyone knew her daughter ran around looking like I do, well, it'd ruin her!"

You massaged your temples circling back to the actual point, "Anyways, I just wanted to bitch for a sec and let you know you're off the hook since four days is just a little short notice and I told her my plus one wouldn't be able to get the time off that fast."

He pushed off the fridge. "Well, wait, hang on! I'm not letting you go in alone to deal with them! Hell no! You need backup!" You looked almost taken aback by his abruptness, "Yeah. I can work this out. Is the wedding at the same place it was supposed to be or has it moved?"

"No, it's still that fancy lodge in California. I was planning on leaving Friday morning and then coming back either Sunday night or Monday morning since my mother insists I go to their brunch the following day. But, Eijiro, I already have this weekend off..."

"Denki owes me a favor or twelve. He's supposed to be off this weekend too, I'll just see if he can cover me."

"And if he can't?"

"Then..." He pressed the back of his hand to his forehead, "Y/N, am I feeling warm to you? I think I might be starting a fever!"

You folded your arms, shaking your head, "Thought you said lying isn't manly."

"Technically, correct. But, what would be real unmanly is for me to let you deal with your family's bullshit all alone." You watched him closely, "To be honest, I'm sure we could just explain you had a family thing come up and asked me to come along for moral support. I don't really think anyone would think twice about it. Hell, you took a few days off to console me when my turtle died suddenly!"

"Eiji, you refused to eat."

"And you brought me my favorite dumplings! Same thing!"

You might have shaken your head at him but your arms opened wide. The telltale sign you wanted affection. He walked forward, consuming you in a tight hug. Your arms latched around his neck, face buried in the hollow of his throat. "You're the best."

"I just do what I can."

>>><<<

You should have canceled. Instead of Eijiro faking sick to get out of work, you should have faked it with your mother so you didn't have to go in the first place. You crumpled to the floor of your bedroom in pure frustration amidst the twenty or so outfits and dozen pairs of shoes you'd thrown out of your closet trying to find something that your mother would deem appropriate.

It wasn't your fault you had a fuller figure. You worked out, ate right, not to mention your job kept you very active, and yet your, hips, ass, and breasts were by no means subtle.

Your mother had also insisted on the dress being floor-length and modern, "Do try not wearing all black. It's a wedding, not a funeral. And, get your hair looking natural, please." And, just like that, 70% of your wardrobe was out the window!

"It's open!" You called from the floor when the doorbell rang.

"You really should lock this." Mina tutted, walking through the door with a bag full of takeout.

"I do. At night."

"Honey, it's 9 PM."

"Night like bedtime."

Mina just rolled her eyes and walked into your tiny kitchen. "I see the dress hunt is going well."

"I actually figured it out!" You got off the floor, careful not to step on a heel as you made your way to the pink haired woman, "I'm just gonna go in my birthday suit. I figured, my mother made my body technically therefore she can't disapprove of it. Because, you know, she's never done anything wrong in her life!"

Your best friend snorted out a laugh and passed you the take-out container stuffed full of stir fry. "you're a wonderful person, you know that?" You loved the fact Mina didn't even have to ask what you wanted.

"If you'd just move closer to work then you could pick it up yourself and I wouldn't have to bring it to you."

"Too expensive." You declared after a mouthful. "You pay almost twice as much as I do per month and I just don't see the point. I have damn near the same amount of space you do for half the cost!"

You adored your small one-bedroom apartment. It was perfect. Right above a bakery that you visited each morning after your run and a little balcony that provided you with the most stunning view of the sunset.

"You and Kiri, I swear." Mina just shook her head and curled up with her food on the loveseat. "I thought he'd end up with the biggest house out of us all the moment we started making that real Pro money. You've seen his parent's house. It's massive! You could get lost in that place!"

Eijiro's place was barely bigger than your own. He lived in the same condo he had since you'd graduated UA, claiming it was perfect for him in each and every way. But, you knew that he donated a sizable amount of his paycheck every month to charities, the same as you. With savings to spare, neither of you saw the point in hoarding it and therefore the small condo was all he could afford with what he actually kept.

"Just don't understand how a guy that big can live in such a tiny little space. At least with you, it's you know, physically feasible."

Eijiro's bedroom was barely large enough to fit the king-sized bed the man needed to sleep comfortably and even then, his feet were dangerously close to dangling off the bed. And, as if the man's ears were burning, your cell phone went off under a pile of discarded shoes.

Shark-E: Figured out your dress situation? If not, I'm just gonna pack like ten different ties and hope for the best.

You: Yeah! I totally did! I'm just gonna wear this birthday suit I got and call it a night.

You chuckled at your own joke all over again. Watching the grey ellipses appear and then vanish, appear and vanish again. After a third time, you took pity on the man.

You: Joking, Ei. I still don't have it figured out but Mina's over so, hopefully, she can help.

Shark-E: Gonna give me a damn heart attack! Seriously, I wouldn't put it past you just to see the look on your mom's face. Tell Mina hi and good luck to you. I vote the dress from the Hero Gala two years ago.

You: Hi from Mina. Can't. Too much boobs.

Shark-E: You take that back right now! There is NEVER such a thing as too much boobs!

You chuckled to yourself, putting your phone down, and then finished off the last of your delicious dinner, thinking about the dress Eijiro mentioned.

You wondered if maybe there was a way you could make the thing work but it was so very low cut. So much tape had been used to make sure no slips happened but damn was it worth it! The beaded bodice with the sparkling long sleeves, gods, how you loved that dress.

"I'm inclined to agree with our shark boy. You're busty, who gives a damn. You looked hot as hell in that dress."

"My mother, that's who. As much as I'd like to not give a flying fuck what she thinks, for some dumb reason, I do. On top of her telling me that the amount of cleavage I would show would be vastly inappropriate for a wedding, she'd also say the way it hugs my hips makes them look too fat."

Mina rolled her eyes. "She's such a piece of work." Pushing herself up, she held her arms out to you, wiggling little pink fingers for you to take. "Come on then. Let's get you sorted."

"What about that one you wore to the charity art thingy with Kyoka last winter? The one with the silver top."

"Silver is too close to white." You called out from within your closet.

"What! Not true!"

"You know that. I know that. Every person with two brain cells knows that, which is why most of my family does not know that."

"Fine..." She whined and started sifting through the opposite end of your closet. "Oh, what about this?" Mina waved about the blue and green plaid skirt that made up your uniform from your middle school days when you lived in America. "Please try this on. I'm begging!"

You were pretty sure it wouldn't even go over your thighs anymore.

"It's got a better chance of fitting you!"

Mina threw it at you anyway. Slipping off the sweats you wore, somehow, someway, you were able to tug it on AND get it zipped, barely. It no longer covered your ass but you still enjoyed the way it swished around when you wiggled your hips.

"You could be fulfilling so many people's fantasies right now." Mina mused.

You pulled the skirt off and sweats back on, throwing the former back at her. "Yeah, you can take it and go fulfill Hanta's fantasies if you like. Not like I've got anyone to impress." You pulled down a dress you bought on sale a year ago but Mina was quick to dismiss it.

Too puffy, she said and then held up one that was from Momo. "I needed to get it shortened and I don't have time for that now."

"Wait..." She hummed and dropped the Momo dress. "I know what it should be!"

Mina hurried through the closet, grumbling about not finding it. "Just tell me which dress and I can tell you where it's at."

"It's that one you got for grad night and then you got sick and couldn't go!"

"Mina, Mina I can't wear that! That's actual vintage, not like, made-to-look-vintage!"

"But it's so elegant and has that off-the-shoulder sleeve thing. The wedding is at a damn sky lodge! It'll look so pretty in the snow! Ah! Found it!"

She yanked up the long, elegant gown from the garment bag you'd never removed it from. There wasn't a single wrinkle in the burgundy fabric. It looked just as beautiful as the day you found it in that second-hand store, on a mannequin with gaudy stage jewels that you just had to buy so the look was complete.

You ran the back of your hand over the velvety fabric, soft to the touch. "It'll be too tight now. If I was the same size I was at graduation-"

"Bullshit!" Mina cut you off with a dismissive hand, "You've got hips now. We aren't 18 anymore! It's not like it's some clubbing dress. And I bet no one would say a damn thing about your figure if they knew how easily you could crush them with those thighs!"

A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips. Without quirks, you gave every single one of your classmates a run for their money in hand to hand. Most were fairly easy to beat. You could usually take down Eijiro in about five or six minutes and Katsuki in half the time. Funny enough, it was Ochaco that gave you the hardest time.

"I'll consider it. But help me find something else just in case."

>>><<<

It was another two hours before you finally agreed on an a-line, empire waist green and gold number that had been the bridesmaid's dresses for Tetsutetsu's wedding. Mina thought they were a crime the first time they had to wear them, she had no idea what you were thinking.

That's why the moment you were preoccupied with trying to find yet another dress for the Sunday brunch, Mina pulled out her phone.

You: DO NOT, under any circumstances, allow Y/N to wear the green dress. She's bringing two because she can't decide. Red is the winner!

Jaws: Aw, come on. If she likes it, let her wear whatever she's comfortable in. She'll be under enough stress already.

You: Kirishima, it's the dress from Tetsu's wedding. The one that looks sparkly baby food.

It took him a second to respond.

Jaws: Alright. Understood. I thought you guys looked good but damn, she hated that dress.

You: We all did.

Mina looked at the message chain again and couldn't help but asked, "Are we just gonna ignore the fact that you and Eiji are flying all the way to America, last minute, to attend a wedding together, even though you're not together?"

"We've flown to the states before."

"For work!" She sat up eagerly. "This is different, Y/N! This is a date and not just a, like, casual date but a wedding date!"

You poked your head out of the closet. "No, it isn't. This is a friend helping another friend who stupidly mismarked an RSVP." You corrected very plainly but Mina wasn't one to give up so easily.

She whined, dragging out your name, "You guys have been doing this thing for ages. Why do you have to be so stubborn about it all!"

"What's that supposed to mean!"

Mina started ticking off points on her fingers. "He was the first person you opened up to at UA. You saved his life when he was busy saving Katsuki's life second year. You spent all that time interning together, became sidekicks together. Went to America together for three whole months, ALONE, and you honestly expect me to think there's nothing between the two of you!"

The truth of it all was simple really; 17 year old you had a massive crush on Eijiro Kirishima. He was sweet, always listening to you, providing comfort when you needed it, and always encouraging you to push your limits. He was bright and honest, a little slow in the head from time to time but that made him all the more endearing.

He was also head over heels in love with Katsuki Bakugo.

It was why you never made a move. Never spoke a word of the feelings you harbored. You didn't dare to cross that line with him because you couldn't ever hold a candle to the explosive man.

In the three years Eijiro and Katsuki spent together, your brain finally started registering Eijiro as just a friend, nothing more, and certainly nothing less. You thought your heart had followed suit but it was becoming more and more apparent that wasn't the case. Because the night he showed up at your door, tears in his ruby eyes, every lock you put on your heart broke open.

The same way you couldn't hold a candle to Katsuki, Eijiro couldn't hold one to Izuku. You knew exactly what he was feeling even if you never intended to tell him. Too overcome with fear. If Katsuki came back... that'd be it. Eijiro would go back and you wouldn't even blame him!

Still, the redhead consumed a decent chunk of your heart though, you couldn't deny that after the three months you spent together in America, gathering intel on a smuggling ring, living in the same apartment. The groggy, 'good mornings' when his voice was still scratchy with sleep, hair falling in his eyes. The late nights bandaging wounds and killing cheap bottles of wine while watching terrible American reality shows.

It was those bottles of wine that did you in on your second to last night in America. Supplying you with courage and draining your sense of reason, allowing you to crawl onto his lap, into his arms. You could still remember the pressure of his lips on yours, those sharp teeth gently dragging along your lower lip.

Scared hands tracing the curve of your ass before taking handfuls to squeeze. The laugh that came from you was unlike anything you heard before, something so genuine that you couldn't reproduce.

How it felt when he lifted you up and took you to his bed, laying you down taking his time removing your clothes, and watching with awe as you pulled away his own. The way he looked over top of you, his hair a curtain of red around you just before you closed your eyes, gasping while he filled you.

You also remembered the guilt that crept into your head during the wee hours of the morning, the doubt that was louder than the snores coming from behind you.

It made you slip from under his massive arm, gather up your clothes from his floor, you tucked the blanket around him, and pressed a kiss to his temple before padding out of the room.

You told yourself you'd talk to him about it if he brought it up, but he never did. Not the next morning, or night, not on the plane ride back home, nor anytime since. It was a memory you'd hold close to your heart, one you wouldn't let slip away or share.

"There's nothing there, Mina. We're just good friends is all." You lied with a smile on your face, something that had become surprisingly easy to do.

If only you knew that Mina saw right through it. That Mina already knew the truth of it all.

>>><<<

It was nearly one in the morning when your phone rang. The goofy picture of Eijiro with face half painted at a festival a few years back never failed to make you grin.

"It's a little late." You answered by way of greeting.

"Don't pretend like you were anywhere close to sleeping, you little night owl."

Chuckling at the nickname that had followed you since high school, "What's up, Eiji?"

"I was going over flights. You said in the office that you wanted to leave on Friday?"

"Yeah. I have patrol tomorrow and I didn't find any flights after 6 PM so, Friday is the earliest."

He was quiet on the other line for a moment. "Yeah, you don't have patrol tomorrow, or work at all for that matter."

You sat up a bit straighter in bed. "Um, yes I do."

"No, you don't. I called Mina, asked her if you'd mind taking that shift for you and, since she knows what's happening, she agreed the extra day for travel would do you some good. So, she's covering you tomorrow then you're off work until next Wednesday. As for me, thanks to all that overtime I put in when Denki, Kyoka, and Hitoshi got married, the three of them are splitting up my days so I have until Wednesday too."

Eijiro sounded impossibly proud on the other line, you could almost see the smirk on his face. "You've got this all planned out, don't you?"

"And a bag nearly packed. Just need you to tell me what ties to bring."

"Gold, burgundy, and black."

"Thought your mom said no black for you?"

"She said no black for the wedding. She said nothing about black at the brunch!"

You couldn't wait to put on the tea-length dress that had been a favorite for years. Satin with a lacy top and, best of all, pockets.

He let out a rumbling laugh that fell off into comfortable silence as you laid back in your bed, lights still on, the room still a mess. You tapped the speaker icon and laid the phone on the pillow right beside your head, listing to the various sounds of Eijiro moving around.

A door creaking open, a hanger clattering against another, and a zipper. "And just like that, I'm all set."

"Don't forget your passport or hero license."

"I have one in my wallet and the other in my backpack."

You swiped up on your iPad, off Netflix, and going to google, lazily searching through flights. "So, did you find any good flights since you've clearly been looking?"

Another chuckle, "Eijiro, why are you laughing?" More stifled giggles had you sitting up in bed again. "Just tell me a site you were on. They're just flights, what's so funny?"

"There isn't a site."

"You said you were checking flights."

"And I was... on my family's jet."

"Eiji! No! No, no, no! That is supposed to be for their business or hero things! My stupid cousin's wedding is neither of those things!"

"Relax, Y/N. My family has multiple and they don't have any business trips planned right now anyways. I already cleared it with my mom. Seriously, I just mention your name and she's likely to let me have it for a whole year at least. Plus Todoroki's is back up in working order so the agency is covered too."

Damn, why'd he have to be so good at planning from time to time! You'd completely forgotten about the second jet his family had. Always opting for the larger one since the few missions they needed it for required them to bring fifty or so heroes along.

"Besides, if we fly private, we can land at an airstrip closer to the venue and won't need to drive four hours on top of a ten-hour flight."

"Alright, okay, thank you but, let me take care of the rental car, please. It's the least you can let me do."

"Deal. I just have one more question for ya."

"What's that?"

"Wanna leave tonight?"

You nearly dropped your damn iPad in shock. "Eijiro! What the fuck has gotten into you! It's the middle of the night!"

"I'm excited!" He boomed, "I haven't had a vacation in months!"

"I hate to break this to you, buddy, but this isn't going to be a vacation. You really shouldn't get your hopes up. This isn't going to be a good time with laughs and fun memories... my family, they just, they aren't those kinds of people."

"But we are." He stated matter-of-factly. "If they want to have sticks up their asses then let them! We'll have a good time on our own, laugh and make fun memories! So, what do you say, Y/N? I can be at your place in fifteen. I just gotta put shoes on and grab my keys..."

"Wait, hang on. Are you forgetting that we need someone to, oh, I dunno, FLY THE PLANE! Actually, we need two someone's, can't forget about a co-pilot!"

He hummed happily and you rubbed your temples. "You, you have a pilot and a co, don't you, Eiji?"

"Mhm! There is a company we use. Two can be at the hanger in an hour and every hour after that. I just have to make the call and get the flight plan approved which will be done before I even get to your house."

There was literally no reason to say no. You had mostly everything packed, nothing you needed to get from the store, all you had to do was put on pants and pack up your hygiene bag and you were ready too. Maybe getting there quicker and getting the whole thing over with would be better than staying home dwelling on everything.

"Better put your shoes on."

The glee in his voice, that was enough to make this whole thing worth it, "I'll see you soon."

>>><<<

Eijiro reached into the backseat and plopped a bag down on your lap the very moment you were buckled in. "Had to make a pit stop." He explained.

"It's after two in the morning, where'd you have to..."

"Just open the bag and don't complain."

You found it filled to the brim with all your favorite snacks.

"I'm sure the plane will have a bunch of snacks we can raid but I know for a fact they don't have these." He held up a pack of cookies and creme flavored pocky that had been his favorite for as long as you'd known him, quickly followed by your favorite flavor too. You also found a massive bag of gummy worms and jolly ranchers.

"So, what you're telling me is our teeth are going to rot by the time we land? Not that I'm complaining."

You ripped open the bag of ranchers knowing that was what he'd go for first and sure enough his hand dove inside just as he pulled away from the curb. You could hear his dangerously sharp teeth biting through the rock candy like it was nothing while you still rolled one around your mouth.

Eijiro asked you about the resort you'd be going to, wondering if you'd been there before or what other stuff you guys could do when you weren't dealing with your family. "I figured we could fly back Monday night or Tuesday morning, you know, just play it by ear in case there was anything else we wanted to do."

More than anything, you wished you could just leech a little bit of that excitement from him. The glimpses of his smile you caught as you drove under the street lights made your heart ache.

"What?" He asked with that wide smile of his. You'd been caught staring, red-handed.

"I, uh, I just don't know what to tell you."

You could see the subtle change of his grin, watch as it softened and his hand came to rest on your thigh. "Hey, it's gonna be fine! And if we run into them while out doing stuff, you can just avoid them or hide behind me!" At least hiding behind Eijiro is an easy thing to do, damn mountain of a man.

His thumb slowly brushed back and forth. "'S gonna be okay. I'll beat 'em up if they're assholes!"

You snickered at his Katsuki impression and let the drone of the radio fill the air around you both. Enjoying the silence the rest of the way to the hanger with Eijiro's hand atop your leg.

#mha #bnha #kirishima x reader #kirishima x y/n #eijiro kirishima #kirishima smut #mha x reader #mha x y/n

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malfoysstilinski · 3 years

Note

Can you a Draco Smut where he gets bored and literally just decides to make out with and suck your clit slowly like lazily and teases you into an orgasm?

bored | draco malfoy smut 18+

draco malfoy x fem!reader

summary: draco’s bored so he decides to eat you out

warnings: 18+, smut, oral (female receiving), degradation?, really cute boyfriend!draco

word count: 2.1k

For some reason, lessons today felt like they had dragged on for far too long. Snape’s monotone voice had only drowned you deeper into a pit of boredom from where you sat at the back of his DADA lesson during the last period of the day, hoping that time would just speed up so you could spend your Friday evening with your boyfriend.

And finally the time came where Snape eventually dismissed the class, but not without a pile of homework and a stern message about the N.E.W.T exams quickly approaching. You didn’t even want to think about any of that right now; N.E.W.T level DADA would be the death of you, you were sure of that much.

“Come on pretty girl,” Draco whispered, his arm tucking around your shoulders, your head leaning on his shoulder slightly as you left the classroom. “You can nap in my room, or read - whatever you want.”

You smiled at that - you loved Draco’s room. He was a prefect, not to mention a Malfoy, so he got special privileges; one of them being a room all to himself. His double bed was far comfier than the single you had in your dormitory, which was where you found yourself five minutes later.

Your robe had been ditched; chucked somewhere onto the floor before Draco could even enter the room. You collapsed onto his bed, lying horizontally across the bottom half and staring up at the ceiling as you heard a huff come from Draco. You craned your head in time to see him swipe your uniform off the floor.

Draco didn’t even bother to scold you anymore - no matter how many times he said it, you always forgot his ‘nothing but feet on the floor’ policy. It sort of surprised you when you found out how tidy he was — much more organised than you, who couldn’t even be bothered to take your shoes off.

You wiggled your legs which were dangling off the end of the mattress and Draco rolled his eyes, finishing folding your robe and placing it on the back of his desk chair before moving over to your feet. His hand grabbed the back of your heel and he began to undo the laces of your school shoes, staring at you in amusement.

“You have me running around like a House-Elf for you,” he huffed.

You grinned up at him, lifting your head so you could see him properly. “I know,” you chirped.

Draco finally got both your shoes off, your toes wiggling in your tights as they thanked you for finally releasing them from their tight confidements. You watched your blond boyfriend move around the room to place your shoes neatly by the door before he peeled his robes and shoes off too, putting them away also tidily.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty, darling,” Draco muttered, shooting you a look as he climbed onto his bed, his back against the headboard as he grabbed his book off of the bedside table. “You gonna sleep?”

“No, just lay here,” you murmured back, your fingers fiddling with the detail of his silk bed covers. “I just want to… reflect on my day.”

“Oh, that meditation thing you’ve been doing?” Draco hummed, not lifting his eyes from his book as he stretched his legs out, them resting by your head from where you were curled up at the bottom of his bed.

“Reflecting is not necessarily meditating, Draco,” you reminded him for the hundredth time. “Just because you have no thoughts whatsoever.”

“I have no thoughts?” Draco glanced over, raising his eyebrows at you.

You giggled. “Yeah - I bet it’s just lift music in your head.”

“Lift music?” Draco repeated, confused.

Your eyes lit up - another fact you could give him. You loved how confused he looked whenever you told him about the other world he had grown up despising. You adored the way he asked questions and pretended not to be interested sometimes.

“A lift is a Muggle invention. It’s a metal box thing that replaces stairs sometimes; you get in, press which floor you want and it takes you up or down,” you explained to him, “And there is music inside it sometimes. And it’s really slow and…” You noticed the weird look on Draco’s face, your voice fading away. “Never mind.”

“I don’t get it,” Draco hummed before turning back to his book.

It made you giggle and shake your head. You closed your eyes soon after, just thinking. About Draco, about the homework Snape had set you, the Hogsmeade trip you planned to go on with Pansy next weekend…

You can feel his eyes on you.

Your own peel open and you turn to face him. “What?”

“My book’s shit,” he admitted.

“You’re halfway through it.”

“Yeah, and it’s shit.”

You frowned, your eyes moving from his face to the cover of said shit book. “I recommended that to you,” you pouted slightly.

“Which is why, as you can see, I’ve tried to like it - but I can’t,” Draco said, placing the book back down onto the bedside table. “It’s boring. And I’m bored.”

“How?” You cocked an eyebrow at him. “Classes literally ended twenty minutes ago max.”

Draco shot you a look. “So? I’m still bored.”

“Too bad, I’m -”

“You’re meditating, I know.”

“It’s not - Ugh, whatever. Yes, I’m meditating, so leave me alone,” you replied, rolling your eyes before closing them yet again.

There was more silence. Draco seemed to respect your wishes, not saying another word. All you could feel was the silk sheets beneath your body, all you could smell was Draco’s scent and the fresh fragrance of his bed covers, and all you could hear was the sound of your breathing and Draco’s - as well as the sound of him adjusting himself on the bed a little bit.

You wished you could stay like this forever. After the long day you’d just had, this was the perfect way to end it. Maybe some cuddles from Draco would make it better, but that could come a bit later, maybe after dinner.

Your thoughts were interrupted when you felt a weight above your legs. Your eyes cracked open and you glanced down, your brows furrowing at Draco. He wasn’t even looking at your face, he didn’t say a word, but he reached for your skirt and flipped it above your stomach, pulling your tights and panties down in one go.

“Draco -” You were cut off by his cold finger sliding up through your folds.

“Shh,” Draco muttered, still not even glancing at you, too focused on what was between your legs. “Go back to your meditating. I’m just… entertaining myself.”

You couldn’t complain with that. You found yourself complying, your head tilting back so you were facing the ceiling, your eyes closing. You weren’t really wet, much to Draco’s dismay, but you soon felt him spitting on your clit and felt it drip down your folds. His fingers slid it around, knocking purposefully at your bundle of nerves and causing arousal to spike through you.

When you felt yourself begin to get wet, your clit throbbing beneath his lazy, aimless touch, you couldn’t help but open your eyes, glancing down at him. He wasn’t even sitting between your legs - just beside you, his hand reaching for your cunt like he was half-heartedly playing some sort of game.

Draco’s silver eyes were entranced by your cunt, his fingers experimenting as they changed direction, moved about, all so agonisingly slow. After a minute of the torturous pace, his eyes flickered up to you and he lifted his hand towards your face.

“Wanna taste?” He asked as if he was talking about sharing food.

You opened your mouth anyway, two of Draco’s fingers slipping inside. You sucked around his digits, your tongue being invaded by your own taste - a taste that Draco insisted he could never get enough of. He pulled his hand away when you were done, looking back down at your cunt and beginning to rub again.

“Draco,” you whispered desperately as he hit the right place.

He glanced back up at you, smirking a little. “Does it feel good?” He murmured, voice deep and barely above a whisper.

“Mhm,” you mumbled back, eyes clenching shut again.

His mouth touching your cunt nearly made you jump. Everything about what he was doing was so lazy, as if he had all the time in the world and he wasn’t there to make you cum but to just satisfy his own boredom and curiosity. Maybe that was the only reason he was touching you like this, but either way, you liked it. You liked the teasing nature of the whole thing, even though it was tortuous how slowly his tongue came out to lick up your folds.

Everything inside you wanted to wither and grab at his hair and tug, begging him to go faster, but you refrained; your hands remained gripping the sheets beside you, your small whimpers that made Draco’s cock hard filling his bedroom.

His mouth was wet, a mixture of his own spit and your arousal, as it wrapped around your bundle of nerves, your back nearly arching as he began to suck softly. Your breath hitched, not used to the aimlessness of it all. It almost felt careless, but his hand on your thigh said otherwise as his thumb stroked circles against your skin.

Your lips pursed together, a moan threatening to leave your mouth as Draco sucked, his aristocratic-like lips working idly. His tongue peeked to swipe across you and this time your stomach clenched, your legs nearly clamping around his head. But Draco’s grip on your thigh tightened a bit in warning.

“Draco, please…” You whimpered, one hand going down to gently grasp at his platinum locks.

His head pulled away with your hand still in his hair, much to your dismay. He leaned his head against your thigh, staring down at your dripping cunt. His finger moved towards it and he circled your swollen clit, feeling your legs tremble slightly beneath him. Then his thumb came out and he rubbed it in small figure of eights, his breath still fanning you from where he used your thigh as a pillow.

“So pretty…” Draco muttered.

You swore if he didn’t start acting like his usual rough self then you were going to start crying. It was agonising, the way he seemed to not care. In a way, it felt degrading - like this was for him and not for you, and it only made you soak his fingers even further.

Draco’s mouth dived back in for your clit. It was like he was making out with it, his lips capturing it and sucking, his teeth grazing it slightly just to hear your small hisses and loud whimpers. His nose nuzzled against your mound, his hands still on your thighs.

When you looked down, all you could see was the slow bobbing of his head. His tongue was unmatched, skillful and taunting, slow and painful, and you would do anything to cum right now. Anything.

You could feel the tightening sensation in your stomach, your brain growing fuzzier and fuzzier as you acted with your hormones rather than your brain. Your hand gripped his hair tighter, your hips rolling for more, faster friction. You half-expected Draco to pull away from you and warn you to keep still, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“I’m gonna cum,” you admitted breathlessly.

Draco hummed against you, the vibrations making you cry out a little. You lifted your head back up to look down at him, finding his eyes already concentrated on you as he sucked your clit, rolling the knot between his tongue gently. You moaned loudly.

“Fuck, I’m cumming,” you hissed quickly before your orgasm washed over you.

Draco helped you ride it out, his tongue lapping up every wave of arousal, his hands still brushing your thighs comfortingly. He even groaned around your clit, encouraging you as you rolled your hips, your legs trembling even harder. His name slipped past your lips several times as well as some curses, before you were left breathing heavily on the mattress.

A whine left you when Draco didn’t stop kissing your cunt. “Draco…” You jerked beneath him slightly. “I’m sensitive.”

“I’m bored,” he murmured back as he pulled away, his fingers working at your clit and making you yell out in a mixture of pain and pleasure.

You knew for certain now; this was never about pleasing you, it was always about satisfying himself - and you knew you weren’t going to be let off the hook anytime soon.

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#draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy smut #harry potter #draco malfoy x female reader #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco #malfoy

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earlgreydream · 3 years

Text

misbehaving.

| wolfstar x reader | smut | fluff |

summary: the one where Remus gets Sirius to handle your behavior

I simply cannot get enough of these two

“Pads, she’s been a brat,” Remus said to Sirius as they walked back from charms.

“She needs to be disciplined. We can’t have her thinking she can just break our rules whenever she pleases.”

Your two boyfriends were talking about you. More specifically, they were talking about how you decided to run your mouth with Remus the evening before. He’d been trying to help you practice spells, and you had been incredibly disrespectful and resistant to his help.

They had decided not to react then and punish you, but to let you squirm with anticipation for a day, until you all returned from classes. As the two boys walked back to their dorm, they had been discussing how exactly to make you learn your place.

The anticipation was the worst part. You had sat through an entire day of classes, your mind wandering to whatever was in store for you after. You knew the boys were mad, despite their hands rubbing gentle circles to your leg as they sat beside you in class, or quick kisses in the halls between.

Your heart was hammering in your chest as you waited for them to return to their dorm. You didn’t know how you’d made it back earlier than them, but the twenty minutes seemed like hours while you waited.

Remus and Sirius ended their conversation as they entered their dormitory, finding you on Sirius’s bed. It was usually where you curled up for solace and safety, but now you were practically shaking amidst the maroon sheets.

“Hi bunny,” Remus hummed at you before lightly kissing Sirius. They set their bags down, and you swallowed hard.

“Hi daddy,” you answered Remus, your voice soft and meek.

You watched as Sirius’s skilled fingers undid his tie, brief glancing away to see Remus stretch out on his bed with a textbook.

“Come here,” Sirius called to you quietly.

You didn’t dare to hesitate, slipping off of his bed and walking to your boyfriend. His hands went to cradle your face, giving you a kiss. You melted at his touch, looking up into dark eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed, and his thumb stroked over your cheek.

“I know, but I’ve got to teach you to be respectful,” Sirius’s tone was sympathetic, and his rare soft side almost scared you more than his typical sadistic teasing.

Your hands wrapped around his wrist, and he kissed your cheek. You looked at Remus, who seemed entirely content to watch Sirius handle you. Remus was typically more forgiving with his discipline, and you didn’t want to be at the hands of your bratty dom.

Sirius watched you shoot Remus a pleading gaze, who ignored you. They exchanged a silent conversation, and you swallowed hard from nerves.

“Daddy...” you called out to Remus pathetically.

“What is it, bunny?”

Both boys waited for you to speak, and you suddenly regretted it, not wanting to make Sirius angry.

“I’m sorry about yesterday.”

“I know you are,” he nodded with a small look of approval. You wanted to run to him and bury yourself in his arms, take whatever he gave you.

Sirius’s hands left your face, and you immediately looked back at him. He led you to the corner, where he sat down on one of the big comfy chairs by the hearth.

If not for the fire, the silence in the room would’ve been deafening. Your hands were trembling as he pulled you onto his lap, having you straddle one of his thighs.

You leaned forward and buried your face in his neck, wrapping your arms around him. His hands rubbed up and down your back soothingly, and you couldn’t believe how soft he was being.

“Siri...” you whispered in a shaky whine, and he kissed your shoulder.

“Hm?”

You fell silent, and he flipped your skirt up, running his fingertips along the hem of the soft cotton that hugged your bum. You jolted forward a bit as he landed a slap over the fabric, and you kept quiet, your face hidden in him.

He smacked you three more times, your skin heating despite the barrier between you. He’d only managed to get a soft sigh from you, and you were trying to hold in any noises at all. You were trying to be good.

Your face burned in heat knowing that Remus was watching. You couldn’t focus on Remus for too long though, not as Sirius’s fingers peeled the cotton from your skin. He used his knee to push you off his thigh, getting them off your legs before pulling you back down.

It had forced you away from him, and you looked at your dominating boyfriend with glassy eyes. You held his shoulders, not letting him lay you back with your chest to his. He gave you a warning look, one of his hands wrapping around your wrists, reading to handle you himself.

“Bu-”

“Kiss?” you interrupted, blinking at him, and his gaze softened a bit before he sweetly kissed you.

“I’m going to be good, I promise, Siri,” you whispered, earning another kiss before he laid you back against him.

His hands smoothed down your backside and your thighs before coming back up to squeeze your rosy skin. This time, without the fabric to shield your tender skin, Sirius slapped you much harder. You bit your lip as his palm connected with your ass with loud cracks, tears threatening to slip down your cheeks.

“Sirius, it hurts,” you whined, attempting to squirm away from the harsh punishment you were receiving.

“I know, bunny, but you’re taking it so well. You don’t want to start acting up now, do you?” Sirius’s sweetness was starting to give in a bit to his typical mocking, and you shook your head.

“Be good for Sirius, Y/N,” Remus’s use of your name made you nod obediently, wincing as you settled back down on his lap.

Soft sobs left your body as Sirius spanked you for what felt like hours, not giving up until your skin was bright red from so many handprints. Your arms were tight around his neck, clinging to him for dear life as he continued your punishment.

You waited to Remus to tell Sirius to go easy on you, but it never came. Sirius finally decided you’d had enough when you were hiccuping from sobs, wincing even when he wasn’t touching you.

“Shh, it’s alright now, bunny, you’re done.” Sirius soothed you, rubbing your back gently.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you breathed, and he kissed the side of your head.

“I know, you’re alright. We’re not mad, my love.” Remus’s voice came from behind you. A choked whine ripped from your throat as you felt him gently rub something cold over your stinging skin.

“Pads did a number on you, didn’t he, bunny?” Remus asked, and you nodded weakly.

“I’m not going to be disrespectful again,” you swore, though your bratty attitude was likely to make your promise an empty one. Sirius laughed at that, making you sit up. He wiped your tears, kissing your swollen lips.

“I want one of your quidditch sweaters, Siri.”

“Of course,” Sirius eased you off of his lap, gently pushing you into Remus’s arms. Despite getting spanked, you wanted Sirius to hold you, and you had to fight not to whine at Remus for letting Sirius go on so long.

You slipped clean cotton boyshorts up your legs, wincing a bit as the fabric brushed against your raw skin. Remus kissed your head, his hands rubbing small circles on your waist.

“I love you, daddy,” you stood up on your toes to peck his lips, and he kissed your lips before kissing all over your face.

“I love you.”

Sirius returned, pulling his soft sweater over your head. It fell to your mid thigh, and he kissed the back of your neck. You leaned back into his touch, his arms wrapping around your waist. His warmth and faint scent of soap surrounded you, and you let yourself melt into the hug.

Remus appreciated Sirius being gentle and sweet, getting a break from having to scold him for being antagonizing.

“I wanna sleep, Siri,” you complained, and he lifted you up, making you shriek.

Remus shot him a look about getting you wound up before bed, and Sirius carried you to his.

“Want to sleep with me? I’ll hold you.” Sirius offered, and you nodded, wanting to soak up the affection while it lasted.

You curled up on his chest, sleeping soundly in his arms. You slept in, dozing all Saturday morning and snuggling in bed with the boys.

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ptergwen · 3 years

Text

favorite crime

w/c: 1.6k

warnings: swearing, mentions of blood / death, lots n lots of angst

summary: you convince peter to go on the run after he’s framed for murdering mysterio, but he doesn’t want to drag you into his mess

a/n: this was completely based off the song by olivia lfmbsjfhs it’s so beautiful and i’ve wanted to write something for it for a while now so yee i hope y’all like ! pls lmk what you think <3

“we have to get you out of here, peter! come on!” you shout back to your boyfriend and tug his hand that’s laced with yours.

peter doesn’t budge. even when your grip on him tightens, when you pull him forward with all your might, he remains stoic.

there’s something he needs to do, and he’s been contemplating it since the day he met you.

it’s time to let you go.

“please, peter. i’m begging. i know you’re tired of running, but if we don’t leave now… they’ll find you,” you desperately choke out. peter squeezes his eyes shut, dreading what’s to come. “i can’t do this to you anymore, y/n. i… i’m sorry.”

emergency sirens and flashing lights approach the old apartment building serving as yours and peter’s latest hideout. the whole world is on the lookout for him, so you two stowed yourselves away in brooklyn for a bit.

you were hopeful the rumors would pass eventually — about how peter shot the beloved mysterio and left him to die in cold blood. they’re merely talk, of course. you’d personally seen the events of that day unfold on the tower bridge. hell, your class was right at the center of them.

quentin beck was pure evil, so rotten he defamed both peter and spider-man with a charge as cruel as murder. he’s wreaking havoc on him from beyond the grave, over a complete misunderstanding that peter had nothing to do with.

beck’s true source of anger is stark industries. yet, once again, peter ended up the collateral damage.

he was deemed a wanted murderer. posters revealing his name and face were plastered up around the city, a reward even being offered to whoever who turns him in.

you’d proposed the idea of skipping town until things settled. the way you saw it, it was peter’s only option other than prison for twenty-five to life. peter was panicking and couldn’t think straight, so he went along with your getaway plan.

a few weeks later, he’s regretting it.

you’ve been the one person he could trust through this madness. you’re right there to console him, to protect him just like he does you. through sickness and health, life and clearly death, you stick by peter’s side. you left everything behind without a second thought, for him.

peter loves you more than you’ll ever fully be able to comprehend, which is why he can’t ask you to do that. this is his battle to fight, not yours or anyone else’s. his.

you suddenly freeze in your tracks, turning around to look at peter. “what are you talking about? you’re fine, pete.”

his eyes roam everywhere except to yours as they water. blinking back tears, he fixes his gaze on your intertwined hands. you notice a stray tear fall down his cheek and use one of your thumbs to wipe it away, then press a reassuring kiss to his lips. peter lets himself reciprocate momentarily before jerking back.

“please just… stop being so nice to me. you’re making this way harder than i wanted to to be,” he rasps and squeezes your hand tighter. you’re still lost, absolutely clueless about what he’s referring to.

“look, pete. i wanna hear you out, baby. but… i think it should wait until we get to jersey.” you keep your voice as calm as possible, though you’re terrified for both of you. since the feds know your location, they’ll have the place surrounded any minute.

hopping cities isn’t cutting it anymore, so you’ll have to change states this time. new jersey is next on your list.

using his strength to his advantage to hold you in place, peter seizes both your shoulders. his bloodshot eyes lock with yours. a stern expression coats his features, one you’ve seen from him yet never been on the receiving end of.

“we’re not going to jersey, y/n/n,” he declares, the sirens starting to grow louder. you feel a pit forming in your stomach. “we have to!” you immediately protest. “it’s not gonna be easy finding our way, but it’s the last-“

peter cuts you off, voice softer now. “no, no. that’s not what i meant.” he waits a beat and inhales a deep breath, aiming to settle his nerves. it doesn’t.

“i’m going to jersey. you’re staying.”

tears cloud your vision the second those words leave his mouth. you shake your head furiously back and forth, willing him to take them back.

part of you was always afraid peter would get second thoughts. not only about running away with you, about ever being with you. you’re both so young. your entire lives are ahead of you, and peter won’t allow you to risk your own because this isn’t worth a single bit of it.

he’d warned you how dangerous it was to be associated with spider-man. it’s why he held off on telling you about his alias for the longest he could. you naturally began asking questions whenever peter bailed on dates and showed up to school covered in bruises. he hated lying to you, using his stark internship as an excuse, so he finally came out and said it.

peter sometimes wonders if you’d be better off not knowing at all. it’s too late now, though.

“wait, what? why- why can’t i go with you?” you plead, peter’s fingers coming up to cup your cheek. his fingertips lightly caress your skin. “i’m a criminal, y/n. you’d be my accessory.”

it takes everything in him not to break down and sob along with you.

you lean into his palm, already missing his touch. “i don’t care... i don’t give a fuck. i just wanna be with you, peter.” peter literally has to bite his tongue to fight the urge to cry. hands grabbing either side of his head, your fingers twist in his hair roughly. “i’ll do anything, pete. i really will, i swear. name it.”

peter threads his own fingers through yours again, bringing your hands to his chest.

“i’m so sorry, angel. i never should’ve gotten you involved,” he murmurs out and pecks your forehead. “you have nothing to prove to me, okay? you’ve done more than enough. i’m gonna return the favor.”

you let out a strangled whine, your knees buckling as you come to terms with the gravity of your situation.

this is it. this is the end of yours and peter’s story.

“hey, none of that. it’s okay,” peter coos, neither of you convinced. the tastes of salt and metal flood both your senses. he helps you back up and hugs your waist, peppering your cheeks in more kisses. you’re bawling now, arms wound around his neck, clutching at his tattered jacket.

free tears escape peter’s eyes at last. “i love you. i love you so goddamn much, y/n. never forget it,” he nearly whispers. you sniffle and push your forehead against his. “i’m not saying it back ‘cuz that feels like a goodbye, and i- i can’t say goodbye to you yet.”

“it’s not a goodbye,” peter reassures you, rubbing circles on your lower back. “it’s, uh, it’s a see you later. i’m gonna figure something out and be back to you before you know it. can’t get rid of me that easy.”

that earns a faint giggle from you, peter managing a grin. you two attempt to ignore everything happening beyond these walls, only focusing on the other.

“then, um…” you clear your throat. “i love you.” his smile dwindling slightly, peter nods and meets your gaze. “i love you too, baby. you should probably get going soon.”

affirming his advice, a booming voice that sounds from a microphone commands peter to come out with his hands up.

your worry spikes, instinctively drawing peter in closer. he forces himself to put on a brave face for you.

“i’m scared, pete. where… where am i supposed to go?” you rush to ask him. “home, y/n/n. go home,” peter decides, pressing a final kiss to the top of your head. “just don’t get caught, and you’ll be fine.” carding your fingers in his undone curls, you sigh. “easier said than done, but i’ll try not to.”

you’d never pictured that the sweet boy with a heart too big and brain even bigger, who sings you to sleep even though his voice sucks and spends his last dollar buying you flowers, would be accused of first degree murder. it isn’t true or fucking fair.

what’s worse, he has to bare this storm alone now.

you lift your heavy backpack off the cold ground, slinging it onto your shoulders. peter stares out the window and down at the assembly of swarm troops crowded together.

“are you gonna be okay?” you catch his attention. he snaps back into reality, pulling your hood up so it covers your head. you’re wearing a sweatshirt of his, after having gone through all your own clothes. “i hope so. are you?” peter repeats your question. “i hope so,” you echo.

tying your hoodie strings tight, peter offers a smile. “say hi to may for me. ned and mj, too.” it’s going to be tough to face his family and friends after this. “i will. i’ll let them know you’re alright.” you kiss his cheek, placing a hand on his chest. peter lets your touch distract him from the mess he’s about to be hit with.

“thank you, y/n. i’ll see you soon, baby. you have my word,” he promises, stepping back so you two can go your separate ways.

you watch him with fresh tears threatening to spill.

“i’m gonna hold you to it. be safe, spidey.”

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spencerreidsconverse · 3 years

Text

Connected

summary: Spencer visits reader at work for their lunch break, but tension curbs their appetites

word count: 2.1k

warnings: Smut!!! Degradation, Unprotected sex, Use of pet names, semi-public sex (in an office).

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Female Reader

A/N: This is a sequel to my previous fic Connection but can also be read as a stand alone!

Spencer walked into the cafe, trying to keep his nerves to a minimum. He knew you already reciprocated his feelings so there was no reason to be so anxious. Between his ever-changing schedule and your dedication to the cafe, you’d agreed to have lunch at your work so you could finally see each other again. It wasn’t the most romantic first date, but given that you’d met when he was hunting a psychotic killer who was coming for your neck, it fit quite well with your previous interactions. Despite his efforts, when he saw you taking a customer’s order his heart began to pound and he had to really try to catch his breath. You were easily the most breathtaking when you were in your element. A smile on your face, your apron tied and held with a pin, and your voice like a songbird. He waited for you to be done with the orders you had stacked and a few short minutes later he saw you pull off your apron and make your way towards him.

“Hey, Spence! How’s your day been?” You leaned in and kissed his cheek, earning one of his pretty boy smiles. He kissed your forehead in return. “Hello, my love. It’s been an underwhelming day compared to now. I’ve missed you.” You smiled softly at his words, leading him to a small booth towards the back of the shop where two sandwich boxes and two large paper cups sat. “I wanted everything to be ready so I could talk to you for as long as possible, I hope that’s okay.” You were suddenly afraid he’d be displeased with your choice of food but he quickly put you at ease with an enthusiastic nod. “It’s perfect Y/N.” You both sat at the table and began to eat, discussing the week that had passed since he’d dropped you off at your apartment. He asked how you’d been feeling and if you’d noticed any other side effects from your injuries. You quickly soothed his fears and told him you’d felt fine except for a little bit of stinging on your wrists.

You were a few bites into your sandwiches when one of your employees, Alexandria came up to you. “Hey Mama, do we have quarters in the back?” You cocked your head at the question and nodded at the girl in front of you. “Yeah, we should. Did you go check?” She gave you a simple shrug before thanking you and making her way back behind the counter as another customer came through the doors. You turned back to Spencer to apologize for the interruption but instead, you were met with his smirking face. “What’s so funny Dr. Reid?” He kicked at your shin softly at the mockery of his honorific “Just that I teach a college class and this is still the most watched I’ve felt by a bunch of kids in their early twenties.” You looked at him wide-eyed before turning around just in time to see your employees make a horrible attempt at looking busy. One of your assistant managers was pretending to wipe the register screen off with her bare hand, avoiding eye contact like the plague. “You know what, why don’t we finish our lunch in my office” you proposed, rising from your seat before Spencer had the chance to respond. He followed your actions and you had crossed through the counter when another of your employees, Max stopped you. “Y/N Wait!!! You can’t go back there, what if we need you??” He gave you his best attempt at puppy eyes in hopes that you’d pity him but you eyed him with false annoyance.

“That’s why I hire managers Max. I’m sure if you all put your meddling aside and actually focus then it’ll be a quick thirty minutes. If any of you knock on my door, there better be blood or fire. Got it?” They all nodded dejectedly and went back to their respective stations to straighten up while you continued back through the hallway that led to your office. Spencer moved aside to allow you to unlock your door and flick the light on. You pulled the seat opposite to your computer and desk chair around so they were both on the same side of the desk before resting in the smaller one. Spencer quickly joined you, careful not to knock into the computer on his left. “You weren’t kidding when you said they were like your family were you?” You shook your head with a smile “of course not. As much as they get on my nerves, they’re the sweetest kids I’ve ever met. They respect how much I care about my business and they do their jobs with diligence. I couldn’t run the company without them and I make sure they know it. When you have mutual respect, the workplace is a hell of a lot more fun, dontcha think?” Spencer nodded, smiling at your small tangent. “Of course, the BAU has been my family for a long time now, I know exactly what you mean.” Your conversation continued lightheartedly for a few more minutes when you reached up to push a stray curl out of his face.

He turned his head to face you and before you could take in another breath his lips were pressed against yours passionately, placing a hand around the back of your neck. You pushed your chair out away from the desk and swiveled his chair so you could climb into his lap, reattaching your lips as fast as you could manage. His hands slid up your thighs and rested underneath your dress on your bare hips, toying with the waistband of your panties, leaving a trail of fire where his hands lingered. You in turn pushed down into his lap, feeling how hard he was through his trousers. You whimpered into the kiss softly at the groan you managed to elicit from his mouth, but before the moment could continue you heard whispers and one poorly muffled giggle. You ripped away from Spencer long enough to yell in the general direction of the door. “Are you working right now? I swear to god if I get up there and there’s a single customer all of you will stay late for inventory.” That was enough of a threat and you heard footsteps scampering away. “Are you sure you want to do this here?” Spencer asked you, nervously eyeing the door again. “Yeah, as long as you can stay quiet Dr. Reid.” You eyed the man with a smirk and he tangled his fingers in your hair to pull you close to him in return.

“Sweet girl… I’m not going to be the one with that problem.” You moaned at the tugging sensation and before you could muffle it yourself he pressed your mouth against his own again, pulling your panties aside and running his finger against your folds, earning another muffled moan as he gathered your wetness. You ground down against his hand and he chuckled at your eagerness before slipping a finger inside of you. You broke your kiss to catch your breath but he instead began to curl his finger against you, knocking what little breath you managed to cling onto out of your lungs. “Spence… god Spence you feel so good.” He smirked at how fast you were falling apart around him. “Y/N I thought you said we had to be quiet? Look at you, you became a whimpering little mess so fast. You just needed to be touched huh?” You nodded pathetically against his shoulder where your head sat and let out a gasp “Spencer please… I want you inside me”

He nodded and lifted you up, placing you on the desk before you could process you were in the air. “Y/N unless you have a condom in your desk drawer, how do you wanna do this?” “I’m clean and I have an implant. I’m okay with it if you are Spence.” He smiled and kissed you softly for a few seconds, letting you enjoy the sweetness before returning his two fingers inside you, making you moan out against his mouth. He pulled your panties all the way off and broke the kiss to shove them in your mouth “I have to make sure you stay quiet for me baby girl.” You let out a moan both at his words and the taste of yourself flowing through your mouth. He kissed down your neck and pulled up your dress far enough to run his hands over your bra before wriggling his hand underneath the band, grazing over your nipple. You moaned through the fabric in your mouth and he removed his fingers from you, making you whine. You heard the clank of metal before you felt him press against your entrance. “You ready for my cock angel?” You nodded rapidly, and let out a long moan as he pushed completely inside you.

“God you feel so good baby. You’re so good for me” You felt your eyes roll back into your head at his words that matched his thrusts deep inside you. “Fuck Spence - You’re so deep inside me.” He grunted and wrapped his hands around your hips, pulling you harder back onto him. A few minutes of him slamming you into the desk passed while you both fought to keep quiet, his hips stuttered and he moved one of his hands down from your hip to rub small circles on your slit, making you whine. “I want you to cum with me, baby girl. I want you to cum all over my cock sweetheart.” You nodded at his words as you felt yourself nearing the edge of your climax. You wrapped your own hand around his wrist that was left at your hip “Spencer, I’m gonna cum. I want your cum inside me baby” you let out a long moan when he rubbed your clit faster, feeling his thrust deep inside of you. “I’m gonna cum inside you sweet girl. My good girl” He let out with his final few thrusts before you felt his cum leak into you. “Fuck baby.” He let out a shaky breath and laid his head down against your chest. “You’re so good for me baby. Are you okay?”

You nodded slowly, feeling the last of your high wear off. “God that was… amazing Spence.” You slowly sat back up with his help and redressed slowly as he did the same, cleaning up your desk with the cleaning wipes. You finished dressing and sauntered over to him, wrapping your hands around his neck. “That was by far the best lunch break I’ve ever had.” He smiled and dropped the cloth into the wastebasket, placing his hands around your waist. “I must say I agree with you, except for that now I have to leave.” He said sadly, kissing the tip of your nose.You met his lips and kissed him deeply for a few seconds. “Yeah, I need to get back out there anyways. I’ll see you later?” He nodded and pecked your lips again. “Yes. Sooner than later if I have anything to do with it.” You smiled at his remarks and let him pass you to make his way out of the office and back to the BAU. You followed a few feet behind him and went back behind the counter as he made his way towards the door. “Spencer wait!” you heard Alexandria call to him. He turned around to meet her gaze and she smirked slyly “Does this mean you’re our daddy now?” His cheeks turned beet red and you gasped. “Alex! What the hell??” Spencer let out a chuckle and shook his head, taking your scolding as his opportunity to make it out of the shop. You struggled to hold your laughs back as you scolded her but failed and you both began to giggle. You took the empty shop as a chance to text Spencer.

“I’m the only one that gets to call you Daddy <3.”

A few minutes pass and you busy yourself with checking your stock when your phone buzzes in your pocket.

“Damn right, Princess. Feel like joining me at my apartment for dinner tonight?”

You smiled, excited for even more time with the man.

“Of course! What’s on the menu?”

“You.”

You felt your cheeks blaze and you placed your phone back in your pocket, resigning yourself to count down the hours until you could see him again. Finally, as you were locking the door your phone buzzed again with a new message.

“Here’s the address. Apartment 23. Hurry up angel, I’m starving ;)”

413 notes · View notes

atlafan · 3 years

Text

a/n: hola!! So, I’m posting the first 7K here since this is just one long one-shot. I hope y’all will join patreon to continue reading the rest of the story. I worked really hard on this one, and for whatever reason I feel like this is some of my best writing. Enjoy!

Words in total: 38K

Warnings:

TW - mentions of abortion/planned parenthood

Some angst, mostly just two people being idiots

Smut - slight daddy!kink, slight soft dom

Being the new kid in school is never easy. When you’re in elementary school, it’s exciting. Everyone wants to know you and be your friend, but in middle school…the kids judged you on day one. Orla Murphy and her family moved to Boston halfway through fifth grade. It would have been one thing if it was summer, she’d be able to slide in undetected. She could just pretend she was from a different elementary school and be done with it. But no, her father got offered a new job in the big city that he couldn’t turn down. Orla’s an only child, so it wasn’t even like she could mope and complain with a sibling. It was just her and her parents, and even though her mother was a bit more sympathetic to her daughter’s misery, it didn’t make Orla feel better.

So, here she is, on her first day of school on February 1st standing in front of a classroom of kids she doesn’t know, being forced to introduce herself and where she’s from.

“Go on, Orla, tell us a little about yourself.” The teacher says with a warm smile.

“Um…I’m Orla Murphy, I just moved here from Vermont. I’m from a small town where the whole school is the size of this classroom.” She looks down at her snow boots before looking up at the teacher.

“Wow, this’ll be quite the adjustment. What do you like to do for fun?”

“I draw and listen to music. I play Barbies, um…that’s all I can think of right now.”

“That’s fine, thank you, Orla. You can have a seat now.”

Orla goes back to where she was sitting before she got called up to introduce herself to her home room. She slumps down into her seat and listens to the morning announcements. The bell rings and it’s off to math. The class goes across the hall to the other teacher.

By the time lunch rolls around, Orla isn’t feeling much better about her new school. She had brought lunch, and wasn’t sure who to sit with. Her class has two assigned tables, but she doesn’t want to take anyone’s usual seat. She contemplates going to eat in the bathroom until someone taps her on the shoulder.

“You can sit with me and my friends, if you want.”

She turns around to look at a boy with a mess of chocolate brown curls on his head, a pair of round glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, and braces gracing his smile.

“Oh, um, thanks.” Orla blushes and follows him to one of the tables.

“I’m one of the few people that brings lunch too, everyone should be over soon. I’m Harry by the way.”

“Hi.” She says shyly.

“What kind of a name is Orla?” He asks, biting into his apple after they sit down.

“It’s Irish…”

“Cool! Does it mean anything.”

“Golden princess, or something like that, I don’t really know. My dad’s Irish and I guess his grandmother’s name was Orla so they named me after her.”

“That’s really cool. My mom just liked the name Harry, and now that’s my name.” He shrugs. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“No.” She says, and pulls her sandwich out of her lunchbox. “Do you?”

“Mhm, I’ve got three older brothers, I’m the youngest. My oldest brother is a senior in high school, isn’t that cool? He’s going to college next year.”

“Does he drive you places?”

“Yeah! And sometimes he lets me sit in the front seat without my mom knowing. He’s the best.”

Orla felt like she was finally starting to open up, but Harry’s friends joined their table and took over the conversation. They acknowledged her, but didn’t make any effort to pull her back into the conversation. Harry noticed this and didn’t like it. She excuses herself a few minutes before the bell rings to go use the bathroom. There’s a study block after lunch where all of the kids in class could get a jump on homework, or read.

“Okay, everyone!” Mrs. Sampson, the teacher, cheers. “We’ve got a very special treat today. It’s Harry’s birthday, and his mom sent him in with cupcakes for the whole class!” Harry stands up and smiles as Mrs. Sampson places a birthday crown on his head. “Harry, would you like to pick someone to help you pass out the cupcakes?”

“Sure.” He nods and looks around the room. Many kids raise their hands with excitement. He spots Orla looking out the window with her chin resting on her fist. “I pick…Orla!”

Her attention snaps over to Harry while everyone looks at her. She stands up and walks over to him and takes a tray of cupcakes to help pass them out. Once everyone has their cupcakes, and a carton of milk supplied by Mrs. Sampson, the kids are allowed to sit with their friends and chat. Soon, some of the girls start talking with Orla, and it helps her feel more welcome.

By the end of the day, all of the kids are dismissed to go to their lockers and grab their backpacks before getting into their bus lines or go wait for their parents to pick them up. Orla sees Harry at his locker and she works up the courage to go talk to him.

“Hey, um, why’d you pick me earlier?” She asks him.

“Huh? Oh…I don’t know, I didn’t like that my friends were ignoring you at lunch. So, I just thought if you passed out the cupcakes with me more people would talk to you.” He rubs the back of his neck and grabs a card out of his locker. “Listen, I’m having a birthday party this weekend at Roller World, you should come.” He hands her the invitation. “The whole class is coming, it’ll be fun.”

“I’ll, um, I’ll ask my parents…thanks, Harry.”

“Don’t mention it.” He smiles. “Are you taking the bus home?”

“Yeah.”

“What number?”

“Eleven.”

“That’s my bus! You weren’t on it this morning.” He closes his locker and they start making their way to the auditorium where the bus lines are.

“Yeah, my mom wanted to drop me off this morning to walk me into the office so I could get my schedule and stuff.”

“Cool, where do you live?”

“I’m the second to last house on the left of Langston Ave…number twenty-four.”

“You can’t be serious. That’s literally right across the street from where I live! I was wondering who moved into that house. I’m number twenty-seven.”

“Whoa, that’s freaky.” Orla blinks.

“Well, at least you know you have a friend close by. We can wait at the bus stop in the mornings together if you want.” The two go into their line and wait as the teacher on duty keeps them at bay. “Do you wanna sit together?”

“That’s okay, I’m sure you have other friends you usually sit with.”

“Yeah, but none of them are new and exciting.” He scoffs. “Unless…uh, if you don’t wanna sit with me that’s totally fine.”

“No, I do! I just didn’t want you to think you had to offer.” She blushes.

“You’re funny, you know that?” He gives her shoulder a nudge with his hand, and the teacher lets the kids know they can go to their bus.

Orla follows Harry outside and onto bus eleven. He grabs a seat in the middle of the bus and sits down. Orla sits down next to him and smiles. The two talk the whole way home. Harry listens as Orla explains what her dad does for work and why they had to move.

“You’re gonna like living closer to the city, I think. It’s really fun to ride the trains and stuff.” Harry tells her.

They get to their stop and make their way off the bus. Orla’s mom is waiting outside on their front steps for her with a smile on her face.

“Um, thanks for being so nice to me today.” Orla says to Harry.

“You don’t have to thank me. Don’t forget to ask your parents about coming to my party on Saturday, okay?”

“Okay, bye.”

“See you tomorrow.” Harry smiles before crossing the street to his house.

“There she is! How was your day? Was that a new friend?” Orla’s mom gives her a big hug and kiss.

“Mum, stop!” She pushes her mother off of her and they both go into the house. “I got invited to a party on Saturday, can I go?” She hands her mother the invitation Harry had given her.

“Sure! I think I can make this work. I knew you’d make friends right away.”

“I didn’t make friends, I just made one. His name is Harry.” Orla sits down at the kitchen island while her mom makes up an after school snack for her.

“One is still good, Honey. I know this move hasn’t been easy for you, but I’m so proud of you for making it through your first day.” Mrs. Murphy sets down some peanut butter covered celery sticks in front of Orla. “Were your teachers nice?”

“Mhm, Mrs. Simmons is my homeroom teacher, and she’s my English and Social Studies teacher. Mrs. Rayburn is my math and science teacher from across the hall. We had a study block after lunch and we had cupcakes cause it’s Harry’s birthday. Tomorrow we have art after lunch.”

“That’ll be fun.” Mrs. Murphy smiles. “Wait until Dad gets home, he’ll be so happy to hear how your first day went.”

On Saturday, Orla takes a deep breath as she walks into the roller rink. Her mother is right behind her making sure she gets in safely. Orla grips the gift bag with Harry’s present in it as they walk further in.

“There they are.” Orla says to her mom, and they make their way over to the other kids and their parents.

“Orla, you made it!” Harry beams and gives her a high five. “Put that down, we can go get your skates.” He tugs her along to the counter while Mrs. Murphy says hello to Mr. and Mrs. Styles.

“Hi, Monique Murphy, I’m Orla’s mum.” She shakes both of their hands.

“You just moved in across the street, right?” Mrs. Styles says. “We’ve been meaning to come over to introduce ourselves.”

“No worries, I’m sure you’ve been busy putting all of this together. Your son has been so sweet to Orla these past few days.”

“We’ve always taught him to treat others with kindness. Um, is your husband at home, or is it just you two in that darling cape house?” Mrs. Styles asks.

“Oh, Shawn’s doing some unpacking for me. I work from home, and I needed him to put my desk back together and all that.”

While Mrs. Murphy gets acquainted with the other adults, Harry helps Orla lace up her skates. Many of the other kids say hello to her, but mostly keep to their established friend groups.

“Have you ever roller skated before?” Harry asks her as he helps her stand up.

“No.” She wobbles and latches onto his shoulders. “Maybe I should just sit this out. I don’t wanna slow anyone down.”

Harry rolls his eyes and takes Orla’s hand to help her get to the rink entrance.

“Come on, Harry! We’re gonna race!” One of the boys says.

“In a minute, I’m hanging with Orla right now.” He looks back at Orla as they both get onto the rink. “Okay, so you’re gonna glide right and left.” He spins around to take her hands, and starts slowly skating backwards. Orla looks at him with wide eyes. “I play ice hockey.”

“Oh, cool.” She swallows, and grips his hands as she follows his movements.

“There you go, you’re doing it!” Harry cheers her on. The DJ announces that cosmic skating is about to begin, and the rink goes pitch black. Neon lights turn on around the rink and everyone starts cheering. “Think you’ve got the hang of it so I can skate beside you?”

“Yeah, but you can go with your other friends. I don’t want you to think you have to babysit me.”

“I don’t think that.” He moves beside her and takes one of her hands. “It’ll just be easier to guide you like this.”

Orla ends up having a fun time with Harry, and she even warms up to some of the other kids. She learns that Logan, Owen, and Matt are Harry’s three best friends. Logan takes Orla’s other hand at one point and helps her skate a little faster with them. She laughs with all of them and gets the hang of skating on her own. Eventually it’s time for pizza, cake, and presents. Orla sits next to Sammy and Frida, two of the girls she was getting friendlier with in class. Harry starts opening his gifts. He gets some action figures, a new Bruins jersey, skate laces, and then he gets to Orla’s gift. From the few days Orla had spent getting to know Harry, she had learned that science was one of his favorite subjects. So, she got him a make your own volcano kit.

“Wow!” He exclaims as he pulls the kit out of the bag. “This is so cool! Thanks, Orla!” He smiles at her.

“You’re welcome.” She says back quietly.

After they eat, the kids go back for a few more rounds on the rink. Others go off to play in the arcade area. Kids start getting picked up by their parents, and Mrs. Murphy lets Orla know it’s time to go.

“I’m really glad you came.” Harry tells her.

“Me too, thanks for inviting me. Um, see you on Monday?”

“Yeah.” Harry pulls something out of his pocket. “I won these at the arcade, they’re just rubber bracelets, but I don’t need two of them. Do you want one?” He holds up the red rubber bracelet that has Roller World imprinted into it.

“Sure, thanks.” Orla takes the bracelet and slides it onto her wrist. She watches as Harry puts his own on.

From that day on, Harry and Orla were the best of friends. They did everything together. She’d go to his hockey games, and he’d invite her over to do homework after school. In the summer time they’d go swimming in his pool, and Mr. Murphy would grill them up some burgers. By the time eighth grade hit, the teasing started. Their friends told them to just kiss already, and they’d ask why they’re not boyfriend and girlfriend. Orla didn’t like Harry like that, as cute as he was. He was just her friend, and she liked it that way. Did they go to the eighth grade dance together and have a conjoined end of middle school party? Sure, but that’s what friends do.

High school is an entirely different ball game. They lived closer to the high school, so they didn’t need to take the bus. Harry and Orla would walk together every morning. They were put into different homerooms because of their last names, but they had many classes together. They were able to choose their seats so they made sure to sit together whenever they could. They had the same lunch period with their friends, so it was easy enough to get through the day. Orla tried out for the girls’ volleyball team, and she got on, so Harry would make sure to go to her matches. He made it onto the varsity hockey team, so Orla continued to go to his games as well. Again, people continued to ask if they were dating. This was mostly because Harry got more handsome by the day and girls were starting to express their crushes. Orla was pretty in her own right, but she was too shy to even look to see if anyone was looking back at her.

They went to school dances as a group, but they always danced to slow songs together. The summer between freshman and sophomore year of high school, the duo got jobs working at a retirement community restaurant that only hired high school students as servers. This meant new friends, and new people to hang out with after work. Most nights someone would host a fire in their backyard, and most nights this led to making stupid decisions. Orla and Harry didn’t drink, but they did smoke weed every once in a while.

“I don’t wanna smell like it, my parents would freak out.” Orla says to her friend who’s about to pass the joint to her.

“We could shotgun it.” He says.

“What do you mean?”

“I can inhale it and pass it to your mouth.” He smirks.

“Oh…” She furrows her brows. Harry isn’t paying attention to the interaction between Orla and Trevor, the sixteen-year-old boy who Orla secretly had a crush on. “Wouldn’t that be like kissing?” She giggles.

“Maybe, would that be a bad thing? If I kissed you?”

“You wanna kiss me?” Orla asks, but before she can get an answer, Harry’s hand finds her shoulder.

“My dad’s here, we need to go.” He says into her ear.

“Oh, um, okay.” Orla stands up.

“If you wanna stay longer, I can drive you home.” Trevor says.

“You’ve been smoking.” Harry says, stepping in front of Orla. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He takes Orla’s hand and tugs her along.

“Harry, where’s your dad’s car?” Orla asks when they get to the front of the house.

“He’s not here, I just said that so Trevor would leave you alone. We’re only a block away from home, let’s just walk.”

“Trevor wasn’t bothering me though.” Orla says to him as they start walking.

“Well, he was bothering me.”

“Why?”

“He was pressuring you into taking a hit off his joint.”

“No he wasn’t. And since when do you care if I want to smoke? It’s not like it would have been my first time.”

“I have some edibles in my room, we can have those.”

“Harry, you ruined something that could have been really special.”

“Yeah? Like what?” He huffs, walking slightly ahead of her.

“Trevor was going to kiss me, and I really like him.” Harry stops short and turns around to look at her. “And you know that would have been my first kiss, so…it would have been special.”

“You wanted your first kiss to be with a guy you would taste like weed in front of a ton of our friends?”

“No one was watching us.” She looks down.

“Why do you like him?”

“Because he’s cute and funny, and he always helps me buss my tables at work.”

“Is that all it takes?” Harry scoffs.

“What’s your problem? You flirt with girls all the time, you know.”

“Girls flirt with me, and news flash, I haven’t kissed anyone either. It’s not like I’m being hypocritical.” He rolls his eyes and starts walking again. Orla crosses her arms over her chest and follows behind him in silence. They don’t say another word to each other until they get to their street, and Orla starts to walk away from him towards her house. “Where are you going? I thought you were sleeping over.”

“Think I’d rather just be alone right now. I’m too annoyed to spend another second around you tonight.”

“You’re being a baby.” He follows her across the street and they both stop at the front of her walkway.

“And you’re being a jerk.”

“Why would you want your first kiss to be with someone who’s just trying to get into your pants?”

“He’s not like that.”

“Yes he is! I heard him, okay? I heard Trevor talking to Eric at the dish drop off. He…he has some bet with him that by before summer is over you two will have gone all the way.”

“You’re lying.” Orla’s eyes start to water.

“I’m not, why would I lie to you?”

“I don’t know!” Orla sprints off into her house. Harry sighs heavily and goes to his own house.

Mr. and Mrs. Murphy have already gone to bed, so Orla’s quiet as she makes her way up to her room. She washes her face and brushes her teeth before getting into her pajamas. She sits on her bed with her laptop so she can watch TV to calm down. About twenty minutes later, Harry’s climbing in through her window. She looks over at him with a pout and puffy eyes. He doesn’t say anything to her, all he does is cup her jaw and press his lips to her. Her eyes nearly pop out of her head. Before she can even do anything Harry steps back from her.

“Now we’ve both had our first kiss.” He mutters, cheeks a deep shade of red. “I care about you, and you care about me…so it’s special.”

“Oh…well…thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He goes back over to her window, ready to climb back down. “Date whoever you want…just trust me about Trevor, okay?” With that he leaves.

She touches her fingertips to her lips and flops back into her pillows. Her first kiss was just with her very best friend, what could be better?

“Logan asked you to junior prom!?” Harry shrieks when Orla tells him after school.

“Shh, yes. I told him I had to talk with you first.”

“Well, do you want to go with him?”

“Not if it’s going to put you in a pissy mood.” She smirks.

“Do you…like Logan? Do you think he’d be a more fun date?”

“It’s not that I think he’d be more fun, but…you know he and I make out sometimes, it’d be nice to go with someone that I could be a little more intimate with. Besides, you have a crush on Josie, why don’t you ask her?”

“Because we go to every dance together.” Harry takes a deep breath. “Go with Logan, it’s fine. As long as you and I still take separate pictures together.”

“Of course! Oh, thank you, Harry!” She wraps her arms around his neck and kisses his cheek. She’s about to walk away from him to go tell Logan, but he wraps his hand around her wrist. She furrows her brows as she look at him.

“But for senior prom, let it be known now, no matter what, you’re mine.” He’s as serious as a heart attack. For some reason, Orla’s mouth feels incredibly dry. She nods in understanding and Harry lets her go. “Go on, go tell your lover boy.”

Orla runs off to go find Logan, and Harry rolls his eyes. He ends up going to junior prom with Josie, who was overjoyed when Harry asked her to go with him. They all have a good time, and they end up having a big sleepover party in Owen’s basement. The lights are dim, and the air is a little smokey. People are drinking, others are staying sober, no one is pressuring anyone to do anything they don’t want to do. Harry can’t help but glance over at Orla every once in a while. She’s sitting on Logan’s lap in a hoodie and joggers, but her hair and makeup are still all done up. They’re kissing and giggling, and Harry feels like he’s going to be sick.

“Let’s play truth or dare!” Frida shouts. Everyone gets into a circle on the floor, and they use a glass soda bottle to spin. Owen spins first, and it lands on Harry.

“Truth or dare?” Owne smirks at his friend.

“Dare.” Harry says confidently. Frida whispers something into Owen’s ear and he nods.

“I dare you to go into the closet with Orla for eleven minutes in heaven.”

Everyone falls silent. Harry and Orla look at each other, and then they both look at Logan and Josie.

“It’s not like they’re going to do anything. I say go for it.” Logan shrugs.

“This is so stupid.” Harry huffs and stands up. Orla follows behind him and goes into the closet.

“Timer starts now! We’ll let you out when it goes off!” Owen yells to them as he turns the music up.

Harry and Orla both cross their arms over their chests as they stand face to face in the cramped closet. They don’t say anything at first, but Harry breaks the silence.

“I think this is, like, the gazillionth time someone has dared us to do this.” He shakes his head.

“Sounds about right.” She sighs. “I’m so glad no one knows we were each other’s first kisses, they’d die if they found out.”

“Yeah.” Harry runs a hand through his hair. “Did you have fun with Logan tonight?”

“Mhm.” She smiles. “What about you and Josie?”

“She’s nice enough, I’m not really sure why I was crushing on her so hard for. She’s not really my type.”

“That’s too bad, I’m sorry.” Orla frowns. “I didn’t think you really had a type.”

“Well, I do.” He snaps. “Doesn’t everyone?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “I don’t think I do.”

“Why do you like Logan?”

“He’s always been sweet to me. I think he’s cute, he helps me with my history homework. And he’s a good kisser.” She grins.

“Is that all you’ve done together? Just kiss?”

“Yeah, I would have told you if something more happened.”

“So…no second base?”

“Has he groped my boobs? No, I’m not ready for something like that yet.” She laughs.

“I thought second was, uh, blow jobs.”

“I thought that was third.”

“No, third is fucking.”

“Then what’s home plate?”

“Being in a relationship.” Harry laughs, and so does Orla.

“That’s fucked up.” She shakes her head.

“Do you think you’ll get to any of that with Logan?”

“I don’t know to be honest. I’m not really worried about it. I’m just going with the flow with him. Why do you care so much? I know he’s one of your oldest friends, but-“

“That’s not why I care. I just…” He steps a little closer to her and tucks some loose curls behind her ear. “I know how sentimental you get about things, and I’d kill him if he ever did something to hurt you.”

She looks up at him. She can feel his minty breath fanning over her skin.

“You can’t be my first for everything, Harry.” She says quietly.

“Why not?” He whispers. He’s just about to lean in when the door swings open.

“So? Did anything happen?” Frida asks excitedly.

“Nope, sorry to disappoint you all yet again.” Orla says, and brushes by all of them to go grab some water.

Harry walks out of the closet, and they all continue their game. When they finish, they all go back to just hanging out. Orla takes her place back in Logan’s lap.

“Do you wanna go somewhere private?” He whispers to her.

“To do what?” She whispers back.

“You know.” He wiggles his eyebrows at her.

“Logan, I’m really only into kissing right now. I don’t want to do anything else.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice to kiss in private, though?”

“We do that in your car all the time.” She laughs. “I’m having fun with everyone right now.”

“You just don’t wanna sneak off because Harry’s here.”

“That’s not true.” She frowns. “I just know what I’m personally not ready for. I…I don’t have to explain myself to you.” Orla stands up and grabs her sleeping bag and pillow.

“What, you’re not going to sleep next to me now?”

“I never was.” She throws her things down next to Harry, and buries her face into her pillow.

“You okay?” He asks, rubbing her back.

“Why is every guy a jerk? Like, why is sex the only thing on your pea sized brains.”

“Because our brains are pea sized.” Harry smirks. “We don’t have room to think about anything else. Did Logan try to pull a move?”

“Sort of. He asked if I wanted to go somewhere more private, and I said no, and he said I was only saying no because you’re here, but that’s not the case at all. I just don’t wanna go further than kissing, and he couldn’t comprehend that.”

“Do you want me to talk to him?”

“No, I think that’ll just make it worse. It’s not like we were dating, it doesn’t matter. I just…do you think Josie will care if I sleep next to you?”

“Oh, her mom picked her up.”

“When?”

“Like an hour ago…after I politely declined a hand job from her.”

The two burst out laughing and get into their respective sleeping bags. Orla cuddles up to Harry’s side and he throws an arm around her. For the first time in a while, Harry’s able to fall asleep with ease.

The pair ended up going to the same college for undergrad, of course. No one expected them to go to different schools. However, their majors were vastly different. Orla wanted to be a Physical Education teacher, and Harry wanted to be a pediatric surgeon. So, while Orla was in her education courses, Harry was balls deep in biology, anatomy, chemistry, and calculus. Harry was assigned a roommate at random, another pre-med student; his name is Neil. And Orla ended up rooming with another girl from their high school who she didn’t know that well, but she figured it would be better than rooming with a stranger; her name is Katie.

During their freshman move-in, Harry got his shit settled and then went to help Orla. Their families all went out for lunch, and then it was just the two of them. Luckily, they were put in the same dorm, Harry would just be down the hall from her. Katie was an education major too, but her concentration was in social studies. Her and Orla would have a few basic education courses together before breaking off into their respective concentrations. She made it onto the women’s volleyball team, and Harry decided he’d just play intramural hockey when the season rolled around so he could focus on his classes.

Harry would go to all of his Orla’s home matches. As things got busier during the semester, they weren’t able to see each other as much during the day. They made up for it at night in the library or in their dorm rooms. The two had grown comfortable with one another over the years, so Orla had no problem just hanging out in a sports bra and spandex shorts around Harry, and he had no problem just wearing his boxers around her. One night, Harry was hanging out in Orla’s room while Katie was at work. They were laying in bed watching a movie. Orla was wearing one of Harry’s old Bruins shirts and a pair of cotton panties. Her phone keeps buzzing, and Harry’s just about had enough. He pauses the movie and sits up to grab her phone.

“Harry!”

“I’m muting your fucking volleyball group chat. I’m getting sensory overload from all of the buzzing…” He furrows his brows at the screen. “Why are they all asking you if you asked me something yet?” He looks up at her. “What do you have to ask me?”

“Nothing, it’s stupid.” She snatches her phone from him. “They’re stupid.”

“If it’s stupid then just tell me what it is.”

“Can we just watch the movie?”

“Give me your phone, I need to know.”

“No.” She hugs her phone close to her chest.

“Orla, just tell me what it is!”

“No!”

“Give me your phone!”

“No!”

Harry and Orla start wrestling on her bed. She’s not wearing a bra so sticking the phone down her shirt won’t work. She does the next best thing and shoved it down the front of her underwear. Harry pins her down by holding down her wrists.

“That’s not fair.” He says.

“It’s my phone.” She tries to wriggle out from underneath him, but he’s stronger than her. The phone buzzes again, and she grunts. “Harry, just let it go.”

“I’m literally not going to be able to sleep unless you tell me.” The phone buzzes three times in a row. Harry watches as Orla bites down on her bottom lip and looks away from him. “Oh my god, is that buzzing against your clit?” He laughs.

“Harry!”

“You did this to yourself.” He presses down against her to keep the phone even closer to where it’s effecting her. “Just ask me whatever it is and I’ll let you go.”

“You’re such an asshole!” She wraps her legs around his waist to try to flip them over, but her legs just aren’t strong enough. The phone buzzes again and she groans. “What are you gonna do, make me come you sick fuck?” She starts laughing from how absurd this whole thing is.

“I’m not the one who shoved my phone down my underpants.” He laughs. “Just tell me.”

“No.” Three more buzzes. “Fuck.” Harry’s eyes widen as he looks down at her, and she gasps. “Are you hard?!”

“No! I…my dick twitched!”

“Why?!”

“Because you’re moaning!”

“Harry, I swear to god if-“

The door opens and Kate comes in. She stops short when she sees Harry on top of Orla.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry.” Her cheeks heat up.

“It’s not what it looks like!” Orla shouts as Harry scrambles to get off of her. She takes her phone out of her underwear and takes a deep breath. “He was trying to read my texts and we started wrestling.”

“Right…” Katie puts her things down and grabs her shower caddie. “I’m gonna go take a shower. I should be back in about thirty minutes.”

“We weren’t doing anything.” Harry says.

“Mhm.” Katie scoffs and leaves the room.

“Will you go to my volleyball formal with me next weekend?” Orla says to Harry.

“What? Is that what you had to ask me?”

“Yes.”

“Orla, why were you making such a big deal about this?”

“Because the girls were making it seem like the formal is a big deal and…I know you have a lot on your plate right now. I didn’t want you to feel pressured.”

“You’re ridiculous, you know that? Of course I’ll go with you to your formal. It’s just one night, it’s not a big deal. I’m doing well in my classes, I’m not worried.”

“You got so stressed your cried two weeks ago.”

“I was overwhelmed during midterms, you know I have test anxiety.” He hops off her bed. “Don’t sweat it, okay? Just text me the details.” He yawns. “I’m headed up to bed.”

“Gonna go rub one out?” She smirks.

“No.” He blushes. “I’m gonna go play video games with Neil. Have fun masturbating with your phone.”

“Don’t need it. I have stronger devices.” She grins.

“Yeah? Need help using them?” He teases.

“Get out!” She laughs and throws a pillow at him.

Harry blows her a kiss before he leaves and she blows one back. When Katie comes back in after her shower, Orla’s put herself to sleep. Well, actually she’s watching TV on her phone with her earbuds in because she doesn’t want to listen to Katie give her shit about Harry.

The night of the formal, Orla wears a simple little black dress that’s also strapless. She slips on a pair of black flats as well. Katie helps her get her hair up into a cute messy bun on the top of her head while Orla does her makeup. (Orla had Katie help her flatiron her hair to tame it a bit. She usually loves her curls, but she’s been experimenting with different looks.) Around 10PM there’s a knock on their door.

“Come in!” Orla shouts.

“Ready to go?” Harry asks and nearly chokes on his tongue when he sees Orla. “Wow, you look really nice.”

“Don’t act so surprised.” Orla rolls her eyes.

“Want me to take your pic in front of the tapestry?” Katie asks.

“Yes, please.” Orla smiles and hands her the phone. She poses with Harry for a few pictures, and then they head out.

“Aren’t you going to be cold?” Harry asks her on their way to the volleyball house.

“Nah, we won’t be out for long.”

They make their way into the house about ten minutes later. There’s a table set up like a bar for everyone to make their own drinks at. Harry sticks with beer while Orla goes for a rum and coke.

“Hey, O.” Ben smiles at her. Ben was a junior on the men’s volleyball team, and he’s very cute. “Saw you on defense at your last match, you looked great out there.”

“Thanks.” Her cheeks heat up, and she takes a sip from her cup.

“You come here with anyone?”

“Just my friend Harry.”

“Friend, huh?” He grins.

“Mhm.” She nods and takes a step closer. “He’s off talking to Chloe and Heather.”

“Not very nice to leave his date unattended.” He steps a little closer to her. “Especially when she looks so gorgeous.”

“Ben.” She giggles and gives him a playful push.

“You guys had one hell of a season. Aren’t you only one of, like, three freshmen to start this year?”

“Yeah, something like that.” She smiles.

“Gotta look out for the short ones I guess.”

“We’re pretty sneaky.”

An hour or so passes, and Harry can’t find Orla anywhere. He’s starting to get worried so he ventures through the house to see if maybe she went to the bathroom. She’s not in the one in the main hallway, so he goes upstairs.

“Where the fuck did she go?” He says to himself. He had been in the volleyball house plenty of times for various parties, so he had a good lay of the land. He goes to the larger bathroom, and opens the door.

“Ah, oh my god, B-Ben.” Orla’s head rolls back, allowing Ben to kiss on her neck. There she was, sitting up on the bathroom counter with Ben’s fingers knuckle deep inside of her.

“Orla?” Harry says.

“Dude, get out of here!” Ben shouts.

“Oh my god, Harry!”

Harry’s face flushes and he shuts the door immediately. He quickly goes down the stairs and weaves through the crazy amount of people in the house. He had been buzzed, but what he just saw totally sobered him up.

“Harry!” Orla shouts after him, but he doesn’t stop, he needs fresh air. “Harry, wait!” He pushes the front door open and sucks in a deep breath. “Harry! Oof!” She rams into his back and stumbles backwards.

“Get someone to walk you home, I can’t even look at you.”

“I thought he locked the door! And to be fair you didn’t knock.”

“I couldn’t find you for over an hour, excuse me for worrying about you.” He scoffs and turns to look at her.

“I was dancing with Ben and then we went upstairs, I’m sorry. I should have texted you.”

“Since when do you let random guys finger fuck you in bathrooms?”

“Um, Ben’s not a random guy. I’ve known since school started, what the fuck? I…I’ve been fingered before.”

“What? By who?” He shakes his head. “You know what? It doesn’t matter.” He chews on his bottom lip for a moment. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“I told Frida.” She rubs her arms up and down. “It’s as far as I’ve gone, and I’ve never taken my clothes off to have it happen…”

“Did you do anything to him?”

“I gave him a hand job.”

“Was that your first time doing that?”

“No.”

“Oh my god!” Harry runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know you anymore.”

“Are you going to tell me you haven’t done things? I’ve heard rumors, you know?”

“I’ve dry humped, that’s about it. No one’s ever seen my dick.”

“No one’s ever seen my vagina, not that that’s any of your business. There are certain things I don’t want to talk about with you, can’t you understand that?”

“I understand, I understand perfectly fine.” He goes to say something else, but he just shakes his head. “Come on, you look like you’re freezing.”

“That’s because I am.”

After that night, Harry let out his inner manwhore. During the spring semester, he fucked so many girls he lost track of their names. He didn’t tell Orla a single thing. He fucked all summer long without saying a word to her about it. When Orla first had sex the following school year, she slept with the same guy for the entire fall semester. It didn’t end well, though, which led to her crying into Harry’s chest for over an hour. That night they both opened up about everything, and agreed that keeping things to themselves wasn’t a good idea.

Undergrad flew by. Orla passed all of her certifications, and even found a job teaching phys ed at the high school level. She’d have all summer to work her ass off to save up some money and build her savings before starting fresh at her new school in the fall. Harry got accepted into all of the med schools he applied to, and was having trouble deciding.

“NYU is offering me the most amount of money…” He tells Orla one night.

“If…if you go there then you’ll probably end up working at a New York hospital.”

“Yeah.”

“Have you heard back from Harvard Medical yet?”

“No, and at this rate I bet I’m not getting in. Besides, they’re known for offering shit grants. My parents can’t afford to help. All of their money went to their lawyers.” Harry rolls his eyes.

After Harry’s freshman year, his parents told him they were getting divorced. His three older brothers had long since moved out, and with Harry gone his parents realized they just weren’t right for each other anymore. He didn’t take it well. This may have led to him fucking a lot that summer, and the absurd amount of tattoos he got.

“Then I guess…I guess you’re going to NYU.” Orla swallows. “You should do it, it makes the most sense, and you’ll get a great education.”

“Harry!” Mrs. Styles shouts from downstairs. “You got a large letter from BUSM!”

“Holy shit, I forgot I applied there.” Harry says, and the two race downstairs. Harry rips open the large envelope and gasps. “Oh my god! I was accepted in to BUSM’s MD program. Holy fuck, they partner with Boston Medical Center for their surgical residencies.” He looks at his mom, then Orla.

“Are they offering you any money?” Orla asks.

“Orla, um…do you mind if Harry and I go over this together? I’m going to need to FaceTime his father to discuss everything.”

“Oh, sure! Yeah, this is a big family moment. Come by later if you want, H.” She smiles and leaves.

“They’re offering me a decent amount of aid, Mum.” Harry says as he reads over the letter.

“Honey…don’t you want to get out of Boston? NYU could be a great experience for you.”

“Mum, BUSM is a prestigious medical school. Why would you want me so far away?”

“I don’t want you far away, I just want you to have some life experience, meet new people.” She chews on her bottom lip. “I don’t want you to stay here just because you don’t want to leave Orla.”

“That’s not why I want to stay.” Her mother gives him a look. “Okay, maybe I want to stay closer so I don’t have to be far away from her. Can you blame me? We’ve been best friends since the fifth grade. I couldn’t imagine only seeing her once every few months, and then I’d probably have to move out there full time, and she’s only certified to teach in Mass.”

“Honey, you’ve never had a stable girlfriend. Maybe being away from Orla could help you do that.”

“I just haven’t met anyone, it’s not her fault.”

“You’ve liked her since the day you met.” She laughs, astonished at his ignorance.

“No, I’m not one of those guys that’s only friends with a girl because he wants to date her.” Harry rolls his eyes.

“I didn’t say that’s why you were friends. I just think if something was going to happen between you two it would have happened already. So, stop wasting your time waiting for her.”

“I’m not waiting for her to do anything. She’s my best friend, and she’s always going to be my best friend. BUSM makes more cost-effective sense. Think of how expensive the hole in the wall apartment I’d be living in in New York would be. I could definitely find a better priced place here, or I could commute for a bit to save money.”

“If you’d rather go to BUSM, then go. But make sure you’re doing it for yourself and not just to stay close to Orla.”

“I’d say it’s about 80/20.” He smirks, earning him a swat to the arm from his mother. “I’m kidding! It’s more like 60/40.”

“Jesus Christ, go call your father and let him know the good news.” She sighs.

Flash forward to present day – eight years later. The pair are twenty-eight; Harry is an attending pediatric surgeon at Boston Medical Center, making absolute bank, and Orla is at her third high school in six years because budgets keep cutting funding, which means P.E. teachers aren’t exactly in high demand. She lives in a small one-bedroom apartment, she’s constantly exhausted, and she wishes she had chosen any other profession. She coaches the girls’ volleyball team for extra money, and works at a bar on weekends and in the summer.

Harry and Orla are still the best of friends. They’ve made it through a lot of ups and downs. Through it all they’ve always had each other. He’s currently seeing a girl named Bailey that he met at a bar near work. Orla is going through a dry spell, but she’s not dwelling on it.

The school year had just ended, thank god, and she has Sunday through Tuesday off from the bar. Orla takes some time to go through her wardrobe and get rid of any dingy leggings or tee shirts. She has a strict budget for clothes because she’s constantly having to replace her athletic wear. She’s chilling on the couch Tuesday evening watching Property Brothers: Forever Home when she hears the jingle of keys on the other side of her door.

[READ THE REST ON PATREON]

#save the best for last #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x oc #harry styles au #doctor!harry #doctorry #friends to lovers #bestfriend!harry #dad!harry #dom!harry

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lightsovermonaco · 3 years

Text

His Good Sweater: Chapter 9

Masterlist

As always thank you to my beautiful bestie @acollectionofficsandshit you can also thank her for all the Max content in this chapter. Its a long one, enjoy!

Word Count: 9.6k

Recommended song: “Hate the way” by G-Easy and blackbear

The one thing that never failed to lift your spirits was your dad's homemade blueberry chocolate chip pancakes. Whenever you were upset as a kid, whether it be your team losing a sporting event, your high-school boyfriend dumping you for the head cheerleader, or getting rejected from an ivy league college you never expected to get into in the first place, his pancakes had been there to cushion the fall. Clever as he was, he always messed them up in some insignificant way like leaving off the whipped cream and hiding the container so you were forced to talk to him in order to remedy it. Then he would crack some stupid joke or cheesy pun that would just barely have the ghost of a smile curling your lips.

Blueberry chocolate chip pancakes were no match for the heartbreak of losing your best friend.

The morning after, you only trudge to the kitchen when your stomach's demands to be fed become too loud to ignore. A steaming pile of fluffy pancakes sits at your usual spot, no syrup in sight. You don't have the energy to find your dad and ask where he's hidden it, instead picking at them. You knew the flavor should be fruity and sweet but every bite tastes like ash. One pancake is all you can manage before nausea roils, threatening to make your meager brunch resurface.

"Some is better than none," Ben murmurs behind you and you drop your chin in the barest of nods. "We can save the rest and you can warm them up later."

"Thanks," you mumble when he takes your plate. You pull your blanket tight around your shoulders as your gaze turns to the window while your brother washes your dishes, wishing for all the world that you could make your uncooperative limbs move and help him but the mental effort it requires is too taxing. Instead you stay curled up on the chair, the noises of the house waking up around you a dull buzz in your ears. At some point your mother kisses your head and hustles out the door to work, her husband close behind. Ben is the last to leave and is reluctant to do so.

"Promise you'll text me if you need me," he says. "Mom already gave me permission to cut class after trigonometry."

"Sure." You both know it's a lie and a bad one at that. Your voice is dull and flat, completely void of emotion.

"Mom said she's coming home early anyway,” he tries. “Something about overstaffing at the greenhouse."

"Okay."

The mechanical spooling of the garage door tells you he's finally gone. Your elbows slide forward until your head rests on the table, unable to hold it up any longer.

Every fiber of your being yearns for him, to hear the distinct r's and flowery lilt of his accent as he comforts you through the heartbreak, always knowing exactly what to say. It was second nature to call one another when either of you had had a bad day or a good day or just a normal day - you'd talked so often that last year you had convinced your parents to add international minutes to your phone plan.

Your fingers itch to dial the number you had long since memorized, knowing it would ring no more than twice before he picked up. He never let it go to voicemail unless he absolutely couldn't avoid it and you had a hunch he was waiting for your call.

Despite knowing better, you scroll through the messages on your phone. Love was evident in each witty remark and wish goodnight, pulling at your heartstrings. Your finger hovers over the delete conversation button, and after a minute of debate, you can't bring yourself to do it. You would allow yourself one reprieve to look back on and remember the good.

It would be so much easier if he had given you a reason to hate him. If he'd cheated or intentionally led the media to your house, hating him would be easy. You wouldn't have to admit that you still loved him because his betrayal would have yanked out the newly blooming bud of love you nurtured and crushed the fragile petals. Instead, you were left knowing that it had been your choice to inflict damage in him. You had no right to seek comfort in his arms or even ask how he was doing. You deserved to be miserable for causing him to feel the same way.

Yuki is the first to check in on you. You don’t know what he expects; you lie through your teeth when you tell him you were fine.

The press is asking me for my thoughts. No idea why. I told them not to stick their noses where they don't belong.

At least someone had the guts to stand up to those bloodsuckers. Yuki was the last person you'd suspect to do so, but the scrappy twenty-something continued to surprise you.

Thanks, you type back. How is he?

You hesitate. You didn't really want to know the answer. Pierre was devastated and just as broken as you are. You delete the last part and opt to refrain from subjecting yourself to biting off more than you could chew.

I'm here if you need me, is Yuki's reply.

Charles, Daniel, and his newly promoted girlfriend were the next ones to text you, all offering varying degrees of support. Daniel's friend was the one that offered to sucker punch anyone that came near you without your permission, and actually dragged a single huff of laughter from your aching lungs.

I'm good thanks. But if I need a bodyguard you'll be first on the list.

Just because Daniel can lift me with one arm doesn't mean I'm not punchy!

I believe you.

Spent, you set your phone down and retreat under the down comforter. The bright pink clashed with your earthy decor, but at least the old blanket didn't smell like Pierre. Your mother had taken it upon herself to erase all trace of him from your room when she had managed to coax you into a shower, and the half hour you had spent letting the scalding water run over your skin had given her plenty of time to do so. The absence of him hurts almost as much as the trace of cedar you know you're imagining when you breathe deep.

It has to be impossible for so much agony to be contained in your body. No matter how much you try, the tears won't stop flowing because Pierre's crushed expression had taken up residence at the forefront of your consciousness.

It didn't help that so many of your recent memories were touched by his presence. Getting into university served to remind you of the ecstatic call you'd gotten after his race that Sunday, voice strained with a mix of excitement for you and the disappointment of his race ending crash on the opening lap. Even something as simple as staring at the saggy bean bag chair in the corner brought back the memory of the countless times he had lounged there, sprawled out like he owned it.

Max's text brings you briefly back to reality.

You doing okay? Dan told me what happened.

No, was all you say back. Within a minute, Max's face occupies your screen. You sigh but accept the call, laying the phone on the pillow.

"I don't feel like talking, Max."

"That bad huh?" He asks, concern lacing his usually chipper voice.

"Yeah. That bad." As if that summed up getting your heart torn to shreds.

He's uncharacteristically quiet for a beat. "Wanna hear about Vic's day? She had some crazy clients at her salon- it'll take your mind off it."

"I guess," you say, utterly nonplussed. You could care less if he kept talking or not, you wouldn't be paying attention. He prattles on for a few minutes, seemingly unaffected by your silence as his words pass through one ear and out the other.

"Told you it was crazy," he says finally, your cue to respond. You hum noncommittally and Max just sighs.

"Look, I don't know how I can help you unless you come here. I know you have a flight booked- do you still wanna come to the gala? My date's been stolen so I'm in need of one."

"Who stole your-"

The realization hits you before you can finish. Pierre. Pierre stole Max's sister and left him without a date. Something about his willingness to replace you so quickly rubs you the wrong way. It shouldn't have been so easy for him to find someone new; he should be hurting just as much as you. Fundamentally, you knew nothing would happen between Pierre and Victoria. She wouldn't go for him out of respect for both of you and you were thankful in the knowledge that it was completely platonic. Still, it was like rubbing salt in a wound.

"You know what? I'll go." It was the most you'd said all day, your throat scratchy with disuse. Max whoops on the other line and you could almost see him punching the air in victory.

"Great! When's your flight get in? I'll bring the Acura and pick you up."

You put him on speaker and login to the airlines website to punch in the flight number. Last night you'd debated canceling the flight that Pierre had paid for, determined to stay home and be miserable. Looking back you were glad you'd trusted your gut and left the reservation untouched. If he could find someone else to attend the gala with, so could you. "I land in Nice at noon on Friday. It'll be a short flight, I can text you when we take off."

"Sounds good. I'll set up the spare room for you. Victoria is staying here too, I'm sure she would love to help you get ready and do whatever it is girls do before fancy events."

"Hey, Max?"

"Whats up?"

You trace patterns through the condensation left by the glass on your nightstand. "Thank you. For understanding."

"That's what friends are for," he assures you. "Is there anything you wanna talk about now? Or are you planning to wait until you're here?"

"Ben's been keeping an eye on me. I'm okay for now." Better now that you had something to look forward to.

"All you have to do is call," he promises. "I'll listen, I don't have anything going on this week besides streaming."

You latch on to the small redirection and run with it. "You and the twitch quartet?"

"They've been kind enough to allow me to join them on the sim this week, yeah."

"I'll try to catch a race. No promises though."

"See you Friday. Try to contain your excitement."

Your lips twitch upward. "Bye Max."

**********

The rest of the week was more of the same. You stayed home and your family dealt with the swarms of people that still gathered on the lawn each morning not so patiently waiting for you to tell your side of the story. You had decided that the best course of action was to keep your mouth shut and let them figure out for themselves that there was no longer a story to report thanks to the wedge they had driven in your relationship.

By the time Ben drives you to the airport Friday the buzz has died down. You hug your brother tight before checking in for the flight and texting Max. His response is immediate, letting you know he's excited to see you.

You wish you could return the sentiment. You wanted to see your friend, sure, but you were beginning to dread the upcoming gala. Max would be your crutch and you knew he was okay with that, but it still felt wrong.

Unlike your brother, Max was waiting at the curb when you arrived in Nice. A nondescript cap was perched on his head, the oversized sunglasses he wore hiding his eyes from passersby. His gleaming orange peel of a car attracted more attention than he did for once, people stopping to ogle the Acura as they came and went.

"Hey you," Max greets, a broad grin causing his trademark dimple to appear as he wraps you in a rare hug. You cling to him, throat going tight at the intimacy of it. Max wasn't a physical person by any stretch; if he was hugging you this tightly it meant he knew how broken you were.

He waited for you to break contact first, giving you all the time you need. You sniff and wipe the single tear that had somehow escaped and laugh lightly.

"Hey," you say, voice scratchy. "Thanks for picking me up."

He waves a hand, brushing it off. "Vic wanted to come but she changed her mind when I told her I was driving."

"Probably a smart choice," you observe, letting him pop the trunk- which was in the front of the car, since the Acura NSX was a mid-engined beast of a Japanese supercar- "and considering your choice of car, she wouldn't have fit anyway."

"This is true." He starts the engine, the roar of which makes a poor old woman a few yards away drop her purse.

The drive back is near silent, broken only by Max's occasional quips about a landmark or an observation about someone's driving. It was impossible for any driver to turn off the analytical part of their brain, their Formula 1 habits crossing into their daily lives.

When Max parks at the curb outside his apartment, you move to open the door but he hits the lock button. You glance over your shoulder at him and quirk a brow.

"Am I your prisoner?"

"Are you gonna talk about what happened?"

Sighing, you sink back into the seat. The way the bolstering hugs your sides almost makes you believe you could fade into it if you try hard enough. "I wasn't really planning on it."

It had only been a handful of days since you had broken it off, the wound still leaking fresh blood when you poked at it. It refused to scab over or give you any kind of reprieve from the torture.

"You know you'll have to face him tomorrow at some point. He'll want to talk to you."

"That's why I'm going with you. You won't have a problem telling him to leave me alone."

Max sighs. "Yeah, I suppose. If that's what you think is best."

The trudge up the stairs and subsequent silent elevator ride allows your thoughts to wander to Victoria. It wasn't her fault that Pierre had asked her to come with him after you'd canceled, after all she was already planning on going and the late notice meant it was likely no one else could make it, but it didn't stop the pang of jealousy that rocketed through you each time you ruminate on it.

It didn't help when she wrapped you in a hug the moment she saw you and whispered an apology in your ear, like she knew she'd done something wrong. Tears spring to your eyes again and Victoria shoots Max a leave us alone look.

"Uh, I'm gonna hop on the sim. Help yourself to whatever is in the fridge if you're hungry."

"Thanks Max." Your eyes are pinned to a smudge of dirt on the wood floor, safely out of range of anything triggering. Keeping it together was more of a struggle than you'd expected.

"I hope you don't hate me," Victoria starts genuine concern lacing the words. "It was just easiest-"

"I know," you cut in. "And I don't." Your smile is tight, not quite hitting home as she returns it.

"Well then. Let's figure out how we're gonna do your hair tomorrow, shall we?"

**********

The dress was a single, simple piece of fabric, spun of sunset orange and free of any bells or whistles. The feather light chiffon hugged every supple curve through your hips until flaring out slightly at the bottom just enough to allow you range of motion. The deep vee of the neckline prominently displayed your cleavage, toeing the line between attention grabbing and scandal starting and leaving little to the imagination. The back dropped low, leaving the elegant curve of your spine free to be kissed by the salty Mediterranean breeze.

The dress is nothing special compared to the thousand dollar pieces that the other boy's dates would be wearing, but you didn't have the money- or the will- to find something new. It by no means broke the bank when you picked it up from the second hand store last year, but it looked the part. It had been a showstopper at the spring formal you'd originally worn it to and judging by Max's reaction, it still was.

He let out a low whistle when you stepped into the living room. "I'm sorry, did you pick that out with me in mind?" He laughs and despite yourself, heat rises to your cheeks. You hated being the center of attention, even among friends. "It's the perfect shade of orange to match my tie. I swear I didn't plan it that way!"

"I know you didn't." You give him a forced smile, praying he doesn't call you out on it. The dress you wore hadn't been your first choice. The one you originally planned to wear still sat in your closet at home collecting dust. It had been the perfect shade of blue to compliment Pierre's sky eyes, but it didn't match Max's deeper ocean blue. So at home it had stayed, and you had chosen the orange one because it made the necklace at your throat pop.

Your fingers engulf the stone before you can stop yourself, as they always do when your thoughts wander to him. Him, because you could scarcely think his name before your heart wretches at the reminder of what you'd lost. Flashes of bright smiles and soft kisses filter through your mind, making you lock up. You swear you can feel the ghost of plush lips to your throat and the scrape of callouses over the curve of your spine. Your eyes fall shut, desperate to get lost in the idea of him like you used to.

"You good?"

Max's quiet words startle you back into the present. No, you were in no way shape or form good, but you had no choice to fall back on the familiar mask of humor to cover up your inner turmoil.

"The real question is are you?" You smirk and look him over. The Red Bull navy suit strains over his broad shoulders, suggesting he had put on muscle since the last time he'd been forced into it. "You look stiff as a board in that tux."

"I feel so awkward." He straightens the suit coat and absentmindedly lifts a hand to tousle his hair. You grab his wrist just in time to keep him from ruining his sister's hard work and shoot him a chiding look. He grins sheepishly and lowers his hand.

"Vic would kill me if you got to the gala looking like you got run over."

"That's a good point." He offers you his arm and you accept the lifeline he unwittingly offers you. "But I refuse to leave the windows up on this beautiful night, so we'll test how well it'll hold."

You quirk an eyebrow at him. "You're driving us there?"

"Well duh. I always drive when I'm at home."

You glance sidelong at the glaringly orange Acura parked at the curb a few floors below. Your dress would blend right in with the paint, but perhaps that was a good thing. It would provide that much more of a shock factor when you arrived and stepped out.

"Just don't crash out on the hairpin," you tease half heartedly.

He rolls his eyes. "At least it's just the two of us so I don't have to call an uber. Vic's getting picked up by-'' Max cuts himself off and gives you an apologetic smile.

"You can say his name," you whisper, eyes trained on the tile of the hallway as you walk. "It's not like he's gone."

"Getting picked up by... Pierre," Max tries, carefully monitoring his neutral tone. God, you thought you could handle it but you can't, stumbling over your own feet with only Max's grip on your arm to catch you.

He'd dance with Vic tonight, and probably countless other women, his hands drifting over their bodies like they'd done on yours only days ago. You'd be forced to watch from the sidelines and make small talk that no one would remember come morning, utterly unable to do anything about it. At least Daniel’s girlfriend would be there to be the voice of reason, if you could peel her away from Daniel long enough to speak with her for any length of time.

Max was uncharacteristically quiet on the ride to the venue, leaving you to study the city as he drove. Few yachts were left in the harbor as the sun was swallowed by the sea, the owners undoubtedly set sail for a weekend getaway. Your gaze involuntarily searched for the slip that held Charles' Ferrari red speedboat that you'd visited countless times with Pierre. The eyesore was hard to miss when surrounded by its monotone brethren, memories flooding back in droves at the sight of it.

Sighing, you turn away to glimpse what you can of the city through the ridiculously tiny sliver of windshield. How anyone could confidently drive the Acura while having so little field of vision was beyond you. It was probably second nature to Max, who weaves through the narrow streets with practiced ease and barely lets off the gas through the corners.

The city of Monaco rarely slept, and tonight was no different. Soft yellow fluorescent glow seeps from high rise balconies, the occupants soaking up the last dregs of sunlight before heading out to the casinos and clubs. People spilled out of cafes onto the sidewalks, their laughter lingering on the breeze as you speed past.

The list of people you trust enough to get in the car with and let them drive with such intensity is short: Max and Pierre. Not even Daniel made the final cut, not when his then not-girlfriend had recounted the tale of him losing the rear of his McLaren 570s at a track day and nearly sending them into the wall. According to her, he'd been too busy ogling her to keep his full attention on the road, but it was enough for you to question his judgement at times.

If you close your eyes, you could pretend it was someone else next to you, cutting through the gears like a hot knife through butter and coaxing every inch of performance out of the car that he could with the light traffic. You draw a surf-scented breath deep, lungs aching with the effort.

Max joins the queue of cars waiting to park outside the venue, your attention trained on the guests stepping out of cars and climbing the wide set of marble steps leading to the sleek glass building. The modern structure is slightly out of place among the Roman-esque buildings surrounding it but the air of importance it exudes overrules any who dare say it doesn't belong.

"I can't tell you how glad I am that there's an open bar," Max remarks, hanging his head out the window to wave at someone. "It makes these events so much easier."

"You're telling me," you mumble, searching involuntarily for a familiar head of dusty blond hair in the droves of people arriving. Instead of sight, it's the unforgettable rumble of his Civic Type R's exhaust that alerts you to his arrival. Your head whips around, eyes eating up the pearl white paint of Pierre's favored car as it slides in behind you. You silently thank whatever deity is listening that his windshield is tinted, protecting you from seeing the smirk you are certain is playing on his lips.

Once upon a time, the cockpit of that car had been your favorite place in the world. You'd spent countless hours inside it eating shitty gas station cuisine and singing along to the radio at the top of your lungs as Pierre drove you to whatever adventure he had planned for the day.

Max waves at your- his friend, you remind yourself sharply- and revs his Acura in response. He leaves the keys with the valet, picking up on the tension in your shoulders as the white car parks behind you. Max tugs your arm in attempt to turn you away, but your feet are rooted to the spot.

“I see you found another date-” The flash of a grin on Pierre's face as he steps out is immediately dashed when he notices you on Max's arm.

If looks could kill, Max would keel over then and there. A muscle in Pierre's jaw flutters as he takes in the sight of the two of you together, your hand on the Dutchman's forearm and your matching attire looking for all the world as if it was purposefully coordinated.

Max lifts his chin, spine going straight under Pierre's threatening glare. “Her airfare was already paid for and she already had the dress. Someone had to take her.”

Your stomach sinks; the last thing you wanted to do was become a point of contention between the two boys, but you refused to apologize for at least attempting to enjoy yourself.

Pierre doesn't speak again, only nods to Max and pointedly avoids your stare. He tosses the keys to the smart-dressed kid serving as his valet, coming around to open Victoria's door. With his back turned to you, you take a moment to study the crisp white suit he's chosen for tonight. You had always told him black wasn't his color and he seemed to have taken it to heart. White was what you loved seeing him in, and the tight cut brought back memories of a different type of suit in an entirely different city only a few weeks ago. You'd peeled him out of that Alpha Tauri race suit the moment he made it to the trailer, eager to worship him after his podium. You'd be lying if you said it hasn't been the best sex of your life.

"Come on," Max urges, placing a chaste hand on your upper back and turning you around. He leads you up the stairs, his comforting touch never leaving your skin for a moment. The callouses were all wrong, the fingers too broad to be who you wanted it to be, and yet you couldn't help but imagine it was Pierre leading you up, stopping to smile for the few cameras scattered around.

Flashes spot your vision as you pull your face into an expression of excitement. Max murmurs something in your ear that you think is encouragement but the din of reporters is too deafening to be sure.

"How come you aren't with Pierre?"

The shouted question comes from an unknown assailant but it strikes you like a physical blow. You freeze, mouth going dry as you search for a suitable excuse. Max grants you the space of a single heartbeat to respond before he does so on your behalf.

"How about you mind your own damn business and worry about your cheating wife?"

The man who had bombarded you goes slack jawed, Max's wild guess clearly somehow hitting him just as hard as he had hit you.

"Keep walking," he urges you, leading you through the blinding sea of flashing lights. When you hear the same question directed at Pierre, his flippant laugh grates on your nerves.

You don't have it in you to appreciate the grand architecture of the entrance hall, too busy trying to keep your breathing in check. Max steers you off to the side and places his hands on your shoulders.

"Look at me," he demands, and you drag your eyes up to his face. "Breathe. He's hurting just as bad as you, only difference is he's better at hiding it. Just enjoy the night okay? I'll grab you a drink and we can find Daniel and his friend and you two can catch up."

You nod, placing a hand on your throat. The delicate chain of the necklace is a vice around your neck, the reminder of him pulling it tight. Your pulse hammers beneath your fingers and you focus on it until it slows. "Get me whatever you're having."

Max disappears in the crowd, and you take a seat at the bench tucked in the corner. No one pays you any heed as they walk past, entranced by the elegant decor and fragrant florals. Your head falls forward to rest in your hands and you struggle to take deep, calming breaths.

Pierre was here. Inhale.

He looked happy. Exhale.

He was getting by. Inhale.

You could get by, too. Exhale.

Renewed, you glance up in time to find Max standing before you with a drink of dark liquid adorned with maraschino cherries in each hand. He extends one glass to you and you don't bother to question what it is before swallowing half in one go. "Better?"

"Much." You stand and brush out the wrinkles in your dress. "Where are we sitting?"

"Er, about that," Max starts, rubbing his neck sheepishly. "They put two teams at each table. We're at the Red Bull Alpha Tauri table."

"I see." You take another deep, steadying breath, letting the anxiety ebbing in your veins fade out with the exhale. It was times like this that you channeled Daniel a bit. It sounded silly and you would never admit it, but the slogans on his helmets worked if you focused on them hard enough. All good, all ways.

If Pierre could get through tonight, so could you.

“I can try to see if I can switch tables-”

"It's fine," you say and down the rest of the drink. “I can handle it.”

Max shifts on his feet, his discomfort something you rarely see from him. He usually excelled at keeping a straight face in uncomfortable situations but it seems that your unease rubbed off on him. “We should get going then, dinner will be served any minute.”

You once again take the arm he offers you, the liquor in your veins already granting you false courage. “We would have time to mingle if you hadn’t taken the scenic route.”

“It was nice out,” he protests, and pulls you to a halt when he spots Daniel across the hall. His girlfriend waves at you with a sad smile. She gestures between the two of you to indicate that you’ll talk later before Daniel pulls her towards the McLaren table. That boy was punctual to a fault and would be caught dead before he was late to anything.

Thankfully, the two of you arrive before Victoria and her date and are able to secure seats that ensure there’s a buffer between you. By some small miracle Christian Horner and his wife were absent and instead a few engineers and their significant others sat at the packed table. Max greets Gianpiero while you take your seat, happy to observe.

“Hey!”

You twist in time to see Yuki’s short frame emerge from the crowd and point to the empty seat to your right. “This one taken?”

You shake your head, standing to give him a quick hug. “How are you doing? Where’s your date?”

“Ah, she couldn’t make it. Had some family stuff to take care of. You look great, by the way.”

You dip your chin in thanks, unsure how else to respond. He was in a white suit that you were sure would wind up stained five minutes into dinner. “Did they mandate that you wear white?”

He shakes his head with a rueful smile. “Honestly, it’s the only one I own. I haven't been to enough events to build up my closet yet."

"Well I think it's…"

You spot Pierre before he sees you. His brow is slightly creased as he hunts for the correct table using the same focused determination as when driving his Alpha. For a split second, he meets your gaze. The cacophony of the event fades to background noise and suddenly it's just the two of you and you damn near lift your hand in a wave. You're positive he can see your heart beating out of your chest like in an old cartoon as you curl your fingers into a fist in your lap. Your restraint proves fatal, the floor falling out from beneath your feet when he drops your stare. This was your new normal, you remind yourself. Stolen glances were all you would get.

"I can move," Yuki says, starting to rise. You grip his wrist, holding him in place.

"Please don't." The only other open seats were across the table, and at least then you didn't have to worry about brushing elbows with him all night long.

Yuki nods, slowly settling back in. Max finally takes his seat after giving your shoulder a supportive squeeze.

"You don't have to say anything to him," he reminds you, barely audible over the scrape of chairs and various chatter.

You find anywhere else to look as Pierre pulls out Vic's chair for her and makes his rounds to greet everyone. Daniel and his girlfriend are seated a few tables away and you distract yourself by attempting to read their lips. You manage a few minutes of tenuous peace, catching snippets of Daniel's cheesy jokes and her disapproving, yet flirty, responses.

"Damn, we clean up well, huh?"

You squeeze your eyes shut at the sound of home. His words are honey and you lap them up like you'd never tasted anything sweeter. They weren't even directed at you and yet somehow you twist them to fit your narrative.

Pierre stands at the bottom of the stairs like a chaste high school prom date patiently waiting for your grand entrance. He checks his watch and rakes a hand through his messy hair. You stifle your laugh with a hand, amused by his unnecessary nervous energy.

Taking mercy on him, you clear your throat. His gaze snaps up to you, mouth falling open. You take your time gathering the orange fabric of your dress and descending the stairs, savoring the way he eats you up. He was resplendent in his crisp white tuxedo and you had half a mind to make him late for the gala and strip him out of it then and there and devour him.

Your heels clack on the marble floor of his entirely too fancy apartment and you pause to do a little spin for him, earning you an appreciative whistle for your trouble. A laugh bubbles out of you and you place your hands on his shoulders. His own settle on your waist to pull you flush against him, his body heat soaking through the thin fabric of your dress to warm your core.

"Damn, we clean up well, huh?"

You start when knuckles graze the back of your bare neck. The touch is there and gone but you know immediately that it's Pierre. It's slight enough to be brushed off as accidental to anyone else, but nothing was accidental with Pierre. The barely there contact conveys more than any words ever could.

He still loved you. You looked stunning. He wishes you were still his so he could prove it to you. All this and so much more contained in a half second brush of his skin to yours.

It all comes back to you in a rush, the emotion you'd so carefully tucked away in a locked box in the back of your mind finally set free. His touch ignites any other thought in your mind that isn't him, burning it away until it's ashes on the wind.

Despite your better judgement, you lean into him, giving him permission to unravel you. This time you sigh when his fingers ghost over your skin, electricity sparking in their wake. You didn't care who might be watching; the tiny touches were slowly repairing your shattered heart. Your traitorous mind replaces his fingers with the brush of his lips to your nape, imagining the heat as he slides the strap of your dress off your shoulder, lips moving to follow.

You bite your lip to stifle a groan when his heat is withdrawn, leaving you feeling inexplicably naked. You open your eyes to find Victoria's pitying stare paired with an apologetic smile. Max nudges you with his elbow, and you realize someone has addressed you.

"Um, what?"

"I said I like how you guys coordinated outfits," Pierre repeats and openly prods your shoulder. "Obviously Max chose the color."

His tone is playful, but his words are clipped in a way only you understand. Craning your neck, you twist to look up at him. His eyes are cloudy and his smile doesn't reach them, more for show than anything else. "It was an accident."

"Doesn't look that way."

Your retort is ready on your tongue but he doesn't give you a chance to reply before retreating to his seat. His ability to act as if nothing has changed astounds you, as your head is still reeling from the pinpricks of his skin on yours. Instead of being rendered speechless, he strikes up a conversation with Yuki about the Alpha's performance, leaving out the confidential details but giving enough away that it surprises you.

The sheer fact that he can so easily switch off whatever feelings he harbors is unfair. The sensation of his fingers on your neck still lingers and it's all you can do to keep from stepping around the table and slotting yourself between his legs like you had in that bar in London. Your nails bite into your palms, listening in if only for his voice to wash over you and calm your racing heart.

When he mentions the rake angle, you know it's just to mislead anyone who might be eavesdropping. He'd told you the exact angle in the past, and it certainly was not one degree, and it did not cause the level of understeer he was describing.

"The understeer comes from improper tire selection," you blurt. "And driver error."

All eyes turn to you and you straighten. You knew enough about the construction of a Formula 1 car to be positive your assessment was correct. You were almost as certain that he'd said it to force you into speaking to him whether you liked it or not.

"What was that?"

If Pierre could torment you with his subtle touches, you could do the same and call him out when he was wrong.

"Driver error caused the rear end to slide out around that turn in Japan, not the rake angle. That's got nothing to do with it. Your tires were blistered because of you taking an imperfect racing line and they were old. You miscalculated the level of traction they'd give you."

Why no one else had pointed it out was beyond you.

"So you're an engineer now?" Pierre challenges, crossing his arms. Something about the arrogance radiating from him rubbed you the wrong way. You let all the emotion of the past few days surface and add fuel to the fire.

"No, but I've learned enough to see through the bullshit drivers spin to mislead other teams."

Max murmurs your name in warning but your frustration is boiling over. He replaced you tonight, didn't even pause to consider going alone and instead choosing to take Victoria. Sure, it had been your fault that he was dateless, but that didn't give him the right to hurt you too. He knew it would destroy you to see him with anyone else even if it was completely platonic, but he did it anyway.

"Why don't you tell me where I should brake on turn ten since you're an expert all of a sudden?" Victoria lays a hand on his arm but he yanks it out of her grip. "What crack in the pavement? Or is it a mark on the barrier? Drive one lap in my car and then you can tell me how to drive."

It wasn't your analysis that had upset him. You'd done so plenty of times and he had always taken your criticism with an open mind, using it to tweak his driving style to improve his lap time or turn it into a teaching experience so you could learn. No, judging by the way his eyes are lined with silver that he fights to blink away, it's your betrayal that upsets him and rightfully so. You glance around the table but no one is willing to meet your eyes save for Max, who angles his head as if to say fight for it.

But you can't. It's monumentally easier to let Pierre win and sweep it under the rug than to address the deeper issue. "I was trying to help," you say lamely, picking at the salad in front of you.

"You don't get to do that anymore."

The venomous words hit like knives, knocking the breath out of you. Your mouth hangs open like a fish gasping for air but any reply you think up dies on your tongue.

As the music fades out and a man climbs up onto the stage, Pierre gets up and leaves. You track his progress as he weaves through tables, noting Daniel reaching for him as he passes. You flinch when the balcony door slams behind him, an astonished murmur rocking through the crowd.

"You should probably talk to him," Max whispers.

You shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak. You had no idea what you would say. 'Sorry' was insignificant and 'I love you' would be cruel when the barest of thought regarding how the media treated you made your stomach churn.

Max pulls his phone out under the table and you think you see Charles' name on the screen. Good; someone had to make sure Pierre didn't do anything he would regret in the morning and if it wasn't you, Charles was the next best chaperone. A minute later, the Ferrari driver leaves his seat too, exiting the same way as Pierre.

Focusing on what's said on stage proves fruitless. Try as you might, your attention is trained on the side door Pierre had disappeared through, praying he returns despite knowing it would mean more barbed words hurled at you. Neither he nor Charles return at any point during the presentation. His absence was quickly becoming a gaping black hole, swallowing up any semblance of sanity you had managed to gather in preparation for tonight.

"Try to have some fun," Max says, nudging you with an elbow. "As soon as this guy shuts up I’ll get us some more drinks and then we can eat and get out on the dance floor and forget about everything, yeah?"

You nod. You already feel the buzz of the first drink, and one or two more would push you thoroughly over the edge into blissful forgetfulness. "I don't wanna be sad anymore."

**********

He didn't know where he was going. All he knew was that he had to get away from you before he said something that would tear whatever hope he held of repairing what was between you to ribbons. He registers Daniel's low, "Gas, you good?" as he breezes past, but doesn't pause to answer. His sights are locked on the wide, carved oak doors that lead to fresh air.

The breath whooshes out of him when he flings open the balcony doors. They slam behind him and he winces. Chalk that up as something else for Helmut to pick him apart for on Monday.

Pierre rakes a trembling hand through his hair and rests his elbows on the railing, sucking in lungfuls of air like he'd just surfaced from a dive in the harbor.

When you'd agreed to come to the gala with him, he had been overjoyed. You hadn't made it to the winter gala earlier this year due to a last minute exam and he had sulked the entire night. He still had the place card embossed with your name in the fishbowl by his door, the sizable container nearly overflowing with memories of you. Everything from forgotten earrings to plastic hotel key cards filled the bowl and it was a bright reminder of your adventures together. His plan had been to add another place card to the mix after tonight but after what he'd just said to you, he'd rather forget today ever happened.

He fucking hurt. Everything just hurt, from the shirt collar scratching at his neck to the bone deep ache that had started when he laid eyes on you on those steps, arm locked with Max's. You'd stolen the words from his mouth, the jab he'd planned to toss at Max dying at the sight of you.

He hadn't expected you to come tonight. Despite anyone's objections, he'd been fully prepared to get completely shit faced to the point that the ghost of your skin no longer haunted his fingertips and your voice no longer sang in his head. But seeing your damned face had shattered the false reality he had constructed, the one where you never broke him and left him scrambling to piece himself back together.

The universe had dealt him another low blow when he discovered Red Bull and Alpha Tauri would be at the same table and he'd be forced to endure your presence at arms length, close enough to touch but absolutely not allowed to do so. It was his own personal hell, constructed solely to punish him for whatever transgressions he'd made in his life.

And that fucking dress.

The orange painted the aquamarine charm at the hollow of your throat in sharp relief, showing it off like he somehow still owned you. If you had arrived with him, he would have already led you back to the Civic and bunched that damned dress up past your hips to drag his favorite sounds from you with his tongue. If he could just get you alone, he's sure it wouldn't take more than a single touch to have you crashing into him and begging for more.

Seeing you with Max tonight paints an entirely different picture.

It's Max he sees tearing off the dress at the end of the night when you get back to his apartment. Max's hands slide over your hips and you laugh, walking back so you can keep your lips on his as he slams the door shut behind you. You dip your head back when he presses you to the wall, Max unfaltering as his lips and teeth trace the curve of your exposed throat and he slips the straps of the matching dress of your shoulders to let it pool at your feet. Max's name breezes past your lips on a shaky exhale as you become putty beneath his fingers.

No matter how loud Pierre calls your name, you don't hear him, instead cupping the back of the Dutchman's head and pulling him in for a heated kiss. When you do finally notice him observing from afar, agony wracking his body, all you do is grin. It feels real, even though Pierre is certain it's a crazed fever dream, his mind spinning his worst fear to life: you seeking comfort in the company of someone that wasn't him.

Pierre starts when the door squeaks open, the nightmare thankfully dissolving. Charles steps out clad head to toe in blazing Ferrari red and instantly he knows who sent him. The thought alone stokes rage in his chest, the image of your lips on Max's still fresh.

"Not as easy as you expected it to be, is it?" He asks, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Fuck off," Pierre growls and immediately regrets it. Beyond you, Charles was his closest friend. They had known each other for ages. It wasn’t a friendship he was willing to sacrifice just because he felt like shit. Pierre sighs and throws him an apologetic glance. "No it's not."

"Why don't you talk to her?"

"She doesn't want to fucking talk, Charles. Take one look at her, she's hanging on Max like she can't get enough of him." Pierre hangs his head in his hands, emotions shifting faster than he did on race day. "I can't go back in there and watch her choose him over me."

"You don't really believe that bullshit, do you?" Charles asks, joining him at the railing.

Not entirely, but he still struggled to understand your thought process. He thought he knew you, but you being here tonight when he had been certain you wouldn't be proved he didn't.

"I don't know what to believe anymore. I thought it would be forever, that I'd finally found someone who didn't mind my lifestyle and accepted it for what it was, who loved me unconditionally. I thought she was my forever."

"You think she's done with you just because some assholes invaded her privacy?" Charles shakes his head. "She's loved you for a long time, years even. You haven't seen the looks she gives you, but the rest of us have. You hung the moon in her sky, Pierre. That kind of thing doesn't just get swept away by the breeze."

His shoulders curl inward in an attempt to hide the frustrated tear that escapes him. "What am I supposed to do?"

Charles shrugs. "I don't think there's a right answer to that. Try giving her some space. She didn't grow up in the spotlight like we did. It's not an easy adjustment for some people, mate. And blowing up on her when she tries to make conversation doesn't help anything," he says gently. "Let her figure it out and come to you when she's ready."

The concept of letting you go even temporarily was terrifying to him. Waiting on you to make the first move was even worse because he was setting his fate in your hands.

"I miss her," he murmurs, turning his face to his friend.

"I know." Charles throws an arm around the taller man's shoulders and follows his gaze out over the tiered streets of Monaco's city center. "My suggestion is to throw yourself into the season. Show her you know how to fight, y'know?"

Pierre nods. He could do that. It was how he normally handled his problems anyway; let the track wick away whatever was on his mind and force him to hone in on the details surrounding him in each moment.

"You ready to head inside?" Charles asks.

"I don't think I can go back just yet."

"Want me to hang out here with you?"

"No. I'll be back eventually."

Charles' hand falls from his shoulder after a short squeeze, the sound of a tinny voice over the speakers temporarily flooding the balcony as Charles returns to the banquet. Pierre allows himself a few more moments of reprieve before slipping back inside just as the applause starts. Rather than returning to the delicately portioned meal that sat cooling before his empty chair, he orders a drink. Whiskey on the rocks, his go to in times of crisis. He takes one sip before the reminder of you ordering it for him in London makes holding the glass of caramel liquid unbearable and he downs it in a single swallow, going back to order a beer instead.

He nurses the green bottle of Heineken as he leans against the wall until the meal is finished and the chit chat starts. You stand with Max, practically pressed against him as you snatch a flute of champagne from a passing server. You search the crowd, brows drawing together when you don't locate your quarry. Pierre had made sure that he was tucked out of the low lighting, unsure if he could survive you stealing worried glances at him all night.

Charles winds his way over to pass off a roll he snagged from dinner, practically forcing the Frenchman to eat it before returning to his date. He nibbles at it absentmindedly, entirely too focused on you to divert an ounce of focus elsewhere.

Your dress is a glowing sun in a sea of earth tone garments, drawing his eye as you pull Max out onto the wood platform serving as the dance floor before the tables are fully cleared. The flush in your cheeks tells him you're deeper in your cups than you should be; Max didn't know your limit as well as he did. Three drinks was all you could manage before you got tipsy, five if you wanted to be completely blitzed.

The lights dim and his hiding spot is no longer quite as good as the party lights sweep over him from time to time. Max places one hand on your hip and you place one on his shoulder and grin up at him. Judging by the fit of giggles that requires you to lean into Max for support, you were teetering dangerously on the edge of being wholly drunk. You throw your head back and laugh at whatever Max says in response to your fit, Pierre straining to hear the musical sound over the band.

"Hey," Victoria says, breaking his concentration. "You wanna get out there?"

Pierre grimaces. He had managed to completely forget about her, too stuck in his own head. "Sorry, Vic. I don't think I'd be a very good partner tonight."

"No worries," she says, a soft, understanding smile on her lips. "I can keep myself busy."

Pierre nods his thanks, his attention immediately returning to the dance floor. Daniel and his girlfriend steal the show, both laughing as he dips and twirls her across the floor.

Being together was so fucking easy for them, effortless in a way it wasn't for you and Pierre. They never once paid any heed to the photographers that swarmed them or the headlines printed about them, they just laughed the rumors off and carried on. No one could question their love for each other because they were vocal about it- sometimes annoyingly so- and Daniel was rarely seen in public without her at his side. They were always touching, holding hands or stealing kisses or even the near scandal of his hand blatantly on her ass at the podium a few races back, and neither of them cared.

Their love was all that mattered. They didn't care who knew it.

But you and Pierre were far too private to be like that, at least not when you were still trying to figure things out yourself. The first sign of outside pressure had you cracking, and he wouldn't stand for knowing he was the source of your pain.

He tries and fails to convince himself he isn't jealous of the way Dan's hand so easily glides under the navy blue silk of her dress to caress her back without a second thought, wishing he could do the same to you. If he's being honest, he's living vicariously through Daniel for the next few songs, pretending he was someone else observing you and himself on the dance floor instead. It almost works; the way she shudders when his lips graze her ear is strikingly similar to how you'd react. The smile she flashes up at him is agonizingly close to your own wicked grin.

When her mouth finds his, Pierre gathers his wits and turns away. Their blatant public affection flipped a switch inside him, disgust rocking through him for a split second before he pushed it away.

He was happy for them. He knew what a long, rocky road it had been for them to become lovers instead of friends, had firsthand knowledge of the stress they'd gone through before they'd finally admitted their feelings to each other, put their pride aside and got together. Pierre had been the one to offer her advice on a night not much different than this one months ago, helping repair the damage Daniel's idiotic, thoughtless words had caused.

But Pierre had since become the person who was sickened at the sight of others in love. It reminded him that part of himself was missing and he hated it.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep his eyes from wandering back to you. You still occasionally scan the room as Max struggles to lead you through a dance. By some stroke of bad luck your gaze snags on him just as a spotlight illuminates his face and he grimaces. A slow blink is the only surprise you let show before laying your head on Max's shoulder. Jealousy spikes through him like wildfire, igniting his blood and tinging his vision with red.

He wants to march over and rip you off Max. He wants you tucked safely against him as his thumb rubs circles on the bare skin of the small of your back. He wants, more than anything, to take you to his apartment and half carry you up the stairs, having to shush you because you're giggling loud enough to wake the dead, and lay you down in his bed. He wants to help you out of that stunning dress and into a pair of his sweats and curl up against you, letting you sleep off your hangover until noon.

He'd fucked up that chance though, hadn't he? He had slipped up and driven you straight into your friend's arms, who he trusted not to make a move on you but not enough to negate the jealousy coursing through him.

In that moment, he hates you. He hates the hold you have on him, the way a simple gesture between half-drunk friends could send him into a spiral so steep he didn't recognize himself. He hates that he can't keep his eyes off you, your gravity too strong for him to resist.

Most of all, he hates that he doesn’t know how to quit you.

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max @sunshinesewis @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval

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bruhlsbees · 3 years

Text

garden of eden ; 1/5 || alex kerner x fem!reader

summary: on the day of east germany's 40th birthday, your entire life shifts before your eyes

pairing: alex kerner x fem!reader

warnings: drinking (alex and reader), protest violence, hospitals

word count: 6,714

a/n: here's the first chapter of garden of eden! i hope you enjoy and if you are interested in being added to the taglist please let me know! :)

taglist: @spookyanabarnes

October 7, 1989

Alex had stopped by your apartment after he woke up and got around for the day. He was annoyed just as much as you were about the parade of soldiers that galavanted around the city. It was East Germany’s 40th birthday and many of those who worked had the day off to celebrate. Alex, being one of them, perhaps didn’t celebrate it in the way East Germany intended, but indeed still did in his own way with you.

It didn’t take him long to walk over to your apartment, as you only lived a couple blocks away. Jogging up the stairs, Alex stopped to catch his breath on the last step before heading down the hall to your door, knocking on it harder than usual - just in case you were still sleeping. He wasn’t surprised to see you still not ready for the day. Your hair still pulled back in a messy ponytail, the makeup from yesterday smudged on your face and you were still in your pajamas. You were a mess, but you were his mess.

“What are you doing?” You asked, eyes heavy as you were still trying to wake up, moving off to the side for him to walk in, shutting the door behind him. You leaned against the door, arms crossed over your chest as you watched him turn, looking at you with his hands in his pocket.

“Remember? East Germany’s 40th?” He chuckled at the sight of you rolling your eyes, waving him off as you headed into the kitchen to grab something to drink from the fridge. You listened as he followed behind you, leaning against the doorway - watching you pull two beers from the fridge, opening the caps before handing one to him.

Alex was the one to take the first drink, letting his head fall back as the beer went down his throat, waking him up in the process. Pulling the bottle from his lips, tilting his head back down, Alex let out a sigh, wiping his mouth before setting the bottle on the counter.

“You still wanna hang out? Mom is gonna be gone tonight, figured we could watch a movie or something. Might have to watch Paula, but you don’t mind, right?”

Of course you didn’t mind watching Paula with him. His niece was a bundle of joy to be around and you loved holding her close to you, listening to her cute baby babble while she pulled at your hair in her tiny hand. You had known Alex for the better part of six years now and were stuck at each other’s side like glue. Alex’s sister, Ariane, always liked to tease him on that. - asking him where his shadow was, referring to you.

His mother, however, wasn’t overly fond of you like Alex always liked to say she was. You knew that Christiane tolerated you, and that was it. You tended to speak more freely on your dislike for East Germany - stating that you felt like a prisoner trapped in a cage. Alex’s mother often bit her tongue at your ideas, as she was a strong supporter of the Socialist Unity Party.

Alex and Ariane, while they had similar views to you, Christiane didn’t seem to jump down their throats as much as she did with you. This left you uncomfortable the majority of the time you were in the same room as her. Alex though, you knew he was close to his family. After his father left, the three of them stuck together, all still living under the same roof.

When you and Alex finished school you offered for him to move in with you. You even said that you’d apply for the two bedroom apartment on the floor below if he really wanted to move in. It wasn’t that you wanted him away from his family, but as his friend, his best friend, you only wanted what was best for him.

But here you were, around three years later and things still hadn’t changed.

“Where’s your mom going?” You asked casually, taking a swig from your own bottle, opening the cupboard to find something to eat. You decided on some bananas that were spotting brown - picking one from the bunch and peeling it, stuffing the fruit in your mouth.

You listened as he explained that she had been invited to something, what exactly though slipped his mind. You nodded, pulling some of your banana apart to give him some, finishing the rest and tossing the peel into the waste bin.

“Well, I’ll be sure to be on my best behavior for Mother. Wouldn’t want to upset her on the 40th.” Your sarcastic comment didn’t sit well with Alex, who caught your arm tightly as you walked past him, pulling you around to look down at you.

“Hey, I get you don’t agree with her. I don’t either, but you don’t have to be rude.” He was always a mother’s boy. Ever since his father left them, he was at her side caring for her like she was his god. You always kept your mother shut on it, knowing that it was obviously something Alex didn’t realize - and if he did he didn’t care enough to change.

You quickly pulled your arm out of his grip, glaring at him for grabbing you the way he did. You wouldn’t deny that what you said was probably rude, but he had to realize that it wasn’t like she was doing it to be a bitch - his mother was always at her throat, was he seriously expecting her to just sit back and take it?

“I’m not arguing with you on this, but you gotta think about how it makes me feel sometimes, Alex. Your mother makes comments and you just sit there and let her. How do you think it makes me feel? Knowing my best friend’s mother doesn’t like me-”

“Where are you getting that she doesn’t like you at? She does like you, she just shows it in a different way. Look, I’m sorry for not standing up for you, you always seem to handle it on your own so well that it just feels pointless to jump in,” He took a deep breath and watched as you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest, “How about this? Today if she starts something, I’ll tell her to back off, okay? I promise.”

You stared up at him for a moment, blinking slowly as you calmed yourself down. There were two things he said that really bothered you: you could handle yourself and pretended like he didn’t know why you thought his mother hated you. You could handle yourself, yes, but sometimes what you needed, wanted, was your best friend to have your back. Alex was also a horrible liar - of course he knew that his mother didn’t like you as much as she pretended. It didn’t take a genius to know that.

“Fine, fine. Whatever - can we just be done with this? I don’t want to be fighting over your mother right now. It’s too damn early.” You rubbed your eyes and felt him nudge you, looking up to see him smiling at you.

“I’ll wait for you out here. No rush.” Alex moved from the doorway and to the living room, settling in on your sofa before clicking on the television, mindlessly watching whatever station you left it on while he waited for you to get ready.

It didn’t take long for you to get around. You figured at most it took you twenty minutes, cleaning your face and redoing your hair, pulling on some jeans and a plain t-shirt, your sweatshirt thrown over. You grabbed your keys off your nightstand and headed back to the other room, grabbing some sneakers by the door and sitting down to slip them on.

By now the parade had made way to your side of the street, the music drowning out the television and your own thoughts. You watched as Alex clicked the television set off, standing up from the couch and stood above you, waiting until you finished tying your shoes before pulling you up. The two of you then headed out, you locking your apartment before joining him down the steps.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

After spending some time sitting outside, watching as East Germany decorated the city with flags in honor of the 40th birthday, you and Alex decided that you had had enough of the day and headed back to his apartment. You all but avoided his mother as you walked in behind him, taking off your shoes at the door and setting them beside his own. Following him into his bedroom, once the door was shut you rushed to his bed, turning and flopping down on your side, the one closest to the wall.

You shook your head in though, hands placed on your stomach as he came and laid down beside you, his head resting on the pillow that he tucked under him. Even with his eyes closed, he still knew that something was troubling you.

“What is it?” He mumbled out, cheek squished against the pillow, tired from the night previous and the disruptive morning he had. It was a long night at work and when he got home, he was hoping to sleep in and get some sleep that he had missed from the extra shifts he had picked up. To his dismay, what he got was a wake up call from East Germany.

Letting out a sigh, you rolled onto your right side, propping your head up on your hand while looking down at him. You smiled at how his eyebrows were furrowed together, his small mouth pursed, as if he was trying to sleep. He looked cute, almost innocent, if it weren’t for the disgusted look on his face.

You opened your mouth to speak, but closed your mouth, deciding against it. Alex already had to listen to his mother talk about politics every day, the last thing he wanted to do was talk about them with you - or rather hear how his mother was blinded by East Germany. Besides, you hadn’t realized just how tired he was until you got back to his class. Even if you did want to talk with him about it, there was a good chance he would have fallen asleep before you finished.

“Nothing, just forget it.” You dropped your arm down and let your head fall onto the pillow that Alex wasn’t using, closing your eyes as you laid beside him, arms crossed at your chest while your legs curled into a ball. It looked as though you were trying to keep your body warm, but really you just liked the position. Sometimes Alex would pull you in, wrapping himself around you as you napped. You never thought much of it, it being so normal for you both - but when Ariane started the teasing, that’s when things got awkward.

It was incredibly cliche - you knew that - crushing on your best guy friend that you’d known for a good part of your life. It’s not like you were planning on it, but one day it just happened. You stopped looking at him like he was just one of ‘the boys’ and saw him for something more. You enjoyed the little things about him that you hadn’t seen before - the way his favorite blue striped shirt seemed to fit him smaller as the years went on, how he doted on Paula when nobody was looking, or even the way he would sit on the couch, manspreading yet making it look so good.

Okay, so you were in love with him - but what could you do about it?

Your relationship with Alex balanced between the realm of dating and family, as weird as that sounded. You were there for him in the way that families were meant to be there for each other, but consoled him during his lowest points the way a partner would. Alex never made any advantages towards you in the way that would make you uncomfortable - he treated you the same way you treated him, ‘like one of the boys’. You had a strong hunch that he didn’t feel any sort of romantic feelings towards you, and while it broke your heart, you moved on.

It was selfish of you to think, but despite you doing your best to convince yourself that you moved on, ignore the feelings that you obviously had for Alex, you still had a hard grasp when it came to the idea of Alex seeing someone. Being with someone and growing a bond the way that you had with him. He was a young boy- man now, you were surprised that it had been this long even for him to still not have a girlfriend.

So when Ariane woke the two of you up from your unexpected nap, explaining that there was a girl there for Alex - your heart sank. You did your best to not showcase your evident disappointment, watching as he smoothed his hair down and got up, making his way to the door. He looked out of his room and leaned back in, looking down at his sister.

“Where’s my visitor?” He asked, confused at the lack of a girl standing outside his door.

You smiled then, when you realized what Ariane was doing. She was teasing him with the idea of there being a girl for him, a date, when really his date was with the precious baby Paula. You shook your head and fell back into the pillows, closing your eyes as you listened to them.

“Your visitor’s name is Paula. She’s your date, as agreed.” You heard Alex groan, taking the baby from Ariane as he tried to protest.

“Can’t your ex mind her?” He questioned, only to roll his eyes and kick the door shut behind him as Ariane explained that he was on call for the day.

When you felt the bed dip back down beside you, you opened your eyes and looked to your right to see Alex laying on his back, holding Paula close to him. She began to fuss and the sigh that escaped from Alex prompted you up, motioning for him to hand Paula to you.

“She doesn’t like the noise, I’d assume. I wouldn’t blame her, poor girl’s ears are far too sensitive.” You found yourself talking in a baby voice, bouncing Paula in your lap to calm her down while Alex got up himself, rubbing his eyes before moving the pillows to make a makeshift bed for Paula to sleep in, seeing as though he wouldn’t be getting anymore sleep that day.

“Here, lay her down. Maybe she can get some sleep.” You did as Alex asked and carefully laid Paula down, watching as she fidgeted for a moment, whining in discomfort before hitting a spot that seemed to satisfy her enough. You smiled and placed your hand against her tummy, cooing her to calm down before watching as she yawned, slowly falling asleep.

“You’re pretty good at that you know?” Smiling, you looked over at Alex and shrugged, “I gotta be. You can hardly hold her without her crying.” Alex rolled his eyes at your comment, scoffing as you stood up, nudging him before he got up in suit, leading the way out of his room and into the living room.

You weren’t surprised to see his mother in there, talking with a friend about the sizes of women’s clothing. You held back rolling your eyes, moving to sit on their sofa while Alex sat behind you at the table. You picked at the loose thread on your jeans, ignoring as Christiane and her friend continued to draft the letter they would send in with their wishes.

It took everything inside of you to not make a remark towards their letter, claiming that the idea would never get past the mailbox. There was no denying that Alex’s mother was intelligent - she was good at what she did, but you knew that if she just listened to what you had to say, what Alex and Ariane had to say, she could do more things that would help Germany.

Your thoughts were pulled out when you noticed Alex walk in front of you, turning the television set on before going back to his seat. Your attention, now fixed on the broadcast of the celebration of East Germany’s 40th birthday.

“Look at them, celebrating themselves, the old farts.” You smirked at Alex’s comment, looking down to shake your head as you tried to bite back your laugh. The mood turned sour quickly though, not that you were surprised, when Christiane told Alex that he didn’t have to watch.

Setting his coffee cup down, Alex pointed towards the television, looking at his mother, “Can’t you see what’s going on?” He questioned, eyebrows furrowed.

Pausing the current piece she was ironing, Christiane set her hands on the ironing board, looking at Alex, “What do you want to do?” She asked him suddenly, her tone sharp, “Emigrate? Nothing will ever change if everyone emigrates.”

You glanced over at Christiane, watching as she quickly returned back to drafting the letter. It was something you learned over time that she did. Whenever someone would make a rebuttal against something that went against her own personal views, she would move on from the situation before you could get the next word in, always letting her have the final word.

When you caught glances with Christiane, you found yourself not pulling from the gaze that the two of you locked on one another. It was like a silent conversation going on - both of you daring the other to say what they were thinking. Before you got the chance to speak, or her for that matter, you heard Paula begin to fuss from the other room.

“I got her.” You explained, motioning for Alex to stay where he was, heading back into his room. You heard Ariane thank you from the bathroom as she got ready while you made your way towards the bed, picking Paula up with a smile.

“Hi there sweet girl, is it too loud for you?” You hummed gently and held her close, resting her head under your chin as you rocked her in your arms. You listened as her crying faltered into a low whining, her tiny hands gripping at your shirt. Smiling weakly, you moved your head back to kiss the top of her head.

You were happy to hear the parade soldiers finally moving on from the side of town you and Alex lived on, moving to go towards another part of the city. The music fading until you were left standing in Alex’s bedroom in silence. When you figured it was safe to lay Paula back down, you carefully placed her back on his bed, making sure she was secured in the middle of the pillows before standing back up.

When you turned around, you were met by Alex who had just walked in his room, shutting the door behind him. You smiled and motioned towards Paula who was on his bed, finally asleep.

“She’s asleep this time, don’t think we have to worry about her waking up anytime soon,” You put your hands on your waist as he approached you, smiling down at you while you smiled back at him, “I should be compensated for my services - without me she’d never settle down.”

You both laughed, maybe a little too loud with the sleeping baby in the room, but Alex could only shake his head and move around you to look out his window, watching as the parade soldiers became smaller and smaller until disappearing from sight. Turning around, you moved your arms up and over your chest, crossing your arms as you watched him from your spot in the middle of his room.

“I hear there is going to be a protest tonight. You wanna go and check it out?” He asked, moving to the chair that was at his desk finally, looking up at you.

The older Alex got, the more he found himself wanting to be involved with protests and politics. Growing up with a mother who was heavily involved with Socialist Unity Party meant he was already surrounded by politics, but when he got older and formed his own views, it meant for him to be more vocal on it. You weren’t surprised when he asked if you wanted to see what it was all about, he often heard about protests going on and dragged you with them. You weren’t the protest type, however, so you were hesitant.

“I don’t know, I’m not sure if it’ll be a good ide-”

“It’s not going to get out of hand, if that’s what you’re worried about. We’ll walk with them, hold up our signs, chant, and come back home,” He leaned forward and extended his hands out to you, in which you took without question, “If it gets out of hand we will leave. I just want to see what it’s all about.”

You trusted Alex and his judgement, for the most part, so it didn’t take long for you to agree, smiling when he squeezed your hands before pulling away, leaning back in the chair. You shook your head and sat at the end of the bed, leaning against his wall.

“If it gets out of hand though, we’re gone. I don’t need to be the one explaining to your mother why you ended up in prison.”

You were caught off guard by Alex who leaned across the arm of his chair to kiss your cheek, blushing as you felt his warm breath against your ear.

“You worry too much, you know that?”

When you felt him return back to his seat, you looked down at your lap, a smirk on your face as you tried to not show your obvious enjoyment of the intimacy - knowing that for Alex it was nothing more than just a friendly kiss, but to you, it was more.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Everything happened so quickly. You didn’t have time to process what had even happened until it was too late. Alex was taken, Christiane had fallen - you were all alone in the middle of a peaceful protest gone wrong.

The protest was going smoothly for the most part. You kept close to Alex as the two of you walked among the other protestors, voicing that it was the people of East Germany’s right to be able to go on walks freely without the Wall getting in their way. You weren’t surprised with how underwhelming it was - it seemed that many protests were mostly filled with older couples sluggishly moving down the streets, or younger people like you and Alex who just followed what everyone else was doing.

Walking beside you, Alex was repeating the current chant ‘Freedom of the Press!’ while crunching down on the apple that he was given to by someone in the crowd. His brain wasn’t entirely focused on chewing fully - chanting with the others.

“Alex, you’re going to choke on that.” You warned, watching as he rolled his eyes, continuing on, “Am not.”

You rolled your eyes at his stubbornness, continuing on as you ignored the fear in the back of your head of him choking on his apple. No matter how often he liked to remind you that he was an adult and could handle himself - you always reminded him back that you were the older one and that men weren’t as smart as women.

So when he finally did choke on the apple, his words cutting short, you couldn’t say you were surprised. Coming to a stop beside him, you looked down and shook your head, bending him forward while he tried to cough up the apple.

“Come on, Alex! Spit it out!” You tried to hit his back hard enough for him to spit the bit of apple out, but even your heavy hand couldn’t get it out. You grew worried, thinking the worst as you looked around, hoping to find someone that could help. But nobody seemed to notice Alex as soldiers now stood ahead of the protest, linking arms to block them from going by.

It was a girl your age that finally approached, quickly hitting him on the back, bringing his posture up so he could cough up the apple - and thank heavens did it work.

Gasping when you finally saw the fruit shoot out from his mouth, you grabbed his arm and looked at him, “Alex! Are you okay?”

He seemed to be spaced out though, gasping for air as he looked at you, nodding once before at the girl who saved his life.

“Are you okay?” She asked, pausing in the middle of the protest to be sure. You watched as he smiled shyly at her, nodding and thanking her before she took off ahead to catch back up to where she originally had been at.

Before you could scold Alex, you watched him take off suddenly ahead of you, chasing after the girl that saved his life. With your mouth open, you raised your hands in frustration before fighting through the crowd to catch up with him.

“Alex! Wait!”

You desperately fought the people in front of you, forcing your body to squeeze through the crowd to find Alex. By now the police had shown and the sirens were echoing the streets, ringing in your ears as both the soldiers and cops yelled at the protestors to stop and go back. You knew that Alex wouldn’t stop - of course he wouldn’t, he would go head first into the fire to prove something. Damn him and his fucking ego.

While trying to force yourself past the crowd of people, you fumbled forward onto the hard gravel, hissing as your palms scraped against the road. You were lucky not to be trampled over and thankful when you felt someone grab you by your arms, pulling you up.

“Careful! You could’ve been run over!”

You turned around, gasping as you stumbled back, regaining your posture. You frowned at the man who was looking at you, a worried expression washed over his face. He couldn’t have been much older than you, in his late twenties at most.

“Are you okay? Your hands, they are-”

“I’m fine!” You didn’t mean to snap at him, but you were desperate to catch up to Alex before you lost him, or something worse happened, “Thanks, but I have to go. I have to find my friend.”

You ignored the disappointed look on the man’s face when you turned around, going back to pushing through the crowd, calling out for Alex before you finally broke through to the front, the trucks now barricading the protestors in, the cops trying to catch whoever attempted to run off while soldiers pulled people out.

It was a goddamn shit show. You flinched when you heard the first initial cry - your attention moved to an older woman who was pulled by a soldier, thrown to the ground before getting viciously kicked in her side. You needed to find Alex, and fast.

You did your best to ignore the tears that were welling up in your eyes, sniffling as you frantically began to look through the crowd, jumping up to look over the wave of people who were now scattering across the street. Alex was still nowhere in sight and the chaos that erupted around you suddenly only grew worse. You didn’t even realize that you yourself had been grabbed by one of the soldiers until you were being pulled off to the side.

“Let go of me! I didn’t do anything!” You found yourself shouting, hands flat against the soldier’s chest as you tried to push yourself away. His grip only tightened as he roughly pulled you with him, your heels desperately trying to dig into the gravel.

“Quit fighting! You’re coming with me! Not a chance I’m letting you go-”

He stumbled back when your spit slapped him in the face. When his grip loosened from your wrist you took the chance to break free, stumbling back as you watched him grow red, going for his baton that was at his side. Feeling your heart sink, you continued to stumble backwards until you found yourself toppling over someone, landing on your back as the soldier approached you both, the baton now in his hand and high in the air.

You were waiting to be beaten, knowing that it would eventually come, but to your surprise it didn’t. Your hands were above your head, cowering with the other person that was with you as the two of you prepared for the worst.

When you heard the sirens, the shouting of more soldiers approaching, you looked up and saw the crowd begin to flee, running back to where the protest walk started. Some soldiers chased after them, grabbing some that were too slow to pull them back and into the trucks that would take them to prison. Other soldiers just stayed back, assisting where they could.

“Come on, you’re coming with us!”

The soldier that originally grabbed you forcefully yanked you up by your collar, pushing you towards the truck with your hands now behind your head. Your tears were now freely falling down your cheeks, your heartbeat thumping in your ears as reality soon sinked in.

Alex was still nowhere in sight. You were being taken to prison for the protest.

Before you were escorted onto the back of the truck, you heard your name be called out. Turning, you noticed Alex who was fighting with the guards that were on him, trying his best to break free and rush to you. You did the same, flailing your body around and kicking at the soldier who continued to pull you at the truck.

You knew something was wrong when the world around you seemed to freeze, the painful ringing in your ears as your brain felt heavy. Alex’s attention pulled from your own, off to the side where his mouth fell open, the tears welling in his own eyes. Your own gaze followed his line of sight, looking at where he was looking to see his mother on the ground unconscious.

Everything felt slow passing by, yet it all happened so quickly. Alex tried to break free and run to his mother, calling out to her as he was grabbed by the guards again, kicked and punched at to slow him down before dragging him into the back of the truck, before the truck drove off.

You were pulled back into the present, everything around you suddenly becoming clear again and moving around you at a normal pace. Your body was slacked in shock as you watched the truck Alex was placed in drive off, before looking at his mother on the ground.

“Please,” You began, turning towards the soldier who had a grip on you, “My friend’s mother, she’s over there. I think something is wrong. Please, I need to help her, she could be in danger.”

You wanted to believe that there was still good in this world, that the soldiers of East Germany cared even a miniscule amount about the people. And perhaps they did, or it was your own luck that gave you the chance to go after her. You didn’t stick around to wait, feeling the soldier let go of your wrist before nodding for you to go.

You were by Christiane’s side in seconds, on your knees as you cradled her head in your hands, shaking her slightly, “Christiane! Christiane! Please, wake up!” Your head fell to her chest and you listened for a heartbeat and when you didn’t hear one you screamed out for help, pleading with anyone who listened for help.

It was an older guard who finally approached you, kneeling on the other side while he looked over Christiane. He checked her pulse and moved far too slow for your liking.

“She’s not breathing, damnit! She needs medical attention!” You found yourself screaming. The guard fell back on his knees, looking at you intensely before down at Christiane. He stood up and you figured he gave up on you before his whistle caught your attention. The lights from the ambulance illuminated off of your face, your hand going up to block the light, eyes squinting to see what was happening.

Christiane was pulled up onto a stretcher by the two medical responders in the truck, placed in the back before one of them stopped and looked down at you.

“Are you going with her?” He asked you, waiting for your response before he went back to the truck to leave. For a moment you didn’t process what he had asked you, still in shock with everything that happened. But when you finally came to again, you looked at him and nodded, standing up and climbing into the back of the truck.

It didn’t take long for Ariane to arrive at the hospital. You knew that Alex wouldn’t have been able to be reached and you hoped that Ariane would answer. She did, thankfully, and said she would be there after she dropped Paula off at her father’s. You sat with Ariane outside of her mother’s room, holding her in your arms as she sobbed into your chest, your own tears silently falling. You had been informed that Alex would be let go from prison, given his mother’s current state of health. The heart attack she suffered led her into a coma and there was no telling when, or if, she’d ever wake up.

Despite the doctor still standing in front of you, Ariane and yourself weeped together, comforting one another until Alex arrived. When the footsteps approached down the hall, the three of you turned, seeing Alex rushing down the hall. Ariane was the first up, meeting her brother into a hug while you stayed seated, chewing on your nails as you waited for Ariane to deliver the news to him. You tried to ignore the bruising on Alex’s face, but you couldn’t help but tear up even more at the beaten state of him.

“She had a heart attack.” Ariane choked out, finally able to answer Alex’s question on what was wrong with their mother. You closed your eyes and felt your head sink, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down. Even with their differing political views, Alex and Ariane were still close with their mother. The idea of losing her was not something they dwelled on. Even you, someone who was not fond of the woman, was broken at the news.

“CPR was performed rather late,” The doctor began, approaching Alex and Ariane, “She’s in a coma.”

Alex seemed to be in a lost state of mind, desperately trying to process everything that the doctor was telling him. He tried to ignore Ariane’s weeping as he stared ahead at the doctor, “When can I talk to her?” Alex asked.

Your head snapped up at the question, looking at Alex sadly as you listened to his question. He was so innocent in the mind, not understanding what was wrong with his question and why you all looked at him the way you did. His cheeks went red and his eyebrows furrowed.

“Alex, Mama is in a coma!” Ariane explained, perhaps a bit too forceful for your liking, but you knew that in the moment it was something that maybe Alex needed. The doctor didn’t offer much reassurance either, as he explained that it was uncertain if Christiane would ever wake up.

Looking at the doctor, before his eyes glanced down at you, Alex pushed Ariane away before moving towards the room his mother was in, opening the door and shutting it behind him, wanting a moment to himself with her. The doctor, who didn’t have anything else to add, offered his condolences before leaving you and Ariane outside the room.

“Ariane...I-”

“What happened? Why did Mama have a heart attack?” Ariane demanded, glaring down at you. It felt like she was pointing the blame towards you, since you were the one who brought her in. You did your best to ignore the guilt that settled on you, shaking your head.

“Alex he- he wanted to go to the protest that was being held. It was going okay at first, but then the soldiers came. The cops came. We were going to be taken but when Alex was grabbed I- I don’t know, your mother must have seen and it was too much for her.”

You let your face fall into your hands, hunched over in your seat as your own sobs finally let out. Your body began to shake as you continued to cry, reality settling in with what happened and the fear of what was to come.

Ariane felt guilty herself, snapping at you the way she did. She knew that you would follow Alex wherever he went, even if it weren’t the best of places. She moved and sat down beside you, sniffling as she pulled you into her arms, letting your head rest in her lap, rubbing your back.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap.” She whispered, stroking your hair as your cries began to dull. “Thank you for bringing Mama here. If you hadn’t, I fear she may not be with us at all.”

You heard Ariane whimper, the thought of their mother dying that night frightening her. She continued to console you, giving you the comfort you gave her, until you finally calmed down. Ariane moved your head carefully up, looking at you while brushing your tears off your face.

“Alex, he...I’m worried to know how he is going to be. You two are close, you love each other - please, please just watch him for me. I don’t want him to spiral from this. I know he will blame himself for what happened, but it’s not his fault.”

You nodded at what Ariane told you, leaning your forehead against hers as she embraced you, pulling away moments later to stand up and gather her things.

“I’m going to go get Paula, head back home. I-I will come back in the morning. I don’t expect you to stay but...if you could stay with Alex until I come back, I would appreciate it. I just need to get some things around the house. I-”

You cut Ariane off with your hand on her, looking up at her as she stopped in her tracks. “Ariane, please, it’s okay. Go and do what you need to do, I’ll be here.”

The corners of her mouth twitched, nodding before turning and heading down the hall to leave, leaving you alone until Alex came back out. You wondered if he heard Ariane leave, because only moments later he was exiting the room, looking at you blankly.

Standing up, you frowned and opened your mouth to speak, but before you could get a word out, Alex was hugging you, sobbing into the crook of your neck. You held him, of course you did, your hold around him tight as you smoothed his hair down and gripped his jacket in your other arm. You ignored the damp feeling against your skin from his tears, doing your best to hum him into a state of semi-peace.

You managed to coax him to the chair that you and Ariane had been seated on together, letting him rest his head on your lap, his hands grabbing at your knee. You continued to run your fingers through his hair, your other hand resting at his side. He let out the occasional whimper, sniffling his tears away until sleep finally consumed him.

You, on the other hand, didn’t sleep that night. Your own thoughts buzzing with what happened and wanting to stay awake for Alex in case something happened with his mother. You were surprised that Alex fell asleep so easily, but you assumed that because of what he went through that night, he was more exhausted than you were. It didn’t matter though, you stayed with him, holding him close until the sun rose the next day.

#garden of eden #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #daniel bruehl #good bye lenin #goodbye lenin #alex kerner #alex kerner imagine #alex kerner smut #alex kerner x reader #alex kerner x you

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hoodharlow · 3 years

Text

Holiday Surprise

El Novio Quarantine Edition: Part 7

AN: Quick reminded in Song of the Year I previously said that Claudia was 20 weeks pregnant, but bc I want them to have a Taurus baby I moved pushed everything by 4 weeks. So in this part she's now 20 weeks pregnant and in SoG she's 16 weeks pregnant. Also tyy to @wastelandcth for letting me run ideas with her ilysm Gemma

Requested? No

Warnings: overall fluff with an angsty ending, briefly jealous!Cal, pre-sex (no smut!), Mitchy, mentions of violence, an argument bc someone can't follow basic CDC guidelines and went out to party, and talks about deathtolls/covid cases

Word Count: 5.9k words

Claudia waited for the nurse to print her a few copies of her ultrasound. Christmas was in three days. Since her and Calum were staying at his house for Christmas, they decided on sending out care packages to their families. In the boxes they planned on having envelopes with their Christmas card and a picture of the newest member of the Hood-Santos family. But that they should wait to open them together via Zoom because Calum and Claudia were going to find out the sex of their baby.

They had made a compromise. If baby's sex is female then Calum is naming them because the Hoods' firstborns are always female. Whereas in Claudia's family the Santos always have male firstborns so if the baby is male, she is naming them.

They were nervous. This was the biggest secret both of them have ever kept from their parents. Claudia felt queasy just thinking about how her parents were going to react, especially her parents. She doesn't want to disappoint them.

Sure Diego and Soni, and her brothers started their families at a young age, but there was an underlying pressure for Claudia. She was the only girl and the first in her family to graduate from a four year college, her mom had gone to community college and studied fashion merchandising. Her parents hadn't said it outloud, but she knew that it was expected of her to have a career before even thinking about settling down to start a family. She was supposed to get her master's then teach for a few years before moving her way up to school administration. Getting pregnant just during her first year of grad school was not the plan she and her parents had.

"All set." the nurse said, handing Claudia the envelopes.

"Thank you. Hope you enjoy the cookies and happy holidays." Claudia said, stuffing them in her bag.

She pumped some hand sanitizer before she exited the doctor's office. She pulled Calum's flannel tighter and made her way to the car where he was waiting. He got out and helped her up.

Claudia clicked her seatbelt and turned to Calum. "Can't you drop me off at your house and you go down to see my parents?" she asked.

"No you're going with me. I'm out of excuses." He said. He squeezed her hand, reassuringly before he backed out of the parking spot. "We're just going to drop off their box and say hi. After that we'll get hotdogs under the bridge at that place you like."

"Fine." she sighed, giving in. The things she did for some hotdogs from Barrio Dogs down in Chicano Park.

On their way to the post office, Claudia finished up packing the boxes. Once they arrived, Calum helped her seal them with packing tape before he took them inside to get mailed out. While she waited for him, Claudia texted her mom that she and Calum were going down to leave them a box for them to open on Christmas Eve.

She rubbed her stomach. She was almost twenty weeks pregnant and still couldn't believe it. It feels like just last week Danny had come over to fight the cat and accidentally found her pregnancy tests on the bathroom sink. Which was why she was nervous to go over to her parents. One look at her and they would know Calum got her pregnant. Luckily for her with Calum's big t-shirt and his zip up jacket that she packed, she was able to mask her growing belly.

She shifted in her seat, trying to get somewhat comfortable when Calum unlocked the car to get in. He squeezed her hand and rubbed her belly. He passed her his phone so she could play some music as he pulled out of the parking lot. She played EL ÚLTIMO TOUR DEL MUNDO, and quietly gushed to her belly that Calum helped Bad Bunny produce the album and that he played all of the instruments in Yo Visto Asi.

She reached for the pillows she had in the backseat; as best she could she curled up. Claudia spent the whole night baking. She needed something to keep out of her mind while she waited for final grades to be posted. She knew she did good, but the waiting is what got to her.

When she first started grad school, she made a vow to be a fast grader and to have a good grading system. That way her students would know what their grades were in real time. She even managed to get everything graded for her classes the day her students turned in their finals. Unlike half of her professors who haven't updated grades since Thanksgiving.

Her eyes fluttered closed and began dozing off, with help from Calum who played with her hair. He gently shook her shoulder, waking Claudia from a nap that felt like only five.

"We're here." he whispered, kissing her cheek.

"No, I just fell asleep." Claudia whined.

"C'mon," he said, kissing her.

He got out and grabbed the last box left. He stopped by Junior's house first. Though while he was there Damian overheard him and Junior talk about Claudia and her pregnancy. Calum just hoped that Damian kept his pinky promise and wouldn't tell anyone.

Claudia waited for Calum to make his way up the steps before changing into his t-shirt and zip up hoodie. She kept the thin long sleeve top and layered his shirt over it. She got out and grabbed the hoodie, putting it on as she went up the steps.

Calum slammed the front door, looking pale as if he saw a ghost.

"I just saw your dad's ass." He shuddered. "Didn't know he was the type to get an ass tattoo."

"How long did you look at his ass?— you know what, I don't wanna know." Claudia said, lifting her hands up in surrender.

A minute or so later, Diego opened the door, buckling his belt. "Do you know how to knock?" He scolded Calum.

"You didn't knock?" Claudia asked him, awkwardly hugging her dad.

"I did, but I used your key to get in since they didn't open." Calum explained. He held up his UCLA lanyard out to them. Claudia's San Diego Chargers key stood out against all the other silver ones.

"Now that that's sorted, can we go in? Tengo frío." Claudia said.

Diego took a step back and let them in. He motioned them to the kitchen where Soni made a pitcher of agua de nanche. She set down the ladle and went to greet Calum and Claudia.

"Can I have some?" Claudia asked her mom.

"Agua de nanche?" Soni gave Claudia a confused look. In the twenty-two years she's known her daughter, she never willingly asked for agua de nanche. She placed her hand on Claudia's forehead. "Are you okay?"

She giggled nervously, hugging herself. "Ay ama. It's just a little craving I have."

"A craving?"

"Yeah… craving."

***

Calum still couldn't wrap it around his head that Claudia's pregnancy made her eat pickles. She absolutely dreaded them before. One time, before the pandemic, they went out to a burger place and she sent back her burger because she tasted the pickles in the bottom bun. She could tell that they took them out before bringing it to her. Now seeing her pregnant and scarfing them down was something that left him both surprised and confused.

"Claudia?" a voice called behind Calum.

"Oh my god, Luis!" Claudia squealed excitedly.

When the guy approached their table, Calum felt like he had seen the guy before. He just couldn't remember where he saw him.

"Cal, this Felix' brother, Luis. He's the one who's mine and Danny's age." Claudia explained.

Calum smiled politely and introduced himself. He sat back and watched them talk. Luis leaned closer to Claudia, laughing at whatever bad joke she said. He noticed her voice slightly went higher.

It was her 'I'm not really flirting, but oh shit you're hot as fuck' voice. She used to use that voice before they became an official iten. The last time she used it was when they were at lunch with the guys, their old producer friend named Jon and Tyler Posey. On the drive home, she went on and on about how Tyler Posey was the sweetest and funniest guy ever. It drove Calum mad.

"It was nice seeing you, Claudia, but my friends are waiting." Luis said, making Calum smile.

"Same, and congrats on getting into med school. I saw Profe's post the other week." Claudia smiled.

"I find it weird you call my mom Profe." He teased.

"It was an old habit." She laughed. She turned to Calum. "We should go right? With traffic and all."

He nodded. "I'm going to pay and bring the car over." Calum got up and nodded to Luis. "It was nice meeting you."

"Back at you." Luis said leaving to his table without telling Claudia goodbye.

Calum helped her up and hand in hand they went to the booth to pay. He signed the receipt and dripped a very generous tip in the tip jar.

After thorough convincing, Claudia waited for Calum as he jaywalked and went to get his car from the public parking lot. She replied to a series of messages from Danny asking why she drank agua de nanche and that Luis texted him telling him he just ran into her and that she looked pregnant. She gave him a vague response and put her phone on silent. After eating three hotdogs and a side mac and cheese, the last thing she wanted was to answer more messages from Danny.

Calum pulled up in front of her and got out of his side to help her in. It was more of him standing back and being there in case she fell, so she'd fall into him, breaking her fall. Once she was in he circled back and got in.

He missed the street that took them to the I5 and now had to drive a bit further to get on the I15. Just before he got off the ramp, Claudia's soft snores filled the car. He pressed a few buttons and made her seat lean back. With one hand Calum moved her so she was laying on her side. As best he could, he placed the pillows around her back and stomach.

The drive went by quickly. Calum got off the freeway and started driving through the streets. His phone began to ring. Ashton's face lit up his phone screen. It must be about their management. Calum had asked him to call him once everything was sorted with their lawyers and teams. He connected it to the car and answered.

"Hey, mate, I'm driving right now. Claudia and I are almost home. Call you in a bit." Calum said before Ashton got a word in.

He hung up as Claudia stirred awake. She groaned and shifted in her seat.

"I have to pee." she said.

"We'll be home in about five minutes. Can you hold it?" He asked her, intertwining his fingers with hers.

"Yeah," she said, stifling her yawn. Claudia rushed out and went to the guest bathroom when they arrived. Calum took advantage and returned Ashton's call.

"Claudia, I'm going to be in my office if you need me," he called.

"I might be in here a while, those hotdogs didn't agree with me." she murmured.

"There's an air freshener in the sink." Calumteased.

He greeted Duke and Cherry as he made his way to his office. Ashton answered and went off in a tangent about a melody that was stuck in his head. He paced around, agreeing and humming in response as Ashton went on and on. Calum didn't want to cut him off and ask about their contract, so he listened.

"...so I talked to Renee Hastings, that lawyer that does a lot of work on this and she said that she can get us out of our contract. She even has—”

“Are you serious?” Calum asked, cutting him off.

He desperately wanted and needed to get out of their contract with their management. Especially with what they’re asking him to do. There’s no way he’s going to do what they want.

"Yeah, everything is going to be finalized in the next few weeks." Ashton went on. "I'm glad we're out. Even more so that you won't have to… you know."

"It's a relief honestly. I can just focus on music and raising my baby with Claudia." He sighed. He reached for a small picture frame of him and Claudia from when they went hiking at some waterfall they accidentally found while out hiking.

"Speaking of baby, do you know their sex? I have compiled a list of names. Of course, my top five are Ashley, Asher, Ashton, Ashe, and Ashlyn on said list, but I found some other names." Ashton said, earning a snort from Calum.

He set the picture frame down and chuckled as Ashton listed more names. He spotted the new contract their old team had made for him. He grabbed it and stored it in a drawer under a package of printer paper. Calum caught Claudia's shadow as she waddled past his office, making her way to the kitchen.

"Hey, I gotta go. Claudia just scurried past my office so I have to hide her hot chips or she's going to complain all night that she has heartburn.

Ashton chuckled at his comment. They bid each other goodbye and agreed that he was taking Calum to the studio in a few days after spending the holidays in the snow with KayKay and Penny.

Calum went out to the kitchen and found it empty. But there was a stool in front of the cabinet where Calum hid Claudia's Turbo Flamas and Takis. The two large chip bags were missing.

He cursed and searched around the house for her. He found her once more in the kitchen sipping on a Hi-C pink lemonade juice box while she watched her frozen Italian style meatballs heat up in the microwave.

"How many times do I have to ask you to not climb on stool to reach for things? You're already clumsy as is, Claudia." He scolded.

"I didn't use the stool. I was going to, but I didn't see my chips." Claudia explained. She got up and grabbed her plate. "So now I'm gonna shove some balls in my mouth."

"I have some you might like more."

Claudia gave him a glance over. She didn't get it. She was almost twenty weeks pregnant and somehow Calum's cock was as hard as the kitchen's marble counters. Did it have to do with the fact that she only wore his flannel and some panties? Yes, it still surprised her that she had that effect on him.

She bit into one of her meatballs and watched him. Once she swallowed, she walked up to him and gently patted his hard on. "And they say pregnant women are the super horny ones."

***

Christmas Eve rolled around a few days later. Calum spent the better part of the morning at the studio with Luke and Michael then he spent the afternoon driving around dropping off and picking up things for their little Christmas celebration. Claudia baked and made sure their house was ready. Danny, Medelyn and Sebastian were coming over to their house since Claudia and her brothers divided which holidays they spent with their parents. Danny got thanksgiving, Junior got Christmas and Claudia got left with New Year's.

Calum entered the house and his nose was filled with the smell of warm gingerbread cookies and the tamales Soni had given them when they visited. He quickly rushed to the guest room and changed into some clean clothes. With Claudia being pregnant they knew that she was more at risk of exposure, so they took extra precautions for her to be safe. He took his clothes to the laundry room for a quick wash.

He went to the kitchen and was surprised it was empty. Calum was sure he was going to find Claudia decorating some cookies or baking some elaborate pastry she couldn't pronounce. He found their dogs in the living room intently watching 102 Dalmatians. They didn't even notice him when he arrived.

Calum jogged upstairs and heard a faint buzzing sound in their bedroom. He knocked a few times so she could let him in. Other times he would have sneaked in and playfully scold her that she knew better than to get started without him. That usually led to him telling to keep going until she was very sensitive then he'd go down on her and do other things to her that they both enjoy. But with a human growing inside of her, Claudia has gotten a bit self conscious about her body.

He knocked a few more times and there still wasn't a response. He opened the door and found her naked in a sitting position. She was fast asleep with her vibrator in her hand.

Calum took the vibrator, turning it off, he cleaned it and stored it in her drawer with her other toys. He fixed her pillows and slowly moved her into a more comfortable position. He covered her with her Snoopy blanket and smoothed her hair out. He kissed her forehead and let her sleep.

He went back down and worked in his office. Now that the band was without any management and team, they had a lot of paperwork to prove that they were management-less. Once he was done with the paperwork he decided to do some in depth investigation[long cash]lurking— on the lawyer that helped them get out of their contract. All he knew about her was that one of Michael's best men gave him her number because she was well known in the NFL among the wives of the NFL players. He looked her up on Google and it showed that she is married to a retired NFL player who she had three children with, one son and two daughters. Her husband played for the San Diego Chargers until the team moved to Los Angeles where he went and played for the 49ers. He had retired just last year. In his rabbit hole investigation he ended up on Renee's Instagram page. He was about four years deep when he saw a familiar face. Claudia.

She was posing with, who Calum assumed was, that Isaiah guy. He had his arm around Claudia's shoulders while one of her hands was on his chest. They both had big smiles.

Calum scrolled down and read the caption. Noting that Isaiah's @ was in the caption, he clicked it. He cursed when he saw that his account was private. He went back to Renee's and kept scrolling. He saw more and more of Claudia. From school fundraisers to family barbecues, Claudia and her family were there.

It hurt him, not in 'she looked so happy with him' but more of how he knew their families can't have that relationship. Mostly because Calum's family lived on the other side of the Pacific Ocean. They couldn't just arrange to meet up for a barbecue or a dinner. There was so much to plan just for them to be in the same place. And with the ongoing pandemic, it made things rough for them.

Calum and Claudia's parents briefly met via Zoom when Joy and David thanked Soni and Diego for taking Calum in. After that there were quick Zoom calls or just Calum or Claudia passing along their parents' regards to the other. The more Calum thought about it, his parents had better relationships with Diego and Soni than Marlene and Medelyn's parents. From what Claudia told him, Marlene's parents kicked her out when she was sixteen after finding out she was a few months pregnant with Guito. Diego and Soni stepped in and took her in. Her parents eventually came around, but according to Claudia, the tension is very present whenever there's a family party and Marlene's parents attend. But it's much better than Medelyn's parents. He witnessed first-hand how her parents want nothing to do with her or the Santos family.

"Hey, you okay?" Claudia asked him, bringing him back from his thoughts. "I knocked a few times and you didn't answer."

"Ye-yeah, I'm good." He said. He motioned her to come in. She took a seat in front of Calum.

In other circumstances, he would have dropped to his knees, but those circumstances are probably why Claudia was pregnant.

Calum pushed her t-shirt and gently kissed her belly. "How are my babies?" he asked before blowing raspberries into her belly.

"We are good." Claudia gently patted her belly. "This one was in the mood for tamales."

"What time are they showing up?" He asked.

"In like two hours. I'm so hungry." She fake cried.

"The lighting is good right here." Calum noted, ignoring her hunger comment. He unlocked his phone, accidentally revealing to her that he was lurking. He exited the app and looked for the camera icon. He quickly took a few pictures of him with Claudia's belly. He passed his phone to her and let her see the pictures.

"You think showing me cute pictures of my belly is gonna distract me from the fact that I saw my ex's mom on your phone?" She asked as a matter of factly.

"Kinda?" He laughed nervously. He sat back and ran his hand over her thighs. "Now that I got you here. I have something to talk to you about that involves her."

"Oh?"

"You know how we dropped our album and that our management fucked up the release, making us debut a week early and all that?" He asked her. She nodded in response. She remembered clearly tweeting Billboard and cursing them out. Calum took her hands and intertwined her fingers with his. "Well we decided to part ways with them. Thanks to Renee, we got out of our contract drama free. So now we have more freedom with our music and lives."

"Oh my god! I'm so happy for you and the guys!" Claudia smiled. She carefully hopped off the desk and sat on Calum's lap. "Mrs. Hastings is such a badass. I'm glad she was able to help y'all."

"It's a relief. It's nice to break apart from a group that never had your back." He said.

Claudia smiled to herself. It's been a while since she saw Calum look so relaxed and content. She was happy to see that he found peace of mind. She knew how exhausting their management was. Especially when their relationship was exposed. The band's team was quick to tell him to break up with her. They were desperate to keep his image of the one single band member. But Calum was very adamant and refused.

"My question is why were you on her Instagram?"

"I was bored. I have a question too."

"What is it?"

"The dress you wore to your prom, is that the one you had planned on wearing with me?"

"No." she giggled. "I had convinced my mom to take me to Saks up in HillCrest because I wanted to impress you and maybe you know with you."

"Weren't you seventeen?"

"Yeah? Wh— oh yeah nevermind."

***

Calum paced around his office, waiting for his dad to answer. Earlier Damian had accidentally spoiled Calum and Claudia's surprise by asking if his tía Claudia already had her baby. They came clean and told their parents they were having a baby.

After an unexciting baby and sex reveal, their moms tearfully congratulated them on their baby girl. Diego came around after a few jokes from Junior and Danny. He even shed a few tears after it finally hit him that his baby was having a baby. Which only brought more jokes about how he doesn't hide the fact that Claudia is favorite. The only parent that didn't have much of a reaction was David.

Calum quickly noticed the change in his demeanor as Joy and Soni gushed about the thought of being grandmothers to a baby girl that had both his and Claudia's dark brown curls. He texted him, letting him know that he was calling him. He stepped out and was now waiting for his dad to answer.

"Llo?" David answered.

"Hey, dad." Calum said back. He didn't know where to start. The last thing he wanted was to argue and ruin Christmas for them. But he wanted answers.

"You're really going to be a dad, huh." David spoke up, breaking the silence.

Calum laughed nervously and leaned against his desk. "Yeah, we were a bit surprised at first but we're excited now."

"Isn't it soon? You've been dating Claudia for what? A little over a year and now you're having a child? I never thought you'd settle."

"If you're implying that she purposefully got preg—"

"I'm not… children are a huge responsibility, Calum."

"I'm aware." He scratched his arm. "This is something we've already discussed. We had agreed on waiting a few more years, once Claudia was done with school and working, but it kinda sprung on us. We know the timing isn’t ideal, but we want this. We want her.”

“Alright,” David sighed.

Calum braced himself for what was going to come.

“I want to be called pops though, I’m too young to be called grandpa.” he said, earning a chuckle from his son.

Both of them ended up talking for what seemed like hours. They caught up on how things were going for them. They even joked about having a serious talk with Felix, Mali's boyfriend and a family friend of the Santos family. Calum didn't even notice Claudia walk in and leave him a plate of tamales de rajas con queso and a mug of ponche Navideño on his desk. After another half hour, Calum and David hung up, agreeing to talk later in the week.

Calum made his way back to the living room where Claudia, Danny, Sebastian and Medelyn were while he scarfed down his tamales and ponche. After he finished, he took his dishes and placed them in the sink, letting them soak. He joined Claudia on the floor, letting her lean against him. An hour later, Danny, Medelyn and Sebastian left since in Los Angeles there was a strict curfew. Calum and Claudia offered them one of the guest rooms, but they declined. It was now just the two of them.

By the time they finished cleaning, it was well into midnight. Claudia had changed into a simple yet sexy, panty and bra set, covering it with a silky robe and settled in bed. She scrolled through one of her favorite stories on Wattpad while she waited for him. She was at the part where the main characters established that they are enemies when Calum entered the room with a small plastic box.

"Merry Christmas." He offered her the box.

"We agreed to open presents in the morning." Claudia said.

"I know but I couldn't wait. Remember a while back I found out it was you that I was supposed to take to prom?" He asked.

Claudia nodded. She vaguely remembered the talk, but she did remember that afternoon he posted a screenshot of that Tweet and picture of them in the pool. There were mixed reactions. Some fans were confused why the pool was green, not knowing Ashton was in the midst of working on his album. Some gave them positive responses while others continued with their negativity.

"Anyways," He said, bringing her back from her thoughts. "I found the corsage and I wanted to give it to you. There's also something else in there."

Claudia carefully opened the box. It was beautiful. The flowers were dry, but she always liked dry flowers. To her they represent memories and experiences. She gently ran her finger over the ribbon that matched the dress she had originally bought. She still remembered their team asking her to link the website of her dress so they could get an exact color. She lifted the corsage only to reveal a BVLGARI ring box. Her eyes widened.

"No." Claudia shook her head. She passed him back the box. "Just because I'm having your baby, it doesn't mean you should propose."

"Umm, well good thing I'm not proposing." Calum awkwardly chuckled. He opened the small box, inside was a rose gold serpent ring. It was similar to the necklace he first gave her and the bracelets. "I wanted you to have the complete set. It fits your pointer finger, not the ring finger."

"Oh, thank god." She exhaled, relieved.

"Why that reaction though?" He asked her.

"I've seen too many couples get engaged for the wrong reason and end up miserable. Not that that would be us, but I don't want you to feel obligated because I’m having your kid."

"What do you think about marriage?" He shifted so she could be more comfortable.

"The overall thought of spending your life with someone and stuff sounds great. It's the fact that the government and/or church have to get involved to verify that gets me. Legally speaking it makes sense why they get involved. You?"

"I agree for the most part. I don't need some piece of paper to tell me that my feelings for you are valid." He said.

"Well thanks for the ring." Claudia said, showing him how it looked on her pointer finger. "I love it. Also I have something for you to unwrap."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She giggled as she stood on her knees in front of him.

Calum slowly opened her robe, revealing her bra and panties.

"You're my favorite present." Calum said, before gently pulling her down to kiss her. "The best thing that has ever happened to me."

***

"Check his left pocket." Ashton told Luke while he held Calum up.

Luke nodded and slipped his hand into Calum's pants. But in his drunken state, Calum pushed him away. He shook his hand and tried yo

"I'm flattered, but I have a girlfriend." he went on. "She's amazing. She also has a great ass and even more phenomenal brain. She's having my baby whilst getting her master's at UCLA."

"C'mon you cunt, just cooperate with us. Claudia is going to kill us." Luke grumbled. "Where are you are your fucking keys?"

"I have a spare under the potted cactus." Calum said. He yawned and rested his head on Ashton's shoulder.

Luke gave him a look and crouched under the potted plant. He lifted the pot and retrieved the keyes. He opened the door, holding it for Ashton to carry Calum in. They guided him to the couch.

Duke and Cherry jumped on Calum wanting to get cuddles from him, but he wasn’t in the mood. He grumbled and rolled on his stomach.

“We need to get ice on his hand.” Luke whispered to Ashton.

“Why does he need ice on his hand?” Claudia asked, startling them.

She stood on the doorway with a plate of sliced green apples drizzled with honey and warm peanut butter. She was pissed.

Calum had told her he was going to go to the studio with the guys. Only he didn’t. She was mindlessly scrolling through the explore tab on Instagram and saw a picture of Mitchy with Calum in the background. Claudia wasn’t mad that he was out with Mitchy. She could care less about him. What pissed her off was that he thought it was okay for him to be out partying in the middle of a global pandemic.

“He punched Mitchy.” Ashton said as if it was something Calum normally did.

“He WHAT!” Claudia yelled.

“That’s what Luke said. I don’t know. I was home sleeping when he called.”

“I was in the other room when it happened and when Jordan came to get me, he didn’t tell me what provoked him. They were just held back by a few other guys.” Luke explained.

“Did anyone else see?” Claudia asked. She was worried about the video getting out and that their old team could use it against it.

“No, there were like three other guys in the room when I got there. Everyone else was out in the yard. There guys were smoking and Cal was helping Mitchy get more drinks.”

Ashton patted Luke’s arm. “We should get going.”

“Bye Claudia and congrats on having a girl.” Luke said before he left with Ashton.

Claudia sighed when she heard the door close. She went over to Calum and got him out of his clothes. She grabbed a blanket and covered him, leaving to go upstairs to sleep.

Calum woke up hours later. His whole body was in pain. He couldn't lift his head up from the pillow at how heavy it felt. Though when he caught a peek of himself in boxers he jumped up.

It took him a minute to realize he was at his house. He didn't even know how he got home. The last thing he remembered was punching Mitchy for calling Claudia a bitch. He glanced down at his hand, even against his brown skin, his knuckles were still red. He opened and closed his fist, cursing at how it hurt.

He heard hushed voices coming from the kitchen. He recognized the voices instantly. Danny and Claudia were arguing in Spanish. On the opposite end of the couch were a t-shirt and sweatpants neatly folded. He put them on and went to the kitchen.

He barely made two steps in the kitchen when two hands shoved him hard.

Danny, what the fuck!" Claudia yelled. She pulled her brother back, letting Calum regain his composure.

"You don't come to my house and fucking start shit." Calum snapped at Danny.

"No, but I do come over and take my sister home with me because her baby daddy is an irresponsible headass." Danny sneered.

"What did you just say?" Calum asked.

"Are you fucking stupid?" Danny began. "Claudia is fucking pregnant and you think it's cool to go out and party. You're putting her life and your baby's in danger. Hell, even yours. You're fucking selfish."

Calum didn't know what to say. He felt like shit.

Danny gently reached for his sister's arm. "Claudia te vienes conmigo."

She shrugged him off and crossed her arms. "I'm not leaving."

"Me vale verga."

"She said she's not going." Calum spoke up.

"Cal, don't say anything right now." Claudia said defeatedly. "Danny, go home. We're going to resolve this."

Danny looked at Calum then to Claudia. "Fine." he said, knowing she wouldn't budge. He reached for his keys on the counter. "Me hablas al rato. Y más si este pendejo anda con sus pendejadas."

He hugged Claudia and went through the back to avoid getting close to Calum. Seconds later the front door slammed shut.

"Claudia,"

She lifted her hand up, stopping him. "I don't wanna hear Calum. I'm exhausted. I stayed up all night because I didn't know where the fuck you were. Then you come home late, so drunk that Luke and Ashton have to hold you up. Don't get me started on the fact that you got in a fight. I don't want to know what caused it, but it better not repeat.

What am I going to tell my parents this time? 'Yeah we can't make it because Calum decided that it was okay for him to party in the middle of a global pandemic where there were thousands of people dying and being hospitalized in just the city we live in. Feliz año.'"

"Claudia,"

"What?"

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sure you."

Taglist: @suchalonelysunflower @f-mu @another-lonely-heart @sunshinebabycal-deactivated2021 @calumscalm @karajaynetoday @cherryxwildflower @ashtonsunflower @idontneedanyone @findingliam-o @5-secondsofcolor @mulletcal @polycashton @fckingpernico @2fangirl4u @calpops

#calum hood fluff #calum hood angst #calum hood one shot #calum hood blurb #calum hood imagine #calum hood fanfic #calum hood imagines #calum hood oneshot #calum hood fanfiction #el novio quarantine edition

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another-emotional-wreck · 3 years

Text

Title: Movie Night

Pairings: None except for a hint of Monica x Peter cause they're cute imo I'm sorry

Summary: Movie night with the Hex trio and Peter... until it's not. Also, metallokinetic Peter.

Warnings: No warnings as far as I know, but there's angst and a decent amount of fluff

Word Count: 2.2k words

Author's Note: This is my first fic for anything Marvel/Xmen related. Kinda nervous but mostly excited. Feedback is really appreciated as there's a pretty good chance a lot some of the character's actions could be pretty ooc.

*******************************************************************

“Wait… what?” Peter asked for what had to have been the millionth time. For a guy who could run fast, it was seriously taking him way too long to get this.

Darcy sighed again. “Alright, so you have to press this button--”

“The little sideways bow thing?”

“Uh, sure, why not. So you press it and then you’re gonna see a lot of different names. The one you’re gonna pick is called ‘Peter’s earbuds’.”

“Okay. Wait how does it know my-- oh wait, it beeped! The lady said it’s… paired? Now what?”

“Now you can pick a song to listen to.” Darcy pressed an icon of a square with a black background and a green circle in the middle. “Anything in particular?”

Peter was silent for a moment. "What do people listen to these days?"

Darcy took the phone from Peter before typing the name of a band into the search bar. His face lit up as Darcy handed it back to him, the screen filled with different songs to choose from. After a moment of scrolling, the opening chords of Dumb by Nirvana filled his ears, and for just a little while, his mind was calm. It was quiet.

“It’s nice to know at least music hasn’t changed since the 80s."

“I wouldn't say that exactly," Darcy mumbled.

Before he could question her statement, Monica spoke up.

"The 80s." She and Jimmy walked through the front door, both carrying grocery bags in their hands. "Is that where you're from?"

Monica placed the groceries on the counter before sitting down on the couch across from Peter.

He squinted at something in the distance. “I think so. I uh…” fuzzy images filled his mind. Laughing at jokes next to a boy with the strangest glasses. Playing in the snow with a woman with red hair. Sharing popcorn in a cold room with a girl with a mohawk and a blue devil.

A serious conversation with a man who meant a lot to him.

Peter winced at the sudden sharp pain behind his eyes. “It’s kinda… kinda hard to sort through.”

“That’s cool,” Darcy shrugged. “I felt the same way during English class back when I was in high school.”

Kurt Cobain’s voice rang in his ears. My heart is broke, but I have some glue. Help me inhale, and mend it with you. Peter nodded his head as he hummed along clumsily, not quite getting the tune right.

Once the pain faded from behind his eyes, Darcy noticed the way Peter’s face seemed to brighten at the sight of a certain someone.

“Guess what!” In less than a second, Peter had moved from his spot next to Darcy onto the couch beside Monica. “Darcy showed me how to get these little pods to play music--”

“They’re called earbuds--”

“And I can listen to whatever I want. How do you feel about this band called Nirvana?” Peter offered an earbud to Monica.

She laughed. “Right now, Jimmy has his heart set on this Lord of the Rings marathon.”

Jimmy shook his head as he took two bags from Monica and placed them all on the counter. “I stand by my claim that Lord of the Rings was and will forever be the best trilogy to ever exist.”

“Sure, Jimmy.” Darcy crossed the room to inspect the groceries. “Popcorn, sherbet, and Sprite? You got orange sherbet?”

Jimmy raised his palms in surrender and pointed at Monica. “Take that up with her.”

“Orange sherbet is the best flavor and, no, I will not be taking any questions.”

Darcy scrunched her nose. “And you’re sure powers were all you got from going through the Hex so many times?”

“You mean aside from having superior taste?” Monica joked. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

*********

“Frodo didn’t deserve Sam,” Monica stated as the movie played on screen.

Shoving another handful of popcorn in his mouth, Jimmy responded. “He was under a lot of pressure! The corruption from the ring only got worse the closer they got to Mordor, so you can’t really blame Frodo for everything.”

Monica wrinkled her nose at the kernels that flew out of his mouth as Jimmy spoke. “Whatever you say. Plus it doesn’t matter cause Darcy’s on my side anyways.”

“You say that as if she didn’t fall asleep the second the movie started,” Jimmy snorted as he gestured to Darcy, who was snoring rather loudly on his shoulder.

Peter chuckled at the banter between the two and at Monica’s annoyed expression, catching her attention.

With Darcy practically on top of Jimmy yet somehow also managing to take up half of the couch, Peter and Monica were seated rather close together.

“Unless you’re laughing at Jimmy, that noise shouldn’t be coming out of your mouth,” she joked, having to turn her head to look Peter in the eye.

“It’s really not my fault that you always seem to be wrong.”

“That’s a lie, actually, but alright.”

“See?” He snorted. “Wrong again.”

Monica glared at Peter who just chuckled and adjusted his position.

After no more than twenty minutes of the movie playing on screen, the sound of Monica snoring told Peter that he and Jimmy were the last two awake.

“They never stay up for my movies,” Jimmy muttered.

Peter turned in his direction. “They never what?”

“We try and do this movie night a couple of times a month. So far, they’ve fallen asleep on every single movie I’ve chosen. I mean that’s obviously just because they don’t appreciate classic media--”

“Right,” Peter mumbled. “That’s why.”

Jimmy paused as he shoveled another handful of popcorn in his mouth. “But I don’t mind it. I mean, everyone’s been back for a little while now, but there’s still this… this underlying fear that it’ll happen again. This nagging feeling that people are gonna be taken away from us, but this time they won’t come back.”

He looked at Darcy, still completely unconscious on Jimmy’s shoulder, and Monica, who was curled up under Peter. “They feel like family” Jimmy admitted. “We haven’t even known each other for that long, but I’d do anything for these two, and I’m comfortable saying they’d do the same for me.”

“I’m happy for all of you, really.” Peter sighed, feeling the clasp on Monica’s necklace dig into his side. “But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous. I have a few memories--”

Taking a look at the confused look on Jimmy’s face, Peter continued. “Well, you all know that I’m not from here. Wanda just pulled me out of my own time and brought me here. ”

“I mean we know it wasn’t intentional--”

“That’s not the point!” Peter did his best to rein in his anger. “The point is, some random lady took me away from my time. Away from my home, my friends, my family. And I’m not even saying that I blame her, but why did it have to be me?” When Jimmy didn’t respond, Peter continued. “I get these… flashbacks. Fuzzy memories of home. They used to be pretty rare but lately, I’ve been getting them more often. One of them keeps showing up.”

“You think you can try and remember?” Jimmy suggested.

After a moment of silence, Peter decided. “Yeah.” He adjusted Monica so that her head rested on the arm of the couch instead of his side, and something strange happened to his chest at the sight of her sleeping so peacefully.

Jimmy pulled out a notebook and pen. Peter cleared his throat as Jimmy nodded for him to begin, ready to jot down whatever he could.

“It was me, a little girl. An older woman, could’ve been my mother? And--” Peter furrowed his brow as a dull pain began to form behind his eyes and a white noise began ringing in his ears. “Someone… someone else. They, uh-- a man. I think.”

“If you can’t remember who, try to focus on where.”

“No no, I’ve got it. They uh. We--” It was beginning to hurt. “No. Wait. Younger people… friends, they had to be.”

The pain became more intense. The noise in his head was getting louder. It hurt. Different images flashed in his head, all fuzzy and difficult to clear up. His mind reached out to grasp one but just as his fingertips brushed the surface, it was gone.

A patient teacher bound to a wheelchair.

A charming blue devil.

A shapeshifter with a warm heart.

A man who could shake the earth itself.

“They keep moving,” Peter said through gritted teeth. “They… t-they won’t sit still.”

“Alright, man,” Jimmy closed the notebook. “If you need to take a break we can--”

“No! I wanna do this. I need to do this.” Peter’s voice cracked. “I don’t-- I can’t forget them.”

“Okay. Alright, that’s fine but you-- uhh…” Jimmy furrowed his brow at the sight of the pen in his hand beginning to twitch. He took one look at Peter and his eyes grew wide the moment he began to understand. “Peter. Hey, you’ve gotta take a breath. You gotta-- shit.”

Jimmy took in Peter’s current state. Pale and shaky with droplets of sweat forming on his forehead. His eyes wide and panicked. “Uhmm, shit, Monica! Darcy! I really think now would be an appropriate time for the two of you to wake up, given the circumstances.”

As he moved to shake the two women awake, Peter’s struggle grew more intense. The pain had now spread throughout his entire head and turned into a pounding sensation. The noise was deafening as it bounced around in his skull.

Monica woke quickly to see Peter pale and in distress. “Jimmy, what’s happening?”

“I don’t know! We were trying to clear up the memories in his head when he started shaking and--”

“I can see that, but what’s happening?”

“Uhh…. I think stuff is about to start floating…”

Darcy’s eyes fluttered open. “Huh?”

“Yeah,” Jimmy continued, still trying to wake Darcy. “Cause, my pen was shaking and your necklace is moving a lot, and Darcy, I think your glasses are about to fly off of your face.”

Monica looked down to see her necklace float away from her chest, then watched in what seemed like slow motion as each object Jimmy mentioned flew towards the same source.

Peter.

Seconds later the tv in front of them crumpled in on itself. “That was expensive,” Darcy sighed, now fully awake.

Monica cocked her head, her gaze flickering from Peter to Jimmy to Darcy. “Is he--”

“Yep,” Darcy said loudly

The three sat in awe and terror as Peter sank to the floor in agony, screaming as he drew his knees to his chest. His hands pressed over his ears.

Darcy looked into her kitchen and her eyes grew wide. Locking eyes with Monica and then Jimmy, they all spoke at once. “The knives.”

Monica scrambled to Peter’s side while Darcy and Jimmy ran to get as many knives as they could out of the house.

Darcy turned towards Monica. “You, uh, sure you got this?”

At Monica’s shaky nod, she followed Jimmy into the kitchen.

“Okay,” Monica began. “Peter… I’m gonna, um. I, uh-- okay I actually have no idea what I’m gonna do, but I need you to just, try and, uh, I don’t know, breathe?”

“I can’t.” he panted. The breaths he took were uneven and rapid and his face was stark white. He wasn’t responding to her. “I can’t forget. I-- no, no no I don’t want to forget. They’re slipping. I can’t reach them. Help me.”

She knew he wasn’t going to be able to calm himself down. Monica called the other two in there.

Jimmy ran into the living room first. “We weren’t-- oh.”

Darcy quickly followed. “Holy shit.” she looked at Monica. “You know what to do?”

Monica nodded. “But I haven’t exactly done it before and there’s a good chance I’ll pass out after.”

“I mean, if it means he stops screaming bloody murder, I feel like it’ll be worth it.” Jimmy looked at Darcy with wide eyes, who just shrugged.

“Right,” Monica shook the nerves out of her hands. “Okay. Alright.”

“Y’know, there are still knives and other extremely sharp objects in the kitchen so--”

“I got that, Darcy!” Monica snapped. She took a deep breath before turning all of her attention to the man in front of her. “Okay, Peter? I’m sorry, but none of us have any idea what to do, and so, this was the next best option.”

She closed her eyes and placed both hands to his temple, struggling to keep them there as he twisted in pain. When her eyes opened again, a bright blue shone in place of their usual brown.

His energy came through in tendrils. The super-speed feeling like electricity itself, sharp and cold, while his metallokinesis was slow and warm and heavy. It was new and painful and in that moment Monica understood his pain.

While his powers had come to a pause, his memories were a different matter.

“I gotta keep going,” Monica slurred. Her eyelids were heavy.

“Yeah that’s what we’re not gonna do,” Darcy said.

“He’s still in pain!”

“And now so are you! We can find something to sedate him but, right now, you can’t--”

Monica responded by placing her hands on Peter’s temple once again, this time taking out smaller amounts of energy. Just enough to put him to sleep for a little while.

She then promptly collapsed.

“Energy absorption,” Jimmy stated. “Impressive.”

Darcy sighed. “Please just help me get them to bed.”

“Right. Okay.”

#wandavision #peter maximoff #monica rambeau #jimmy woo #darcy lewis #original work #wandavision fanfic

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myelocin · 3 years

Text

home, as we go | sakusa k.

synopsis: enter sakusa kiyoomi who happens to be a little past drunk, a rooftop with a view, and some talks about the past, present, and the future. sakusa thinks you’re present in all three.

characters: sakusa kiyoomi, you

genre: fluff. warnings: alcohol

wc: 1600+

a/n: thinking ab rooftops again like the emo i am......hi xave

“all there is,” sakusa begins. “is who we were and who we are.”

“what about who we will be?” you ask.

across you, sakusa ponders at your words. eyebrows a little more drawn together, eyes squinting as he purses his lips to the corner and stares at the drink in front of him a little too intensely. you chuckle, already knowing that the alcohol is already settling into his system.

pushing your laptop to the side, you grab the pile of papers strewn a little haphazardly in front of you and arrange them inside a folder. sakusa stares, a little too obviously despite him shifting his eyes the second you look back up and lock eyes with him.

he stares at you, his face flushed.

you smile.

“drunk enough to climb on the roof?” you ask, standing up and grabbing your can of beer from the corner of the table. shaking the can from side to side, you feel the swish of the liquid inside, so you decide this one can still last you through the night.

“not drunk,” sakusa pipes from across the table, his head already tilting a little too far off the side for you to be convinced.

“not drunk,” you nod, still unconvinced as you walk in front of him who staggers a little awkwardly behind you. from the reflection of the mirror in the hallway, you catch sakusa run his face through his hands a couple times before shaking his head and blinking rapidly as he follows you up the stairs.

he was the kind of drunk that always was in denial about his intoxication.

“you sure you wanna climb up here with me?” you ask, patting the open space next to you.

“i think—,” sakusa begins, with a slur, “i think i’ll fall so i’ll grab a chair and stay here.”

you chuckle against the can, looking at sakusa who plops himself down at the chair he positions next to the open window, his arms then folding in itself as he rests his head on it, facing you. the loose curls automatically fall from its place and onto his face at the sudden movement of him sighing against his forearms, a hiccup following suit.

you chuckle again, stretching the makeshift blanket you’re seated on as you move from one end to the next, leaning closer towards sakusa.

“don’t fall.”

“i’m not drunk enough to be clumsy on a rooftop, omi,” you smile.

beside you, sakusa groans, pushing himself up as he settles on a standing position, where half his body is leaning against the windowsill. with his head poking out of the room and into the rooftop, he stretches forward, moving towards you to press a kiss on your cheek.

sakusa smiles because even with your eyes set and steady towards the distance, you still lean in and meet him halfway.

“you smell like beer,” he laughs.

“bold of you to say when you could barely walk up the stairs,” you retort, countering his mirth with a laugh of your own.

“but i was thinking, omi,” you eventually say, your voice softening as your thoughts begin to mellow. “what you said earlier, what do you mean?”

instead of turning to you, from your peripheral vision you see him turn forward and face the view he knows you come and sit in the rooftop for nearly every night. he smiles at the sight; a familiar skyline, the edge of the coast in the far distance, and the flickering streetlights some streets over that still hasn’t been dealt with to this day.

“all there is,” sakusa begins to retell, his voice with a little more control this time. “—is all we were, and all we are.”

“what about who we will be?” you ask him, giving him the same question as you did earlier.

“we just don’t have that yet,” he laughs. “truth is, i think the reason why people forget to live so often is because they think who they are yet to be would mean automatic happiness.”

“you’re being oddly philosophical,” you laugh, turning your head briefly to face him. what greets you is the sight of sakusa kiyoomi with his eyes closed as he faces the coast in the distance, a calm sort of smile illuminating his features.

your shoulders relax, then at your prolonged silence sakusa continues to speak.

“who we will be is really just who we can be. we aren’t that person yet, and that’s okay,” sakusa exhales, opening his eyes again to look at you. “we’re so busy of thinking who we can be that we’re neglecting who we are in the moment.”

“but what about the hopeful who are hurting right now?” you ask despite nodding your head at sakusa’s words. you realize that it really isn’t him who you’re posing the question to, but rather towards the world, the universe, or really any deity that might be with the breeze and listening.

“then that’s who they are for now,” sakusa answers, his voice the silent truth that the breeze carries into your ears. “in the now they are hopeful, and in the future they can become something else.”

“something good?” you ask, turning your head and meeting his eyes halfway as you give him a smile.

“someone victorious,” he nods, and you can only feel your smile stretch wider because you sense nothing but truth and hope in his words.

“is this what you talk about when you’re drunk?” you laugh.

“i’m not drunk,” he groans, before it eventually dissolving into chuckles when he catches sight of your expression.

“earlier you were.”

“i think the cold air did me good,” sakusa replies with a subtle smile.

“think you’re sober enough to sit with me?” you smile, moving a bit to the side and smoothing out the crumpled side of the blanket beside you.

sakusa sighs, then you watch in silent glee as he eventually climbs out of the window and takes a seat beside you. as if instinctively, you shuffle closer beside him: his arm moving to wrap around you, and your head falling into his chest.

warm, you think. sakusa’s always just the right kind of warm.

“hi,” you whisper, turning your head to catch a peek at him. sakusa looks down at the feel of your eyes on him, then smiles as he wraps another arm around you, caging you in. at the feel of his lips pecking the crown of your head, you smile, tilting your head again to press a kiss to his jaw before facing the sky beyond again.

“so who are you in the now?” you ask, your hands settling to grab his that sit in front of your lap. sakusa hums out his thoughts at first, pondering over your question.

“i think i’m just sakusa kiyoomi,” he answers after the initial silence passes.

“just?” you ask, laughing.

“at the end of the day i’m just a person,” he laughs, intertwining his fingers through yours as he settles his chin on top of your head.

you smile, squeezing his hands and closing your eyes at the breeze that flows through. the world is probably listening, you think to yourself.

and to be fair, you realize that he did have a point. at the root of his success, persona, and status he has in the world is just his identity. it wasn’t sakusa kiyoomi the world class athlete, who disliked touch and was the brooding kind of handsome.

“you’re my person, though, omi,” you answer in return, because you realize that it truly can’t get any better than that.

because the person you’ve come to know is a boy who used to have a pet chicken in his youth. who washed his hands with the recommended twenty seconds timeframe you always hear the grownups talk about (despite them not adhering to it most of the time), and slurred after his third can of beer. he, who woke up just minutes before you, loose curls and two moles that reminded you of the story about angel kisses, and always squeezed your hand in a crowd.

“i guess i am,” you hear him mutter, voice soft. and with that, you smile, because it’s the kind of voice he uses when he’s truly smiling too.

“what about me?” you giggle, squeezing his hands. “who do you think i am in the now?”

sakusa shifts a little, so you turn to the side to look up at him.

sakusa grins, a rare boyish grin that spreads across his face faster than you could exhale the air you’ve been meaning to let go.

“you’re someone who says ‘five minutes more’ when doing work instead of taking the break you know you’ve been needing,” he answers.

“omi, you’re mean,” you reply, reaching up to pinch his cheek.

“you’re something else,” he thinks, but ultimately chooses to keep his silence instead as he smiles at the look on your face as you shift your focus towards the skyline again. when he looks up, he sees colors, then when he tilts his head to catch another peek at you, he smiles even wider because he can practically see the cogs whirring at your head.

he knows you’re probably focusing on something; tongue poking out of your lip, and eyes looking like they’re somewhere far away.

something in his heart exhales, and he feels like home.

“you’re someone i want to marry,” is the first thought that comes to him afterwards.

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sunshineandaisies · 3 years

Text

Nightmares

Words: ~1.3k

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: language, sexual suggestions, some fluff and angst

You were startled awake by a loud crack of thunder, wind howling through the alleyway outside, and heavy raindrops battering against the window. The forecast hadn’t mentioned a storm, yet here you were, awake and likely unable to fall back asleep because of the noise outside. The time on your phone read 3:23, and you knew that it would be hours yet before you needed to prepare for another long day of classes.

You rubbed your eyes and stretched your tired limbs before peeling your blanket away from your body and swinging your legs over the edge of your bed. You stumbled groggily to the kitchen for a glass of water, and after ensuring that the door to your parents’ bedroom was closed, you put a bag of popcorn into the microwave and leaned against the counter, scrolling through social media on your phone as you waited for the popcorn to be done.

A few minutes later, with a bowl of popcorn in hand, you were padding back to your room and closing the door softly behind you. You had planned to just lay in bed and watch a movie on your laptop to pass the time until you officially needed to be out of bed and starting your morning routine before school, but the flashing battery symbol at the bottom of your laptop’s screen put a temporary halt to those plans while you scrambled to find the charging cable.

It was nowhere to be found in your bedroom – not on your desk, not under you bed, not even hidden behind your backpack and the stack of textbooks that you hadn’t even touched the night before. You groaned loudly before retracing your steps from the last time you remembered having the cable, and after nearly ten minutes of searching various places around your apartment, you finally found it wedged between the cushions on the couch.

It would have taken mere seconds to plug the cable in and to resume your intended movie night – morning? – if it hadn’t been for the lightning outside lighting up a silhouette on your fire escape as the person opened your window and began to crawl through it.

You felt your heart pounding rapidly in your chest, a sense of panic bubbling to the surface and a scream of terror at the back of your throat, but that all quickly disappeared once you realized who it was.

“Fucking hell, Peter!” you hissed, trying to keep your voice low enough to not wake your parents. Your wide eyes took in his appearance – his hair and clothes soaked from the rain, his eyes bloodshot and rimmed with red, his cheeks drained of all color. “You scared the hell out of me! Hurry up and get in here. You’re gonna get sick.”

“Can’t sleep,” he answered your unspoken question of why he was even at your apartment rather than his own three blocks over before climbing the rest of the way through your window. “I just- I can’t-”

You nodded in understanding as he struggled to get the words out. “Nightmares again?” you asked, knowing that more often than not, since you and him and the rest of your friends were returned after the Blip, Peter had dreamt of space, of Tony Stark, of Thanos, of everything that had been lost in the aftermath.

His only response was to avert his eyes, as if he were ashamed of the truth of the matter. You bit your lip, your heart aching for him. Wordlessly, you dug through the drawers of your dresser, pulling out a large t-shirt that you had stolen from Peter months ago and old sweatpants that you were pretty sure belonged to your dad at one point in time. “Here. Go change while I get a movie ready for us.”

Peter sent you the barest of smiles and took the clothes from your hand. “Star Wars?” he asked, sounding hopeful.

“Nope,” you responded. The corners of your lips curled up into a wide smile. “Harry Potter. You crashing my early morning movie is fine, but we’re at least gonna watch what I wanna watch.” You watched him closely as he nodded before disappearing into your bathroom to change, and by the time you had the movie queued up and ready to play, he reappeared and crawled into bed beside you.

Your heart was racing as you pressed yourself closer to him during the opening scene of the movie, your arms winding around his middle and your ear pressed against his chest. The sound of his heart beating sent a wave of calm washing over your entire body, and the feel of his hand resting on the exposed skin of your lower back made your body buzz pleasantly with warmth.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” you finally asked after you felt him relax completely. “I understand if you don’t. I just don’t like when- I hate seeing-” You trailed off, tilting your head slightly to look up at him only to find him already staring down at you with chocolate eyes. You lifted a hand to cup his cheek tenderly, and he sighed at the touch. “I’m worried about you, Pete. You hardly sleep anymore.”

“I sleep when I’m with you,” he answered before turning his head slightly to press a light kiss to the palm of your hand. “I- I don’t have nightmares when I’m with you, Y/N.”

You couldn’t control the curl of your lips after hearing his words. “I keep your nightmares away?” He had never said anything of the sort before, so this was all new to you. It would explain why he’d made a habit of appearing at your window at the end of his patrol two or three times a week, why he’d made a habit of crawling into bed with you when you nodded sleepily and scooted to the side to give him enough room beneath the blanket beside you.

“Yeah,” he whispered the admission. “It’s like you help- you help remind me of the good, and the good overwhelms the bad for a little while.”

You rolled away from him slightly, resting your head on the pillow beside his. He rolled onto his side, your noses only inches apart. “I’m happy I can help, Peter.” Your hand found his beneath the blanket and you squeezed gently. “I’d let you sleep here every night, but I think May and my parents might not be as willing to let that happen.”

He scoffed. “It’s not like we- we don’t do- we haven’t done that.”

“Sex?” you questioned teasingly, laughing as he blushed brightly. You pressed a quick peck to his lips and added, “Not yet anyway.”

His eyes widened and the blush across his cheeks only spread further, creeping down his neck and up to his ears. “Y/N, we- did you- what?”

“You heard me, Spider-Boy.” You pressed another kiss to his lips, lingering longer with the promise of more before pulling away and smiling at him. “Someday. But for now, you look like you haven’t slept in over twenty-four hours.”

“Try forty-eight,” he muttered, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Get some sleep, Pete. I’ll keep the nightmares away.”

A couple hours later, as the credits of the movie played on your laptop, your mom found you curled beneath the covers with Peter, your head rested on his chest and his arms wrapped around your waist. She let it go that time, quietly closing the door as she left the room to ensure that your dad didn’t find you in bed with a boy, but you’d most certainly be getting a talk about the birds and the bees in the very near future.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x fem!reader #spider-man x reader #spider-man x you #spider-man x y/n #spider-man fanfiction #spider-man reader insert #peter parker reader insert #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #spider-man fluff #spider-man angst #marvel reader insert #marvel fanfiction

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hes-writer · 4 years

Text

Routine

Summary: y/n catches harry live streaming a show

Warning: smut

Word Count: 2293 words

___

University was no joke. It’s expensive for sure. Harry had a full-time job at the beginning of the semester working at a cafe near his flat. He soon found out that that wasn’t the best idea. Maybe because he didn’t manage his time right or it was simply too exhausting for him to work late hours when he had to take mandatory morning classes. His next solution was more--risky per se.

Harry had always been confident with his body. He ate well; loading up on fruit smoothies and veggie shakes every morning to accompany him on his early morning workouts. The sweat beading in between his toned pecs made him revel in the accomplishments of self-care, washed away as he palmed his face underneath the stream of the locker room shower. His wet curls stuck to his small ears as he pulled his sweater over his body, exiting the gym with a bag slung over his shoulder, plucking a peace sign to the person at the front desk as he left the building.

It started off as a blog; posting pictures of his body that he worked hard on. The narcissist in him craved the compliments of strangers drooling over his muscles and shapely body. Sometimes the messages he received were explicit, but he also couldn’t help the arousal flowing through his veins as blood pumped towards his cock. Thus, the next part of his routine was to go home to his flat and strip his body off of his clothes. His webcam would be switched on with a push of a button, his long fingers floating over the keyboard as he signed in to his account.

Speaking of, the meat between his thighs plumped up with the lingering thought of user ‘sweetgirl112’ messages last night. How much she wanted to tuck his thick length in her mouth, how much she craved to feel his large hands adorning her body. God, she had such a way with words and here Harry was with an erection pudging up in his lycra leggings. An outline of his mushroom head visible through the tight material. He played with his bottom lip as he waited for the traffic light to turn green. One hand tapped against the steering wheel in a rhythmic pattern, his mind drifting away to how it would feel like to have those pleasures within his reach.

But he didn’t.

He rushed off from his seat, quickly locking his car and keying the front door to his flat. Harry was hornier than usual today, thanks to sweetgirl’s lovely messages from last night. Harry rolled his eyes at the effect the stranger had on him. He dropped the chain dangling from his fingers on the bowl beside his door, sighing with excitement as he toed off his runners.

On the couch, Y/N snoozed with her mouth agape, hair messily splayed across the pillow he provided her. He almost forgot she had slept over last night during their movie night. She insisted to sleep on the sofa despite Harry offering his bed to share between the both of them. In the end, both of them slept on the uncomfortable cushion cuddled up into one another. The distance between them was non-existent but Harry found it endearing the way Y/N cuddled up into his body in order not to fall off the edge, snuggling into his chest with a quiet snore after jolting when one of her legs tumbled of the border.

Nonetheless, that meant that Harry had to tone his volume down a bit, keeping a keen ear to make sure his noises don’t wake her up or arise any alarm from his friend. He crouched down beside her sleeping face, waving a hand over her eyes to make sure she was still in a deep sleep.

“Hope yer’ having sweet dreams,” His thick accent made the words stick to his tongue, lazily drooping like honey. Harry pressed a kiss to her forehead, ignoring the way his heart thumped as she smiled slightly in her sleep, humming with satisfaction and cuddling closer to the pillow clutched between her arms.

Adorable, Harry thought.

Soft footsteps tiptoed over his bedroom, shutting the door gently. He stretched his arms to remove the black sweater over his head, ruffling his curls in the process. His nose hooked at the opening, muffling his breath for a bit that had him tumbling down on the end of his bed with a slight bounce. Harry is clumsy.

He managed to remove the rest of his clothes without further trouble, leaving him in his boxers briefs and socks which he would take off when he got situated in his office chair situated in front of his computer. His set up was on the corner of his room, facing the door. It was a bit odd at first but Harry learned to make it work.

Harry pushed two pumps of coconut-scented lotion into his large palm, lathering his upper body with a subtle sheen, moisturizing his biceps to appear shiny. The excess cream was rubbed along the nape of his neck, massaging the tense muscles along the way. A swift glance at the time at the bottom corner informed him that he had five minutes left until his scheduled show would begin. In preparation, Harry gathered the items he might need during his session. A bottle of clear, water-based lube, a bullet vibrator that recently joined his collection of toys and a silicone cock ring that looked to be a struggle to fit around his plump dick. He set the items aside on the table in front of where he would be sitting.

Harry chewed on his bottom lip, hands grasping the width of his hip as he opted to check on Y/N again. She was a heavy sleeper and the show will probably take around thirty minutes to do, minus the foreplay and all of that. It was still pretty early in the morning too; around ten-thirty, surely she’d stay put till then. He peeked his head through a small gap in his door, craning his neck to catch Y/N shifting just in time to rest on her other side.

Pretty soon, the webcam displayed a green dot at the corner and his screen was loaded to a black screen. The chat indicated that there were currently twenty people watching him. The total viewer count increased with each passing second that had Harry grinning to himself. Once the camera was adjusted to where it cut off around his neck, he sat back in his spinny chair, splaying his wide palms on his muscly thighs.

20 seconds left.

Harry could feel his cock grow in his boxers, the anticipation of his fans commenting on dirty things that they would like to do to him left his imagination endless. A blurt of precum stained the inside of the fabric, dotting the area a darker colour. He sighed deeply, wide eyes watching as the countdown changed.

5...4...3...2...1

In a blink of an eye, Harry’s toned body was showcased on the screen, allowing him to view what his viewers had the pleasure of viewing. The ‘LIVE’ sign blinked repeatedly.

“Hello,” Harry drawled out purposefully using a deeper tone to set the mood. “How are you today?” His fingers stayed hung over the armchair, griping it slightly when comments started rolling in.

“How’s my baby? Are you needy for me?” He found that the best way to ensure as much of connection between his viewers was to speak as though it was a one-on-one conversation. “Because I am,” A hand crawled towards his crotch where his half-massed dick rested on his upper thigh, the head prominent against the tight briefs.

Making sure to keep his face out of view, Harry leaned forward to read the remarks.

User12314: i love your tattoos

User48529: what i’d do to have my hands on you

He chuckled to himself, rubbing up and down to tease himself and them even more. Various 'pings' littered the room with Harry thanking each of them as much as possible.

“I’d love to have my hands on you too,” He gave his cock a gentle squeeze, sucking a breath through his gritted teeth at the sensation. “Wanna feel your body on my skin,” Harry released a throaty groan as he shifted to pinch at his nipples, “Would ya’ let me touch your breasts? I bet they’re soft and perfect for my hands,” His thumb rubbed circles on his top two nipples, shivering slightly.

One palm cupped his balls, thumbing at the middle as the other continued the ministrations on his chest. This went on for a couple more seconds until he pulled his hands away to rest on the ferns tattooed on his hips, rubbing the skin there sensually while he spoke, “Y’wanna see my cock? It’s so hard for you,” The head twitched twice, forcing an involuntary moan to leak from his plump lips.

User09321: yes please

He sighed at the message, his stomach burning with the need to just wrap his fingers around his dick and jerk it till he cums. But he couldn’t do that—at least not yet.

___

Y/N woke up from her slumber, dizzy and discombobulated about where she was only to realize that the ache in her lower back was caused by Harry’s uncomfortable couch. Her phone buzzed beside her; an alarm to wake up to watch a show. Not just any show—a filthy, dirty cam boy who hadn’t left Y/N’s mind ever since she discovered him for the first time a few days ago. She was drunk on wine and barely remembered what the live stream had contained. He was hot, that much she knew.

He wore a dark red sweater that covered his body which Y/N found quite adorable. Yet at the same time, his fist peeked out from his bunched sweater paws to desperately tug at his cock while endless whispers and groans flowed from his mouth through the speakers. His covered body arching against his seat, the walls behind him a plain white. Apparently, he was feeling like a sub that day and asked permission to touch himself like a good boy, pleading to cum. His audience couldn’t resist the whine in his deep voice, shooting streams of cum on his sweater, staining the fabric and probably ruining it forever.

Just before the live stream ended, he reminded everyone when his next show was--today-- and in her drunk daze, Y/N must have set up a reminder on her phone, completely forgetting that she was to hang out with Harry the day before. She rubbed the ball of her palm against her eyes, willing away the sleep on her lids. Sitting up on the cushion, she looked around Harry’s apartment to find the curly-headed boy.

“Harry?” She called out, checking his kitchen to find it empty. She went to his bathroom to freshen up, picking up her toothbrush that Harry had sweetly brought her after Y/N stayed at his place more times than both of them can count. After spitting out the foam pooling in her cheeks, Y/N dabbed the corners of her mouth with a soft, fluffy towel.

As she exited the bathroom, Y/N opened up the web browser in incognito mode, refreshing the link from a few days ago. The page loaded slowly, enabling Y/N to continue searching for Harry. She absent-mindedly walked to Harry’s closed bedroom door—the last place she had yet to look. Her phone produced a muffled sound when it finally loaded. She rapidly typed out a comment to send.

“Can’t take it anymore,” The man said, “I‘ve gotta touch myself but I’m wishing it’s you wrapping your hands around m’cock,”

Y/N could feel her thighs tighten, standing in front of Harry’s bedroom.

Sweetgirl112: touch yourself for me daddy. i wanna hear you say how good it feels

Harry growled upon seeing the message and its user, pulling the fabric down and letting his dick hit his skin with a faint slapping sound on his flushed stomach. Shaky fingers teased his length, tracing of the prominent veins that pumped his cock with blood. “Mm, it feels so good, love,” His thumb spread the liquid seeping at the tip, making sure to lube the head of his dick for a smooth stroke.

With distracted thoughts, Y/N pushed the bar handle down, a gentle bump knocking the door open.

She couldn’t believe her eyes when the loading screen on her phone mirrored the sight in front of her; Harry’s head thrown back, resting against the head of the office chair. Her phone cut off at the veins stretched over the expanse of his neck. His heaving chest glistening with sweat and the faint smell of coconut lingered in the air. His fist pumped his long cock up and down, squeezing at the tip to produce a dollop of wispy pre-cum. Closed eyes blocked his vision from Y/N standing frozen on the door, gazing back and forth towards the device on her sweaty palm to the even hotter view right in front of her.

A resonant sound of ‘pings’ pulled Harry out of his pleasure, lifting his head with the aim to thank whoever tipped him but was taken aback by the sight of his friend at his doorway.

“Oh shit,” He mumbled, impulsively clutching his full balls cradled between his fingers. Harry’s green irises were hooded, observing Y/N’s face with such intensity that it made her want to cower back. His two-front teeth grazed his bottom lip before parting his sweet mouth in a silent gasp at a particularly good stroke. “Wanna join me, baby?”

——

Let me know what you thought!

——

Permanent Taglist: @splendidsunsetx @swagmoneymaya @luviewoo @textingharry @arypesanchez @theresthingsthatwellneverknow @sunguines

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry smut

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aellynera · 3 years

Text

The Best Years of Your Life (Reeves x Reader)

THE BEST YEARS OF YOUR LIFE

(hey hey, this is my other submission for @wasicskosgirl and her 800 follower celebration! and yes, you read that right - it’s REEVES. i had a lot of fun writing it and i hope you enjoy reading it! CONGRATS Amanda!!)

Word Count: um like 6200ish oops it was supposed to be a blurb

Summary: They say the best years of your life happen in high school, but what do they know?

Warnings: Some language. Female reader implied but no pronouns/description. Teenage angst. Adult wistfulness. Mostly fluffy tho. No promises about proofreading. Frog murder.

with the prompt - “Like what you see?”

It all started back in high school. Sometimes you wonder how often people say that, and if it’s really true or they’re just falsely remembering how things happened because high school is supposed to be the best four years of your life.

But in this case, it’s true. Because high school is when you met Reeves.

Sophomore Year. High School. A Friday.

It was the third day of sophomore year, fourth period on a Friday morning, your last before the lunch break. Biology class was maybe the one you were least looking forward to, not exclusively because of the required frog dissection, but pretty damn close. Gross. And you never understood why the school year didn’t just start on a Monday, but you were new here in San Diego. Maybe they just did things differently.

It was bad enough being the new kid. It was worse when you walked into class halfway through the lecture, even if it wasn’t your fault. The timing of the move was weird, and you’d spent most of the first two days, and this morning, doing placement tests and talking to your counselor.

And now you were being called out in front of the entire class.

“Ah, there you are,” your teacher announced as you walked in the door. “Everyone, this is our new student, please make them feel welcome. You can sit over there.”

Your eyes followed as she motioned to the empty seat at the lab table in the back of the room. Suddenly you weren’t sure if your face felt hot because of embarrassment or because of the boy in the other chair.

Dark, curly hair cut close on the sides but longer on the top. Deep brown eyes framed by long, long lashes. Full, plush lips curling up into his cheek on one side. A nose that, okay, maybe might be a bit oversized but for some reason worked on his handsome face and--

Well, shit. Definitely not the embarrassment.

You shuffled your way to your seat and slid into it with your head down. A few students watched you curiously but soon turned their attention back to the lesson. You tried your best to focus on what was going on, to not look to your left at the distraction next to you.

You weren’t very successful.

By now you thought you’d sneaked enough covert glances to know that we was wearing a leather jacket, had a small diamond stud earring in his left ear, a bunch of silver-studded brown suede wrap bracelets around both wrists, a silver ring on his right index finger, and oddly precise handwriting as he took notes. In between relevant facts the teacher was sharing, he was doodling tiny music notes in the margins of his notebook.

And he totally caught you looking.

“Like what you see?” he leaned over and whispered.

Your mouth felt drier than the Sahara but also somehow so moist you were afraid you might have actually drooled on yourself. You should have opened your mouth to respond but your brain refused to make the connection. Probably for the best.

At least, at first. When it finally caught up to you, the only response your brain could provide was, “Maybe?”

Now would be the perfect time for the floor to swallow you whole.

He just winked at you and his attention went back to the doodles around his notes.

You shifted your gaze back to your own notebook, but you don’t know if anything else of importance was said, and don’t remember writing anything down. The bell ringing sharply pulled you back to reality and you hastily shoved your books in your backpack, ready to escape.

Just as you were about to leave, a voice called out. “Hey, sorry about earlier. If I freaked you out or anything.”

You looked up. He was smiling at you, a little shyly. You bit your lip, your brain and mouth still refusing to connect.

He stuck his hand out. “I’m Reeves. You’re new here?”

“Um…” you smacked yourself internally. This was ridiculous, you weren’t really shy, you knew how to have a conversation, he was just introducing himself. You were going to have a serious conversation with your brain later about proper communication techniques.

It felt like hours had passed, but you finally pulled yourself together enough to respond. “Yeah. My- my dad got transferred for work, we moved here like a week ago. He literally dragged the family across the country. I’m originally from New York City.”

His eyes lit up. “Oh, cool! I always wanted to go to New York City!”

You found yourself smiling back.

“Do you...wanna sit with me at lunch?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. “Maybe you could tell me a little about the city? And...about you, since we’re gonna have to commit heinous acts of violence on an amphibian together? I’d like to know who’s wielding a scalpel next to me.”

The giggle that escaped your throat could not be contained. This boy - Reeves - was adorable. “Oh. Okay, yeah. I’d really like that.”

The Present.

Poor Lenny the Frog never stood a chance. Then again, neither did you.

To be fair, Lenny was already dead when you and Reeves got your hands on him. Well, when you got your hands on him, because for the full first half of that specific class period, Reeves refused to touch him and nearly turned as green as Lenny once was. That’s when he insisted on naming your cadaver, because somehow giving it a name made it easier to deal with.

You were pretty sure Reeves was nuts.

By the middle of sophomore year, you were dead too, but not for the same reasons.

By the middle of sophomore year, you weren’t sure how you were still alive, because every time he looked over at you and gave you a sly smile during class, gave you that look, you felt your heart go taut and you forgot how to breathe and certainly, rightfully, should have been dead.

Your friend Alexis stuck her head into your bathroom. “Hey, we’re just waiting on Vanessa, and then we’re good to go. Drinks first? The show doesn’t start until 8 so we have time.”

You glanced up from your makeup and nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

Alexis grinned. “Aaaaaah I’m so glad you agreed to go out tonight! It’s gonna be so much fun!”

“Oh, it’s gonna be something,” you muttered, going back to your eyeliner.

Alexis had been the first one to see the concert announcement about a week ago. A benefit show at one of the clubs down in Greenwich Village, some punk revival thing (for charity) with a bunch of different singers and musicians. Not normally your scene, but Alexis scanned through the names and suddenly remembered you’d known Reeves in high school. You said yes, he was in your class, and you’d been lab partners once. Vanessa squealed in excitement and Alexis announced you were going to the show. There was never any actual agreement.

Because of course Reeves was going to be there. And of course, you had to be too.

Junior Year. The Parking Lot. A Tuesday.

“I’m just saying, it was a ridiculous foul, and it should never have been called,” Reeves groused as you walked out of the gym.

“We also should have made like twenty more of our own foul shots,” you pointed out.

The Lake Howell Silverhawks had fallen to their arch-rivals in a somewhat glorious fashion. You didn’t even like basketball that much. But that didn’t really matter. The games were just an excuse to go out for burgers before and hang out with your friends during.

It was definitely an excuse to hang out with Reeves.

Junior year, you were both disappointed to find you didn’t have any classes together, but you still almost always ate lunch together. He’d come over to your house to study during the week and sometimes just to chill out on the weekends. Over the past year, he’d shown you all around the city and taken you to his favorite places. You told him all about New York, how you missed it and one day you’d go back, and all the famous sites and which ones were tourist traps that he was only allowed to visit the very first time and then never again.

You spent so much time together, even your mother liked to tease you about why he wasn’t your boyfriend.

It took a while for you to find the words to tell her it was because he was someone else’s.

As much as you liked to pretend she didn’t change anything, Randie Rustenberg changed everything. It was gradual, like a creeping vine of ivy, and she slowly took him over. There was no malice; it was just one of those things that happened. Reeves spent less time with you, his best friend, and more time with Randie, his girlfriend.

The girlfriend you desperately wished was you, because ever since that first biology class you’d had the biggest, stupidest crush on him.

Eventually you had a boyfriend of your own. Theo was a nice guy, he really was. Polite, friendly, had a good sense of humor, liked your family. And your family loved him. Your mother was so happy that you had a boyfriend, she seemed to forget to ask how Reeves was and if you’d seen him lately.

Of course you saw him. You saw him every day, in the cafeteria, at his locker, passing by in the halls. Sometimes you could find him playing the grand piano on the stage in the empty auditorium. Yes, if your mother bothered to ask, you saw Reeves all the time. Now it was just always with her.

Except this week. It was a break of sorts, no classes, just some sports and other school activities. Randie was on some trip with her parents for some kind of church function, and Theo was fishing with his dad on some lake up north. He’d told you where, but you honestly couldn’t be bothered to recall. So when a bunch of your friends and a bunch of his friends all said everyone was going to the basketball game, there was no debate.

As if there was any way you’d say no.

Sometime during the game, your friends wandered off to the snack bar and never ventured back. His friends started a game of hacky-sack under the bleachers. And you found yourself pretending to understand all the finer points about hoops strategy, cheering and yelling along with Reeves and having a great time, just like you used to.

“Where’d you park?” he asked as you left the gym and headed out into the sea of cars. You vaguely pointed in the direction of yours and he grinned. “Oh, good, I’m that way too. Come on, I’ll walk you.”

The faint glow emitted by the lampposts in the parking lot bounced off his curls and his eyes, when you could catch a glimpse, were bright beneath them.

As if there was any way you’d say no.

The walk wasn’t very far, but it felt like it was over in a second. You hadn’t said anything on the way, just soaked in the comfort of walking next to him as he kept commenting on the game.

He was waving his hands everywhere, looking at them as he talked as if his hand motions would make things make any more sense to you, in the middle of saying something about your center and how they needed to get better about blocking out when you finally spoke.

“Oh, shit.”

Reeves looked up at you. “What, you don’t agree?”

You dropped your bag on the ground and rolled your eyes. “No, my car is locked and I left my keys inside.” You pointed to the passenger seat. Your keys stared back at you derisively.

You both stared back at them for a moment, then he grinned. “Hang on, I got you.” He held up one finger and trotted off to his car, coming back a minute later with something in his hand. “This should take care of it.”

You took a step back. “Reeves? Um. Okay, why do you have a coat hanger in your car.”

He rolled his eyes back at you. “For emergencies, duh.” He quickly twisted the hanger into a hook shape and went to your passenger side window.

“And why do you know how to break into a car with said coat hanger?”

“Like I told you,” his tongue poked out between his teeth as he worked, “for emergencies. You think I haven’t locked my own keys in my car once or six times?”

“Did Randie teach you how to do this?” The words were out of your mouth before you could think. She probably had. She might have been churchy when required, but she was also responsible for about half of Reeves’s stints in detention (the other half just being him making the wrong joke at the wrong time and pissing a teacher off.)

Thank god he didn’t seem to hear you as he kept working at the lock. Finally you heard a *click* and he pumped a fist into the air with a little “yessss!”

And then you’re not really sure what happened. You bent down to pick up your bag and then you were standing up and Reeves’s face was literally about three inches away from yours and for the eight thousandth time since you’d know him, you forgot how to breathe.

Neither of you said anything for what felt like days. You just stared at each other under the dim halo of the parking lot lights.

“Here you go.” He took your hand and dropped your keys into it.

“Thanks,” you whispered.

“Like what you see?” the corners of his mouth quirked up, just the slightest little bit.

“...Maybe.”

And the staring recommenced. Were you two getting closer? Physically closer, you meant, of course you were close, you’d always been close. Well, at one time you were really close but then Randie Restenberg happened and it wasn’t fair that she got to know what those lips felt like and did he always smell this good or--

“Yo, Reeves!” A pickup truck full of guys skidded to a stop behind your car and one of his friends - Jake? Jack? you barely remembered your own name right now - stuck his head out the window. “Fight to the death ping pong tourney at Matt’s house! You in?”

Reeves bit his lip and closed his eyes for a second before he pulled back with a soft “I’m sorry” before turning to his friends. “Um, yeah, sure. Sounds brutal. I’ll meet you there.”

The pickup sped off, tires screeching out of the parking lot. Reeves turned back to you, but you’d already gotten into your now unlocked car and started the engine.

You rolled down the window a fraction and gave him a weak smile. “Hey, um. Thanks for saving my butt. Now go kick theirs at ping pong, yeah?” Your face felt so hot, and for once you were grateful for the dim lights in the lot.

“You could, um, come along if- if you want.”

“Nah, I’m...I’m tired, I’m just gonna...um, head home. But I’ll see you tomorrow maybe?”

Reeves looked like he was about to say something else, but he didn’t. He just stepped onto the curb in front of your car, smiled, and raised his hand in a little wave as he watched you drive off.

The Present.

A series of shrieks and the slamming of the door told you Vanessa had finally arrived. It sounded like they were jumping up and down on the tile just inside your front door, which was ridiculous since you’d all just seen each other the day before. But typical.

You smoothed a pinkie under your eye, checked your makeup one final time, and went into the living room.

“Oh, you look hot,” Vanessa gushed. She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and plopped down on your couch. “Who are you trying to impress tonight?”

“Reeves, of course,” Alexis laughed, leaning on the kitchen counter. She sorted anything she might need from her big purse into a little evening bag as she talked. “You know we go to all his shows. And you know they went to high school together.”

You snorted. “That was a long time ago. I’m not even sure he’d remember me.”

Vanessa waggled her eyebrows. “You��re probably right, No offense, honey, but no one was that hot back in high school.”

He was, your brain supplied. Very helpful. You smiled wanly.

Vanessa continued. “But you were friends, right? You’ve never really talked about it. God, it must be so cool now to think that you were friends with Reeves back when he was an awkward high school teenager.”

“Reeves was never awkward,” you laugh. “It was kind of unfair.”

“But you totally had a crush on him,” Alexis offered.

Had? What do you mean, had? Oh my god, shut up, brain.

A pillow flew in your direction and you ducked as Vanessa giggled and Alexis rolled her eyes. “Come on, tell us something about him,” Vanessa goaded. “Wait. Was he, like, your prom date? That’s your secret! You totally went to prom with Reeves and you never told us!”

Senior Year. Prom. A Saturday.

The night was not supposed to go this way.

It was supposed to be limousines and corsages and dinner with dates and friends. It was supposed to be endless pictures while your mother told you how gorgeous you looked and how handsome he was and your father gave a thinly-veiled shovel talk about how he knew what happens on prom night and what would really happen if that actually happened. It was supposed to be punch and cookies and balloons. It was supposed to be dancing closer than the chaperones were comfortable with and kissing with tongue when they weren’t looking.

It was supposed to be the best night of your life. It was supposed to be fun.

Nowhere in your weeks of dreaming of this night did it involve sitting on a bench in the girls’ locker room, knees pulled up to your chest, while the party carried on in the gym just beyond.

It definitely didn’t involve crying.

The bass beats of the deejay and the harmony of laughter temporarily got louder as the locker room door opened, and then faded back into a muted thumping as the door closed again a second later. You could hear footsteps headed in your direction but before you could unfold yourself and wipe your tears away, a familiar voice called out.

“Hey, there you are!”

Being able to find the words to describe how he looked in his tux, his curls slightly tamed by some gel, the blue rose (of course it would be an off color, why would he pick something standard?) pinned to his lapel, his lopsided grin… Finding the words was nearly impossible.

Of course he would show up now. Because your night wasn’t already crappy enough and half the reason you were sitting there weeping instead of out there dancing was standing right in front of you.

You realized that wasn’t fair. It was probably more like, twenty-five percent of the reason, and it wasn’t his fault. But that didn’t make it any better.

“Why are you in the girls’ locker room, Reeves?” you sniffled.

He furrowed his eyebrows and his nose scrunched up in concern as he took in your mascara-streaked cheeks and puffy red eyes. “One of your friends said you came in here like half an hour ago and nobody’s seen you since. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine.”

“Clearly not.” He sat down next to you. “Wanna talk about it?”

A deep, shaky sign left your chest. You didn’t really want to talk about how, earlier in the evening, you’d excused yourself to use the restroom and come back to the gym to find Theo dancing with...you didn’t remember her name, nor did you care. You didn’t mind that he was dancing with another girl, in theory, but it was another matter entirely when his hands were on her ass and she was sucking a deep purple mark into his neck. And he was laughing.

A short, vicious argument ensued in the coat room after you’d cut in and dragged him off by the elbow. And it turned out that he’d been seeing whats-her-name for months, somehow, behind your back while pretending that everything was perfect with you. When he was supposedly visiting his grandparents? He was with her. When he had to work an extra shift? He was with her. When he got off the phone with you, saying he needed to get to bed early? He was calling her.

Prom wasn’t supposed to involve a very public break-up.

And things didn’t get any better when, deciding you needed something to drink, you went back into the gym and immediately saw Reeves and Randie, dancing cheek to cheek, arms snugly wrapped around each other as a soft, romantic song wafted through the air. Because of course he was with her. She was his girlfriend and Reeves wasn’t a detestable cheating asshole.

There was always another her.

You couldn’t handle it.

So you took off to somewhere almost guaranteed to be empty. You figured the locker room wasn’t really the kind of place kids would want to make out, and you were right. It was blessedly empty. Until now.

But you couldn’t tell him the second part, so you just went with the first. His eyes got wide as you blubbered through the sordid details of Theo being a complete and utter twat. Another quivery sob half-burst from you and Reeves got up. He grabbed a few paper towels from the dispenser and handed them to you as he sat back down.

“Thanks,” you hiccuped.

“I never liked him,” Reeves announced.

You found yourself choking on a huff of air. “What? Yes you did! Everybody loved him. That’s what makes it extra shitty.”

“Did you?”

“What?”

Reeves cocked his head and looked at you with an expression you couldn’t quite place. “Did you love him?”

Your mouth opened and closed but nothing came out. Why did you always seem to forget how to make words when Reeves asked you questions?

“What?”

He shrugged. “Everyone else loved him. Did you?”

You used every last ounce of willpower you had to not jump up on that bench and shout that of course you didn’t love Theo, you idiot, because I love you.

That would not make this night any easier.

The next thing you knew, Reeves put an arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his chest, hugging you soundly. He rested his cheek on the top of your head. “Doesn’t matter. You’re better off without him.”

You dabbed at your eyes. Nope, still couldn’t make words.

Minutes, hours, days. You had no idea how long you stayed like that, pressed to him and feeling him breathe beneath you. You no longer had any idea how long it had even been since everything crashed around you and he’d come to try and help you pick up the pieces. You just listened to his heartbeat, strong and steady, as the muffled music and joyful shouts of classmates went on past the closed door.

Finally he spoke again. “Hey, you wanna get one of those complimentary pictures?”

“What?” Oh, great. You were finally able to answer his question but you could still only come up with that one word? Stupid brain.

“Well, I…” he sat up straight and, after the briefest look into your eyes, he glanced away. Was he blushing? You weren’t sure. “I always kind of...I kind of thought we’d have a prom picture together. I mean, I just figured, y’know, we’d go with a bunch of friends, but I always hoped I’d get a picture with my best friend.”

The sniffles were back in an instant. Damn him. “Reeves, I...you really want to get a picture now? I look horrible, I can’t get a picture taken like this!”

He took the paper towel from your hand and gently dabbed at your cheeks. “You couldn’t look horrible if you tried. Come on, it’ll be fun. And just think how excited your mom will be when she gets a copy of it.”

Despite your best efforts, you had to laugh. “Okay.”

You headed to the photo area after you washed your face, Reeves helped you wipe off the stray streaks of mascara, and you reapplied just a bit of makeup to make yourself feel better. You were never sure what Reeves said to the photographer before the shots, but he seemed quite happy to take multiples. Reeves stayed pressed against your back with his arms down around your waist, hands clasped together in front of you, for each and every one.

At some point between the second and third shot, he leaned just a little closer into you and you suddenly felt his breath against your ear. “Like what you see?”

For maybe the first time that entire night, your face broke into a genuine smile. “Maybe.”

For a few minutes, your night was absolutely perfect.

The Present.

It was the greatest date that never was.

“No, Reeves was not my prom date,” you told your friends with a shake of your head.

You left out most of the other details, partly because you didn’t want to answer eight hundred questions from Vanessa and partly because, well, you just wanted those moments for yourself.

After the pictures, Reeves had asked if you would like to dance. Until then you didn’t realize it was possible for eyebrows to shoot that far up a person’s forehead, but yours were up for the challenge. You’d mumbled something about if Randie would mind, because you were sure she absolutely would, but he brushed it off. Randie had gone off with her friends when he came to find you, and he really wanted to dance with you, just one dance with his frog murder accomplice. And he said that with a straight face and a twinkle in his eye and there was no way you could refuse.

As if there was any way you’d say no.

One dance turned into two, and then several, until the girlfriend in question finally did show back up and Reeves was pulled away, leaving you with a soft smile and a mouthed “sorry”.

Definitely the greatest never-date.

After prom, life returned to what vaguely resembled normal. Your love life sucked and Reeves still had a girlfriend that wasn’t you, and you didn’t see him much. To be fair, the end of senior year and graduation did creep up pretty fast so there wasn’t a lot of time anyway. Graduation was there before you knew it; he cheered for you and you cheered for him as you each walked across the stage. You made brief appearances at each others’ graduation parties and talked a bit and then, once again before you knew what happened next, it was time to leave for college.

You went back to New York. Reeves stayed on the west coast.

And over the years, like so many other people before you and after you, you just fell out of touch.

“And anyway,” you asserted, “we were just kind of friends. Yeah, like I told Alexis before, we were lab partners sophomore year, and we hung out sometimes, but that was it. Really.”

Alexis snorted and Vanessa narrowed her eyes. “Mmmhmm.”

You threw the pillow back at her. “Mmmhmm.”

“All right, you two,” Alexis chided. “Come on, let’s get going.”

Somehow, you managed to get down to Greenwich Village without further interrogation and minimal shenanigans.

The Present. One Hour Later. Another Saturday Night.

The bar inside the club was pretty packed. Granted, it was a Saturday night down in The Village, so it wasn’t too uncommon, but you were honestly surprised that this many people showed up for a punk retrospective.

There were a few other relatively big-name acts you recognized on the bill, and a fair number of people were wearing t-shirts with Reeves’s most recent album cover on the front. There were even a few that had shirts with his face on it, which was frankly kind of weird.

“Looks like you’re not his only number one fan,” Vanessa smirked.

“I just enjoy his music,” you said off-handedly as you tried to flag down a bartender. “But anyway, tonight isn’t even about him. We’re just here to support charity, right?”

Alexis pretended to agree with you. “Right.”

You glared at both of them before turning your attention back to the bar. Yes, you came to every one of his shows in the area. When you had time. When you could take the night off. When you could rearrange your schedule and switch shifts at the last minute and promise favors to be able to attend them. When you maybe once or twice just called out sick because nothing else worked. So what.

They were really starting to get on your nerves.

The bartender finally noticed you and took your order, and you looked around the club again while you waited.

Lots of people, ranging from just-allowed-to-buy-booze to mid-sixties businessmen. A few folks that looked to currently be in their golden years but were clearly once punks in their prime. Many people in black and chains and mohawks and neon hair and piercings, to the point where you honestly couldn’t tell who was a performer and who was a patron.

The one person you were looking for was the one that you couldn’t pick out of the crowd.

“He’s gotta be here somewhere!” Vanessa’s voice shouted from somewhere behind your shoulder.

“Vanessa, you’re getting a little weird about this,” you called back as you grabbed your drink and turned around.

“Like what you see?”

Eyes wide and mouth slightly hanging open, you almost dropped your full glass.

Vaguely, nearby, you heard the sound of glass shattering and shot a glance to your left. Alexis really had dropped her drink, and Vanessa was clutching onto her arm for dear life. She was holding her glass at a slightly odd angle and the contents were dripping onto one of her shoes.

The crowd silently pulsed backwards as one, clearing out around the four of you for a respectable distance. Several people watched curiously; surprisingly, they just stood back and stared instead of trying to get involved.

Reason Number One why you really couldn’t blame them: Reeves stood there, right in front of you. Literally less than two feet away, looking right at you. His mouth pulled up into his familiar lopsided grin, his hair still dark but shot through with strands of silver, curly on the top and shorter on the sides. His nose with the little dent, perfect on his face under those dark, luminous brown eyes and...holy shit, was he wearing eyeliner? He was wearing eyeliner.

Reason Number Two why you really couldn’t blame them: Leather pants. Under his old, faded t-shirt and black leather jacket (you were used to seeing him in brown, but you had to admit the black looked good) he was wearing leather pants.

Reason Number Three why you really couldn’t blame them: Quite simply, Reeves was standing in the middle of a bar in New York City and he was talking to you.

You blinked once, then twice. You may have blinked more times but all you could think about was the fact that, after all these years, your brain still couldn’t make words when Reeves asked you a question.

That same old question.

Suddenly you were grinning back, completely ignoring your friends and their dumbfounded squawking and sputtering next to you. You were smiling because even though your brain couldn’t make full sentences of words, it could pull one particular word out of the void and let it come out past your lips.

“Maybe.”

Reeves grinned fully now, his eyes lighting up and the crinkles at the corners deepening.

Someone - maybe Vanessa, maybe a total stranger, you couldn’t be sure - might have swooned from the sidelines.

“Always told you I wanted to come to New York,” he said.

“Always told you I’d go back.”

And the next thing you knew, the next thing that made any sense anywhere in your mind, was that Reeves had stepped forward, wrapped his arms around you, and placed the softest, sweetest, most heart-achingly gentle kiss on your lips.

You pulled away in a daze, felt the heat rising in your cheeks, as you heard a muffled choking sound halfway behind you. Definitely Vanessa.

Alexis and Vanessa’s eyes, already bugging out of their faces, nearly fell out of their sockets when Reeves turned to address them.

“Hey, ladies. I’ll come talk to you after the show, but for now, I just need to borrow your friend for a few minutes, okay?”

There were somehow still more bizarre, mostly inhuman noises that came out of your friends and even later, when they’d deny ever acting like that in front of a famous rock star (and rolled their eyes at you when you corrected them that he was a musician, not a rock star), it wouldn’t matter because you weren’t paying a single bit of attention to them them anyway.

You only had eyes for one person.

He took your hand and pulled you past the bar, into a little room in the back; the office, presumably. The second you were both inside, he wrapped his arms around your waist and looked you in the eyes. He just stared for a few minutes, or maybe hours, you weren’t sure.

It really didn’t matter.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do that?” he whispered.

“Third day of school, fourth period biology class, sophomore year?”

Reeves smiled softly. “The second you walked in that door.”

“Why didn’t you?” you tilted your head to look at him. Okay, to gaze into his eyes. You tilted your head to gaze into his eyes and your subconscious hoped to any gods that would listen that you did not have actual hearts or stars in your pupils.

Not that it really mattered.

His arms never left you but he gave a little shrug. “Never seemed to be the right time. And then I had a girlfriend.”

“Yeah,” you laughed. “And I ended up with that lame excuse for a boyfriend. But do you know how long I’ve wanted you to do that?”

“When you couldn’t stop staring at me when you sat down at the lab table next to me?”

“Hmmm, maybe. But definitely when you told the teacher we had to have a funeral for Lenny.”

“Hey, Lenny was a fuckin’ hero,” Reeves batted his eyes at you innocently. “He performed a brave and great service to his country.”

“I am oddly happy you’re still an idiot,” you giggled.

“I’m ecstatic that you kept coming to all my shows in the city.”

You pulled back slightly and looked at the ceiling. “You noticed?”

Reeves gave you that look. That look he always gave you, when you were teenagers, when you said something either completely ridiculous or completely profound. That look he gave you when he thought you might not be looking, even though you were always looking. That look that said he always had your back and you were his best friend. That look that you thought you’d be lucky to see one more time but probably never would.

That look.

“Of course I noticed. I thought about having security make you stay back, but that’s just...no. You always looked happy, and I don’t know...I just didn’t want to intrude, I guess? Just always wondered why you never stuck around after the shows, never stayed to talk to me, never came knocking on the dressing room door.”

You thought about that for a minute. You really did try, but you couldn’t come up with a decent answer. You were happy. Just seeing him was enough, you told yourself. Just hearing him sing was enough, just being in the same room with him, just being near. Just like it was back in high school.

Only it wasn’t high school anymore, and now that he’d finally, finally - after years of would’ve and should’ve and maybes - kissed you, you knew enough wasn’t going to be, well, enough.

So that’s what you told him.

And Reeves pulled you close, leaned in closer, and kissed you again.

You pulled apart, breathless again, and rested your foreheads together.

After minutes, or maybe days, or maybe hours, and definitely years - it didn’t really matter - Reeves was there. You were there. And for once, you were really there together.

“Like what you see?”

“...definitely.”

The Future. Any Day. Every Day.

You always thought, and your friends always said, that the best years of your life happened in high school. And to a certain extent, that was true and you believed in that notion for a very long time.

But ever since that night, that one glorious night in a Manhattan bar, you realized you were wrong.

The best years of your life were still happening.

~end~

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

Secrets ~ 2

Warnings: noncon sexual acts later in series

This is dark!Bucky and dark!Steve and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: A buried family secret comes to light thrusting you to the forefront of an old alliance.

Note: Last night I got some not so nice comments about me and I know it doesn’t really matter but considering I have to work on my bday tomorrow and everything is just mounting and mounting up, I don’t know how much writing I’ll be doing. It could be a lot or a little. But thankful to have those who care, you guys, cheering me on.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You went on like nothing had changed. It hadn’t. You weren’t leaving to marry some stranger. Some outdated prince in his crumbling castle. You studied the past, you didn’t want to live in it.

You went to class. Numb. Your anger slaked away as you jotted your notes and tried to ignore the tugging in your chest. Three classes, a coffee in between the second and the third, then you were due at the bookstore for the closing shift.

It was late enough in the year that the customers weren’t so many. You paced the aisles and asked students if they needed help. Few did as they perused the shelves and wandered, almost aimlessly so. Danica was on the till, though you took turns between sorting through the table of discount paperbacks left disordered by curious shoppers.

Only twenty minutes before close and you were near the back of the store, sweeping. Your path was blocked however as you turned in the far aisle. That man, Mr. Barnes, stood by the wall of rucksacks and hoodies, pretending to be interested. Given the fine cut of his suit and the polish of his shoes, you doubted he needed or wanted the campus-branded clothing.

You kept at your work. You got closer and continued to sweep, knocking his heels with the broom as you grumbled a grizzly ‘excuse me’. He chuckled and stepped aside, turning to watch you as you tried to ignore him.

“Your highness,” He said.

“Don’t call me that,” You huffed as you lifted the dustpan and it folded up against the stick. “What are you doing here?”

“My duty.” He said lightly. “I was sent by your fiance to keep an eye on you. To bring you back to him.” He glanced around and slid a magazine from the rack. “To free you of this boring mediocrity.” He flipped through the pages. “You don’t belong here, Duchess.”

He folded back the magazine and turned it to face you. He held it out and you scowled. He waved it impatiently and you sighed as you stepped closer to look. A man, tall, blonde, austere, leaned against an expensive sports car, a mansion behind him, akin to Versailles, as he gazed nonchalantly into the camera. The headline floated beside him; ‘A King for our Times’”

You recognized him. You’d seen him, as most people had; on the news, in tabloids, on questionable gossip blogs. You’d never paid much attention to him or those royals who existed beyond their means. You scoffed and shrugged.

“Am I supposed to be impressed?” Your lip curled.

“Your feelings don’t really matter,” He closed the magazine and put it back. “The contract stands.”

“You came all this way on the back of a paper signed by a dead king of a dead nation?” You shook your head. “Is your king that desperate?”

His jaw squared and he swallowed. “You think this makes you better than him? This… existence?”

“A life I earned,” You retorted. “I doubt he or you know very much about that.”

“And how much do you know of duty? Obligation? A purpose beyond your own selfish needs?”

“Selfish?” You rolled your eyes. “Sir. We’re closing. You need to leave.”

He tilted his head and grinned. His tongue poked out along his lip and he chuckled.

“Your highness,” He bowed his head. “Until tomorrow.”

He stepped closer and you turned to let him past.

“Don’t bother,” You said to his back as you watched him near the end of the aisle. “I’m not going. Tell him to find someone else.”

He stopped and pushed back his shoulders. He said nothing, just stood there a moment before he continued on. The electronic ding signaled his departure and you let out the breath that had stuck in your chest.

You clutched the broom and dustpan in one hand and grabbed the magazine from beside you. You went to the counter where Danika was balancing the till.

“Hey,” You leaned the broom and pan against the counter. “I wanna buy this.”

“Just take it.” She shrugged. “With our discount, it might as well be free.”

You nodded and took it, bending it under your arm.

“Anything else besides cleaning?” You asked.

“Nah,” She counted out the last of the pennies. “Go on. I’ll close up.”

👑

You sat on your bed, the glow of your small lamp the only light. After an hour of tossing and turning, you surrender to wakefulness. You stared at the magazine, the glossy cover reflected the light beside you. You sank back into your pillows and picked at the pages until you found the one. You opened the magazine and stared at the man; the king; the strange. Fiance?

He was handsome, sure, but even in a picture, he seemed haughty. There was an arrogance to his shoulder, the way he leaned on the white hood, how he appeared to look down his nose at the lens even while standing on the same level. You flipped the page and began to read.

A short blurb introduced him as the King of Astrania, once the playboy prince, but, as the article claimed, matured by the throne. You recalled the gossip of those days, yourself barely a teen then. One night, he had a socialite on his arm, the next an actress, next a singer, a model…

‘You’ve done so much. Anything still on the list?’ The interviewer lobbed another softball question.

‘Lots.’ The king answered. ‘I think my mother would be relieved to hear me say I think it’s past time I found a wife. A queen.’

‘You’re going to break a lot of hearts, your majesty.’

‘I’ve had my fun. Maybe too much. If I’m to serve my people, I’ll need someone at my side.’

You lowered the magazine and frowned at the ceiling. You pushed the pages off your chest and rolled over to turn off the lamp. You pulled the pillow over your head and squeezed your eyes shut. The thought of being bound to man so opposite yourself made you want to scream but you were too tired for that.

👑

You still didn’t know what to say to your mother. Your whole life was a lie. Not a lie you hated which was worse because the truth threatened to undo it all. When you went to the kitchen to get your coffee, she was there, waiting, a mug ready for you. You didn’t say more than thanks as you took and returned to your room.

You readied yourself for another day. Thursday. The last two days felt like weeks. You packed up your bag and left through the front door, avoiding your mother who watched you from the kitchen. What were you supposed to tell her? It’s okay you lied to me, it’s okay you don’t want to fight, it’s okay to barter me away before I was even born? None of it was okay.

You reached the end of the walk and a man in a black suit stepped into your path. You stopped short and tried to pass him. Another man, in the same suit, black jacket, black tie, black everything, blocked you again. You turned the other way and found yourself box in by Mr. Barnes. He crossed his arms as he smiled at you.

“You’re off early.” He said.

“I have class.” You sneered and once more tried to make your way around the men. They moved with you, forming a wall. “Get out of my way.”

“The king wants me back before the end of the week. I can’t return empty-handed.”

“I don’t care what your king wants. I have class, work--”

“The jet is charted for three,” He checked his watch. “We have lots of time to pack.”

“You’re not--” You sputtered. “No.”

You looked back at your house. Your mouth stood in the door as she watched. She looked sad, broken. You grimaced at her.

“I told you I’m not going,” You tried to shove past Barnes and the other men grabbed your arms, your bag flopping to the ground. “Hey, let me go.”

“Your highness, my king did permit us reasonable force in our duty,” Barnes said evenly. “And to this point, I have restrained from it.”

“Hey,” Your mother swept through the door and stormed towards the men. “Don’t! Let her go! You’ll hurt her.”

“There is a seat for you on the jet too, Princess,” Barnes offered. “It’s only fitting the mother of the bride should attend the wedding.”

“Get off!” You kicked out and Barnes moved out of the way. “Off!”

“Astrania favours tradition.” He continued. “And it is not unheard for brides to be brought in chains. I’d rather not be so medieval.”

“I don’t wanna go! No!” You continued to struggle. Your mother grabbed at one of the men and was swiftly shaken off. “Stop!”

“Get her inside. The princess, too.” Barnes order.

One man hooked his arms through yours and held them behind you as the other seized your mother. You were turned and forced back down the walk, growling and grunting as you were pushed up the porch steps. Your mother whimpered as she was held by the back of her neck and angled through the front door ahead of you.

Inside, the door clattered and the thicker one was closed and locked. Barnes led the way into the living room and pointed to the couch.

“Princess,” He ordered and your mother was pushed onto the sofa. “Bring the duchess here.”

He beckoned to the hallway and strode ahead of you. Your shoulders ached as you tried and tried to wrench yourself away. Barnes looked in doors until he found your room. You were taken inside as he peered around.

“Cuff her,” He said. “Put her on the bed.”

He turned you and pushed you down onto the mattress. He released your arms as he pinned your down with his knee in your back and you reached back blindly to claw at him. He caught your wrists and held them together, securing them with a pair of thick cuffs before he got off of you. You rolled over and kicked out. Barnes caught your ankle and squeezed until you groaned in pain.

“The king would prefer a bride without a broken foot,” He warned. “But he will accommodate it, should he need to.”

He threw your leg down gruffly and nodded to the man. The other left and you sat up awkwardly, your arms trapped behind you. You stood and Barnes quickly pushed you back down.

“I’ve been nice. Patient.” He said. “But I don’t have time for this.” He pointed his finger in your place. “Perhaps your mother didn’t tell you how these things work or maybe you just didn’t listen. This isn’t a proposal, Duchess. Not a choice.”

You snapped at his finger and he drew away quickly. He smirked and scoffed and shoved you back roughly.

“Keep it up and I’ll have you strapped down.” He snarled.

You slowly sat up, glaring at him, but didn’t go further. “Fuck you.” You spat.

His eyes rounded then he snickered again.

“Oh, there’s a lot to work on, Duchess. That mouth, first of all,” He turned and pulled open the sliding door of your closet. “Ugh, and…” He touched a wool sweater. “And these, most of all.”

The man in black reappeared with a suitcase, the other faded leather dug up from the linen closet. He slapped it down on the bed beside you and flipped it open. He went to stand in the door, blocking it with his wide frame.

“Duchess, future queens, do not wear…” He held up a jacket. “Tweed.”

You growled, fighting the urge to kick him. You couldn’t reach and the cuffs kept you off-balance.

“We’ll take enough for the time being but… we’ll have to bring in some stylists,” He dropped an armful of clothes into the suitcase. “For…” He looked you up and down. “Everything.”

“You can’t do this,” You snarled.

“I can. I am.” He insisted as he tucked in the corners of the clothing. “That’s what you don’t seem to understand. I can do whatever I want. I have an order from the king and I have diplomatic authority. Now, I have been nice so far, I will even allow your mother to accompany you.”

“No,” You hissed. “No, leave her here.”

“Leave her?” He asked.

“It’ll be easier.” You lowered your chin. “For both of us.”

He was quiet. He nodded and stepped away. He went to the attached bathroom and returned with your pouch of essentials.

“We can make up for whatever we forget,” He dropped it atop the open suitcase. “Anything in particular I’ve missed, duchess?”

“Beyond human decency?” You challenged.

He laughed once more and closed the suitcase.

“It’s a long flight,” He said. “And it’ll be longer with those.” He tugged on the cuffs. “Hopefully it gives you time to think.”

He zipped up the bag and handed it to the man in black. Then he grabbed you and lifted you onto your feet. He guided you from the room with his hand on your wrists. Your mother sat, the other man staring her down, and looked over as you entered.

“Please, don’t take her. Please.” She begged as she tried to stand only to be nudged back by her watcher. “You can’t--”

“Princess, you know you can’t stop us.” Barnes said. “And your daughter has made up her mind. You will stay.” He bent to look her in the eyes. “You get your wish. Stay in your exile, pretending, playing at normalcy.”

“I’ll go,” She pleaded. “Let me go.” She leaned over and looked around him at you. “Don’t leave me here. I’ll come with you. I’ll-- I’ll-- you’re my daughter--”

“And you lied to me.” You sniffed. “You did this. Why would I want you to come?”

“I’m your mother.” She uttered.

“You’re the Princess of Ecklun. It was written there on that paper.” You sneered. “In your hand. I have to live with what you’ve done but it doesn’t mean I have to live with you.”

You turned your head up and held back the sudden wave of sadness which swelled in you. Everything you knew was just a lie. Your own mother. Your only family. She’d sold you like cattle. If she had warned you, maybe you could have stayed hidden. If she had warned you, maybe you wouldn’t be so unprepared. If she had warned you…

“Well,” You looked at Barnes. “Are we going?”

He stepped away from your mother and took your arm. “No goodbyes?”

“She signed her farewell a long time ago,” You said and turned away from her. “She’s had years to prepare for this. Years she stole from me.”

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