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sometimesanalice · 7 months ago

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Between Friends

Summary: Bradley and you don’t talk about that Spring Break. But a single question asked during a night out at the Hard Deck might just change things between the two of you forever.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 11K

Warning: smut (including loss of virginity), brief mention of underage drinking, and college!bradley in a backwards hat

(Author's note: Happy Birthday Jordan! I wrote this just for you! Look at me keeping secrets from you! Enjoy!)

𝐍𝐎𝐖

Rooster couldn’t control his bouncing leg.

That night at the Hard Deck had started out like any other: good music, good drinks, good people. Over the course of the evening, he’d found himself seated between you and Bob in a lopsided circle with the rest of the Daggers around a few tall tables that had been pushed together just shooting the shit.

It was all fun and games until swapping stories about embarrassing middle school moments turned into cringing over first kiss stories turned into Seresin grinning like a shark asking about how everyone’s first time went down.

Rooster felt his pulse kick up with every collective laugh and groan as his friends went one by one sharing how they’d lost their virginities. Because with each passing story, it meant that you were one person closer to going. And for the first time in his life- even after over two decades of friendship- he didn’t know what your answer was going to be.

So he is just as shocked as his teammates are when you tentatively reveal, “So, um, my first time was with Rooster.” He doesn’t miss the way all his friends’ heads snap towards him.

All eyes are on the two of you, and you’re pointedly looking anywhere but him.

Rooster had been anxiously waiting to hear the story of your first official time, the one that was with someone who wasn’t him. He didn’t realize that you still considered him your first. He’d figured that part of your history had long been overwritten by whoever had been lucky enough to catch your eye and make your heart race in a romantic way.

The two of you had never talked about it in the after.

Not once, not ever.

He didn’t care that people knew, he just wasn’t expecting it.

Jake starts the group out of its stunned silence by slapping a heavy hand on top of the table, nearly sending some bottles to the floor, “I knew it! I knew y’all couldn’t have been friends all this time and not have tried it out at least once.”

“Jesus Christ, dude, chill,” Javy mutters. He’s always been the better of the two about reading the room.

Trying to spare you from being put on the spot even more than you already were now, Rooster mumbles through the way he’d lost his to a girl from his AP Econ class after a playoff baseball game.

He stares at the way you’re nervously picking at the label of the Blue Moon he’d grabbed for you when he went to get a refill of his own. He can practically hear the way your brain is buzzing. He wonders if you wish you could take back the words from where they are sitting on the table with the collection of bottles and peanut shells for everyone to see.

Bob being the team player that he is starts talking about how he’d lost his one summer in college to another camp counselor, going into more detail than he’s ever given before, probably trying to redirect the attention to himself to give the two of you a moment to regroup.

Rooster makes a mental note to tell Penny to put all of Bob’s cream sodas from now on on his own tab.

He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do here. Or where to look. Or where to put his hands. He wants to talk to you, but there’s no good way for him to go about it without drawing even more attention to the two of you.

You were supposed to be going on a first date tonight, but he’d talked you into canceling to hang out with him instead. He likes having all of your attention on him. And maybe he’s been a little selfish with you, because he doesn’t like to share you with anyone else. You’ve always been his best friend.

Rooster likes that he gets to talk to you whenever he wants now, and that it doesn’t feel like a never-ending game of catch up anymore. In the year since the Uranium mission, he’d felt like all the fragmented pieces of his life had finally come together. He’d reconnected with Mav, he was living in the same city as his best friend, and he had a place he could finally call home.

He didn’t just want the highlights with you, he wanted everything in between too. There’s no more distance due to time zones and scheduling times to call because now you only live 20 minutes away from him. And the next time he comes home from a deployment, he knows he’ll get to look forward to seeing you there waiting for him.

He feels like he’s learned so much more about the grown-up version of you over the last year than he has in the last ten.

Jake jumps in barely a breath after Bob finishes telling his story. “Well, we all know it’s not the first who matters, but who was the best.” Rooster doesn’t trust the gleam in his eyes or the sharp smile on his face. “Since Bradshaw cut you off before, how’s about you go first this time, darlin’. You can tell us about who knocked your socks off. Maybe this time he’ll let you finish, if you know what I mean.”

It’s thinly veiled snooping disguised as chivalry, and it doesn’t fool anyone. Nat’s eyes dart to him briefly, trying to get a read on him.

He’d been 21 at the time. And while he knows more now that he did then, he also knows his name isn’t going to be coming out of your mouth for a second time tonight.

Rooster takes a sip of his beer, needing something to do.

He knows you’ve been with other people. You’d lived with your ex for over a couple years, for fuck's sake. But it was like an unspoken agreement between the two of you to not talk about your sex lives with each other.

His leg starts bouncing again and he realizes he really doesn’t want to hear this. Not because of his ego, but because he doesn’t know what to do about the knot that’s formed in his stomach.

Your mouth opens and closes a couple times before you speak, “That title would also go to Rooster.” The admission is soft, but sure.

Where his heart had been pounding before, now it feels like it had stopped completely.

It’s been 13 years since that Spring Break. 13 years and he’s still your best?

Barely five minutes ago, he hadn’t known where to look. But now? Now he couldn’t stop staring at you.

He just didn’t understand why you still wouldn’t look at him back.

𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊, 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟎

When you’d floated the idea by Bradley about visiting him at UVA for Spring Break during your weekly phone call, you’d been braced for the disappointment of him already having plans. It was his Senior year, it wouldn’t surprise you if he wanted to go out with a bang and make the most of it. Especially since he would belong to the Navy soon enough.

But he’d taken you by surprise when he started enthusiastically listing off all the places he wanted to show you, planning out your trip like a well-seasoned travel agent before you’d even booked a plane ticket.

You’d started looking up airfare before you’d even hung up the phone. And thirty minutes later you had a confirmation email flagged in your inbox after elatedly charging that aisle seat to the credit card you only used for emergencies.

It had been close to a year since you’d last seen him. He usually spent his Winter Break with your family, but this year he’d stayed on campus for the holidays and it was the longest the two of you had ever been apart since you’d first met him when you were 8.

And maybe that’s why it took you so long to spot him in the Arrivals area of the Charlottesville-Albemarle Airport.

You’ve always prided yourself in being able to pick Bradley out of a crowd anywhere, but in your cursory glance you hadn’t recognized the tall, broad guy with the UVA shirt pulled taut across his chest and wearing a baseball hat backward on his head. It wasn’t until your third searching pass that you’d caught the lips that were quirked up in amusement and those familiar brown eyes trained on you as he leaned ever-so-casually against the faux wood paneling on the wall waiting for you to notice him.

He’d filled out in the months since you’d last seen him. He was more toned than you remembered him being with definition in places where there hadn’t been before. His face had more distinct angles and less baby fat cushioned curves. Still a bit boyish, but he was well on his way to looking like a man.

Bradley raised his hand like he was going to wave, but then he’d mimicked casting a fishing line in your direction and reeling it in. And it was so endearingly stupid- so him- that you couldn’t help but take the bait and made your way towards him with the biggest grin on your face.

You’d ignored the jittery flutter in your stomach as you’d weaved between people and luggage. You’ve never been nervous around your best friend before. There was something that had on your mind a lot as the days to your visit inched closer, but you’d shoved that out of your mind, because you were finally standing in front of him in person for the first time in months.

“Hey, kid,” he’d greeted you, taking your bag, “Charlottesville must have known you were coming, because she’s going to be sunny for you all week.” As soon as you were within arm’s reach, he tugged you right into his chest for a hug. You could feel the unspoken I missed you in the way he squeezed you just that bit tighter before releasing you.

Then he was dropping an arm over your shoulders and steering you towards the exit and driving you into town in the beat-up car he’d bought after selling his prized Montero, the car that Mav had given him for his birthday.

You’re only there for a week and Bradley doesn’t waste a single moment of it.

After dropping your things off in his dorm room, he takes you straight to campus where he gives you the Official Bradley Bradshaw Certified UVA Tour. He buys you lunch from one of the food trucks in the Amphitheater “for sustenance” before taking you to see the highlights. You start with the Rotunda and then the academic village, making a special pitstop at the Whispering Wall for you to tell it a secret. And then he takes you on a more historical tour, like showing you the exact route he used to streak The Lawn and pointing out the place he’d puked after his 21st birthday.

It’s clear he’d put so much thought into your visit because it seems like there is never a down moment. By the end of the third day you’re more surprised that you don't wake up every morning with a printed itinerary on your pillow.

He sneaks you into the Slaughter Rec Center to rock climb, claiming he had a person on the inside with the right connections. But really from what you could tell, the pretty girl at the check-in counter clearly had a crush on him. He takes you to the batting cages he likes to go to before Dead Week, and spends the time there equal parts making fun of your power swing and trying to fix it.

You get your revenge the next day standing outside of the imposing columns and massive doors to the Fralin Art Museum. Skeptically eyeing the sculpture in the front of the building that kind of looked like a giant wisdom tooth, you mentioned, “I didn’t realize you’d become such a patron of the cultural arts.”

“Hey now, I like artsy shit,” he’d said, only mildly affronted.

You snorted at that. “Is there an exhibit on beer pong and blunt rolling you wanted to see?” Through the window you’d spotted some large landscape oil paintings in ornate gilded frames and carved marble busts of what you assumed were probably of some of the Founding Fathers.

“You just missed that one, it was last month,” Bradley lobbed back, opening the door for you.

“What a pity,” you’d said with a dramatic sigh, “Guess we’ll have to settle for some tasteful nudes instead.”

“If we’re lucky,” he’d muttered under his breath, as you passed under his arm.

And then you’d felt the corners of your mouth kick up.

Turning around you’d pressed your finger to his chest, whispering so the person behind the ticket desk didn’t hear you, “Twenty bucks says you don’t make it thirty minutes in there.”

He narrowed his eyes, taking in your sly grin, “You’re on, kid.”

It’s the easiest $20 you’ve ever made.

The two of you call it a truce only after he tips your kayak into the still chilly Rivanna River.

Later that night, he takes you to a party on “Mad Bowl” that one of his frat friends was hosting. The backyard was all strung up with red and green Christmas lights like they had been too lazy to take them down after the holidays and decided it added to the outdoor ambiance instead of packing them away.

He was still just as protective over you as he was back in high school. Spending the whole night keeping an eye on you and handing you drinks that he’d uncapped himself using the opener that he had on his keychain, the one that still had the little fighter jet charm you’d given him ages ago dangling from it.

The days pass all too quickly as he shows you all of his favorite spots.

You knew UVA wasn’t where he’d originally wanted to be- where he thought he’d be- but you were happy that he seemed happy here.

But in between the late-night microwave ramen and movie watching and crossing off all the things on Bradley’s Spring Break To-Do List, there’d been something you’d been wanting to talk to him about. But you were having so much fun with him, you’d missed your best friend over those long months apart, and you didn’t want to ruin the time you had left with him here.

It lingered at the back of your mind like a phantom hair that you can feel, but can’t ever seem to brush off no matter how many times you attempt to. You felt like you were waiting for the right time that you weren’t sure would ever come. And if you were being honest, you weren’t entirely sure you would even be brave enough to ask if the time came.

The two of you had woken up way before the sun this morning.

If anyone other than Bradley had asked you to wake up before 5 AM to go hike to watch the sunrise, you would have laughed at them. But because it was Bradley, you’d set the alarm without comment. Even though he did have to gently pry you out of his roommate’s bed- with the fresh sheets he told you he bought especially for your visit- and lace up your shoes for you.

The views at Humpback Rock had been worth the hour hike up to the outcrop of craggy rocks. The sunrise painted them a stunning shade of soft orange as the rays illuminated evergreen covered hills and valleys that extended in front of you to the skyline. You and Bradley watched it in silence, shoulders pressed against each other as you took it all in.

You’re cozied up on your bed for the week, flipping through a book you’d brought with you, but hadn’t touched at all until now when Bradley comes back from the showers. His hair is still damp and the ends are starting to curl a bit.

He drops a Styrofoam cup of coffee on the nightstand next to you.

You hadn’t been sure what rooming with him would be like, the two of you together 24/7 since his roommate had left to go home for the break. But it felt like you were two kids at sleepaway camp getting away with mischief rather than two broke college students only pretending to get away with mischief.

He sits down at the edge of his bed, his elbows resting on his thighs, “So.”

“So?” you repeat, blowing on the hot coffee before taking a sip.

“Are you going to tell me what’s been up with you?”

You wince, and it’s not because the coffee tastes like tar.

“What do you mean?” you try to ask casually.

Bradley gives you a look that says you don’t fool me, kid. “You’ve been squirrely. I didn’t want to press it, but I can tell there’s something on your mind.” He takes a sip of his own milky battery acid. “Are classes going better since you switched majors?”

You nod, looking anywhere else other than at him.

“How are things with your Dad?”

You offer him a shrug.

He sighs your name in exasperation. You can tell he is trying to tamper his frustration at your lack of cooperation.

“Is it a guy?” Bradley tries again.

You swear you feel your heart stop, because you knew what you wanted to ask him, but you didn’t know how he was going to take it.

You fiddle with a string on his roommate’s comforter. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” you admit, tentatively, “But I’m nervous.”

Bradley’s eyebrows pull together as he sets his coffee aside, “C’mon, it’s just me. You can talk to me about anything.”

“It’s more of a question.” One you’re still deflecting from asking.

“Ok, well you know you can ask me anything.” His tiny dorm room feels even smaller as the two of you try to read the other’s face.

Taking a deep breath, you ask the question that’s been rattling around in your brain for weeks.

“Bradley, I was wondering if you’d be my first?”

Less than ten words. That’s all it takes to tilt Bradley’s world off its axis.

He’s loved getting to show you around UVA this week. It wasn’t where he thought he’d end up, but he hadn’t lost sight of where he was going. He was going to be a Naval Aviator one way or another. He just also got to have a normal college experience too, one he’d been excited to share with you.

Bradley had originally been invited to go stay with one of his friends at his family’s beach house, but when you called and asked about coming to visit Charlottesville, it was an easy choice for him. He’d pick you every time.

It had been even better getting to cross off some of the things on the bucket list he’d made for his Senior Year with you in tow, like the hike he’d taken you on this morning.

He loves the views from up there and thought it would be something you’d like too, but he’d never done the hike early enough to catch the sunrise before. It was actually something he was planning on going the morning of graduation as a symbolic way to end his time at UVA, but getting to do it with you was special in its own way.

And while he’d caught you lost in thought more than a few times over the last few days as he showed you around, he never in a million years would have ever expected you to ask him that.

Bradley knows all the words you just used, but they don’t make sense to him in that order.

His brain is working in overdrive trying to figure out if there is any possible way he could have misinterpreted you.

“Your first…”

You take another deep breath and tip your chin up in resolve before looking him dead in the eye, there’s so much vulnerability reflected in them, “I haven’t had sex before, Bradley. And I’m really hoping that my first time can be with you.”

Bradley wants to tell you to put your Styrofoam cup down because he’s worried the tight grip you have on it might crush it, but he feels like the wind has been knocked out of him.

He didn’t realize when his leg started bouncing until he sees you glance down at it.

Shooting to his feet and off his bed, he goes to lean against his recently decluttered desk. There’s too much restless energy coursing through him to just sit like he isn’t completely reeling.

“Shouldn’t you want to do this with someone special? Like with rose petals and all that shit?” He scrubs a hand over his face. Rose petals and all that shit? God, he sounds like such a fucking dumbass, but he’s struggling to keep up.

And if he’s being entirely honest, he’s pretty surprised to learn you’re still a virgin. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, but he knows you’ve had at least one serious boyfriend since you’ve gone to college. He figured that you got asked out all the time. He saw the way that some of the guys in his buddy’s frat were looking at the pretty girl with the dimples and big smile.

The girl who just asked him to be her first.

He hates the way your shoulders have slumped forward, like you’re trying not to cave in on yourself, “So, you don’t want to?”

“I didn’t say that.” His answer takes him by surprise.

The only other sound in the room other than his pounding heart is the whir of the air circulating in his dorm.

“Would it help to make a pro con list?” you offer, less than helpfully with a little shrug.

“Jesus Christ,” Bradley mutters under his breath, looking up at the speckled ceiling trying to decode the flecks like tea leaves. “She’s cracking jokes like she didn’t ask me to make her come.”

“Technically, I didn’t say anything about that. I just asked you to be my first.”

“I’m not taking your virginity and not giving you an orgasm,” he states, and your eyes get wide. He runs his hands through his hair. “Sex makes things complicated, kid. We’ve got a good friendship.”

You sit up straighter on his roommate’s bed and bring your knees to your chest. It exposes the backs of your thighs and he has to shake the mental images of skin on skin out of his head.

There’s a look on your face that tells him you feel ridiculous even asking him, “Do you think you’re going to fall in love with me or something?”

“No,” Bradley says, honestly.

He knows you’re just trying to make a point.

The two of you have been friends for over a decade. He knows he cares about you- he always has- but he couldn’t imagine what anything other than just friendship would look like with you.

You nod in agreement, like you had been anticipating the answer before you’d even asked him the question.

“And do you think I’m going to fall in love with you?” you ask, your head tilting to the side.

He doesn’t even blink, “You can do better than me.”

And he means it.

Even if there was something more between the two of you, you’ve always been too good for him. And knowing him, he’d find a way to fuck it up. You’re the last person in the world he’d ever want to hurt. He’d let you down before, he doesn’t want to do it ever again.

You shoot him a disappointed look, like you don’t like hearing him say that about himself. And he’s oddly touched that you’re defending him against himself.

“You’d literally be doing me a favor.”

Bradley is still surprised that he hasn’t ended this conversation yet. The two of you were supposed to go to the movies, but that definitely wasn’t happening now.

“I’m not saying no,” he says, “But I need you to help me understand. Why me? Why now?”

“Bradley, I want it to be with you because there’s no one else I’ll ever feel as comfortable with as I do with you,” you explain.

He watches as you unfold yourself and climb off the bed, coming to stand in front of him. You gingerly reach out and put your hand on his forearm, like you don’t want to startle him. Not that he’d be able to move anyways since it feels like the soles of his feet are cemented to the floor.

“I keep waiting for it to not feel like such a big thing, but every time it seems like it’s going to happen, I freeze. And I know you’d take care of me, and I’m not talking about orgasms.” You stumble over the word a bit, not fully meeting his eyes as you say it. “It’s scary enough as a girl and I’m worried I’m going to be too in my head with anyone else. But I also don’t want to look back and have any regrets, and I know I wouldn’t have any with you.”

The mention of regrets makes his stomach twinge. His heart feels like it’s hammering in his chest. He doesn’t know what to say.

You are looking at him with such open sincerity. He has never been good with talking about his feelings, he’s always been the type to bottle things up, while you have always worn your heart on your sleeve. It was just another way that you were braver than him.

“I know it’s a lot,” you say, letting go of him to take a step back, like you want to give him breathing room, “So if it’s too big of an ask. Or if it’s not something you’re comfortable with-”

Bradley shakes his head cutting you off, “It’s not that at all, kid. I just haven’t done this before.” Your eyebrow scrunches together in confusion. “I mean, I have,” he corrects, “But it’s not the same. All the girls I’ve been with had already had experience. And if we were going to do this, I would want to make sure it’s as nice for you as it can be.”

“So you’d be my first and I’d be yours? Well, kind of.” You give him a little smile, it’s a shy but hopeful thing. There’s only a hint of your dimples, but it’s enough. And he feels that practical part of him that had been holding back soften at the sight of it.

He doesn’t think he’s ever said no to you, excluding the times you tried to get him to give you his beer at the house parties he took you to in high school, and that was more out of self-preservation from a healthy fear of your mom than anything else.

When you wanted to learn how to drive a stick shift? He took you to the abandoned parking lot, it didn’t matter that you didn’t have your learner’s permit yet. When you wanted to learn how to throw a punch? He was making sure you knew not to tuck your thumb under your fingers, so that you didn’t break your own thumb instead of someone’s nose.

He’s always had your back and you’ve had his. That’s how it was between the two of you.

You’ve already said it, but he needs to hear it again, “You really want to do it?”

“I really want it to be you, Bradley. I really want to do this with you. I trust you the most.”

He’s always been willing to help you with anything you’ve ever asked of him, why should this be any different? What’s a couple orgasms between friends?

“Ok,” Bradley nods. If it’s to reassure you or himself, he couldn’t say. “I’ll do it. We can do it.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, like you were fully prepared for him to let you down gently, “Really?”

You didn’t ask for his why he was agreeing, but he was going to give it to you anyway.

“I don’t think I’ve told you this, but I lost mine to Samantha Prescod after the game against Centennial that got us a spot at State that year,” he waits until he sees the recognition cross your face before continuing, “But I had also just learned about my mom’s diagnosis and I was trying to find anything I could do to not think about it.” He rubs at a spot underneath his collarbone, it never got any easier talking about his mom. “I think she assumed that I’d done it before, because we didn’t really talk about it. She was there and into it, so it just sort of happened. Actually, I’m pretty sure she only slept with me because she wanted to make her ex-boyfriend jealous, because they got back together like three days later.”

It’s probably for the best that Samantha Prescod lives on the other side of the country now because you look livid. Your eyes spark with anger and disbelief on his behalf.

“It was years ago, it’s fine, kid” he shrugs, trying to brush off your concern. “But if I had a do-over, I don’t know if I’d make the same choice again. And that’s not something I’d ever want for you.” You deserve the rose petals, but he’ll do his best for you. “So we can do it, but I have one condition.”

The relief on your face and the way the tension in your shoulder releases only solidifies his decision.

“Tell me,” you say, taking a half-step towards him, “I want you to be comfortable too.”

Bradley pushes off his desk and meets you the rest of the way, “If you even think you’re feeling uncomfortable- about any of it- I need you to tell me. And we’ll stop and figure out where to go from there. If it’s a change of position, if it’s a full stop and order pizza instead, we’ll do that.” He pauses and reaches out to tip your chin up. “I’ll do whatever you need, got it?”

You throw your arms around him, and his wrap around you just as easily. Your hair smells like the travel sized shampoo he’d picked up for you, figuring you wouldn’t want to use his 2-in-1. You murmur your thank you into his shirt followed by a fuck Samantha Prescod that makes him squeeze you just a bit tighter to him in affection.

When you step back and look at him, your lips twitch upwards, “What’s with the look, Bradshaw? Don’t tell me you’re going to lie back and think of England?”

That makes him chuckle, your joke lightening the mood in only the way that you can do. He rolls his eyes in equal parts exasperation and fondness.

“God, I haven’t been this nervous since I lost my own virginity. I was so stressed I was going to blow my load in two pumps and lose my street cred.”

You snort and send him a smirk, “Well, you must have done just fine. I overheard some glowing reviews in the girl’s bathroom on more than one occasion.”

“I maybe lasted ten trusts, but I had the good sense to eat her out after,” he admits, and then tacks on for good measure, “I’ve gotten better since then.”

“What a stud,” you tease.

This is easier, this feels like the two of you. This should be fun, it shouldn’t feel serious. He can make it good for you.

You look up at him shyly from under your lashes, “So how do we do this?”

He feels like he only just wrapped his head around the idea of it, but now he was facing the very real possibility of seeing you very naked very soon.

“You want to do it now?” Bradley blinks.

“I mean, if you’re up for it.” You scrunch your nose when you realize you’ve made a terrible double entendre. “No pun intended, I promise.”

He wipes his hands on his pants.

“You sure?” he asks again.

“I’m sure, Bradley. As long as you are too.”

He nods, “Then I guess we just…”

He’s not sure where he was going to go with that. But he’s spared from being roasted by you for making some sure to be lame birthday suit joke because you’re untying the bow on the soft lounge shorts you’d thrown on after your shower from the hike, and all the words get trapped in his throat.

You don’t look at Bradley as you slide your shorts down your legs. And you definitely don’t look at him when you pull your shirt over your head, leaving you in only a soft green mesh bra and your cotton underwear. They’re mismatched, but sex with Bradley wasn’t originally on the Spring Break To-Do List agenda for today.

In fact, you hadn’t even been sure you were going to go through with asking him until he brought up the point that he knew you had something on your mind because you apparently had no poker face.

While it felt like you had a swarm of butterflies whirling in your stomach, you also knew wholeheartedly that this was the right choice for you. Everything he had said had solidified that for you.

You weren’t sure how you were ever going to thank him for this, but you had a lifetime of friendship with Bradley to figure it out.

His room cast in the soft afternoon light, the blinds only partly closed. There are little streaks of gold that line the plaid comforter on his bed. He’d been right, Charlottesville had stayed sunny just for you.

As you climb into it and situate yourself against his pillows, you can help but notice just how much his bed smells like him. It’s not the spicy scent you associated with the High School version of him. The woodsy and warm scent embedded in the threads of his sheets suits this grown up version of him.

You feel equal parts overdressed and underdressed in your bra and underwear. You know the latter are going to come off eventually, so you make a split-second decision to just take them off yourself under his covers. The idea of Bradley helping you to pull them off later seems like it would be too intimate based on the way the thought of it makes your cheeks heat up.

It’s practical, you’re being practical, you think to yourself.

You chance a peek at him and are surprised to see that he hasn’t budged an inch. It’s almost like he is waiting for you to get completely settled before he dares to move a muscle. His eyes are trained on the pile of your clothes on the floor, he looks lost in thought.

“Bradley?”

The sound of your voice seems to kickstart him into action.

He shucks off his shirt in that kind of reckless way that seems to be ingrained in boys and then unbuttons his pants. You’re torn between feeling like you should give him privacy and wanting to watch. What you were expecting is the way he takes the time to pick his clothes up before folding them over the back of the chair at his desk.

Your mouth goes dry as you take in the sight of his body, the diffused light perfectly outlines the shape of him. His broad shoulders are rounded with the muscles he’s gained from whatever exercises the NROTC has been putting him through. Your eyes dip down to his defined chest and over the ridges of his abs. You’ve seen him in swim trunks plenty of times, but seeing the way the muscles of his thick thighs fill out the black boxer briefs he was wearing was entirely new to you.

Bradley approaches you and then pauses as he bends down to collect your pile of clothes on the floor, his hand hesitating only for a second when he reaches for your underwear. He drapes all of your things on top of his on the chair and makes his way back to you.

The gesture makes you melt a little like a soft serve ice cream cone on a summer afternoon.

You lift the corner of the cover for Bradley and he climbs in next to you. You move closer to the wall, trying to make more room for the bulk of him in his small bed, and he shifts in even closer into you until your bodies pressed tight against one another. The curves and angles of the two of you slotting together like pieces of a puzzle.

It feels like the two of you are teetering there on the edge of something. You both know exactly where it’s going, but are unsure of how to make it from Point A to Point B. Both waiting on the other person to make the first move.

He rests his warm hand on your stomach, the muscles there jumping on their own under his touch in anticipation. Your faces are close since you’re sharing his pillow. His brown eyes are searching yours, probably looking for any sign of hesitation that you don’t feel.

“Tell me how you’re feeling.” It’s not a question, but a request.

“Overwhelmed,” you admit, “But in a good way.” He runs his palm lightly up your stomach and back down, soothingly.

“Good, that’s good,” Bradley says, clearing his throat, “You’re supposed to feel a little ‘overwhelmed, but in a good way.’” You feel your lips pull up at his gentle teasing.

He smiles softly at you. His face has always been so familiar to you. The pink from his scars have finally faded, but you wonder when his eyes start crinkling around the corners.

You let go of the comforter to run a finger down the top of his nose, “I don’t know how this has stayed so straight.” He’d been in more than a couple fights in his teen years, including one that had sent him through a sliding glass door.

“Probably the combination of a little luck and the fact that none of those guys could throw a punch,” Bradley smirks. He shifts on his side, propping himself up on an elbow looking down at you, still running his hand along your stomach. “What have you done so far?”

His fingertips circle your bellybutton and your stomach swoops like it’s on the swing carousel ride at the fair.

“Some over the clothes stuff…” you stammer. You’re having trouble focusing because all your attention is on his big hand and how it feels against your oversensitive skin. “And I have a vibrator, but ah…”

You’re so keenly aware of his hand. With every lazy circle he makes, he has you wondering if this is going to be the one where he finally moves his hand lower. That part of you in flutters in expectation because you know it’s coming.

You let out a shaky huff when his fingers trails back up your stomach.

“What is it?” Bradley’s hand stops moving. “What are you thinking?”

“Honestly?” you say, trying not to squirm, “I’m getting really horny and you keep teasing me.”

He presses his lips together like he’s trying not to laugh at your overshare, and there’s amusement in his eyes.

“You know, some people call it foreplay,” he drawls. You’d roll your eyes but his fingertips are by your bellybutton again and you want him to keep going. “You ready for more?” You nod a few times because if he doesn’t touch you soon you might just crawl out of your skin. “Ok, gonna stop ‘teasing’ you now.”

This time his hand doesn’t stop at your bellybutton, it keeps moving down, down.

You stutter over a breath when Bradley’s fingers touch your clit. You feel yourself melt a little further into his mattress. He’s making easy circles, letting you get used to someone’s fingers other than your own on the most sensitive part of you. Your hands are clutching tightly to his comforter, unsure of what else to do with them.

“Spread your legs a little wider for me,” he murmurs. You feel your face heat up. He’d just given you a direction, but it sounds almost indecent coming out of his mouth.

You shift, moving your legs apart further for him, until he secures your left between his own, opening you up even more. You know you’re wet and now he does too. Bradley’s fingers slide easily over you as he increases the pressure on your clit. You can feel the intensity of his gaze on you watching for your reaction as he figures out what you like the most.

It doesn’t take him long to learn your body. You don’t know whether to be impressed with him or embarrassed with yourself at how quickly he’s worked you up.

Your breathing feels so loud in your ears in the quiet room, every breath and sigh is amplified. There’s a certain thrill in not knowing how he’s going to touch you next, your own fingers pale in comparison now.

His warm breath coasts down the side of your neck causing you to shiver at the sensation. It makes goosebumps break out along your arms and your nipples pull taut.

He notices. Of course he notices.

“Are you cold?” His voice is low in your ear.

“No, I-” Oh god, you’re right there. “B-bradley, I’m-” You’ve made yourself orgasm plenty of times, but you’ve never shared that part of yourself with anyone else before. No one knows what you sound like or what you look like when you come. But now, Bradley was going to have the piece of you too. A whine escapes you without your permission.

“It’s ok, kid, I’ve got you.”

You’re seeking and searching, but it’s Bradley’s fingers that have the answer.

And you come with your stomach twitching and hips jerking as he murmurs praise in your ear.

His fingers slow down, featherlight on your clit, but your heart is still racing when he rasps, “There’s one, you up for another?”

Bradley loves that moment during sex when he hears that first gasp or moan. He loves learning what sounds of satisfaction he can pull from his partner. He loves knowing he earned it. But he never in his life could have ever anticipated hearing those sounds from you.

In his bed. Because of him.

He didn’t expect the lick of heat that curled up his spine at the shape of your legs and the curve of your ass as you were stepping out of your shorts. He’d never seen anything so strangely endearing as it was watching you shimmy your underwear off under the shield of his covers.

Every hitch in your breath made his blood run hotter in his veins. He was trying to control his cock, but he’d started getting hard the second you’d pulled your shirt off. Your bra was some kind of sheer thing that left nothing to the imagination, and while he wasn’t trying to check you out- because that’s not how it was between the two of you- he couldn’t help the way his eyes flickered down.

You’re slippery, wet, and warm. And he knows he can make you come again.

“Do you want me to use my fingers now?”

You crack an eye open at him, it’s the first time you’ve opened your eyes since he first touched you. Your eyes are bright in that way that only comes with an orgasm. “I thought you already were.”

“Such a smartass,” he grins.

Bradley changes the unhurried circles he’d been making on your clit to the upstroke that made your hips jerk up into his hand the first time he’d tried it. The little noises you’re making have him fighting the urge to grind himself against you for some relief of his own. He’s still got your knee tucked between his own; where there had been a hint of polite space between your bodies, the way you’re writhing now has him pressed up against your hip.

You gasp, breathily, “Oh, you’re hard.” The disbelief is evident in your voice, but it’s the look in your eyes that he doesn’t know what to make of, something like surprise.

He’s been trying to be a gentleman, this is about you and not him. There might not be anything romantic happening between the two of you, but this was hot and he was more than a little turned on. And he knows you are too because he can feel how wet you are under his fingers.

“’Course I am,” Bradley says, nudging his nose against your temple, “I’ve got a pretty girl in my bed half naked.” He didn’t want you to feel like you were in this on your own, so he lightly rocks against you. He wants you to feel him, he wants you to know he is into this too. “Are you ready more?”

“I’m ready, I want more,” you confirm, wrapping your hand around his bicep.

Your breath hitches as he teases you with just the tip of his finger.

He’s been told before he has big hands and thick fingers, he’s always taken it as a compliment in the past, but now he’s scanning your face for any trace of discomfort as he sinks one into you.

Your eyebrows twitch then smooth out and your mouth drops open as he starts pumping his finger into you in a smooth rhythm.

“That feels nice,” you sigh, airily.

He knows you like it when your hips tip up just a fraction. His comforter is bunched around your waist and your nipples are peaked against the see-through fabric of your bra. He gets his thumb on your clit and you whimper as you tentatively roll your hips against his fingers.

Bradley hums his approval, “Atta girl. There you go, find what feels good for you.” His voice sounds low even to his own ears, a throaty rumble. He feels you clench around his fingers and it sets his pulse racing. It’s a piece of information he tucks away for himself.

He’s gentle on your clit, but now that he knows you’re into it he’s setting a more purposeful pace with his fingers.

You’ve got your bottom lip pinned between your teeth, like you’re trying to swallow down your sounds. He didn’t realize how much he liked hearing these new sounds from you until you started trying to muffle them. On the next slide of his finger into you, he knows exactly what he’s looking for.

You suck in a sharp breath of surprise when he finds it.

“Is that the right spot, kid?” He sounds so smug. You curse and your hand clutches at his shoulder. “You want to try a second finger?” he murmurs into your ear.

“Yes,” you rock into his hand, “Yes, please.”

“Whatever you want, Miss Manners.” His chest feels like he’s taken a shot of Fireball. “You’re so polite when you’re trying to get your way.”

“I’m always polite,” you challenged weakly, pressing your head further into his pillow.

“Mhm,” he indulges, fondly, “You’re the sweetest girl I know.”

And then he fills you with two fingers.

“Jesus, Bradley,” you gasp, offering more of yourself to him.

Your nails dig into the muscle of his shoulder as he lets your whimpers and whines guide his hands.

The two of you have your eyes fixed on the way the tendons of the visible part of his forearm are flexing before it disappears under the covers as he works you.

Bradley curls his fingers into that spongy part of you and your hand flies to his wrist, gripping him tight. It makes him pause, worried that he might have pushed you too far too fast.

“No, no. D-don’t stop,” you plead, desperately, “I’m so close. Keep going, please.” You squeeze his wrist encouragingly.

“Sorry, sorry,” he soothes. He focuses his efforts on that spot again now that he knows you weren’t wanting him to slow down, but rather trying to hold him in place. His fingers inside of you and his thumb on your clit working in tandem to get you there again.

“I just- yes. Like that. Oh fuck. Keep doing that. Oh my god. Please, Bradley.”

He’s heard you say his name a lot of different ways, but never like this.

Your back arches and you twist yourself towards him, burying your face against him and keening into the hollow of his throat as you come around his fingers.

You jerk and writhe into his hand, your knee slips free of his and your thighs clamp together around him. Bradley rolls off the arm he’d been leaning on and brings it to cradle the back of your head, pulling you closer and holding you to him as he steadily works you through it until you’re loose-limbed in his arms.

He waits until your rapid pants have evened out before he slips his fingers from you. The displeased sound that you make makes the corners of his mouth twitch. He should have known you’d be bossy. He rubs gentle circles into the divots at the base of your neck as you come down.

Bradley can feel your lips graze the side of his neck when you finally speak, “So, um, let me know if you need a letter of recommendation or anything. I’d be happy to pass one along to your next partner.” You languidly prop yourself up on his chest and he notes with pride that you look a little flushed. “But, seriously, I get it now.”

He huffs a laugh as he toys with the end of your hair, “I’m glad it lived up to the hype. Well, at least that part of it.”

You press your lips together like you’re deciding something, tracing idle shapes on his stomach, and he can’t decide if he thinks you’re doing it without realizing it or if you’re the one doing the teasing this time. Your eyes flick down to his visibly hard cock and he feels his face heat up, “Can I?”

“Do you want to?” Bradley wants this experience to be everything you need and want it to be, but something about the tables turning here and the idea of you being the one to touch him like that makes his heart pound.

“I want to make you feel good too,” you softly tell him, resting your chin on your shoulder. The tender way you’re looking at him makes his teeth ache.

“Ok, but only for a little bit,” he agrees. Bradley knows he’s walking a tightrope with this, he’s aching and more than ready to be touched, but he doesn’t want to come all over your hand.

He plants his feet into his mattress and lifts his hips enough to pull off his boxer briefs, sighing in relief as his cock bobs free.

“That can’t be average,” you mutter under your breath.

He doesn’t know if you meant to have said it out loud but he smirks all the same, “I’ve never been average a day in my life, kid, Grade A student here.”

A groan slips out of him as your tentative fingers grasp his cock. There’s a lack of finesse in the way you touch him, your hand isn’t nearly as well-practiced as his own. He wraps his hand over yours, guiding your strokes as he shows you just what he likes.

“You can grip it a little firmer,” he coaches. You nod studiously, like you’re going to be tested on it later. Together the two of you work him from root to tip.

Bradley had never given much thought to his size until now. He knew he was big, but seeing that your thumb couldn’t reach the tips of your fingers when your hand was curved around him was an ego boost he didn’t know he needed.

You get more confident with every glide up and down the length of him. Your tricky thumb sweeps over the tip, collecting what precum had gathered there, and it makes your hand slide easier over him. When he accidentally thrusts into your hand, you grin and there are those dimples again.

“Ok, ok,” he blows out a shaky breath, stilling your hand with his. “We gotta stop or I’m going to come. And I’m not about to be a one pump chump.”

“It sounded like you’re more of a ten pump chump, if I remember correctly,” you tease, looking all too pleased with yourself. “Don’t worry, Bradshaw, your street cred is safe with me.”

He shakes his head in amused disbelief, “You’re such a goddamn menace. I knew I shouldn’t have told you that part.” He surprises the both of you when he wraps an arm around you and rolls to pin you under him.

And it’s like all the air is sucked out of the room because your thighs are cradling his hips and his cock is resting heavy on your stomach.

Neither one of you dare to move. He’d give anything to know what you’re thinking right now, he feels out of his depth as he watches you watching him.

His tongue feels thick in his mouth, “Are you on-”

You nod before he even finishes the question.

“Do you have-”

He nods before you finish yours.

“What did you promise me?” he prompts, squeezing the dip of your waist.

You hold up your pinky to him, “I’ll tell you.” He wraps his own crooked one around yours and gives it a shake.

Bradley doesn’t know what comes over him, but he drops a kiss to your shoulder as he reaches over you into the drawer of his nightstand to fish out what he needs. He’s thankful when you don’t comment on it because he wouldn’t even know how to explain it.

He leans back on his knees and rolls the condom on with practiced ease, then flicks open the cap to the bottle of lube he’s also grabbed and drizzles it over his cock.

“Am I not…” you trail off. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard you sound this shy with him before.

“You’re plenty wet,” he assures you, pumping himself- once, twice- just enough to coat himself, “But this’ll be good too. I think you’ll like it.”

Bradley settles back over you, one arm braced by your head and the other on your hip, as your hands come up to rest lightly on either side of his ribcage. He rocks against you to demonstrate; the head of his cock nudges your clit with each silky pass. You exhale heavily at the sensation as he eases you into the motion of it, as he shows you what it’s like with another person.

You’re holding him close, and in just a moment the two of you will be the closest two people can be.

He makes only enough room to reach down between your bodies, only looks away from your face long enough to line himself up with you. There is such trust in your eyes as you gaze up at him, it’s not something Bradley takes for granted.

You nod, your fingers stroking his sides.

God, does he want this to be good for you.

He takes a breath.

And then he’s shifting forward and pressing in.

Bradley thrusts into you with all the careful gentleness you’d expect from him.

His thumb skimming along your forehead as he pushes in, in, in.

When he found that spot inside of you with his fingers, you thought you were going to fly away from the intensity of it, but then he’d pulled you into the safety of his arms and you felt like you could fall apart because he’d be keeping the pieces of you together.

He’s been so good to you. He is so good to you. He’s the best person you know.

The more of him he gives you, the less you feel like you can catch your breath.

You feel hot, hot all over. And much fuller than you’ve ever been.

Some sound must make its way out of you because Bradley offers you a low soothing noise before you feel his lightly chapped lips against your temple.

There’s something about this that reminds you of the time he tried to teach you how to skateboard. Always waited until you told him you were ready, until you found your balance. He’d held your hand as you cautiously rolled along the sidewalk, you were less worried about falling with him by your side. Only this time, his hand is on your waist and the only movements are his hips against yours as he rocks into you.

Little by little. Inch by inch.

You clutch at his biceps at the slight stinging sensation and you feel him hesitate.

“It’s just a lot,” you whisper. His fingers flex on your waist.

“You’re doing so good, just a bit more,” Bradley murmurs, encouragingly.

There’s pressure, there’s a give, and then there’s relief when his hips finally, finally meet yours.

“Shit,” he curses under his breath.

Your eyes had flickered shut somewhere along the way. You open them to see that Bradley’s face and chest are flushed pink, the muscle of his jaw flexing. The furrow between his eyebrows is so deep that you release your grip on him to smooth out the lines with an unsteady fingertip.

He reads the question in your eyes.

“You’re just really tight,” he grits out, voice strained.

You assumed that was a good thing, but he’s holding himself so tense above you that now you’re not sure. “Do I-,” you fumble over the words, “Does this feel good for you?”

He huffs an incredulous laugh, and brushes back some hair from off your face, “You feel really fucking good, sweet-”

Your whimper cuts him off when he pulls out a fraction and then pushes back in.

His brown eyes take you in as he does it again, more this time. Pulling out just a bit- just enough- and then filling you again. The discomfort fading more with each thrust as he guides his hips to yours until yours are tilting up to meet his seeking more.

It’s a conversation between your bodies, the give and the take of it all as Bradley introduces you to this new unspoken language. You feel yourself flutter around his cock, stretched wider than you’ve ever been.

You feel that heat spreading underneath your skin again as he surely and steadily pumps into you. It feels like your nerves are on fire. You didn’t expect to even come once and you’re well on your way to a third.

He reaches down and hooks your leg over his hip. His hand slides up along the outside of your thigh and under your ass, tilting your hips up towards his even more. He’s so much deeper like this. Your hands slide into his hair, tugging at his curls.

“Bradley, I-I think… I feel-”

“You’re gonna come,” he rasps, nodding at you. Encouraging, coaxing.

He grinds his pelvis against your clit with every deliciously slow roll into you.

Your mouth drops open at the feel of it, it’s better than anything you’ve ever imagined. You don’t think your faces have ever been closer than they are now. Bradley is breathing your air, and you’re breathing his. Bradley’s pupils are blown wide, his heavy-lidded eyes are locked on yours. You didn’t know there could be so many shades of brown. His curls are a mess and it’s all because of you. He licks his lips and your breath catches in your throat when his eyes dart down to your parted mouth.

His next thrust into you hits that spot inside of you just so right that it has you gasping.

It’s so good, it’s too good, it’s overwhelming.

You wrap your arms around his neck clinging to him, your face buried against him. Bradley drops his head to your shoulder, you feel his lips brush against your clavicle. Your head moves away on instinct, making more room for him if he wants to do it again.

You get lost in the feeling of his cock hitting you in all the places you’ve heard about and read about, but have never felt for yourself until now. He’s still got your ass gripped in his hand, whereas your hands can’t stay in one spot. They’re tangled in his hair, running over his shoulders and down his abs, gliding over his back aided by the sheen of sweat he’s worked up.

You’re not trying to hold yourself back, but it feels like you’re standing on the tallest diving board at the pool, your toes curled around the edge, but still too nervous about the drop to jump.

“C’mon, kid. You’re right there,” he breathes hard, “I need you to come for me. Just one more.”

He gets his fingers back on your clit and it’s the end of you. Your back is arching so much you think you might snap. Your toes curl so tights they may never unfurl. The force your orgasm overtakes you, demanding everything you have up to offer and then some.

You hear Bradley’s moan as you pulse around his cock, trembling under him as the waves of pleasure wash over you. His hips stutter against yours, finally losing that steady rhythm he’d set, you pull him tighter to you and it’s not long until he comes too.

It’s all white noise. All you can feel is your heartbeat pounding, until little pieces of the world come back into focus.

The hum of the fan.

The beam of warm afternoon light through the blinds.

The smell of the now cold coffee on his nightstand.

In the after, you’re all too aware of every place your body is touching Bradley’s.

He’d somehow managed to roll on his back and had taken you with him. He was literally just inside of you, but yet it feels like your leg draped over his thigh is somehow more intimate. A prickly self-conscious feeling settles over you. Unsure of what the rules were for friends who just had sex, you attempt to peel yourself off of him, but the heavy arm over your waist keeps you in place.

“Come back here, kid,” Bradley mumbles, his eyes still closed, “I need to cuddle after I come, so I’m gonna need you to indulge me here for a moment.” He strokes a soothing hand down your back. And while he says it’s for him, you know he’s still trying to take care of you.

He hums when you lay back down. You set a hand on his chest. He reaches for it with his free one and threads your fingers together. It makes you melt further into him.

You feel a little different. But mostly, you feel like a weight you didn’t know you’d been carrying had been lifted off of you.

Your first time was everything you hoped it would be. You were safe and cared for, and you already knew, you’d never have any regrets about it. And it was all because of him.

“Thank you, Bradley,” you say, softly.

“Anything for you, kid.”

Your early morning catches up with you as you lay there, warm and secure. Your eyelids get heavier with each pass of Bradley’s hand along your spine. And you drift off to the sound of his heartbeat under your ear.

You’re still you. And Bradley is still Bradley.

It was just… something between friends.

A few hours later the two of you are still in his bed.

Only now you’re clothed and swapping the cartons of Chinese food that he’d ordered while you’d napped against his chest, and fighting over the fortune cookies watching some reruns of old sitcoms. You couldn’t hear their laugh tracks over your own.

The last couple of days you had at UVA fly by just as quickly.

You don’t know how, but the two of you managed to cross of all the things on his Spring Break To-Do List. And before you knew it you were back at the airport.

Bradley had insisted on walking you in, wanting to see you off.

Neither one of you has ever been good with goodbyes. So you don’t give him one, instead you reach for your bag and tell him, “Ok, see you in June.”

Bradley doesn’t let go, clearly confused, “What the hell are you talking about?”

You grin because it feels like a checkmate.

“You didn’t think you’d be getting that diploma all by yourself, did you?”

He looks thunderstruck.

You and your mom already had the plane tickets and hotel room booked. Your stepdad wouldn’t be able to come, but he was planning on sending your mom with one of the cakes from his family’s bakery. You’d been tasked with finding out what flavor, carrot cake or peanut butter- Bradley’s two favorites- but you could iron out the details with him later.

You’d had a busy week, plus it was more fun this way.

Bradley tugs you into his arms, yours wrap around him just as easily as they always have.

“June?” he asks into the crown of your head.

“June,” you promise.

And when he lets you go- for real this time- it’s with a smile that takes up his whole face.

He doesn’t say goodbye either, “Be good, kid. See you in June.”

𝐍𝐎𝐖

You avoid Rooster for the rest of the night.

And Jake too, for that matter. Bless Javy for finding ways to distract him because you could tell than man was chomping at the bit for more details. But you’d already given him more than enough.

You could have lied, you probably should have lied. It might have been easier than feeling like you’d hung up part of yourself on the drying line for everyone to see. But in that moment, the thought of lying and saying anyone else’s name other than Rooster’s had made your stomach turn.

Because it was the truth, he was your first, but he was also your best.

When you come out of the bathroom, there’s no missing Rooster. He’s leaning against the wall by the entrance. It takes him a moment to notice you since he looks lost in thought, but when he does you feel pinned to the wall by the intense look in his eyes.

He stands to his full height as you approach, you know he wants to talk about it.

You shake your head at him, “We don’t need to do this.”

“No, kid, we really do.” He takes you by the arm and leads you to a quieter spot away from everyone else.

“It was just a game,” you start before he can, “And now I know more about everyone’s sex life than I ever wanted to.” He crosses his arms over his chest at your attempt at deflection. “Look, I’m really sorry if that was something you wanted to keep a secret or just between us. I should have asked you first if that was ok to share.”

“I don’t care about that.” Rooster waves you off and takes a step closer to you, his eyes searching yours. “All this time and I’m the best you’ve ever had?”

“Are we really doing this? Here and now?”

You peer around him to look and see if anyone is watching the two of you, it feels like a showdown. But all the Daggers are occupied, probably on purpose. You’ve never seen Mickey with such a serious look of concentration on his face.

“Here and now,” he confirms.

You feel flustered, “Rooster, it’s been 12 years and we haven’t talked about it once-”

“Bradley,” he cuts you off. He takes another step towards you, so you’re toe to toe with him. “I’ve always been Bradley to you.”

The tension that had crept up in your shoulders releases a bit.

“Bradley,” you say, softly. “Listen, I’ve had a lot of good sex since then. Great sex even.” He presses his lips together and nods. “And with other men, if I felt like they weren’t putting in their best effort I’d kick them out because the bar was set very high early on.”

You see him fight back a smirk.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, with pride.

Your breath gets caught in your throat, you know he hears it because his eyes take on a richer shade of brown. You both feel the shift, tension churning between the two of you.

Taking a deep breath, you continue, “But I was telling the truth when I said you were my best. Probably because of the way you made sure I knew that you cared. I don’t know how to describe it. It was just different with you.”

You feel his finger graze the back of your hand.

The sounds of the Hard Deck fade into the background as you stare at each other. Entire conversations are being had as you look into his eyes and he looks into yours. Words and sentences spoken with glances.

Just friends don’t look at each other like this.

“It’s never been like this,” you whisper, “We’ve never been like this before.” You gesture at how close he is to you.

How he’s almost got you backed up against a wall.

How he’s looking at you like you’re his.

“I know.”

He says your name and your heart somersaults in your chest.

“I want to see your tattoo. I keep finding myself looking for it when we’re all at the beach. And then I get annoyed, knowing that people have seen it and I haven’t.”

“My tattoo? Bradley, what-”

“I want to see your tattoo,” he repeats like it’s a fact. “And I want to punch Seresin in his smug face every time he flirts with you.”

You roll your eyes, “Jake doesn’t flirt with me, not really. He just likes riling you up.”

“What if I said I wanted to try this as more than friends.” Bradley settles a large hand on your hip. “What if I said that since you’ve moved here I’ve had a hard time keeping my head on straight.”

“Bradley.” His name falls out of your mouth so easily now that it can.

“I want to take you home with me. I want to kiss you. I want to make you come. I need to know if you sound the same in my bed. And then I want to take you out for breakfast and buy whatever fancy coffee you want and as many pancakes as you can eat.”

You’ve been told that you wear your heart on your sleeve, but he has always worn his on his face. There’s no mistaking the open want on his face.

“Bradley, it’ll be different this time.” For so many reasons.

Because it’s not a favor being asked. It’s not some new experience being tried with the person you trust the most, with everything. You’d be on equal footing. It wouldn’t be a friend helping a friend, the two of you would be crossing that line between friends and more because you want each other in that way.

“I want it to be different, sweet girl,” he says, cupping your face in his familiar hand, “I’m ready for it to be different, if you are.”

He looks from your eyes down to your parted lips.

“We didn’t do that last time,” you whisper. Feeling brave, you reach out and run your fingers along the buttons of his shirt.

“No, we didn’t,” he agrees. His eyes are trained on his thumb as he skims it under your lip. “And that’s a damn shame.”

Bradley’s face is all you can see. Warm eyes, a still-straight nose, and a soft smile that is for you and you alone.

He dips down and your eyes flutter closed, your head tipping up on its own in anticipation.

His lips brush your cheek. It’s not enough.

You tug on his collar, but he chuckles and kisses your cheek again, lingering longer this time.

“I’m not kissing you for the first time around the corner from a bathroom,” he rasps.

You open your eyes and see the amusement in his. He always did like teasing you.

“Oh, where do you plan on doing it then?”

“Outside your front door, like a gentleman,” he says, like it’s obvious.

You can’t help but grin because Bradley Bradshaw can’t wait the extra 10 minutes it would take to drive to his place instead of yours. He wants that kiss just as badly as you do. You watch as a matching smile to yours blooms across his face.

It feels normal to slide your fingers between his much larger ones. It feels right as you lead the way out of the Hard Deck with him only a step behind you.

As it turns out, he only makes it as far as the Bronco before he’s spinning you back towards him and pressing you against it. His hands are on your hips and yours are wrapped around his neck as he kisses you for the very first time.

Bradley kisses you like a man who knows what he wants. And what he wants is you.

It’s not tentative in the way that first kisses usually are.

He kisses you like he knows you.

Because he does.

Later, when he closes the door to the Bronco for you, it feels like the end of one thing. But as he slips his fingers into yours when he backs out of the parking space it feels like the beginning of something new.

That night tangled in Bradley’s sheets- he’d kissed you at every light which made those extra 10 minutes it took to get to his home worth it- he makes your back arch and your toes curl as he makes you come with his fingers and mouth and tongue and cock. His lips dropping kiss after kiss on every part of you that he can reach. Because he can, because you want him and he wants you.

The way he touches you tells you that he remembers it all.

He was you first, but what you wouldn’t learn until later, is that he would also be your last.

And he’d be the only man to ever have your entire heart.

Happy Birthday Jordan! An AU just for you! 💖 I adore you and I hope this year is the best one yet!

A big thank you to @callsignspark and @ofstoriesandstardust for their help and beta reading and their woogirling! I appreciate you two so much!

Author's Note: this was a "what-if" AU set in the 'Like I Can' universe! If you want to read about what really happens you can read it here!

You can read more of my stories here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw smut #top gun imagine #topgun fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster x female reader

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kaznejis · 5 months ago

Text

Tarnished, but so grand- Erik Lehnsherr x Reader

Part 1 / Masterlist / AO3

You flickered your eyes back to him then, finding him staring back at you; his mouth twisted and eyes forlorn. “You’re leaving?” He could only nod, still staring. You inched forward, shock pulsing upon you in waves, “What! Why?” Pause. “Is it because of-” “Yes.” He said instantly, his Adam's apple bobbing as he did so, tone breathy but muted.

Word count: 5.7k

“I couldn’t believe it, Y/N, he kissed me! Scott kissed me!”

You could only hum in response, staring into the dregs of your cereal bowl; the tepid milk and soggy remains of half-eaten cereal staring back at you.

“-And it was so romantic, he pulled me away from the bonfire and then he said-” Jean spoke animatedly in the seat across from you, waving her arms and practically squealing with excitement as she recounted her own turn of events from the night before; the hangover gripping at the edges of your conscience and the guilt, oh the guilt, alongside the dread and horror and disgust rendering you useless; allowing you to only manage a small range of primal, ape-like grunts in response.

Upon stumbling, dragging yourself up to your room the previous night- you had been able to do nothing but collapse into bed, tranquillity washing over the swell of your lips, the bruises upon your back and the tears that wet your cheeks. Waking up the following morning, however, had been a different story. First, you had combatted the grewling ache of your hangover; your head pounding and vision wiry as you squinted at the morning sun that blasted through the open window. It had taken you an embarrassing amount of time to reach your hand forward, intertwine the vines upon your windowsill with the silk of your curtains, and to pull. Once the issue of the sun was eradicated, then the realisation set in; the ball of dread that instantly expanded within your stomach and chest and heart- the shortness of breath that instantly set in, the memories of the previous night flooding back. At first, you chalked it up to a wayward dream, dreams about Erik were nothing new- they had practically facilitated themselves as an integral part of day-to-day life. But, as you woke, as you remembered, the indents upon your back became all too real- the angry, red marks from the press of the tree upon your back as you had-

No, you had whispered aloud; clawing at the grainy sheets upon you and dragging a trembling hand down your face. No fucking way.

Despite your resistance, despite your objections- it had happened. Nothing would erase that. The professor that you had grown to respect, to admire- had pressed you against a tree and practically demolished you; intertwined your tongue with his before leaving you cold, alone in the depths of the trees- their swaying, dark silhouettes humouring your tears. Your tears as he had left, stumbling backwards in the grass; his plaid shirt billowing around him like leaves in the wind.

`’-Y/N? Y/N.” Jean clicked a finger in front of your face, immediately snapping you out of your reverie; leaving you blinking dazedly at your friend as she stared back at you with concern, “Are you okay? You disappeared on me there for a while.”

You cleared your throat, cringing in disgust at the bowl of gloopy cereal you had practically been drooling into; removing the sodden spoon and pushing the plate to the side; you managed a plain smile at Jean, a shrug of the shoulders, “I’m fine, uh- just tired.” Your words were clumsy, abrasive; sentences slogging together as your tongue struggled to work through your own emotional turmoil.

“Hungover, I bet.” Jean laughed, throwing her head back and allowing her hair to flow down her back, “You were so wasted.”

“Says you,” You nudged her knuckle across the table, smirking as she pulled it back with feigned hurt; clutching at her hand as if it had been sliced, “As if you had gotten the courage to talk to Scott sober.”

“Hey!” It was her turn to swat at you across the table now, “Actually- now that I come to think of it, where did you go last night? I checked your room on my way in and you weren’t there.”

You stilled for a moment, your inhibitions freezing in horror as you stared at her; body half poised in defence as you had been avoiding her attacks, “Oh! I-” You stuttered, mind going blank for a long moment; this only spurred Jean onwards, exemplified through her sudden change in demeanour; the cock of her head, the furrow of her brow, and the way she leaned fully towards you. You could only shrug; allow an airy laugh as you looked everywhere but her eyes, “When I come to think of it, I can hardly even remember.” Jean leaned backwards then, crossing her arms; unimpressed, “Seriously, Jean! That’s how drunk I was-”

To your relief, the bell sounded for the end of breakfast; though, it was a Saturday- with no obligations to attend to, Jean was free to follow you as she pleased. You used the dining hall's long benches to your advantage; speed walking down your respective side and disappearing into the swelling crowd of students attempting to leave. Ignoring Jean’s calls as they grew fainter. You couldn’t do it, you couldn’t explain yourself to her; whilst your own guilt, regret was a prevalent, persevering factor- you felt the need to protect Erik, protect him from your wretched self. What would Jean have thought if you had told her of how your professor, the very same professor that answered her questions in class and graded her essays, had held you up against a tree and pressed his lips upon yours. What would she think of the way that you would live and die for the chance to taste him again, feel the cold palm of his hand flit higher upon your thigh, for any aggravating factors to disappear as he would finish what he had started within that iridescent alcove?

The rest of the weekend continued with that form of mindset; the lingering doubt that suffocated your mind. Any attempt, any semblance of completing your assignments remained fruitless. The curtain of nightfall began to close as the hallways bustled with student’s heading to their own rooms for the night. Abruptly you slammed your notebook shut, huffing as you moved to stand before your open window; a few stray groups were scattered upon the grass, namely Jean and Scott- cuddling beside the lake and giggling together. You moved away then, unable to watch any longer. You were happy for her, for them, of course you were; you just wished that your own Friday night endeavours had been as successful.

Whilst they had been successful, as to say, you weren’t currently curled beneath the moon with Erik himself.

That thought spurred you away from your room; needing a breath of fresh air, a moment to think. The route you took to the gardens led you directly through the classrooms, before you found yourself standing before Erik’s. The wooden plaque upon the door stated ‘Professor Lehnsherr’, you dragged a finger across the words; feeling the engravings upon your skin. Raising your hand to the handle, you were surprised to find it unlocked, though the room remained empty.

His classroom was dark; the curtains drawn halfway, casting tepid shadows upon the empty desks covering his room. His own was swept clear of any belongings, any ownership; not a trinket or picture or memorabilia upon the oak surface. It has always been like that, you soothed yourself; not allowing yourself to take the empty desk as the red heron that it would be, had it been owned by anyone else. You knew that Erik lived in solitude, everyone did; when he wasn’t teaching, he was with Xavier- and if he wasn’t with Xavier, it was a token to his lonesome. You would find him, in those darker hours, seated at his desk, that empty desk, writing or planning or thinking. You had found admiration in his ability to condone silence; the comfort he drew from the blow of the wind and the subsequent flutter of his curtains. He had told you so, months before, of the comforts he found in the quiet.

“Years on the run,” He had chuckled, watching you perched upon the edge of his desk, legs swinging idly, “Makes you admire the finer things.”

As you sat alone later that night, thinking of the unusual dark of his classroom and the absence of his presence within the house; you thought about how maybe, just maybe, you were one of those ‘finer things’. You are always there, he had gasped into the night; into the very air you too exhaled upon. My horrible, wretched thoughts. But how could they be so? Did he see the way he had mouthed upon your neck, curling his fingers into the hem of your skirt, so close to that sweet spot; as wretched? Did he see the way you had succumbed to his every command, every lesson, as wretched? A white rabbit, with the rosy pink belly, walking straight into the jaws of the wolf. The girl who can control nature, bend ivy at her will and grow petals in the palm of her hand, and the big bad Magneto.

You didn’t see it that way. He was kind; kind even before your lips had connected, even before he had spilled every morsel of his thoughts and dreams. His own reluctance showed that; the disgust he projected towards his very own feelings, the things that sets him apart; makes him human. Abhorrently, dejectedly; his own kindness shone in his supposed rejection of you. In leaving you in that forest, available to the beasts and curling claws of nightfall; he had been saving you from himself.

You knew in that moment, seated upon your own bed; that you needed to see him. Needed to tell him that you knew, you understood him. You felt the ivy of your touch entangle upon the intricacies of his mind like no one else ever could. So, with that, you marched from the room; mindless to the thin pyjamas that you adorned, mindless of your own lack of lightsource within the dark hallway. The bare skin of your feet peeling from the marble floors as you ran- passed the student dormitories, passed the common area, passed the classroom and finally, into the teacher’s suite.

You slowed then, lowering your pace to a creep as you curled your fingers upon the edge of the hallway; peering into the darkness of the corridor. Despite your position as one of the older students within the school, you were still entering restricted territory. It had practically been drilled into you on day one by Mystique; never enter the teacher’s suite. To your surprise, it didn’t look much different to that of the very hallway you resided in; the same high ceilings, the same arrangement of doors; in fact, it was entirely identical. The mystification you felt towards the teachers lessened somewhat- this was where they lived, where they slept, a sacrifice made in order to be at the beck and call of the students; young mutants just like they had once been.

The only problem; you had no idea which room belonged to Erik.

Though, before you could dwell upon the thought; a strip of light appeared as a door opened down the hallway- you gasped, flattening your chest against the wall as you continued to peer around the corner.

‘-Please you can’t do this.” A voice, Mystique’s, sounded; she seemed upset, angry. She stepped into the hallway in her mutant form, arms crossed and stance defensive in front of the open door.

Another voice sounded then, stressed and upset; the sound of it visibly weakening Mystique’s resolve, as her arms unfolded, defeated. “I’m sorry Raven, but I have to.”

“Please, Erik, why?” You realised with deafening clarity, that the other voice had belonged to Erik, “Did something happen? We can talk through this. All of us, I can call a meeting right-”

“Raven.” Erik snapped, appearing in the hallway; his back was straight as he stared down at her; fists clenched around a cardboard box as he attempted to pass. Before he could so successfully, she snatched the box from his hold, dropping it onto the floor; its contents spilling upon the hardwood floors, “What-” Then she was gone, storming down the hallway and into a door at the end of it- the slam that followed was violent; jostling the very foundations of the walls you leant upon. You could only watch as Erik sighed, scratching at the base of his skull before kneeling; his working boots facing you as he began to clean up the mess. Once he finished, he lifted the box once again; but instead of taking it where he had initially intended, he turned and returned to his room, allowing the door to close behind him.

In that moment, curiosity got the better of you; curiosity towards the argument that had commenced, curiosity as to why he had sounded so upset. Before you could think twice, you were in front of his door, fist raised; you allowed yourself a short moment of clarity, a split second of what the hell am I doing? Before you knocked your fist against the wood. Erik’s movements within the room paused; you breathed, suddenly all too aware of how little clothing you were wearing- the chequered pyjama shorts and matching lacy tank top. Crossing your arms, you could only stare wide eyed as the door swung open.

“Raven, please-” Erik began, though he froze the moment his eyes landed upon you, the moment his eyes caught sight of your exposed legs and pursed lips. He swallowed, the sound loud and grating in the hallway- for a moment, he was speechless; seemingly taking you in as you stared right back at him. Though, the moment ended as quickly as it began; his face dropped as he grabbed you by the shoulders; pulling you into the room before closing the door behind you, ensuring that it was locked. He turned to you then, shoulders rising as he visibly struggled to find the words, eventually; he did, voice hushed, urgent. “What- what are you doing here, Y/N?”

Gulping, you found yourself unable to answer his question in the rise of his anger and the sight of the strip of bare skin where his tank top and loose pants didn’t quite meet. Using your inability to speak as an excuse to move your eyes away from him, you surveyed the room. The room was beautiful; intricately decorated with deep, royal hues of red and black, long pillars lining each corner of the room and a large master bed placed directly at the centre. But, what truly drew your eyes were the boxes splayed throughout the room; some still in their flattened form, some filled with various belongings. You flickered your eyes back to him then, finding him staring back at you; his mouth twisted and eyes forlorn. “You’re leaving?” He could only nod, still staring. You inched forward, shock pulsing upon you in waves, “What! Why?” Pause. “Is it because of-”

“Yes.” He said instantly, his Adam's apple bobbing as he did so, tone breathy but muted.

“I’m sorry,” You shook your head, tears filling your eyes as you collapsed upon his bed; making yourself as small as possible upon the sheets, “I shouldn’t have done that- In fact, I should be the one to leave.” You stood, nodding determinedly at him, “I’ll go and see Charles tomorrow; I was the one that kissed you, I should-”

“No.” His tone sliced through your train of thought, rendering you silent. His chest was heaving with breaths, bracing up and down beneath the thin linen of his tank top. He had the beginning of dark circles forming beneath his wrinkled eyes; the foundational period of a lack of sleep. Gulping, you waited for him to continue, the urge to reach forward and run a finger through the light stubble upon his jaw ever-prevalent. He began to speak before pausing, his gaze earnest; broken and open for you to feast upon, cast your worst abjections upon him. “What I did was wrong, Y/N-”

“What you did?” Shaking your head, you paced before him, floods of dread filled your gut; dread at the implications he sported and the fear within his voice, “I don’t know what you think that was Erik, but-”

“Y/N, I am your professor.” His tone was final, serious; his chest raised and fell rapidly as he visibly tightened his jaw, his teeth grinding within his mouth. “I teach you history three days a week, I grade your papers and I answer any questions you may have; that is my duty.”

“What does duty have to do with-”

“Everything,” His voice had risen; trembling upon the line of full blown shouting. Shaking his head, he splayed a hand over his mouth; turning away from you slightly- you could only watch, hands shaking, as he visibly filed through his own thoughts, “I was allowed here to protect you, people like you. To protect people like me; not to expose them to my perverted inhibitions-”

“Perverted?” You cackled, genuinely throwing your head backwards; the residual tension of humour and horror rising within your throat, “Erik, I am a completely willing adult-”

He shook his head determinedly, “You are my student.” Shrugging, you cast your arms wide, wild eyes entirely unbridled as you stared at him; the fire within your soul could not be snuffed, “Well, I won’t be soon. It’s almost summer and then my training is up; I’m free to do as I please.” You were visibly angered, voice clipped and cheeks blazing with heat, “Don’t leave because of me.” Emotions dimmed, you crossed your arms; swallowing, tongue between your teeth, “If anything, I’m just some silly little girl.”

Sighing, he walked to his bed and sat upon it. His back was hunched; arms long in his lap as he refused to meet your eyes. So deep in his own state of emotional turmoil, your own internal vitriol cast no objection upon him. He seemed to be waiting; waiting for you to shout, to scream, to curse him for defiling your so-called perpetual innocence. You beat the rise of his voice with your own, “I’m not angry at you, Erik.”

He froze, his form stilling; arms encased within his lap as his eyes widened, his voice was low when he spoke, the syllables long and pained, “What?”

Shaking your head, you tightened your jaw; willing your eyes to stop filling with tears, emotion overtaking you at his silence, his inability to just understand. You repeat yourself once again, “I’m not angry at you,”

“Y/N, I don’t understand-”

“I wanted it,” Swallowing, you faced your feelings; your doubts, head on, “I wanted all of it, just as much as you did.”

He shook his head, standing and stepping forward; his hands spasmed at his side, desperate to reach out, to touch, “As I do,” You shook your head, confused, “Just as much as I do Y/N.”

“Erik-”

“We can’t tell anyone,” He was whispering now, a hand raised to brush the hair from your eyes, tucking it behind your ear, “Not until I’m no longer your professor.” A beat. “Do you understand me?”

You nodded, immediate and fast, “Of course.” Ever obedient to his every command.

“Good,” He gave you a closed-lipped smile, his cheeks crinkling, “Good girl.”

Requiring no further confirmation, you leaped forward; gripping his face as you encased his lips with your own. As they met, he gasped your name like a prayer; the syllables sacred and protected, gasped in tandem with the beat of his heart and the rush of his own blood. The deafening waves of pleasure took power to your conscience as he walked the two of you backwards; kicking stray boxes from his path as the two of you crashed upon his bedsheets- the harsh lines of his body pressing you down, down into the velvet of his bedspread as you clawed at his shoulders. Keeping his lips upon yours, he moved a hand upwards, gripping at the hair at the base of your neck; he pulled then, your head tilting backward as he bit at the skin of your lip; devouring your mouth within his own and licking at the blood that he drew. You bent immediately to his will.

Allowing your eyes to slip shut, pleasure and shock and desire admonishing any sense of awareness; you felt as he began to move downwards, his lips trailing upon the curve of your neck, the bend of your jaw and the skin beside your ear. His fingers danced at the edge of your shirt; inching it, slowly and carefully, upwards towards your armpits. You took it upon yourself to push him backwards, raising slightly only to reach down and pull the shirt off, over your head and onto his bedroom floor. You could only blink as his eyes caught upon the bare skin of your breasts that had laid beneath the singular layer, could only blink as he trailed their outline with his fingertips before trailing them further downwards, to the waistline of your pyjama pants. He stopped then, eyes raising to your own; past the rapid rise and fall of your burning chest, “Can I?”

Nodding hastily, you dragged a hand through his hair, watching as he manoeuvred both your pants and underwear over your hips and down your legs in one go, “Almost died when I saw these little shorts.” He practically sighed the words out, pressing a kiss to your upper thigh as he pulled the material over your knees.

There, you laid completely naked beneath his entirely clothed form. The predetermined power dynamic existing between you was ever prevalent; but in that moment, you felt like the powerful one- empowered by the way his throat bobbed and eyes glistened at the expanse of your skin, by the way his hands lifted your thighs and the ghost of his breath warming the mound between them. Whimpering at the sensation, at the feeling of being watched by him; the burn of his gaze- you pleaded, begged with your own eyes, begging him to do something. Nodding, rubbing a soothing hand upon your thigh, he leant forward, testing the waters- planting a kiss upon your clit. You reacted instantly, jolting and tightening the hand within his hair; you felt him grin against the skin of your pussy, his breath releasing in chuffs. Then, he moved; dragging his tongue through your folds, the sensation lighting a fire within you as you collapsed backwards against the sheets; writhing, hand still secured within his hair as you pulled.

It felt like hours, years, mere minutes as he lapped at you; his tongue making sinful, disgusting noises against you as his hands gripped at your hips; securing you down upon the bed as you attempted to writhe beneath the hold of his pleasure. Panting, your hair stuck to the damp skin of your lips as you threw your head to the side; finding purchase anywhere you could- you felt your orgasm begin to build, the tingling sensation burning within your abdomen, spreading to the hilt like wildfire. This wasn’t like when you would touch yourself to the thought of him, beneath your duvet; head held firmly to your pillow- this was free, unadulterated pleasure; your climax reaching faster than you could anticipate.

Through the haze within your mind, through the scratch of your fingers upon his scalp; you found purchase to the last string of your own sentient conscience, “Erik, wait-’ He halted instantly, pulling back; his hair pointing in a number of directions and mouth ajar; he looked horrified, terrified at the thought of hurting you. Laughing, you shook your head; reaching forward to run a finger over his swollen red lips; you snorted, instantly spitting out an apology, “Sorry, I’m sorry I just-” Your voice was awash with humour as you spoke, grinning down at him, “I- I was going to cum.”

“Ah,” He replied slowly; nodding as he scratched at the base of his head; his gaze was shy from beneath his eyelashes.

You couldn’t wipe the grin from your face as you watched him, reaching forward to pull him upwards until he faced you directly, as the cotton of his tank top brushed against the skin of your breasts; you realised with stark clarity that he was still fully dressed. With a glance downwards, you spoke, “I think you need to match me here.”

Cocking an eyebrow, he tilted his face; smirking down at you as he moved a hand to dissect the hair from your face and lips, “Do I now?”

“Yes, I think so.” Nodding, you dragged the strap of his top from his shoulders with your pointer finger; tracing the wiry muscles of his bare arms propped above you as you did so. He rose then, grinning at your dejected moan as he moved to pull the top over his head; exposing the expanse of his chest; small, pink nipples and dusty hair painting a trail down his naval. His form was muscular yet thin; the outlines of muscles existent like ivy wrapped around his biceps, strong yet undefined. You walked two fingers upon his naval, toying with the waistband of his sweatpants as you smiled toothily up at him; he rolled his eyes before pulling down his pants, allowing his cock to spring free.

You spent a long moment willing your eyes not to widen; fearful of breaking the finely held thread of tension- his dick was, what Jean would describe as, ‘Boyfriend Material’. You hadn’t understood the term when she’d said it during your recent trip to the cinema, shaking your head as she betted that Scott ‘definitely had a boyfriend material dick’. When you had tried to discuss what Erik’s dick might be like; she had simply gagged, waving her hand exasperatedly as she begged you not to discuss such a thing.

But you definitely understood what she had meant now.

“Hey,” A voice said in front of your face, Erik, in the midst of your personal vignette- Erik had lowered himself back down; arms braced above your head as he smiled down at you, head quirked to the side. Grinning back, you wrapped your arms around the base of his neck before bringing him down into a soft, slow kiss. It was the slowest kiss the two of you had experienced so far; not fueled by abrupt pleasure or the weight of confession- the two of you simply existed, within his bedroom with the flat-packed boxes; upon his silk sheets. You felt it as he breathed you in, inhaling heavily through his nose as he continued to move his lips upon yours. When he pulled back to allow you to breathe, his mouth was visibly curved downwards with emotion; his thumb traced the skin of your jaw before tracing the skin of your lips, tracing where his own had just been.

His lips quivered; pink and wet with the sheen of your combined saliva, “Have you ever-?” He questioned, his eyes flickering downwards; you shook your head meekly, swallowing heavily as he nodded; a sweet, sincere smile curling the edges of his mouth, “Okay, darling.” He cooed, reaching upwards to tuck your hair behind your ear, smooth a hand over the red of your cheeks.

You found your voice, watching him through the flutter of your eyelashes; his bare skin and ruffled hair- the parts of him that you had never seen before, that he was allowing you to see, “Never got the chance, having superpowers and all.”

He laughed, nodding down at you, eyes glistening with adornment, almost as if he were in love. Though his face turned serious then, mouth straightening and eyebrows creasing as he looked upon you, “You can say no, sweetheart. We don’t have to-”

“I want to,” You cut in, nodding determinedly up at him; reaching up to smooth out the crease of his brow, “More than anything.”

He kissed you then; his hand instantly moving to cup your jaw, the other moving to caress the skin of your thigh; procuring a sickly, sweet burn that caused you to pant against his lips; his own instantly curling into a smirk as he felt you do so. As his fingers met the hilt of your thigh, sliding between the heat above; he lowered his head until he came face-to-face with the pebbling skin of your nipple before placing his tongue upon it, twirling and flicking the bud as you gasped, back arching against the damp sheets below. You couldn’t help the almost pitiful moan of his name that left your lips, your eyes squeezed closed and head thrown back against his pillow; you felt him grin against the underside of your breast, his ministrations against the juxtaposing cold of your breast and the warmth of your clit causing deafening sensations to ricochet within your stomach. The twists of pleasure allowing only whispers of his name within your mind.

Unable to do anything but lay there, you grit your teeth as he slid a finger into your heat; the length of it procuring a pinching pain as you winced. Pausing, he stroked the skin of your thigh; pressing a kiss there as he watched your face for any further signs of pain, “Tell me if it hurts too much.” He spoke into the skin of your thigh, you nodded down at him, granting a reassuring smile as he turned back to watch his hand- pushing the finger deeper and swiping at your clit as he did so. Soon, the pinching pain turned to pleasure; your muscles loosening as you realised that this, actually, felt good. Soon you were a moaning mess within his hands; three fingers within you as he bent you to his will with the curve of his dexterous hands. Those hands that weld so much power, able to inflict so much pleasure.

Eventually, you grasped at his shoulders; panting and moaning as your nails pressed crescent moons into the skin there, “Please,” You moaned, eyes watering as you begged him, “Please I need more.”

He rose instantly, cock hard and aloft as he moved to his bedside table; retrieving a condom from the depths of it. He rolled it upon himself, before propping himself above you once again, his cock held at your entrance. He rubbed it between your folds, once, twice; his condom instantly covered in your own juices, before he looked up at you; one step away from the finale. “Sweetheart, are you sure?”

Nodding, you bared yourself down upon him; lifting your legs to brace his hips. He cocked his head to the side, eyebrows raised and chin lowered as he watched you; visibly demanding verbal confirmation, “Yes, Erik, yes. I’m ready.”

Letting out a shuddering moan, he needed no further confirmation; inserting himself within the space he had enlarged- eyes instantly rolling back as he did so. He was not forceful as he inched himself inwards; his eyes did not stray from your face, searching for any sign of pain or resignation. You did not show any, mouth ajar and eyes wide as you moaned his name; legs tightening around the bracket of his hips. Upon reaching the hilt, he lowered himself to your chest; burying his face into the curve of your neck, the skin instantly growing wet with the humidity of his moans and your own sweat. “Is this okay?” He whispered, mouthing at your neck as he remained completely still; you nodded before shifting your hips, smiling as you felt the rush of breath against your neck. He instantly began to move; sinking home and immediately abandoning it as he methodically pushed in and out; his abdomen grinding against your clit.

“Beautiful, so beautiful,” The sounds were more visceral moans than words as his hands steadfastly clutched your hips; procuring sounds that you didn’t believe to be possible to fall from your mouth; garbling mixtures of his name and indiscernible pleading. The sweat congregating between your bodies was slick and hot; the fibres of your beings connected at every last point as you moved together. You knew for a fact that you looked sincerely debauched; but with Erik whispering and moaning into your ear; you could hardly register a second thought as you sunk into the pleasure he allowed you. He too looked a mess when he moved from your neck; hair damp at the ends from sweat and eyes scrunched shut; mouth falling open as he seemed entirely lost to the verisimilitude of pleasure. He had never looked so beautiful, so unruly- the strict, formal clothing a distant memory as he moaned and whimpered and gasped above you.

You felt your high reaching slowly as his abdomen brushed against your clit; the methodical movements torturous in their sporadicity. However, the moment he moved his thumb to your clit; you knew the end was near. He moved it in time with his thrusts, causing your mind to go blissfully blank as you could think of nothing but your fast approaching orgasm. The noise that left you as you came was barely a sound at all; head thrown back and eyes closed as your breaths crackled. You felt it as Erik came with you, hips stuttering and pulsing as he groaned for a long moment above you. He collapsed upon you then, the both of you panting together as you laid there in the pool of sweat formed upon his sheets.

A large hand cupped the back of your head as you came back to yourself, a low voice humming praise and compliments into your ear as you came to. The cold air hit you for a moment as Erik pulled himself out of you, disposing of the condom before lifting you into his arms; pulling back the duvet and depositing you into the warmth of his bed.

Sleep tinged the edges of your vision; though you couldn’t get one thought out of your mind, “Please don’t leave.” The words were barely a whisper, spoken into the darkness of his bedroom.

Erik shuffled beside you, sighing before wrapping you up in his arms; comforting and secure “I won’t leave you sweetheart, not again.”

#erik lehnsherr #erik lehnsherr x reader #erik lehnsherr x y/n #erik lehnsherr x you #magneto #magneto x reader #michael fassbender #x men #AM I MAKING YOU FEEL SICKKKKKK

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gilbertscurls · 16 days ago

Note

hey could u do a story on how chris would skip classes to make out with girls for the whole period? thank uuu

hope you like it!! <3

Live a Little ➵ Chris Sturniolo

part 2!

The last bell of the day rang, and students poured out of classrooms, eager to escape into the late afternoon sunshine. Senior year felt different—there was a sense of finality to everything. Everyone was making plans, talking about college applications, and preparing for the next chapter of their lives. For you, though, high school had become a blur of routines and responsibilities, an endless stream of homework and stress about the future.

But for Chris Sturniolo, things seemed... easier. While you were juggling AP classes, extracurriculars, and planning for college, Chris was barely showing up to half of his classes. The rumor mill was always buzzing about what he was up to, and more often than not, the stories involved him skipping class to hang out with girls, spending entire periods in secluded spots around the school making out. He had a reputation, but somehow, he never seemed to care.

You had known Chris for a while, not well, but enough to know he wasn’t all that concerned about his grades or what people thought of him. He was always laid-back, joking around, and never seemed to take anything too seriously. It was both infuriating and fascinating at the same time.

Today, you found yourself lingering by the lockers, shoving your books into your backpack, when a voice broke through your thoughts.

“Hey.”

You looked up to find Chris standing a few feet away, leaning casually against a locker, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. His dark hair was slightly tousled, his eyes glinting with that familiar spark of trouble. It wasn’t unusual to see him around, but the way he was looking at you now—directly, with a hint of something more—made your heart skip a beat.

“Hey,” you replied, trying to sound casual, though your pulse quickened.

“Heading to your next class?” he asked, though you knew it was just for show. You could tell by the glint in his eye that he had something else in mind.

You raised an eyebrow. “Yeah… unlike some people, I actually go to my classes.”

Chris chuckled, pushing himself off the locker and stepping closer, his presence commanding and easy. “Come on,” he said, his voice low and teasing, “you don’t really need to go to every single class, do you? It’s senior year. Live a little.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small part of you was intrigued. “Are you seriously trying to convince me to skip?”

“I’m not just convincing you to skip,” Chris said, taking another step closer until he was right in front of you, his gaze locking onto yours, “I’m convincing you to spend that time with me.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat. There it was—the infamous Chris Sturniolo charm that so many girls seemed to fall for. But you were different. You weren’t like them, right? You had a plan, goals. You weren’t about to throw that away for a guy.

Still… something about the way Chris was looking at you made it hard to say no.

“And what exactly would we do?” you asked, crossing your arms, trying to maintain some semblance of control in this situation.

Chris grinned, his eyes flicking down to your lips for just a second before meeting your gaze again. “I’ve got a few ideas,” he said, his voice low and suggestive.

You felt a rush of warmth flood your cheeks, and you couldn’t help the way your body reacted to the closeness between you. Against your better judgment, the thought of skipping class—just this once—didn’t seem so bad. After all, it was senior year. What was the harm in having a little fun?

Before you could overthink it, Chris reached out and gently tugged on the strap of your backpack. “Come on,” he urged, his voice soft and coaxing, “let’s go.”

You hesitated for only a moment longer before nodding, allowing him to lead you down the nearly empty hallway. Your heart pounded in your chest as you followed him, half-excited, half-nervous. This wasn’t like you. You didn’t skip class, didn’t just ditch your responsibilities for a guy—but this was Chris Sturniolo. And there was something exhilarating about stepping out of your comfort zone with him.

Chris led you to a part of the school you didn’t frequent—the old wing, where barely any students hung out. The classrooms were mostly used for storage now, and the halls were eerily quiet. He opened the door to one of the abandoned rooms, glancing back at you with a playful smirk as he held it open for you.

You stepped inside, feeling a mix of excitement and anticipation. The room was dimly lit, with dusty desks scattered around and old textbooks piled in the corners. Chris closed the door behind you, the sound of it clicking shut echoing in the empty room.

Before you could say anything, Chris was in front of you again, his hands gently gripping your waist, pulling you closer. His eyes bore into yours, the intensity making your pulse quicken. You could feel the heat radiating off him, his breath soft against your skin as he leaned in.

“You’ve thought about this before, haven’t you?” Chris whispered, his lips dangerously close to yours.

Your breath hitched. You wanted to deny it, wanted to say that you hadn’t given Chris Sturniolo a second thought, but that would be a lie. There was something about him—something about his carefree, rebellious nature that intrigued you, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you whispered back, though the way your voice wavered betrayed you.

Chris chuckled softly, his hands sliding up your sides, sending a shiver down your spine. “Liar,” he teased, his voice low and sultry.

And then his lips were on yours.

The kiss was slow at first, testing, but it quickly deepened. His hands gripped your waist tighter as he pulled you closer, your bodies pressed together. You melted into him, your hands finding their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. It felt so wrong, but so good at the same time.

Chris backed you up against one of the desks, his lips never leaving yours as he lifted you onto the edge. You gasped softly at the sudden movement, but he silenced you with another kiss, his hands now roaming your body, sending sparks of electricity through you.

It wasn’t like the stories you’d heard about Chris—about how he’d make out with girls and then move on, never caring about what happened afterward. This felt different. There was a hunger behind his touch, yes, but there was also a tenderness. He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t treating you like just another girl. He was taking his time, savoring every second.

You broke away for a moment, your breathing heavy as you looked into his eyes. “Chris…” you started, but he cut you off with another kiss, his hands cupping your face.

“Just this once,” he whispered against your lips, his voice full of heat and desperation. “Let me have this moment with you.”

And against your better judgment, you did.

The minutes passed in a blur of kisses and soft touches, your heart racing with every moment. You couldn’t believe you were here, in this empty classroom, making out with Chris Sturniolo of all people. But it felt right, somehow. Like this was where you were meant to be, even if it didn’t make sense.

Eventually, you pulled away, both of you breathing heavily. Chris rested his forehead against yours, his hands still on your waist, holding you close. For a moment, everything was quiet, the only sound being the soft hum of your breathing.

“We’re gonna get caught,” you whispered, though the thought didn’t seem to bother you as much as it should have.

Chris smirked, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Probably,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “But it was worth it.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” Chris shot back, his smirk widening.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. Maybe he was right. Maybe you did love it—loved the way he made you feel, like you could break the rules just for a little while and the world wouldn’t fall apart.

As the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, Chris pulled you in for one last kiss, slow and sweet. “We should probably get out of here,” he said, his voice softer now.

You nodded, slipping off the desk and smoothing out your clothes, trying to compose yourself before heading back into the hallway. Chris grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers with yours as you walked out together, not caring if anyone saw.

For the first time in a long time, you felt alive. And maybe, just maybe, skipping class for Chris Sturniolo wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274

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lupinqs · 1 month ago

Text

CHAPTER SEVEN ━━ Break In, Break Up, Break Out

☆ ━ pairing: hopkins!paige x oc (dani callan)

☆ ━ word count: 6.9K

☆ ━ warnings: slight mention of conversion therapy, usage of “gayness” in a derogatory way, hella religious guilt

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, take me to church masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: nothing, just enjoy!

PAIGE HASN’T seen Dani since what happened in the darkroom, on Friday. She doesn’t blame her, though. Dani’s been through hell—months of suppressing herself, living in fear of being who she is, and all under the roof of the man who had sent her to fucking conversion therapy of all places. Paige has felt the weight of that knowledge settle in her chest like a stone all weekend. But she knows better than to push Dani for anything more, not now. Dani needs space, time to figure out her next steps, and Paige is willing to give her all the time in the world—especially now that she knows why.

Still, it doesn’t stop her from worrying. Every time she thinks about Dani living under the same roof as her dad, the man who tried to change her, a sick feeling twists in her stomach. She hasn’t said anything about it yet, though—she doesn’t know if she plans to. She just doesn’t want to overwhelm Dani, not when they’re barely starting to reconnect.

It’s Monday morning now, and Paige is rushing to AP Lit—her first period that has been the victim of her tardiness recently. She steps into the classroom just as the bell rings, thankful that she’s just on time. Mrs. Donovan is already at the front of the room, writing something on the board about their next project. Paige’s eyes automatically drift to the familiar spot in front of her—Dani’s seat.

And there she is.

Dani sits at her desk, brown hair falling over her shoulders, her fingers drumming lightly on the surface as if she might be lost in thought. When Paige walks past her to take her own seat behind her like always, their eyes meet.

Dani’s lips curve into a small, tentative smile. It’s barely more than a flicker, but to Paige, it feels like a flash of sunlight breaking through the clouds. Her heart leaps in her chest, racing far faster than it should for something so simple, but after weeks—months, really—of being ignored by Dani, even the smallest gesture feels like a lifeline.

Paige smiles back, hoping Dani can feel just how much that small connection means to her.

She sits down, her pulse still thrumming in her ears, trying to focus as Mrs. Donovan begins explaining the project. Paige glances at the back of Dani’s head, her mind reeling, though she quickly snaps her attention to the teacher. They’ve been reading The Great Gatsby for the past few weeks, and now it’s time to wrap up the unit with their final project.

“Alright, class,” Mrs. Donovan begins as she turns to face them, “for this project, I’m going to be assigning you partners. Together, you’ll create a poster analyzing one of the central themes or symbols from Gatsby.”

Paige’s gaze wanders back to Dani’s profile as Mrs. Donovan speaks. Her mind drifts to the book they’ve been studying—for once, she didn’t hate it. She actually read the whole thing instead of reading the chapter summaries on SparkNotes. Maybe it’s because those stupid themes of longing, desire, and unattainable dreams all feels eerily close to home. Maybe not. She swallows, wondering if Dani has ever thought of it that way. She wonders if she sees their relationship—whatever this is now—as an unreachable dream, just like Gatsby’s vision of Daisy.

“As you know,” Mrs. Donovan continues, “The Great Gatsby is filled with themes of illusion and reality, the corruption of the American Dream, and the idea of trying to recapture a lost past. I want you and your partner to explore one of these ideas in depth, using specific scenes from the novel to support your argument. Your poster should clearly show how your chosen theme or symbol is reflected in the text, and, if you want to, you can even make connections to modern-day issues or personal reflections.”

Paige’s heart thuds in her chest. Mrs. Donovan’s words echo in her head—illusion and reality, the corruption of dreams, trying to recapture a lost past. Maybe she’s been thinking too hard—she’s been doing that a lot lately—but the parallels to her situation with Dani are almost painfully obvious. Everything between them feels like chasing something that’s just out of reach, something real but constantly slipping through their fingers.

Mrs. Donovan scans the room, looking down at her list of names. “Okay, partners are as follows… Noa and Lucy… Sam and Katie… Paige and Dani…”

Paige feels her breath catch in her throat. Of course. Of course, she and Dani are partners. It’s not a bad thing—it’s just… a little more nerve-racking than it would have been a few months back. She can feel her pulse quicken again as she glances at Dani, who turns her head just slightly, catching Paige’s eye with a soft gaze. There’s a hint of something unspoken there, a flicker of uncertainty mixed with… something else. Paige can’t quite place it.

“Once you know who your partner is, you can spend the rest of class working on your analysis,” Mrs. Donovan says, gesturing to the students.

Paige gathers her things and shifts to the empty desk next to Dani, her nerves buzzing under her skin. Dani glances at her with that same tentative smile, and Paige swears her cheeks are tinged with the faintest blush.

“So, uh…” Dani starts, her voice quieter than usual. “Which theme do you think we should focus on?”

Paige considers for a moment, her mind running through everything they’ve studied in the book. Lost dreams, unattainable desires, illusions. But there’s one that sticks out more than the rest. “What about… the idea of finding and taking back a lost past? You know, like how Gatsby’s obsessed with recreating what he had with Daisy?”

Dani’s eyes flicker with something—understanding, maybe?—and she nods. “Yeah, that could work. He spends the whole book trying to hold onto something that’s already gone, even though it’s never gonna be the same.”

Paige’s heart twists a little at the truth of those words. Is that that not what she’s been doing with Dani? Hoping to get back what they had before, even though so much has changed?

Dani continues, her voice a little more confident now that they’ve settled on a theme. “We could talk about the green light too, right? How it symbolizes Gatsby’s hope, but also how it’s just this unattainable thing that he’ll never really have. We could connect that with the idea of longing for something that’s already out of reach.”

Paige nods, her throat tightening. “Yeah, that’s good. The green light.” She pauses, her eyes drifting down to the notebook in front of her. “It’s like he’s always reaching for somethin’ that’s just… too far away.”

Their conversation flows more easily after that, though there’s an almost shyness between them that’s never been there before. Both of them are careful, cautious, as if the slightest misstep might break whatever fragile thing has started to grow between them again. But there are moments—brief, fleeting—where Paige feels the old connection, the spark that’s always been there. The accidental brushes of their hands as they pass each other the notebook, the tiny smiles exchanged when they find something they both agree on—it’s enough to make Paige’s heart race in a way that feels all too familiar.

As they work, Paige can’t help but steal glances at Dani, the way her brows furrow when she’s concentrating, the way her lips quirk into a soft smile when they find a particularly insightful analysis. It’s like seeing a version of Dani she hasn’t in so long—open, thoughtful, the girl Paige has always known (and loved).

When the bell rings, the sound startled both of them out of their quiet focus. Paige looks up, blinking in surprise as the reality of the time hits her. “We’re definitely not going to finish this in class,” she says, a little breathless.

Dani laughs softly, and it’s like a balm to Paige’s soul. “Yeah, I didn’t think we would.”

Paige hesitates for a moment, her mind racing with possibilities. She knows Dani’s still working through everything, not wanting to get too close again especially so soon, but maybe this is Paige’s chance to spend time with her again. “Do you want to… maybe come over to my house later? I have practice, but we could work on it after?”

Dani blinks, surprised. Paige watches the hesitation, the uncertainty flick across her face as her mouth opens and closes, searching for an answer. Paige can guess why—Dani’s scared. And Paige is about to think that Dani’s going to refuse, but then the brunette nods slowly, her lips curving into another small smile. “Yeah… I’d like that.”

Paige’s heart flutters, and she can’t help the wide grin that spreads across her face. “Great. I’ll text when you come over, okay?”

“Okay,” Dani replies, her voice soft, but there’s something in her eyes—a warmth, a glimmer—that makes Paige feel like things might finally be starting to fall into place again.

DANI’S HEART pounds, her stomach in knots as she paces back and forth in her bedroom. The sun is dipped low, casting the room in the kind of dim light that makes everything feel heavier than it is. Any minute now, Paige will text her to come over so they can finish their Lit project. She tries to tell herself it isn’t a big deal—just schoolwork, nothing more. It certainly isn’t a date. It isn’t even really two friends hanging out. It’s just schoolwork. Strictly to finish their assignment.

So why does she feel like her stomach is in knots? She’s been to Paige’s house a billion times over the years. Just because it’s been a few months doesn’t mean anything’s changed, right?

But it has changed. It’s all changed.

She runs a hand through her hair, her fingers shaking. Maybe she should cancel. Paige won’t hold it against her, right? She can just make up an excuse, say something came up. Lie. She can lie and stay in her room, burying herself in the Bible that sits on her bookshelf, pretending like she isn’t still thinking about Paige all the time, in that way. Pretending that her heart isn’t tearing itself apart.

Dani lets out a shaky breath and stops pacing, her hand drifting up to the cross necklace around her neck. The cool metal feels grounding in a way, like it’s tethering her to something larger than herself. Her father always says that God will give her strength, that if she prays enough, follows the rules, and sticks to the path, things will work out.

But the path feels so blurry now. What does strength even mean when every day feels like a battle inside her own head?

Her eyes drift to the crucifix on her wall, then once more to the Bible resting on the shelf. God doesn’t approve, she thinks, the words like a drumbeat in her mind. It isn’t just God either. She knows how her dad feels. She’s known from the moment he sent her to camp, from the moment he handed her over to people who told her she could be “fixed.”

But how can she be fixed when she isn’t even sure what’s broken?

Paige isn’t the problem. That much Dani knows. Paige has never been the problem, no matter how much the counselors or Dani’s father told her she was. It’s Dani that’s the problem. It’s her mind, her heart, her inability to let go of everything her father has drilled into her for years. She’s tried to be who he wants her to be. She’s tried to be the perfect daughter, the good Catholic girl who follows all the rules.

But nothing feels right anymore. Not when she’s spent an entire five months being torn apart from the inside out. Not when she can’t even look at herself in the mirror without feeling a deep sense of guilt she can’t shake.

She tugs on the cross hanging from her neck, feeling the familiar weight pressing against her chest. This is wrong, she tells herself again, but the words feel empty. It’s the words that feel wrong now, not everything else.

Because if it’s so wrong, why does it feel so right when Paige smiles at her? Why does her heart race whenever Paige looks at her like she’s the only person in the room? And why, despite everything, does she still want to go over there tonight? And maybe every other night?

Dani’s stomach churns as she glances at her phone, wondering if Paige is even going to text her at all. Maybe she changed her mind. Maybe it’s a bad idea to work together at all. They aren’t the same people they used to be, and things aren’t just going to magically fall back into place because of a stupid project.

She wants to cancel, she really does. It’s too confusing, too much to handle. But then what? She’ll sit here in her room, staring at the cross, thinking about Paige and how impossible it is to be near her but even more impossible to be without her. It’s a torturous cycle Dani can’t escape, no matter how much she prays or how hard she tries to push the thoughts away.

God doesn’t approve. The words echo again, louder this time. Dani’s fingers tighten around the necklace, her breath shallow as she stands in the middle of her room, paralyzed by indecision. She knows what her father would say. He would tell her to cancel, to stay away from Paige, to keep herself on the “right path.”

But what if she doesn’t want to stay on that path anymore?

What if she doesn’t even know where it leads?

Before she can spiral any further, a soft thud against her window pulls her from her thoughts. And then another. Dani blinks, startled, her heart jumping in her chest. She frowns, walking over to the window and pulling back the curtain. Her eyes widen in surprise when she looks down to see Paige standing in the yard, tossing tiny pebbles up at her window.

Paige grins up at her, looking a little sheepish but undeniably amused with herself. Her hair is damp and wavy, falling loose around her shoulders, and she’s wearing a Hopkins basketball long-sleeve with grey sweatpants—clearly fresh from practice and a shower. The sight of her makes Dani’s stomach flip. Dani digs a nail into her palm for the way her brain immediately dings with the thought of how good Paige looks.

“What are you doing?” Dani calls out, incredulous, though she can’t help the small smile tugging at her lips.

Paige shrugs, her grin widening. “Sorry about the rocks,” she says, a bit bashfully. “But, uh, you still have my number blocked. And my Snap. And my Instagram. And I didn’t want to knock on your door. Figured your dad probably wouldn’t love seeing me on the Ring camera.”

Dani’s stomach flips at the mention of her dad. She feels a wave of guilt, her mind instantly jumping to what he’d say if he knew Paige was outside her window. But at the same time, Paige’s grin is so disarming, so warm, that it makes everything else seem a little less suffocating.

Paige gestures to her house, right, next door, and flashes that same lopsided smile that makes Dani’s chest ache. “You can come over whenever now.”

Dani stands frozen at the window, her thoughts warring with each other, but before she can stop herself, she calls back, “Yeah, okay, I’ll be down in a sec.”

She closes the window, her heart racing as she grabs her things and heads downstairs, her fingers brushing against the cross necklace one last time before she opens the door to meet Paige outside.

They don’t say much as they start walking next door to Paige’s house. It isn’t a long walk—barely thirty seconds, given how their houses stand so close together. Yet, every step feels like it’s taking Dani deeper into a situation she isn’t ready to face.

Paige’s shoulder brushes against hers as they walk, sending a jolt of electricity down Dani’s spine. She stiffens, her heart skipping a beat. For a split second, she wants to lean into Paige’s warmth, to let that connection stay, to give into that sense of closeness she hasn’t let herself feel in months. But just as quickly, the urge to pull away surges inside her. Every alarm in her head screams at her to keep her distance, to remember what’s at stake, to remember how wrong it all is.

But Dani does neither. She doesn’t lean into Paige, nor does she pull away. She just keeps walking, her eyes fixed on the ground in front of her as they make their way up the driveway to Paige’s front door.

When they step inside, the warm glow of the house envelopes them, and Dani immediately hears the sounds of a football game coming from the living room. Paige’s dad, Bob, lounges on the couch, eyes glued to the TV. The moment the door closes behind them, though, he turns his head, clearly expecting to see Paige alone.

When his gaze lands on Dani standing beside her, a flicker of surprise crosses his face. Dani’s stomach tightens as she sees the confusion in his eyes, realizing how strange it must be for him to see her here after months of silence. She hasn’t exactly made it easy on Paige, and by extension, on him either. But just as quickly as the confusion appears, it fades into a warm grin.

“Well, look who it is!” Bob exclaims, his voice full of the same kindness that’s always made Dani feel like she belongs here with the Bueckers. “Dani Callan! I thought you forgot where we lived. How you been?” His teasing tone holds no bitterness, only affection, and Dani feels a knot she hadn’t even realized was there loosen in her chest.

“Hi, Bob,” Dani replies, managing a smile. “I’ve been, um… I’ve been good. How’re you?”

“Good, good,” Bob nods, sitting up a bit straighter. “It’s been a while, huh? You girls getting some schoolwork done tonight?”

“Yeah, we’ve got a project due soon,” Dani answers, her voice steady, but the warmth in her chest remains. Bob has always been easy to talk to, the kind of dad who seems to genuinely care about what’s going on in his daughter and her friends’ lives. Unlike Dani’s own father, who’s much more reserved and strict, and has no room for anyone who doesn’t fit the mold he wants. For years, Bob has been like a second father to her, always offering an easy smile, a playful joke, and the kind of acceptance she craves so desperately at home.

It feels strange to stand here now, knowing how much she’s pulled away from all of it. But seeing that he doesn’t hate her for it—doesn’t even seem mad—is a small comfort. He’s still the same Bob, welcoming her back like no time has passed at all.

Before she can get too caught up in the moment, she feels a gentle pressure on her back. Paige’s hand is there, pushing her ever so slightly towards the stairs. “Alright, Dad, we gotta lock in,” Paige says, her voice casual, but Dani can feel the spark from Paige’s touch traveling through her body like a current.

Dani’s breath catches for a moment, her senses heightening from the simple contact. The warmth of Paige’s hand lingers long after it’s left her back, and she finds herself biting her lip, trying to control the whirlwind of emotions it stirs up inside her.

As she steps away from the living room, Dani catches Bob sending Paige a curious, almost quizzical look, like he’s trying to piece something together. She isn’t sure what it meant, but Paige’s sharp glare and the quick shake of her head that follows makes it clear that Paige doesn’t want to discuss whatever is running through her dad’s mind.

Dani respectfully pretends not to notice, keeping her gaze straight ahead as they climb the stairs to Paige’s room. She doesn’t ask what the silent exchange was about, doesn’t press for any explanation. Instead, she focuses on the task at hand—the project they’re supposed to be working on.

As they reached the top of the stairs, Dani tries to calm the storm of feelings swirling inside her. It isn’t easy, not when Paige is this close, not when the past few months of distance between them suddenly feels like they’re collapsing in on themselves. But Dani does her best, forcing herself to focus on what is important.

They’re just here to work. Nothing more. Or at least, that’s what she needs to keep telling herself.

When Dani reaches Paige’s room, she hesitates for a second in the doorway before stepping inside. It hasn’t changed much in the months since Dani last saw it. The bed, with its white comforter and a few basketball jerseys thrown haphazardly over the footboard, takes up most of the space. A desk, cluttered with textbooks, a laptop, and some old Gatorade bottles, is tucked in the corner. Posters of basketball players—Maya Moore, Sue Bird, Kobe Bryant—still line the walls, and there’s a worn basketball resting on the windowsill, sunlight catching its faded leather.

Paige drops her backpack near the desk and gestures to the bed. “We can work here. More room to spread everything out,” she says casually, already pulling out the materials for their project. She’s moving around the room with ease, like nothing’s out of the ordinary, like the weight of everything between them isn’t bearing down on them both.

Dani, on the other hand, feels like she’s walking on eggshells. She crosses the room slowly, sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands tightening around the straps of her backpack before she lets it fall to the floor. She watches as Paige plops down on the bed, leaning back against the headboard, stretching her long legs out across the mattress.

For a brief moment, Dani can’t help but notice how comfortable Paige looks, her confidence and ease. She’s always had that about her—this effortless way of taking up space, like she belongs everywhere she goes. It’s one of the things Dani’s always admired about her.

“Okay, so I was thinking we could start with this quote,” Paige says, breaking Dani’s thoughts as she leans forward, flipping through The Great Gatsby. “I think it connects to the main theme pretty well, and it’s, like, kinda poetic, right? Teachers eat that shit up.”

Dani chuckles softly, more to ease her own nerves than anything else. “Yeah, they do. But if you’re gonna try to sell this as poetic, I’m the one doing the writing. Your handwriting is tragic, Paige.”

Paige looks up, mock-offended. “Hey! It’s not that bad.”

Dani raises an eyebrow, fighting back a smirk. “Drew is seven, and I think his is better than yours.”

Paige’s shakes her head, face breaking into a grin, and she tosses a balled-up sock at Dani. “You’re so mean.”

Dani laughs as she dodges the sock, some of the tension loosening in her chest. The teasing feels like old times—like before everything got so complicated. It’s easy, comfortable, and for a second, Dani lets herself enjoy it.

They settle into the work, spreading the poster board out on the bed between them. Dani takes the Sharpie, naturally assuming the role of the one in charge of writing, while Paige flips through their book, looking for quotes and points to add.

For a while, it feels almost normal. Paige is talking, rambling about how stupid it is Mrs. Donovan is for assigning such a tedious project on top of all their other assignments, and Dani merely listens, her focus split between writing and keeping herself from staring too long at Paige. But as they fall into a rhythm, Dani becomes aware of how close Paige is sitting, their knees brushing occasionally, Paige’s arm resting against hers as she points out things to add to the poster.

And then, Dani feels it—Paige’s breath, warm against the side of her face. She’s leaning in, watching Dani write something down, her face hovering close, too close. Dani’s heart skips a beat, her hand faltering for a split second before she forces herself to keep writing. But it’s hard—so fucking hard—because all she can think about is how close Paige is, how their proximity makes her skin tingle, how she’s suddenly hyper-aware of every movement, every shift in the air between them.

Paige doesn’t seem to notice—at least, not at first. She’s just watching Dani’s hand move across the poster board, her focus seemingly on the project. But then, Dani turns her head just slightly, feeling the heat of Paige’s breath on her cheek, and she makes the mistake of meeting Paige’s eyes.

Everything stops.

For a moment, it feels like time freezes, and all Dani can see is Paige—those bright blue eyes, intense and unwavering, locked onto hers. Dani’s heart races, pounding so hard she’s sure Paige can hear it. And then, Paige’s gaze flickers, dropping down to Dani’s lips, and Dani feels her stomach twist painfully, every nerve in her body screaming at her to just do it. To close the gap, to kiss her, to finally stop pretending.

But she can’t.

She can’t.

Dani’s head is spinning, the weight of everything crashing down on her all at once. Her body wants to lean in, to give in to the pull between them, but her mind—her mind is a storm of guilt, of shame, of fear.

It’s wrong.

It’s all wrong.

So she pulls away, turning her head sharply and forcing her gaze back down to the poster, her hand gripping the Sharpie so tightly it hurts. Her heart is still racing, her body still trembling with the aftermath of what almost happened. But she forces herself to focus, to breathe, to keep going as if nothing had just passed between them.

She hears Paige let out a long, quiet breath beside her, and then, softly, “I’m sorry.”

The words hang in the air between them, heavy with meaning. Dani feels them settle deep in her chest, a mix of relief and regret swirling together in a confusing mess of emotions. Paige’s apology is genuine—Dani can hear it in her voice—but it only makes things harder. Because the truth is, Dani isn’t sorry at all.

She’s only sorry that she pulled away.

And that’s the worst part.

Dani doesn’t look up. She doesn’t trust herself to. Instead, she murmurs, “It’s okay,” though she knows it’s not. Nothing about this is okay. But what else can she say?

They fall back into an uneasy silence after that, the weight of what almost happened still thick in the air. Dani focuses on finishing the poster, her hand moving mechanically, trying to pretend like her mind isn’t still reeling. Paige, for her part, stays quiet too, though Dani can feel her shifting beside her, can sense the tension in her body.

Finally, when the poster is nearly complete, Paige clears her throat, breaking the silence. “You, uh… you coming to the game tomorrow?” she asks, her voice casual, like she’s trying to lighten the mood.

Dani blinks, the sudden question catching her off guard. “The game?”

“Yeah. Season opener for both the boys’ and girls’ teams,” Paige says, her tone a little brighter now. “I thought you knew.”

Dani shakes her head, feeling a bit dazed. “No, I didn’t know.”

Paige gasps dramatically, her eyes widening in mock horror. “Dani! How could you not know? This is, like, the most important night of the school year so far!”

Dani can’t help but smile a little, despite herself. “I guess I’ve been… distracted.”

“Well, now you know,” Paige says, grinning at her. “And you have to come. Everyone’s going to be there, and you’ll get to watch me hoop. And, y’know, dominate.”

Dani rolls her eyes, but the playful banter eases some of the tension that’s been hanging between them. “Maybe,” she says, her tone noncommittal, though she’s already thinking about it. About seeing Paige out on the court, in her element, the way she always is.

Paige nudges her with her shoulder, her touch light and playful. “Come on. You know you want to.”

Dani shakes her head, trying not to smile. “We’ll see.”

But even as she says it, she knows she’ll be there. When it comes to Paige, even if she doesn’t want to be, she always is.

DANI’S STARTING to wish she didn’t come. She stands in the student section, squeezed between Beau and his friends, the noise of the gym around them loud and chaotic. The boys’ basketball game is in full swing, and Beau’s friends are hyped up, yelling and laughing. Beau’s arm is loosely draped over her shoulders, but it feels heavy, like a weight she can’t shake off.

She tries to focus on the game—basketball has always been something she’s enjoyed, not just because of Paige, but because she grew up around it. Paige’s passion for the sport had bled into Dani over the years, so watching a game, especially when the stakes are high, has always been something she genuinely likes.

But Beau is being obnoxious. They’ve been bickering the whole night, subtle digs and passive-aggressive comments about stupid things, and Dani’s patience is already running thin. Every time he opens his mouth, she feels herself getting more annoyed, his voice grating on her nerves.

“Why are you even getting mad?” Beau snaps, his tone sharp but low enough that his friends don’t catch it. “It’s not that deep, Dani.”

She grits her teeth, keeping her eyes on the court. “I’m not mad, I’m just—” She cuts herself off, shaking her head. It’s not worth it. Not here, not in front of everyone.

The boys’ game is nearing the end, and Hopkins is winning. The student section is electric, buzzing with excitement as the clock winds down. Dani tries to get into it, cheering with the rest of them as the final buzzer sounds and the boys secure their win. Beau and his friends are all high-fiving, acting like they had something to do with it, and Dani plays along, smiling tightly.

But the second the boys’ game is over, Beau grabs her hand. “Let’s get outta here,” he says, already pulling her out of the student section.

Dani blinks, pulling her hand back. “What? The girls’ game hasn’t even started yet.”

Beau frowns, clearly unimpressed. “Yeah, and? Girls’ basketball is boring.”

Liam, one of Beau’s friends, overhears and looks at them, eyebrows raised. “Bro, what? No, it’s not. They won states last year.”

Dani crosses her arms, glaring at Beau. “Exactly. Hopkins’ girls’ team is legit, and Paige—”

“Bueckers is a dawg on the court, for real,” Liam adds, cutting in. “I know you don’t fuck with her for whatever reason, but come on, man, we’re supposed to be running the student section. Everyone’s staying for the girls’ game.”

Beau rolls his eyes, clearly irritated. He stares at Liam with his lips pursed for a moment, before his eyes flick down to Dani. They’re asking a silent question.

Dani raises her eyebrows at him, her voice cool. “I’m staying.”

Beau stares at her for a second longer, then sighs loudly, like he’s making some huge sacrifice. “Fine. Whatever.” He flops back down in his seat with an exaggerated groan, and Dani fights the urge to roll her eyes.

The girls’ game is about to start, and Dani can already feel the shift in energy. The stands are still full, and the Hopkins crowd is as loud as ever. When the girls’ team comes out onto the court, led by Paige, the cheers erupt again, the student section losing its mind.

Dani’s eyes immediately find Paige. It’s impossible not to. Paige moves with this effortless confidence, her face all focus and determination as she leads her team through warm-ups. The way she dribbles, the way she commands the court—it’s something Dani’s always admired, even if she’d never admit it out loud. Paige is great—better than great, honestly.

The game starts, and Dani locks in, watching as Paige takes control of Hopkins’ offense, setting the pace and threading passes that seem impossible. The whole team is clicking, and it’s easy to see why they’re such a powerhouse.

It’s not just Paige, Dani tells herself. She’s genuinely interested in the game.

But deep down, she knows that’s a lie.

Her eyes keep finding the blonde—how she cuts to the basket, how she dishes out assists, how every movement is calculated and precise. It’s hard to look away. There’s something magnetic about Paige when she’s playing, like she’s exactly where she belongs.

Just when Dani is fully absorbed in the game, Beau nudges her with his elbow. “You seriously like this?” he mutters under his breath.

Dani’s jaw tightens. “Yeah, I do,” she snaps back, her voice low but sharp. She doesn’t need this right now, not when she’s finally getting into the game.

Beau scoffs, shaking his head. “It’s so slow. No dunks, no excitement. I don’t get it.”

Dani’s patience is wearing thin. “I like it because it’s good basketball, Beau.”

He gives her a look, his lips curving into a smirk that she immediately hates. “Yeah, sure.”

She turns away from him, trying to ignore how irritated she feels, but Beau doesn’t let up. “You know, if you didn’t have a weird thing for Bueckers, maybe you’d see how boring this is.”

Dani’s stomach twists at the mention of Paige, and she sends him a sharp glare. “I don’t have a thing for her,” she mutters, her voice tight, but even she doesn’t believe the words.

Beau just laughs, clearly enjoying the fact that he’s getting under her skin. “Right. You’ve been staring at her this whole game.”

Dani digs a nail into the palm of her hand. “Just drop it, okay?”

“Whatever,” he mumbles, eyes returning to the game with such a disinterest that it makes Dani want to slap him.

Dani’s heart is racing now, a mix of anger and anxiety bubbling up in her chest. She’s not defensive—she just… she just likes watching a good game. That’s it. It has nothing to do with Paige. But the more Beau talks, the harder it is to convince herself of that.

Beau leans in closer, his voice lowering. “If you wanna stay for her, fine. But don’t pretend like this isn’t about her.”

Dani turns to him, her eyes narrowing. “You know what? I don’t need this right now.”

Beau’s smirk falters slightly, but he shrugs. “Whatever, Dani. You’re the one getting all worked up.”

Dani exhales slowly, forcing herself to look back at the game, but the moment is ruined. She can’t focus on the court anymore, can’t enjoy the way Paige is commanding the floor. All she can feel is Beau’s eyes on her, the weight of everything he’s implying pressing down on her.

Paige makes a slick pass to one of her teammates, and the crowd roars, but Dani barely registers it. She’s too distracted, too pissed off at Beau, and all she wants to do is yell at him, tell him to shut up, to stop ruining this for her.

Beau starts bouncing on his feet, clearly agitated, needing something to do. He leans over Dani to say to Liam, who sits next to her, “Man, this shit is so fuckin’ boring.”

Liam gives him a look, responding with, “Nah, it’s entertaining as hell. Quit being like that, bro.”

Beau rolls his eyes at his friend’s answer before his gaze returns to his girlfriend, and he mutters, “This game doesn’t even matter.”

Dani’s heart pounds in her chest, her frustration boiling over. “Yes, it does,” she hisses, turning to face him. “Have you not noticed that everyone but you likes watching them play? You’re acting like a misogynistic dick.”

Beau just laughs, shaking his head in what Dani thinks is disbelief. “You know, I really don’t get it, Dani,” he says, tongue poking at his cheek. “You used to be so fun. Now you’re just—”

“Just what?” she snaps, her voice louder than she intended. Several people in the student section glance over at them, but Dani doesn’t care.

“Forget it,” Beau mutters, looking away, but Dani’s had enough.

“No, say it,” she demands, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “What am I, Beau?”

He glares at her, his jaw tightening. “You’re pathetic. That’s what. Sitting here pretending you care about this stupid game just because your little crush is out there running the court.”

Dani’s breath catches in her throat, anger flaring hot and fast. “God, you’re such an asshole.”

Beau snorts, rolling his eyes. “Oh, I’m the asshole? You’ve been acting weird as hell for weeks!”

Before she can even think of a response, he stands up, making a move like he’s going to leave. “I’m done with this shit. Let’s just go.”

Dani’s had enough. Every word that comes out of his mouth feels like a punch to the gut, and the way he’s looking at her right now—like she’s some kind of burden—makes her want to scream. She can feel her pulse in her temples, the frustration clawing at her, and she can’t take it anymore.

“Fine,” she says, her voice clipped as she grabs her jacket off the bleacher. “Let’s go.”

She storms out of the student section, Beau right on her heels, muttering under his breath. The second they’re outside, the cold air hits her like a slap in the face. It’s dark now, the night settling in over the high school, and the quiet around them makes every word that follows feel louder, sharper.

“Jesus, what the hell is your problem?” Beau snaps, his voice echoing as they walk past the athletic entrance.

Dani spins around, her eyes blazing. “My problem? You’ve been a dick all night, Beau. I’m trying to have a good time, and all you do is bitch about everything. Why can’t you just—” She breaks off, throwing her hands up in frustration. “Why can’t you just be normal for one fucking night?”

He takes a step closer, his eyes narrowed. “Maybe I wouldn’t be pissed off if you weren’t so obvious about how much you still care about her. Y’know, I thought you were done with her. But it seems like her gayness is still rubbing off on you!”

Dani flinches, his words hitting too close to home. “This isn’t about Paige,” she lies, her voice cracking slightly.

Beau scoffs, his arms crossing over his chest. “Bullshit, Dani. It’s always about Paige with you. And it’s always about you with Paige. Do you know how many times she’s talked to me about you like some protective girlfriend? As if you’re dating her instead of me!”

“She and I aren’t fucking dating!” Dani yells, her frustration boiling over. “We hardly even speak any more, Jesus Christ! She’s only so protective because we’ve been best friends since we were kids, and she can probably tell how shit of a boyfriend you are!”

He shakes his head, his jaw clenched. “Bull-fucking-shit,” he denies, narrowing his eyes at her. “You’re not just friends with her, and we both know it.”

Dani freezes ever so slightly, her heart thudding in her chest. The accusation hangs in the air between them, thick and suffocating. Beau’s staring at her, his eyes hard, waiting for her to deny it, but she can’t. She doesn’t say anything, her mind racing, and in that silence, she knows that he knows.

“See?” Beau says bitterly, throwing his arms out. “You can’t even deny it.”

“I don’t—” Dani starts, but her voice falters. She doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t even know how to process what’s happening. All she knows is that she’s so tired. Tired of pretending, tired of fighting, tired of this relationship that’s been falling apart ever since it started.

Beau shakes his head, turning away like he’s about to walk off. “I don’t know why I even bother anymore.”

Dani’s chest tightens, and before she can stop herself, she blurts out, “Then don’t.”

Beau stops, his back still to her, and when he turns around, his face is set in a hard, bitter expression. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Dani takes a deep breath, the cold air stinging her lungs. “I don’t want to do this anymore, Beau. I can’t keep pretending like we’re good, because we’re not.”

His eyes flash with anger, but there’s something else there too—something like hurt. “So that’s it? You’re just gonna throw this all away because of her?”

Dani shakes her head, keeping her gaze firm. “This isn’t for her,” she responds. “This is for me. And I think this might be for you, too. You’re not happy; I’m not happy. We’ve been done for a while, and you know it.”

Beau stares at her for a long moment, and then he laughs—a pungent, humorless sound. “Fine. I don’t give a shit anymore.”

He turns on his heel, walking away, and Dani watches him go, her breath fogging in the cold night air. She should feel something—regret, sadness, anything—but all she feels is relief. A strange, dizzying sense of freedom washes over her as Beau disappears into the dark.

She stands there for a moment, staring at the empty parking lot, her heart still racing. The night is quiet now, the only sound the distant hum of the game still going on inside. And for the first time in a long time, Dani feels like she can finally breathe.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers fic #uconn wbb #uconn #paige bueckers x reader #wbb #uconn huskies #wcbb #paige bueckers smut #hopkins p fic #take me to church #wlw #hopkins paige #paige bueckers x oc

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ohwaitimthewriter · 3 months ago

Text

Chase

Pairing: (HEAVILY) implied!Caesar x human!reader

Warning: yearning............

Summary: You played a game and didn't understand all the rules…

Words: 751

A/N: it's 2am and I wasn't expecting this to happen 😳

Enjoy your reading! 😁

Planet of the apes Masterlist.

You ran away.

Were you aware that he'd catch you? Caesar didn't know, but the fact was, he'd caught you.

His hand crept up your ribs, coaxing and gripping your ribcage lest you try to escape again. He didn't need much pressure to feel the toughness of your bones under his fingers, which suddenly seemed as fragile as a twig. If he squeezed any harder, he'd crush your ribs like autumn leaves on the forest floor. One sudden pressure and his natural strength would shatter the meager protective barrier of your ribcage.

Your ribcage was expanding to the rhythm of your laughter, which you were obviously having trouble holding back, and your hand had instinctively found its place on his forearm, your fingers gracefully snaking their way between his fur. Your skin was barely touching his at this point, and Caesar found himself obsessed by the pressure of your fingertips, which nestled more and more against his skin as your laughter compelled you to lean on him to keep your balance.

A laugh so intoxicating, so heartfelt that he found himself escaping a few playful exhales from his lips, sounding like he was taking several deep breaths successively.

And that's when your forehead met his shoulder. Your lungs under his powerful hand tried to catch their breath, but calming the jolts of your laughter was so laborious that you had to lean against his shoulder to support your body.

He had only one step to take, only one pressure of the hand to force you backwards, and no doubt he would follow your steps until your back met the tree trunk only a few meters behind you. His thumb unconsciously slipped between two of your ribs, and he knew that a single twitch could make you move as a result of the slight pain you'd feel.

But he didn't.

Your shaky breath brushed his fur, which stood on end at the warm sensation emanating from your mouth so close to him.

What had you gotten him into? He felt a bite in the pit of his stomach. A pleasantly warm bite that gnawed at his insides and made him salivate to the point where he had to run his tongue over his canines several times to restrain himself from digging them into the skin of your neck. This skin that taunted him, letting him see the pulsations of your heart through it.

Would you allow it? He didn't have much to do, his muzzle was already close to your neck and all he needed was a few centimeters, just one small movement to bury his nose against your skin and take delightful sips of your bewitching scent. All he'd have to do then would be to curl up his lips and, first, graze your delicate skin with his canines before letting his tongue trail along your jugular vein. Then, if, and only if, you'd let him, he'd come and taste the few pearls of blood that would crumble over your neck, marking you forever as his own.

His stomach didn't seem to be holding still as your breathing found its normal rhythm, your genuine laughter dying in a chuckle before ending in a single gasp.

Your head left his shoulder and, despite his determination to keep you as close to him as possible, he loosened his grip on your ribs to let you take a step or two backwards. Your smile cracked your face until it rose to your eyes, making them sparkle, and you had no idea of the turmoil still dilating Caesar's pupils, letting his gaze appear blacker than it normally would be.

“Next time, I'll run faster,” you giggled.

Caesar snorted and forced himself to ignore the pulse pounding in his skull to claim your ribcage again as his own, this time with both hands, so as not to give you another chance to pull away from him.

“Yes… you'd better do that.”

His husky voice sang a silent vow that you wouldn't get off so easily, and a wave of tingling settled deliciously in the small of your back.

Next time, Caesar would come and take what your alluring scent dared him to take without you being fully aware of it. Your scent that taunted his insides and compelled him to hold his breath to avoid immediately giving in to the thrilling impulse to make you his. This pleasant bite that gnawed at him, he was going to use it to court you… until the next chase.

#planet of the apes #caesar x reader #planet of the apes x reader #caesar x human reader #caesar planet of the apes #caesar pota #pota

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writers-potion · 3 months ago

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When to Use "P" Sounds

to show unbending authority, bureaucracy and the law

for a character who prides himself in his masculinity

for eortic scenes with male action

for a display of power and pompousness

for a firm patriarchal society

"P" for authority and pride:

power, principle, parilament, empire, approve, impose, president, prelate, prefect, emperor, empress, pastor, priest, prince, pontiff, patriarch, parade, palace, portal, pose, display, pomp, peacock, prance, preen, pretend, imposter, importance, impress

"P" sounds for judgement and punishment:

police, penalty, punishment appraisal, probe, oppose, probate, approve, passport, apprehend, appeal, troop, platoon, deploy, poll, parish, population, protocol, parochial, position, plead, process, prison

"P" for stick-like objects:

pole, pile, pillar, pilaster, peak, pike, spear, poke, pierce, prong, push, pin, prick, penetrate, point, penis, patriarchy, paternal, progenitor

Other thematically unrelated words:

apply, park, perk, pug, puppy, posy, plug, apple, pear, grap apricot, peach, painting, portrait, picture, people, ping, peg, gape, lip, ship, pen, pulse, parchment, palaver, ploy, ape, sap, tap, sip, tip, pillow, pirouette, pry, ploy, slip, plant, peek, peer, nape, plate, platinum, planet, ship, rip, spin, wasp, lamp, ample, shape

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

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death---dealer · 3 months ago

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someone said they didn't like my writing because it's too descriptive and i said they can get fucked i like my writing and that should be all that matters

It was a quiet evening in the Colony. Nothing more than the chattering and howls from a few Apes as the released exaltations but other than that, hands were signing between lingerances in wicker bowls for food. The usual spread of trout freshly caught that morning from the stream, berries picked from the group of Female Apes you wanted to associate with more closely, but found it difficult at times when you were the only human amongst them. The sun cusped on the horizon that was blistering your sight with the tree line that amplified the rays of light in the right angles, illuminating aspects of your face that to the Chimps in front of you were nothing more than distraughtly ugly to the point of minor distrust.

Not that you could blame them, looks were a two way street and since arriving at the Colony, it was hard to stake out the reservations you had in your mind that they were all evolved and were more suitably placed bi-pedal, expressing more Humanly than yourself at times. The last eight years alone did wonders in conditioning you to think otherwise.

Scooting your eyes to your right, you let a sliver of satisfaction coarse through the forefront of your mind but it was a sensation that did not last and was ultimately eclipsed by a wash of self-deprecation. Sure, you’d only recently found your place here amongst them all, choosing to eat with Lake, River Blue Eyes and Ash during the bustle of the evening meal, never making it early enough to join during the meal that was shared before the Sun made its presence against the horizon at dawn. Mainly Lake as you had been instructed by Caesar that she would be your essential guide to learn the ways of how they lived.

The way that they ate was one of those things that did not come naturally to you. Sharpened canines tumultuously carding themselves out of their gummy enclosures and tearing away at the fish meat and stripping it away from the tiny bones, intricate to watch as if it were ceremonious and it left you feeling less than adequate that you had to tear the meat with your fingers instead. Tentative chews were followed with a shiver of primal fear around the edges of your brain that you needed to run. Forget your meal, forget the safety here that had been so generously offered by the Ape King and take off.

There was nothing stopping them from doing the same to you as the roasted fish, there was nothing stopping them from taking you by the neck and trudging a mouth against the more delicate flesh against your pulsing jugular and taking what they rightfully felt inclined to, blood shading down your neck, tracing around your collarbones as the vein was torn away from your body---

Lake… You tried to pull your mind back into focus. Lake had shown you things that revolved around the daily in-and-outs of Colony life, including and not excelling in… Their choice of language. Your gaze was fluttering between the three sets of hands in front of you, their fingers long, stocky and even in the bustling firelight provided by the communal fire, it was hard to deduce what was being said as you clutched your wickered bowl of fish bones, wiped clean by your hunger, against your stomach which felt bustled with anxiety.

You smiled when they chortled in amusement, you nodded in agreement when they did but conversationally, it was difficult to keep up or contribute and that in and of itself left you feeling more than isolated against the slaten rock that provided the safety shield for the Colony itself. There was always the concept of speaking, you knew that. It was immature to think otherwise when you had been spoken to before but it felt sparsely used amongst the younger Apes who never had any reason to verbalize.

It was easier to sign.

It was an isolating existence you found yourself in regardless, feeling at times like the Colony’s perimeter was nothing more than a gilded cage of protection gifted to you by their leader. By… Caesar. Drawing a deep breath in, you sat your finished bowl to the side and allowed your eyes once again scan the setting sun off in the distance, forgetting for a moment the circumstances of what brought you to the moment you were so blessed to be living in.

The hues of orange that had bustled there at the beginning of your evening meal were tainted now, drawing down into harder pinks and purples as the Sun began its wave goodbye before circling down the skyline. At least you were alive; most of the Humans you had seen in the last eight years were either hostile enough to drive you away or were trying to form radical parties against the Apes.

Either way, you felt like staying with them would get you killed and it was just happenstance that you stumbled, quite literally, onto your knees in front of the Hunting Party that alloted the presence of a crazed and hateful Bonobo who looked at you with one milky stare and one that captivated nothing but despise, two young Chimpanzees which you now knew were Ash and Blue Eyes. And two stockier Chimps - Rocket, fur thinned and skin exposed to the chill of the Pacific air that drifted in and… Their King.

You’d heard stories, sure. Most of the Humans in the area had heard about it like it was nothing more than an everyday occurrence to recall and recollect, you had all seen it on TV during the seemingly Chess game of the Rise and then lived through the aftermath as the Flu wiped out every pleasure that Humanity catered to. It was word of mouth, it felt like it was hard against the shell of your ear, whispered to you in the dead silence by Caesar himself, alone in your hut. The only semblance of verbalization you felt struck by even though it was just your imagination.

As you paced your stare around the Apes, you watched them. Bonobos… Orangutans, Gorillas and Chimpanzees all painted into each other like a fine piece of art, cliqued into families who enjoyed meals together, there was no way to deny your train of thought the simpler pleasures of thinking about him.

Caesar was overpowering in presence alone, a lick of shock radiating and splintering against your spine at the lack of warmth the fire provided you as he came rounding in front of you. Even his gait, strong and powerful, caused your eyes to look elsewhere, focusing again on the distance. The shuffling of the trees with a minor breeze, the crisp sound of water running against the landscape.

‘Cae..sar.’ You butchered a sign out, simple enough as it was but even his name felt incorrect to your fingers as you dropped your hand from your jaw back into your lap to play your fingers against each other.

There was something signed in return, your fingertips urging themselves to follow suit as if you were going to non-verbally answer whatever was said in silence. The way that Caesar held his hands so tightly to his core, the muscles below his fur seemed to rip and the tips of his coat that tapered onto the back of his hands into the darkened skin that seeped against his knuckles was alluring enough to fixate on.

Blinking out of that, you tilted your head and glanced up at him only briefly before you choked a response out, “I-I can’t understand you when you sign that fast.”

Caesar lacked momentum as your words processed in his mind. Brashedly, he asked in a baritone that scratched at the incessant part of your mind that yearned for communication, “You do… Not speak to them.”

“Well…” Swallowing hard, you nodded in agreement there and tried to shove the notion out of your head that you were being watched by him often enough for that detail to come to light. “They talk really fast, and over each other I can’t keep up sometimes---” It was hard to ignore that you felt like an inconvenience to them, especially the way that Caesar huffed at your incantation.

“Has… Lake not been teaching you?”

“She’s a great teacher!” You were quick to compliment, never one to disappoint as you calmed your fluttering heart, forcing your mind into action as you had risen slightly from your chosen seat. Cold rock seared through your tactical pants and into the back of your thighs as you looked down at your own folded hands.. “I just… Haven’t been doing this since birth, y’know…? I can only learn so fast. I feel like talking sometimes bothers them so I stay quiet.”

“Takes time… to learn.”

“I barely even know how to sign your name.”

That was meant as a joke but Caesar remained stagnant and quiet in front of you. If it was funny, your mind running away from itself at the lack of camaraderie you had with anyone, he wasn’t one to show it as he looked off into the distance, mimicking the way that you had been in a bid to avoid eye contact in the first place.

He was not avoiding, his breathing was calmed and relaxed compared to your own which felt smoldering against your ribs as if you were being held under water. In the light that was fading from the Sun, his fur appeared a darkened shade of black though in lighter aspects, it appeared brown and there was a strange admittance in your own self that you had been watching him enough to know such a minute detail. Chalking it up simply to the fact that you didn't speak during meals and barely found any friends due to that, you resulted in admiring them instead.

For all you knew, there was a softened exhale from your mouth at the lack of understanding in yourself as to why you found Caesar so appealing in the first place, the fur detail you knew could have been true for all of them and not just… Caesar…

Attention was hard on your movement as you raised your right hand, forming into a ‘C’ shape near the tip of your jaw, your mouth contorting into an awkward half smile of depreciation as green and golden irises flickered along your expression.. Your fingernails tickled at the skin there and left it feeling aflame as you clarified for him.

“Caesar.” The action was tightened, your fingers unsure of themselves as you finally scraped up enough courage to look up at the large Ape in front of you. Your fingers placed harder against your jawline to the point where it felt like you were able to feel the uncut edges of your bones below the flesh. “Caesar.”

It was a flurried moment- your mouth falling open as the Ape King who superseded any speculations about him from the stories you had heard, raised his arm in a mirrored fashion to yours. The position of Caesar’s bent arm felt strikingly intimidating, his bicep flexing the tearing muscles below that could surely aid in ripping your throat out if he posed you as a threat. Instead though as you pushed aside the primal fear--- You were studious in how his hand curved into a loosened ‘C’ as if it were second nature to him. Not near his protruding jaw like yours had been.

Closer… Closer to… The flames of the torches that surrounded and kept the Colony alight shifted his eye color into capsules of orange, your throat tightening at the way he stared down at you. His positioned fingers, entrancing in their own right as they danced between darkened fur along his thick wrists, lighter colored around his knuckles and darkened along the palms, it appeared like splattered water color, they were against the side of his face, temple being kissed lightly by the backs of his fingers.

Radical fear seemed to leave the split second you made eye contact, breathlessly, you let your mouth open at the lack of imposition or fully wrought scare tactics that you thought his stare would be full of. Instead... They were... Making you uncomfortable with how Human they were. If you were not aware that you were in front of an Ape... A Chimpanzee who was standing strongly on his two feet, stanced hardened against the slick rock of the cliff that dragged adjacently to the kiss of the Suns light, you'd have sworn that he was Human. That he was... Just like you... Full of… Curiosity... Understanding. As if he were aware that everyone starts somewhere and you had only been in the Colony for a month now.

It felt like he stayed in position for hours, peering down at you from beneath the hardened brow line and it was miraculous that you were even able to make out the detailing of his expanding and disappearing irises as they were casted away by the darkness of his pupils.

“Caesar.” Finally! He spoke, the hackles lining his collarbones bristling as you shifted your body to mime him once more, your heart racing itself to the back of your esophagus as the older Chimp maintained the eye contact that he sought for. Something--- Anything for a connection to the Human that he allowed refuge in the Colony.

“Caesar.” The tone you used was breathless, it felt like everything had been rocked right out of you from the intensity of connection just made. Floating your hand near your eye, you tugged a piece of your hair back and smiled slightly, cursing to the Heavens that the fire in front of you was enough of an excuse for the sure reddening of your cheeks at the one-on-one lesson. “Thank you, I was too close to my jaw before.”

“Will get… Maurice to help you learn. Better teacher than… Lake or… Myself.”

There was no argument to be made as Caesar locked stares with you once more; your heart churned from the top of your throat and back down, passed its home in your rib cage and into your stomach at the intimacy it felt cased in.

“T-Thank you!” You managed to utter along with the accompanied sign as the Ape King paced away from you, one more casted glance thrown over his shoulder as you made the sign for his name once more, this time, to yourself.

And without a word to anyone, Caesar narrowed his enviously green and golden speckled eyes on your hand motions, not willing to admit how tantalizingly tempting it felt in the moment to shatter the delicate bones with his own touch. Not out of vicious intent, but out of… Curiosity.

Something that lingered even when he wasn’t around you and something that pestered the inner workings of his mind as if he hadn’t spent the first eight years of his life with Humans to the point where he went through quite a cultural shock when the time came to leave it all behind because there was a deeply ingrained part of himself that wanted to believe he was not Ape, that he was Human… In you, the way that he studied as he climbed to the perch high above the seats of the rest of the Colony, Caesar… Saw himself. And he liked… the way you signed his name.

#planet of the apes #pota #caesar x reader #caesar #caesar pota #planet of the apes x reader #pota x reader #x reader #kingdom of the planet of the apes #kotpota

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rafeandonlyrafe · 1 year ago

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study sesh

words: 900

warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex

“rafey, i don’t know how you expect to help me study considering you’ve never even taken an anthropology class before.” you say into your cell phone.

“i can help you concentrate! keep you focused, bring you snacks, hand feed them to you.”

“you know you’re only going to be a distraction.” you say, genuinely needing to study.

“okay, okay.” rafe says with a chuckle. he had no intention of actually helping you study. “how about a deal? you have an hour of solo study time before i come over.”

you look at the clock, figuring you could cover most of the chapters that would be on the exam tomorrow. “alright. bring snacks though.”

you can practically hear rafes smile over the phone when he responds, “i wouldn’t dream of not.”

“hey baby, you gotta be quiet.” rafe shushes you as you bounce on his cock again, textbooks long forgotten, decorating the floor along with your pens and flashcards.

“can’t.” you whine, knowing that your dorm walls are thin and the girl across the hallway is a tattletale who has reported rafe for sneaking into your room multiple times before.

“gotta, princess.” rafe says, bringing you down into a kiss to hopefully smother your whimpers and moans.

“trying, i swear.” you tell rafe, hands gripping his shoulders, nails sure to leave little crescent marks on his skin.

“i know, and you’re doing so good for me, huh?” rafe brings one hand down to your clit, massaging it and spreading your wetness around. “always my good girl.”

you nod your head quickly, loving the praise. rafe flips you over quickly so you are laying on the bed, keeping his cock lodged deep inside of you as he does so.

“ahh…” you let out a quiet moan, rafe’s cock reaching deep inside of you.

“cum for me.” rafe demands, pinching your clit. upon release, you let out a shudder as your orgasm racks through your body. rafe closes his eyes as your cunt pulsates around his cock. he takes deep breaths as he waits for you to come down from your high, wanting to force another orgasm from you before he came inside of you.

“so good.” you place your hands on rafe’s cheeks, bringing him down to kiss you.

“i know, you got another in you?” rafe asks as he picks up the pace again. it’s already your third orgasm of the night, being given one by his fingers and one by his tongue.

“can’t.” you whine, pushing his hand away from your clit.

“oh, but you can, my love.” your boyfriend teases you, but takes his hand away from your pussy, gripping your hips as he uses your body to meet his with every thrust, a slapping sound no doubt able to be heard by your neighbors.

rafe suddenly pulls out, silencing your complaints with a kiss as he gets off the bed, grabbing a stack of flashcards from the floor.

“what is primatology?”

“wh- what?” you ask, pussy throbbing, missing the sensation.

“you said i would just be a distraction while you studied. i’m proving you wrong. let’s study. want me to fuck you? tell me what primatology is.”

“study of primates, like apes and shit.”

“language, but good job.” rafe says after he flips over and reads the back of the card. he lines his cock up with your entrance, giving you one quick thrust.

“what is ethnography?”

“study of…” you let out a gasp as rafe thrusts into you, “cultures.”

“you’re so smart.” rafe praises, giving you a couple more thrusts as he reads the next card, “who was franz boas?”

“he developed a theory of… something.” you can’t think of anything as rafe’s cock pulses inside of you.

“cultural relativism.” rafe explains, tossing the card onto the floor, pulling out of you.

“nooo, rafe, please. fuck me and then you can quiz me.” you beg.

“then you won’t have any motivation, sweetheart.” rafe smiles gently, “besides, your test is in the morning, you need your sleep, and we are multitasking to save time.”

“what is cultural relativism?”

you rush to answer, needing to feel rafe inside of you again, "that we judge cultures based on the standards of our own."

“good.” he coos, tossing the card as his cock re-enters you.

“what is stimulus diffusion?”

“the spread of ideas from one group to the next.”

“aaand…” rafe prompts you, giving you a hard thrust.

“and the… the idea being changed by the adaptors.”

“good.” rafe smiles, “answer the next two right and i’ll give you a break… and let you cum.”

you nod quickly.

“what is acculturation?”

“adapting... assimilation to a dominant culture.” rafe reads over the card and then nods, you summed it up well enough, and his need to also cum lets him give you a pass.

“what is the result of acculturation?”

“abandoning of original culture and um… uh…”

“good enough.” rafe tosses the rest of the cards on the floor, smashing your lips together in a kiss.

he thrusts up into you, hitting just the right spot inside of you that makes you see stars.

“can’t last.” you whimper out, bringing a hand down to rub your clit.

“cum for me, smart girl.”

you immediately follow his demand, tumbling over the edge as your legs lock around rafe’s hips, forcing him to cum inside of you.

“there you go.” rafe hushes you as your body slowly stops shaking. “good girl.” he kisses along your shoulders and collar.

“now…” he sits up, letting his cum slide out of you. “what is biculturism?”

#reupload!#rafe smut #rafe cameron smut #obx smut #outer banks smut #rafe fic #rafe fanfic #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron one shot

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spectrumpulse · 2 months ago

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youtube

#2024 #music #spectrum pulse #billboard hot 100 #billboard BREAKDOWN #billboard hot 100 september 14 2024 #drake #le sserafim #chris young #chase matthew #a$ap rocky #veeze #lil yachty #Youtube

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bokutizer · 2 years ago

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miya atsumu loves you. he loves you aggressively. he loves you brotherly. he loves you so much, it hurts. literally. in other words, he tends to love you the same way he loves his twin brother.

yet, what this huge ape often forgets is that you don’t have his brother’s stature nor his pain tolerance. he means no harm. he swears! he just can’t control himself around you, and neither can he control his own strength, both leading to a few bruises along your arms or a bump on your head every once in a while. (did I mention that he means no harm?) the worst is, even when he accidentally gets a lil' too rough with you, his first reaction is to laugh. like, he'll legit make fun of you.

except he realizes you've gone quiet. too quiet. why aren’t you trying to hit him back? kick him? yell at him? "baby? hey-" it’s in these moments that he wishes your kicks would have the same strength and brutality as 'samu's because, goddamn, he hates being the cause behind those pretty teary eyes. "what-what’s wrong?"

"that hurt, you idiot." you frown at him, your hand pressed against the pulsing pain on the back of your head after your little playful wrestling session ended up with you hitting your head against the headboard of your bed. "shit, 'm sorry. let me see." of course there’s neither blood nor any open wound, yet that’s not a reason for atsumu to be any less dramatic.

"c'mere, let me kiss it better." he pouts at you, his hands holding you with gentleness as he tenderly caresses your head. his kisses feel featherlight as you feel them travel from the back of your head to your face, their warmth seeping into your skin and soothing the dull pain as if they were advil. "'m so, so sorry, princess. won't happen again."

it will, you want to say. but you don’t. because you love miya atsumu. so much. you love they way he is, you love the way he loves.

#atsumu miya #miya atsumu #atsumu x reader #atsumu x y/n #atsumu fluff #haikyuu atsumu #hq atsumu #atsumu hcs #atsumu fic #atsumu scenarios #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu drabble #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader

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inkmonster21 · 3 months ago

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Hearts Across the Divide

4.) Dancing in Danger

Noa x Fem!Human!Reader

Series Masterlist

~oOo~

You and Noa had made it a regular occurrence to meet in the evening mornings, before daybreak at the waterfall. Sometimes you’d play your instrument and relax without exchanging many words. Somedays you two would have in-depth conversations challenging everything you knew. How could someone, an ape, a completely different species, have so much in common with your own soul?

This particular morning, Noa was there first. His back turned to you while he looked down into the water below. He couldn’t help but feel connected with such a structure. Especially with you nearby. The force and strength of the emotions towards you reminded him of the rushing waters.

"Hello," he called, hearing your footsteps on the forest floor behind him. You smile at him, “You’re here earlier today.” He looks away, sheepishly smile on his face, “could not sleep.”

Noa was usually a good sleeper, but ever since you two became friends, he always thought about you right before he went to bed, which kept him awake longer. Noa glanced up at the sky where it was still dark, a few faint stars still visible, and then he looked back to you. "Come sit," he said, patting the spot next to him on the cold rock.

You take the spot next to Noa. Scooting close as if on accident. Your limbs almost grazed each other. If one of you were to move you’d be in physical contact. The thought bites away at your brain.

Eagle Sun lands on the rock in front of you looking at you expectantly. You look at the bird with a small smile. “I didn’t forget about you.” You say before digging into your bag and retrieving a rabbit's foot for the eagle.

Noa watched as you reached into your bag and pulled out a snack for the bird. "Sun likes you more… than me," he teased. Shrugging with a reply, “I’m just likable. That’s all.” Noa rolls his eyes, “is that so?”

“I like to think so. You like spending time with me instead of your clan. I must be somewhat likable.” You smirk at him. Your heart flutters as he smiles wide, his canines grazing his lips. How you wish you could just meet yours in such a passionate manner. But you refrain.

Noa's smile widened at your observation. He couldn't deny that he did seek you out every day and stayed with you for as long as he could. He leaned closer to you.

"You're more… than likable," he whispered, his voice low and filled with warmth. Noa wished he had the words to convey exactly what made him feel, but he didn’t believe there was even a way to describe you in your language either.

Noa watched as your face flushed red with heat at his words, and he couldn't help the sly smile that spread across his lips. He loved the way your cheeks would always turn rosy when he complimented you. He moved even closer to you, so close that he could see the rapid beat of your pulse at your neck. His hand came up and gently brushed along your jawline.

The both of you were fully aware that these feelings were wrong, that you should not feel this way about him, nor you. Yet, when he was this close to you, the thought faded from his mind. Your presence alone was enough to make all rational thoughts disappear. His hand moved from your jaw to the back of your neck, his fingers threading into your hair.

Noa could read your expressions and understand every little thing you did. He knew your little quirks and all your habits. It was as if he had known you your whole life, even though it had only been a few months.

“Can I show you something?” You ask in a soft tone. You wanted to share every little secret you held. Noa was a bit surprised by your sudden question, and he took a moment to admire the way you looked so close to him before answering. "Yes," he said, his voice softer than he intended.

You stand offering your hand to him. Knowing full and well he of course didn’t need it. You didn’t let go either as he came to stand.

“Follow me.”

The two of you making your way down, beside the rushing water. Noa watched as you led him closer to the waterfall, his grip on your hand still firm. “Do you trust me?” You asked him. He didn't even need to think. "I trust you," he replied confidently, his eyes locking with yours.

Noa's eyes widened in surprise as you led him through the small gap behind the waterfall. When you came through to the other side, he couldn't believe how different and quiet it was here. The roar of the waterfall was muffled behind the thick curtain of water. It was almost like a whole different world.

"Whoa..." he breathed, his eyes darting around the cavern.

You had found this cavern years ago. Since then it had become your very own secret. Not even Loui or mother knows this location. This is where you stash all the human relics you found while exploring the overgrown city.

Noa was completely in awe as he looked around the hidden cavern. He could see all the human relics you had collected and he was amazed. He let go of your hand and walked over to one of the relics, picking it up and examining it closely.

He looked at a small pocket watch, flipping it over and trying to open it. "Did you find all this… yourself?" he asked in amazement, his eyes wide as he looked back at you.

You take the pocket watch and open it for him showing him the face of the cracked clock forever stuck at 3:29 am.

You with a smile as you watch him examine the watch. “Must have gotten close… to the ruins to find… all this," he said, still impressed by your collection.

He then turned his attention back to the other relics, picking up a small book and flipping through the pages. You nod, “I’m not allowed to explore there much. I have to sneak away to do it.” You smirk at your rebellious behavior.

Noa hummed slightly at your mention of sneaking away to explore the city. Possibly the two of you could go sometime. "Sneak away? Just like… now?" he said, raising an eyebrow at you with a smirk of his own. You stare at him, the smirk continuing to spread. “Yes, like now.”

Noa stares admiring the way your eyes sparkled in the dim light of the cavern. He took another step closer to you, his chest almost touching yours. "What would…they do? if they found… us?" he repeated, his voice dropping an octave lower. You ponder on the thought. Truly not knowing the answer. You would expect the worst but hope the best.

Noa watched as you pondered the question.

A small part of him knew that what he was doing right now was dangerous, and he could only imagine what the rest of the clan would say if they found out. But he couldn't stop himself. He moved even closer to you, his chest now brushing against yours, and he gently took your chin in his fingers.

Your breath stills in your chest at such proximity to Noa. He could feel your breath against his chest, making his heart thump faster in his chest. His eyes were fixed on yours, his fingers still holding your chin, gently caressing your skin. He could feel the heat radiating off your body, and he could smell the scent of your hair. Noa’s mind began to cloud as he inched closer.

So close to bringing the two of you together. Inches now. Foreheads almost resting against one another. But your name is called through the trees. You still recognize Loui’s voice.

Noa remained close to you, his fingers still holding your chin. His forehead almost pressed against yours. The disappointment on your face was clear as you huffed at Loui's timing. Noa understood exactly how you felt because he was feeling the same. All he wanted was to spend more time with you, just the two of you. He took a step back, releasing your chin, silently frustrated as he regained his composure.

Noa looked down at the book still clutched in his hand. The moment with you had just been interrupted, and he had to bite back the disappointment that came with it.

He looked back up at you and handed you the book, his eyes still lingering on you for a moment longer before he glanced back at the entrance of the cave. You shake your head and push the book into his chest. “Keep it.” A smile on your face. You wanted him to have something besides simple memories to remember you by when the morning ended and the rest of the day began.

Noa looked down at it and then back up at you, his heart swelling slightly in his chest. He took the book back from you, holding it carefully in his hands. He knew he would treasure it, not for the contents of the book itself but for the reason behind it. He wanted to say something, to tell you how much he appreciated the gesture, but the words got stuck in his throat.

Noa listened as Loui called your name again, this time closer than before. He could tell how much you hated the interruption, and he hated it just as much. He took a small step closer to you again, his eyes filled with frustration but also something else hidden within.

“I have to go.” You whisper with regret.

Noa nodded reluctantly, his heart heavy with disappointment. "I know..." he said quietly, his eyes not leaving yours as you spoke. He reached out and gently took your hand in his, his fingers enveloping yours. "Will I…see you tomorrow?" You nod with a smile. “Just like every other morning. I will be here.” You bring his hand up to your face, planting a light kiss on his palm. You wave a silent goodbye before backing away and emerging from the cave.

As Noa felt your lips on his palm, a tingle ran through his hand and up his arm. It was such a small gesture, but it meant so much to him. He watched as you backed away from him, disappearing from sight from behind the waterfall before he stepped further into the cavern. He clutched the book to his frame, his mind still racing from the moment before the interruption.

You climbed up the rocks to meet Loui, still feeling slightly dazed after the moment in the cave. you looked at him as he asked where you had been, "Sorry, I was just..." you trailed off, your mind still consumed by the memory of Noa’s touch. “Busy.”

Loui looked at you with a confused expression as you finished your sentence. "Busy?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Doing what?"

“That’s for me to worry about.”

Loui watched as you walked away from the waterfall, his confusion still evident on his face.

"You're being… secretive," he called after you, his eyes narrowing as he followed you. You look at Loui, “How? I come here all the time. I have for years.” Loui looked back at you, clearly unsatisfied. Yes, this was one of your most frequent locations, but you’d been disappearing more lately, for longer periods at a time. “don’t understand what is so fun… about old waterfall… you seen many times.” You smirk with a shrug, “Me either, brother.”

Loui caught your smirk, and he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He knew you were keeping something from him, he just couldn’t figure out what. “Whatever you’re doing…” he said, trying to maintain his composure, “I will find out.” You narrow your eyes, “oh I’m sure.” Loui met your narrowed eyes with his own, a hint of annoyance in his gaze. "I will.” He said, his voice adamant. “You are not good… at hiding things… known you since young….I can tell when you’re… hiding something,” he said pointedly, his eyes still locked with yours.

You brush off the subject, “Why did you come looking for me anyways?” Loui could tell you were trying to change the subject, but he wasn’t quite done with it yet.

“Mother was looking… needed help with young.” You hadn’t realized how long you’d spent in the cave until suddenly the day had slipped by without you realizing. Loui watched you closely, still curious about the way you were disappearing more often. “Sorry.”

He shrugged at your comment, “You were gone… half the morning.” Loui could see the guilt in your expression, and he knew you didn’t like neglecting your responsibilities.

Noa rode back towards the clan on his horse, his thoughts still consumed by the time spent with you. The book you had given him was safely tucked away in the satchel hanging alongside his horse’s saddle.

He couldn’t help but smile at how you had gifted it to him, insisting he keep it. The gesture had meant a great deal to him.

He knew that the gesture of giving him the a gift, such as the book you gave him, was a significant sign in his clan, typically a way to show someone that you’re interested. Was that how you meant it? Did you have the same feelings he did? He hoped so. The possibility of it only made his heart race. He had no way to confirm without risking everything the two of you had.

Upon his arrival to the Clan, Anaya notices, “There you are.” He says walking up to Noa.

He dismounted from his horse and looked at his sunset sibling. “Here I am,” he said simply, trying to act as nonchalantly as possible.

Anaya’s eyes roamed over Noa, taking in his appearance, messy fur slightly out of place. He obviously hadn’t groomed, other things more present in his mind. It was clear he’d been running around somewhere.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Where were you? Never disappeared… like that before.”

Noa was caught off guard by his friend’s question. He didn’t want to lie, but he couldn’t tell him the truth either. Not until he understood his own feelings.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to stall for time. “I just… was scouting the land.” he said tentatively, hoping the excuse was good enough.

Anaya studied Noa, his head slightly tilted to the side, still not completely convinced. Noa shifted awkwardly, silently cursing himself for not coming up with a better excuse.

He tried to maintain a neutral expression, attempting to appear innocent and unbothered by his friend’s scrutiny.

As the two apes walked further into clan territory, Noa’s feet unconsciously led him towards the eagle enclosures. Responsibilities tugged at his mind, reminding him of his duties.

Anaya followed closely behind, still eyeing him with a hint of skepticism. Noa tried to act normal as he approached the eagle enclosures, silently praying that his behavior wouldn’t give him away.

Anaya stopped walking, standing in front of Soona. He watched as Noa disappeared into the rebuilt structure, his brow furrowed in concern. “Noa… acting strange.”

He glanced back at Soona and spoke quietly. She looks at Noa’s disappearing frame. “He is spending much time… outside clan… does not say where.”

As Noa walked into the eagle enclosure, he was greeted with a chorus of respectful acknowledgment. The apes in the enclosure called out to him with reverence, for he was, the Master of Birds. He nodded in response, a small smile on his face. He may have had other things on his mind, but the weight of his position of ‘Master of Birds' was not one he took lightly.

Noa was well aware of the legacy his father had left behind. The shadow of his father's leadership loomed over him, and he was determined to be a worthy successor. He wanted to lead the clan with the same wisdom and strength that his father had. It was a significant pressure, but it also served as fuel for his determination to live up to his father's reputation.

Dar sees her son upon his entrance. “Son.” Noa was looking over the birds in the enclosure when he heard his mother's voice. He turned to greet her. “Mother.” he said, a small smile on his face.

As his mother approached, her eyes roamed over his appearance, taking in the messy state of his fur and the fact that he was clearly ungroomed. Her face held a hint of disapproval. Noa huffed in annoyance as his mother started to groom him, ruffling his already messy fur even more. He tried to resist, but his mother's determined hands and sharp eyes made it clear that resisting would be futile. “Such a mess, son.”

Noa grumbled under his breath as his mother continued to groom him, fixing his messy fur. “I was exploring,” he tried to explain, but his mother tutted at his excuse. “Must hold look… of a leader, son.” Noa rolled his eyes as his mother lectured him about his appearance. “I know,” he said, his voice a mix of annoyance and resignation. “I was not expecting… to be judged… on my grooming skills.” Dar stares at her son, “or lack of.”

Noa huffed again as his mother continued to fuss over his appearance. He knew she was right; as a leader, he had a responsibility to maintain a certain level of dignity and appearance. Still, it was irritating to be lectured like a child, especially when he had more pressing matters on his mind. Noa hadn't even realized how disheveled his appearance had become. He had been so wrapped up in his thoughts about you that he hadn't even taken the time to groom himself properly. It wasn't until his mother had pointed it out that he became aware of how bad he must have looked.

“You were gone again… before sunrise,” Dar stated wondering. Noa looked away from his mother's gaze, knowing that she was referring to his earlier disappearance. He hadn't expected her to bring it up, but he should have known she would. “Yes… scouting the area,” he said, repeating the same excuse he had given earlier. His voice was slightly strained, as he tried to keep his true thoughts hidden.

Dar studied her son, trying to decipher the truth behind his words. She could tell he was hiding something, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what.

She paused in her grooming, her eyes searching his face. “You have been gone… a lot.” “There is a lot of land… still unexplored… want to be ready… if something happens again.”

Dar's eyebrows furrowed slightly as Noa explained his absence. “I understand your desire to be prepared, but you disappear so much… I worry.”

Noa could sense the concern in his mother’s voice. He knew she was worried about his disappearance, but he couldn't tell her the real reason behind his frequent absences. Someone had to be here to take care of such responsibilities when Noa was absent. “The elders met today.” Noa's attention was brought back to the present. He had been so consumed by thoughts of you that he hadn't even noticed the mention of the elders. He looked at his mother, his interest piqued.

“Spoke of you.” Dar states. He tried to keep his voice neutral as he asked, “What did they say?” Dar was silent for a moment. “They think it is time… you choose a mate.” Noa's heart skipped a beat as he heard his mother's words. He knew this topic had been on the elders’ minds for a while, but he hadn’t thought they would bring it up so soon. He tried to maintain a calm exterior as he responded to his mother, "A mate?"

Noa's mind raced as his mother discussed the elders' expectations. He couldn't even begin to fathom the idea of choosing a mate from among the apes. Not when you consumed his thoughts and sent his heart racing. Even the mere thought of it made him feel guilty.

He cleared his throat, trying to hide his inner turmoil. “I see.”

Dar began again. “There are many females… who would be suitable… for clan leader.” Noa felt a pang of guilt in his chest as his mother spoke. He knew there were many young females who would be suitable mates for a clan leader. But the mere thought of choosing one of them made him feel uneasy. They were not you.

“I… I do not think… I am… ready.”

Noa's voice was firm as he told his mother he wasn’t ready to take a mate. He tried to sound confident, but it was difficult to hide the uncertainty he was feeling inside. He couldn't explain the conflicting emotions within him, the turmoil of his attraction to you, and his duties to his clan.

Dar looked at her son with a mixture of concern and disappointment. She had expected he would be ready, but it was clear that he wasn't. She placed a hand on his shoulder, her gaze gentle. “I said you would refuse… but…” Noa braced himself for what his mother was about to say. He knew that Dar was not the type to back down easily, and he had a feeling she had a plan in mind. “Maybe… pick someone of friendship… Soona…”

Noa's eyes widened at his mother's suggestion to choose Soona as a mate. She was a close friend, yes, but Noa had never considered her as more than that. He looked at his mother, "Soona?" he repeated, trying to understand her reasoning.

The thought of being with her didn’t ignite the same fire that he felt when thinking about you. But he knew that the pressure from the elders - and especially from his mother - was not something he could ignore. He took a deep breath, trying to quell the storm of emotions within him. "I will… think about it." he said quietly, hoping it would appease his mother.

Night had fallen, and Noa laid in his nest, his mind consumed by thoughts of you. He replayed scenes of your time together in his head over and over, analyzing every moment and subtle exchange of words.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that this was wrong. He was an ape, destined to lead his clan, and yet here he was, completely enamored with a human.

Noa's mind slipped into a dream state as he slowly drifted off to sleep. His surroundings faded away, and he found himself in the familiar cave that he had shared with you. You were there with him, a sense of comfort washing over him as your presence enveloped him.

In the dream, Noa’s hand instinctively reached out to hold your chin, his touch gentle and firm. He drew you closer, his eyes fixed on yours. The distance between you felt impossibly small, the air thick with tension.

“Noa.” You whispered so softly.

His heart skipped a beat as he heard you whisper his name. The sound of it on your lips sent a shiver down his spine. He leaned closer to you, his voice barely above a whisper in response.

Noa rested his forehead against yours, a sigh escaping him. The tension between you was palpable, his emotions swirling in a tangle of confusion and desire. The physical touch, however slight, felt both intimate and forbidden at the same time.

In the dream, Noa wanted to touch you, to explore every inch of your body and commit it to memory. The desire filled him with a fierce need, a need that he couldn’t ignore. His eyes filled with a mix of desire and restraint as he ached to give in to his instincts.

He reached his hand out, his fingers gently tracing the outline of your jaw. The touch was soft and tentative, almost as if he feared that you would disappear if he tried to hold on any tighter. He wanted to pull you closer, to feel your body pressed against his.

With ease you leaned into his hold and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling your heads closer together, Noa felt his heart rate quicken. The feel of your arms around him sent a surge of heat through his body, and he found himself unable to keep his hands from your waist, gently gripping the fabric of your clothes.

“Noa.” You whisper again breathlessly.

In response to your whispered breathless call of his name, Noa feels his body react instantly, his grip on your waist tightening instinctively. The sound of his name on your lips in that soft, breathless tone sent a shiver down his spine, and he leans even closer to you, his heart racing. "Yes?" he murmured quietly, his voice laced with a hint of desire.

“Wake up!”

Noa's dream-state suddenly began to blur and shift, your words penetrating through the haze. As he slowly became aware of his physical surroundings, he could still feel the ghost of your touch, your voice lingering in his ears.

As his eyes opened, he found himself in his nest, the memory of your dream-self still fresh in his mind.

Anaya sits on all fours looking at his friend with confusion. “Crying… in your sleep. Thought you were… hurt.”

Noa blinks awake, disoriented for a moment as he realizes that he's no longer in his dream. Anaya's voice breaks through the fog of sleep, and Noa sits up, still trying to get his bearings.

When Anaya mentions crying in his sleep, Noa feels a pang of embarrassment. He hadn’t even realized he had been crying out in his sleep. though it was no cry of pain.

"fine," he reassures his friend, his voice still rough with sleep and confusion. Anaya looks at his friend. “You can tell Anaya… anything.”

Noa's gaze meets Anaya's, a mixture of gratitude and exhaustion. Part of him wanted to shut down, to keep his thoughts and feelings to himself. But deep down, he knew he needed someone to talk to. Someone he could trust.

He takes a shuddering breath, still trying to shake off the remnants of his dream.

"I… had a dream," he confesses quietly.

Anaya nods, still not understanding. “About?”

Noa's mind flashes back to the dream, the vivid memory of you still fresh in his mind. He hesitates for a moment before answering.

"About someone..." he begins. The words feel strange coming out of his mouth, and he can’t bring himself to just come out and say it. He looks down, fidgeting with a loose strand in his bedding.

Anaya smirks and hoots with laughter. “I knew it! Noa sneaking off… very odd.” Noa can't help but roll his eyes at Anaya's reaction. He should have expected this from his friend, always so curious and perceptive. Noa sighed. “You can not… tell anyone, Anaya.”

Noa's voice is serious as he speaks to his friend. The last thing he wanted was for anyone else, especially the elders, to find out about his feelings. Anaya nodded with an understanding. This was to be kept between the brothers for now.

Noa talked, pouring out his thoughts and feelings about you to his friend. He revealed everything, from the first time he laid eyes on you to the way his heart raced when you were near. But the one secret he kept to himself was your true identity as a human. As he spoke, Noa's expression was a mixture of longing and confusion, his voice growing softer as he confessed his conflicted emotions.

Noa could see the happiness in Anaya's smile, and a small part of him felt relieved and validated in sharing his feelings. But the larger part of him was still filled with anxious uncertainty. “But you understand… why I can not pursue these… feelings… any further?" he asked, his voice tinged with resignation. Anaya innocently ponders, “Why not?”

Noa let out a heavy sigh. He had expected this question from Anaya.

"Because..." he began, struggling to find the right words. "Because she's not… from Eagle Clan. And I am first and only son. I have duties… responsibilities to the clan."

Anaya shrugs, “Eagle Clan always accepting… especially if she makes Noa… happy.” Noa lets out a sigh. A stark reminder of the huge obstacle that stands between them. “Maybe.”

As Noa settled back down in his nest, his gaze drifted towards the stars once more. The countless twinkling lights fill his vision, but all he can think about is you. The thought of you staring up at the same stars as he was sent a pang of longing through his heart. He imagined your face, your eyes, the things that he couldn’t have. He closed his eyes, hoping that somehow, somewhere, you were thinking of him too.

#noa planet of the apes #pota noa #noa pota #noa #noa x human reader #noa x reader #kingdom of the planet of the apes #owen teague

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florencemtrash · 1 year ago

Text

Hummingbird: Chapter Six

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

What if the Earth-1610 (Miles’s universe) version of Miguel’s wife was actually Miles’s AP Art teacher?

Masterlist

Warnings: Mention of violence and injuries

“Why didn’t you call me? Esto nunca debería haber sucedido.”

“Hey, it’s alright. Keep your eyes open ok?”

“Mantén los ojos abiertos. Stay awake, Y/n. Mantente despierto por mí.”

“Is she going to be ok?”

“What’s going on? What happened?!”

You forced your eyes open, blinking the sleep and time from them as your mind slowly worked to clear out the fog. Voices had murmured to you throughout your sleep, whispering words that sounded kind and gentle, but you couldn’t hold onto the specifics of what they said.

Pain shot through uncooperative arms when you tried to sit up in bed, grimacing at the gross taste in your mouth. How long had you been asleep for? The soreness in your back told you it had been a long time.

“Hey, kiddo. Might not want to try that.” Peter said as you struggled. His hand was strong against your back as you shifted restlessly. The sheets smelled of laundry detergent and lemons. Overhead the lights of the Spidey med bay hummed softly.

“Peter?” You muttered groggily. Your vocal cords were tight and gruff like a car engine that had been left idle for too long.

“The one and only!”

You finished clearing out your eyes and your voice. It was good to see a familiar face.

“How long have I been out? I feel like shit.”

“You look like shit too.” He said with a forced grin like he hadn’t just lost one of his best friends, “Do you remember what happened?”

You accepted the water he handed you, downing it in five seconds with a groan. Your hands and arms were wrapped like a mummy’s and you could feel the soft gauze rub against the sensitive skin beneath whenever you moved.

“Yeah… Yeah I think I do.” The IV drip, drip, dripped saline steadily into your arm, “How long have I been out, Peter? You never answered.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, still wearing his pink bathrobe and matching slippers when Mayday was nowhere to be found. At this point fatherhood had become a new superhero role for him, so it made sense he should dress accordingly at work.

“Ten days?”

“Ten days?!” You sat up with a grimace, “Joder.”

Did someone call me out of work? God, I’m hungry. Isn’t Miles’s reference letter due soon? I need a shower. Fuck.

Peter held you down gently when you tried to roll out of bed. If Miguel discovered you’d gotten up on his watch, he’d never hear the end-

“You’re awake.”

Miguel’s frame filled the doorway, a small tray of food held within white-knuckled hands.

You were here. You were safe. He had to keep reminding himself of that.

Shit. Peter B. spun around on his heels, letting you go and spreading his arms open wide like he’d just unveiled a marble statue at a ceremony.

“Surprise!” He sang, your irritated face appearing in Miguel’s vision from around Peter’s back.

You may have been the one to nearly die, but Miguel looked like he’d been put through the ringer. His red eyes were bloodshot and bruised, curls tousled, and shoulders slumped over like a deflated balloon.

“She’s awake! A real fighter, this one.”

Miguel stalked forward, sinking into the seat next to your bed that Peter had abandoned and sliding the tray of food in front of you. Everything about him spoke of exhaustion, but he hid it well as he pressed a hand to your forehead, feeling for a fever. His palm was warm, chasing away some of the pulsing pain in your head.

“How are you feeling?”

Peter B. pouted from behind Miguel. Hey, I’m here too! His expression said, drawing a small smile from you.

“Pretty terrible, I won’t lie. But at least I’m not dead.”

Miguel winced and fell silent. You regretted saying anything.

Peter fluttered around the room like a honey bee, chatting your ear off and taking the edge off of the tension that radiated from Miguel as he dutifully checked over your wounds. He barely said anything, only asking you to open your mouth so he could take your temperature or lift your arm so he could wrap the blood pressure cuff around your bicep.

Everyone had been worried about you, taking turns to sit at your bedside and wait for you to awaken (although the rotation was also made so that Miguel would be forced to take time to rest… He didn’t).

Even some of the Spiders you weren’t familiar with left behind cards and small stuffed bears - a consistent get well gift across universes, although Spider Cat did bring you a packet of catnip. They formed a small mountain of trinkets on the coffee table.

“We’ll leave you alone to rest.” Miguel said bluntly, stopping Peter’s rant in his tracks after seeing your eyes begin to glaze over and flutter shut.

“Oooof, sorry. I didn’t mean to talk your ear off. Hey! If you need anything, just call. I’m sure Miles will stop by later, but I told him you’d be upset if he skipped school. Oh! And I’ll bring Mayday with me next time I visit. She always makes people feel better. Doesn’t she, Miguel?”

Miguel’s neutral expression didn’t budge when Peter nudged him with an elbow. He only continued to herd Peter closer and closer out the door.

“Anyway, I’ll see you later!” Peter said, finally disappearing around the corner. Miguel huffed. Took him long enough.

“Wait!” You called out before Miguel could escape back to his office to brood. “Could-could you stay?” The words tumbled out before you could stop them and you cringed. You didn’t like to ask him for things but… considering the circumstances…

He walked back to you, rigidly sinking back into his seat and pushing the tray closer to you.

“You should eat. Build up your strength.” He said, clasping his hands tightly against his stomach as you hesitated and then began to eat ravenously.

He’d been in your position before - exhausted and confused and reeling from a near-death experience. A pit of shame formed in his stomach. He hadn’t been able to protect you from it. He’d been on edge ever since you’d joined Spider Society and he thought - he’d hoped - that by keeping you from the more dangerous corners of the multiverse, you’d never experience what you’d just gone through. First the incident with the Spot and now this...

“How bad was it?” You asked tentatively, poking at the leftover fries on your plate. You obeyed the comfortable stretch of your stomach, cautious of getting sick after not eating solid food for over a week. “How bad was I?”

“Pretty bad.” Miguel said gruffly and honestly, staring at a blank spot on the wall, “We didn’t think you’d make it for a while.”

You nodded. You remembered bits and pieces of the moment between sending the anomaly back to his dimension and passing out. The electricity flowing through your body had made your skin feel like it was being peeled off the bone, every nerve screaming out in pain until your brain had short circuited and shut itself off. You were lucky that the burns on your arms were all that remained.

“But I did.” You said, gently reminding him. He closed his eyes and dropped his head into his hands. He didn’t think… he couldn’t.

“Migs-”

The nickname threw him off guard. No one had called him that since his wife died.

He stood up so quickly the chair squeaked in protest.

“Get some rest, Y/n.” He said without looking at you, “Call if you need anything.” He tapped the touchscreen device he left on the table - his universe’s version of a cell phone - before striding out the door without another word.

You clenched your jaw and sank back into the pillows, part of you wishing you’d stayed asleep for a little while longer.

It took time for your body to feel like your own again. Most days you shouted at deaf limbs to move smoothly and carry things properly. Miguel had already written to Brooklyn Visions Academy about your medical leave of absence and had even gone so far as to visit your apartment to clean your kitchen and fridge while you remained bedridden at Spidey HQ. But for all the big and small ways he showed you that he cared, he neglected to do one thing - actually talk to you.

You shoved the sketchbook off the table, colored pens and pencils scattering on the floor as you dropped your head into your arms and silently screamed. Nearly a month after your injury and you still couldn’t quite hold things properly.

Your fine motor skills should return over time. Was what Dr. Parker had told you and the words should and time had been rattling around in your brain ever since.

Should or will? And how much time would it take?

“Fingers still not quite working right?” Hobie asked, leaning so far back in his seat with his legs propped up that he was nearly parallel with the floor. He held a tattered book in his hands, shifting colors with every page flip like the world’s worst chameleon.

“No.” You said, smoothing back your hair. You’d lost the bandages, but your skin was still tender to the touch in places and numb in others. Lichtenberg figure scars trailed up from your hands all the way to your collarbone, growing there like lichen on a tree. “It’s gotten better. A lot better. But it’s still not the same.”

“You’ll get there eventually.” Hobie said. He knelt on the floor and started to clean up the mess you had made, “Then you’ll be good as new.”

“How do you know?” You sighed, joining him.

He shrugged, “I don’t. But I was right before about you being able to send someone back to their own dimension without a watch. I’ve got a good feeling I’ll be right about this too.”

He offered you a small smile and a helping hand, both of which you accepted.

You spent the rest of the day together, joined by Peter, Gwen, and Miles who cheered you through your daily exercises. You were getting strong again, albeit slowly.

“I want to see you kiss the ground!”

“Show that stress ball who’s BOSS!”

“Yeah, THROW THAT DONGLE!”

“What did you just call-”

Miguel hovered by the door, never stepping foot into the training room with you in it. Never speaking to you, although he desperately wanted to. When you caught his eye, blinking in surprise as you kneeled in the training ring sweaty and tired, he bolted.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” He muttered to himself as he strode to the office you’d affectionately coined his “vampire lair.” Although he’d kept his distance, he’d never left you alone. When you asked Peter about getting things from your apartment, he was the one who visited your dimension. When you initially had trouble walking after your injury, he was the one who tracked down the best physicians and physical therapist variants he could find. He was breaking protocol left and right to make sure you were ok and he knew it. But...

“Lyla, could you pull up the video?” She didn’t need to ask for clarification on which video. It was always the same one. Always the same happy memory, followed by a terrible and harsh reality.

Gabriella’s smiling face flashed on the screen, her bubbly laughter rising high above Miguel’s own baritone chuckle as she threw her arms around his shoulders and slapped that silly blue bow on his head. He’d taken that video to send to you after she scored the winning goal. You never made it to the game.

It was a painful reminder of everything that was at stake. He’d taken too many liberties, allowed himself to get too close to you. If he lost you like he’d lost Gabriella. He-

“Is that her?”

Miguel’s heart dropped into the pit of his stomach.

“Is that Gabriella?” You asked, swallowing thickly as Miguel turned around, leaving the video paused on two smiling faces. He wasn’t smiling now.

“Yes.” He answered softly, guilt heavy on his voice as you moved closer and inspected the girl on screen.

Your breath caught in your throat, coming out as a strangled gasp.

She looked like Miguel… She looked like you…

“She’s got your smile.” You said softly, brushing away the unexpected dampness that had collected in your eyes.

You’d been frustrated all day. Frustrated at yourself for your slow healing and your uncooperative body. When you had come to Miguel’s lair it was with the purpose of yelling at him for not visiting, and part of you still wanted to do that. But seeing him vulnerable and tired in front of his daughter your daughter Gabriella had taken some of the fight out of you.

“I always thought she had yours. Well, the other-”

“I understand, Miguel.”

Silence stretched between you, tense and thin and waiting to be sliced through. You made the move.

“Why haven’t you visited me?” The words came out sharper, more accusatory than you’d expected them to.

Although Miguel flinched on the inside, he forced himself to take that pain and longing and shove it back into the little box he’d crafted for those feelings in the corner of his heart. The little box that you’d been steadily hacking away at from the very moment he met you.

“It wouldn’t have been appropriate.”

“Appropriate? What the hell is that supposed to mean? It’s not appropriate for you to visit a friend?”

His jaw clenched at the word friend. It was a flimsy word, too weak to hold up all the feelings you held for each other. He ignored your question and barrelled through his next words, words that he’d been contemplating over the last month you’d been stuck in the med bay.

“Peter J. says you’re well enough to go back home and back to work if you feel ready. He wants you here every Wednesday at 7pm for the next six weeks-”

“You’re not answering my question-”

“I’ve got a write up for you to bring to any physician in your dimension-”

“Miguel, stop ignoring-”

“If you need documentation. In the meantime-”

“Y ni siquiera me estás escuchando-”

“I’m taking you off the team.”

You took a step back, the realization of what he’d just said hitting you like a slap. “What did you say?”

Miguel gritted his teeth, eyes sliding down to the floor so he wouldn’t have to see that quiet look of devastation on your face. You were having none of it, immediately getting close to him and pressing your hands against his chest. The pads of your fingers were delicate but forceful as they tilted his chin up, forcing him to look into your eyes.

“Miguel, look at me.” Quiet. Desperate.

“I’m taking you off the team.” He repeated, clenching his jaw so tightly he could feel the grinding of his teeth.

“What-why would-why?”

“You almost died, Y/n. That stunt of yours could’ve gotten you killed.”

“Stunt? Is that really what you’re calling it?”

“You’re not cut out for this.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

It was bullshit and he did know it.

“We couldn’t call you.” You prodded him with a finger, “We couldn’t trap him using the usual methods. We could barely hold him off long enough for anyone to come help. If I hadn’t done what I did, who the hell knows what would have happened? To Miles. To Gwen. To the millions of people living in New York. You need me Miguel, and not just for the superhero crap.”

What hadn’t occurred to you was that he knew exactly how much he needed you… and that was what terrified him so much.

“The decision’s been made, Y/n.”

“By you. So change it.”

“I’m not changing my decision.” Miguel growled, grabbing the hand that you’d been jabbing him with.

So this was the Miguel that everyone had told you about. Not the soft, brooding, sarcastic man you’d come to know. Not the Spider-Man whose humor revolved around making quippy comments. Not the Spider-Man who claimed to be the roughest and straight-laced of them all while still letting the cooks put his face on their signature burger. Not the smiling, laughing Miguel from the video with a blue bow in his hair.

No. This Miguel was short-tempered and hammered from steel.

So why did he still hold your hand so gently, clutching it to his chest like he wanted to keep you there?

He shrugged you off, finally closing the screen on the video of him and Gabriella. Something about that made your blood boil.

“So what now?” You seethed, refusing to let this go. Not even as his fingers started to fly over the keyboard and his mind struggled to go elsewhere.

“You can go home. You can go back to the med bay.”

You can stay here with me. You can help me get through all of this.

Miguel’s heart screamed at him. His brain screamed back so loudly he felt his hold on his emotions stretch to its breaking point.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Your voices had been steadily rising throughout the argument. So when his broad shoulders rose and fell with a heavy sigh, one hand coming up to rub at his temples, you thought you’d finally gotten to him.

“¡Dime la verdad, Miguel! Why are you taking me off the team?”

“I told you the truth earlier. You’re not cut out for this.”

“BULLSHIT!”

He slammed his hand down on the keyboard, cracking it in two and sending keys clattering to the floor.

“I’M NOT LOSING YOU!” He roared, eyes alight and burning like the sun itself. “Not again!” His eyes squeezed shut like he couldn’t stand the sight of you, chest rising and falling with desperate gulps of air.

You stood there, lightly swaying on your feet like a boat caught in an unexpected storm.

“I am not your fucking wife.” Your voice cracked, “You didn’t lose me before and unless you tell me to walk out that door right now, you will never lose me. Ok? I will stay here - with you - if you just fucking ask me to.”

You expected something, anything, from Miguel. But after a minute of silence passed with him standing like a statue in front of you, you swallowed your tears before they could fall and blinked away.

It wasn’t your intention to go home. You’d planned to go back to the med bay, curl up, and sleep away your troubles before stealing a watch in the morning. But like a broken dam can’t hold back water, your emotions and powers couldn’t be contained.

When you looked around at your cleaned apartment, the faintest smell of Miguel’s cologne still stuck to the couch pillows, you sank to your knees and started to cry.

<- Previous chapter Next chapter ->

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Author's note:

Autumn is here! And the colder, somber atmosphere in the coffee shop today helped inspire this chapter. I had a plan for this fic... I abandoned it long ago. But, that being said, I hope to have things wrapped up in the next 2-3 chapters and to bring some closure to the first multi-chapter fic I will have ever truly completed.

As always, I hope you're all taking care of yourselves and that your Autumn drinks are tasting ✨delicious✨

Love,

Florence B.

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