#i need to go to london for my senior trip BAD | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thesugarclubs-blog · 2 years ago

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Heat of the Moment - AU Steve Rogers x OC

warnings: modern AU steve rogers, DBF, age gap romance,DOM Steve, rough smut, 18+

word count: 12.5k

WP: https://www.wattpad.com/1330362443-heat-of-moment-regan

Masterlist

Sweat trickled down Regan's back as she climbed out of the cab and waved to the driver, quickly thanking them before they sped away from their destination. An unreasonable heat was smothering Brooklyn and Regan figured it was her luck that her first week at her father's apartment would be miserable. As if having to move back home at 25 after getting fired wasn't bad enough.

There was nothing against anyone getting some help in their time of need, but Regan couldn't deny it kept her stomach in constant knots. Her dad was one of the good ones, married to his high school sweetheart until her mom passed and she'd always been what some might call a daddy's girl. Ever since Regan was born during her parent's senior year of high school, he was wrapped around her finger. It made sense that he'd be the one to swoop in and save the day.

Hopefully, Regan thought, he wouldn't mind if I came home a few days earlier.

She took a deep breath and climbed the few steps to the building's door, a worn duffel bag in hand. It was something from a thrift shop in London, the place Regan had called home for two years until the production company she worked for decided her services were no longer needed. Her fingers fiddled with the straps as she walked. It wasn't out of anxiety, but anticipation.

Right before Regan took a leap and moved in pursuit of something more, she helped her dad move into this moderately upscale apartment complex. It had a rooftop pool, patio, and balconies on the windows, the perfect place for a guy like Regan's father.

It also had his neighbor down the hall, Steve Rogers.

She met him on the day her dad moved in. He was broad-shouldered, brooding, and tough as nails, an honourably discharged former captain in the US Army. The fact that he was built like a god and had that little accent in his voice didn't hurt either.

Steve was the same age as her dad and they found some common interests, but their bond came from both being veterans. Usually, she hated the stories from her dad's time overseas, but hearing Steve tell some of his own? She could listen to that gravelly voice all goddamn day.

The trip on the elevator was a haze, Regan's mind retreating into the place that got her into trouble at school. She was so focused on whatever tale her mind was spinning, something warm and tinted in blue, that the elevator opening didn't even register on her radar.

At first, neither did the man who stepped on it, until he finally said her name.

"Hey, Regan," Steve said into the quiet space, a small twitch of his lips under his dark beard.

His voice shot a wave of goosebumps on her skin and it made her shiver a little. He had this air of authority surrounding him.

"Steve." Regan breathed, her fingers lifting nervously to pull the strand of hair out of her vision as her eyes travelled over the man in front of her.

"I thought your dad said you weren't going to be home for another couple of days," he crossed his arms over his chest and turned his bright blue eyes in her direction, meeting her gaze.

The fluorescent lights of the elevator made his eyes a deeper blue than they normally were and it seemed to darken each feature of his face. His beard was fuller than it had been the last time she'd seen him and Regan could see the shape of his dog tags under his white t-shirt.

She cleared her throat and turned her attention back to the metal doors in front of her, hoping he hadn't caught her staring, "yeah that's what I thought but you know, once I finished my last day, there wasn't really much over there for me anymore so I just... left," her lips pulled into a thin line as she shrugged.

She shifted the bag in her hand, rolling the strap around nervously in her sweaty palm. She had forgotten how tall he was and now in their blistering proximity, she was forcibly reminded.

“You’ll find a new job quickly,” Steve quipped, moving on so easily from her practically groping him with her eyes. “From all the ranting your dad does about you, you’re a talent most production companies are fighting to get their hands on.”

She did all she could not to turn the color of a tomato as the embarrassment set in. Of course, they had been talking about her when she wasn’t around to play buffer. God only knows the things her father has told him about his sweet, precious little girl.

Regan groaned audibly, unable to stop herself.

"I know it must be frustrating to move back home after being so independent and successful but I'm certain that your father will do everything in his power to get you back in the workforce. After all, you're his little princess." Regan detected a slight change in tone when he spoke that she decided to ignore. But the tinge of mockery in his tone got under her skin.

Regan snorted and shook her head as the elevator door dinged above them, "thanks Steve but as comforting as that is, I don't know what an army vet is going to do to get me back into film," she shifted her bag on her shoulder and walked out of the elevator onto the dusty green carpet of the 7th floor.

"You know what I meant, Regan," Steve's voice dropped an octave as he followed behind her.

She let out a soft sigh and nodded once, "yeah I know, I'm sorry, it's just, been a day and I was hoping to avoid the job talk at least until I had it figured out myself," she mumbled, pausing for a second outside of her dad’s apartment.

“You can’t avoid the tough stuff forever,” Steve said flatly, “life happens, and you have to deal with it.”

“I know that better than most,” Regan said bitterly as she turned at the door to her father’s apartment to find Steve standing with his hands on his hips. “My mother. Remember?”

Steve nodded solemnly, piercing eyes boring into her as she stood defiantly.

“Anyway,” she looked away, breaking first, and fumbled with her keys. “Thanks for the advice. I’ll be sure to consider it.”

“It should be open,” Steve offered behind her, “your dad was expecting me to drop in.”

Regan nodded, curt and defeated as Steve’s hand landed on the wood just above her head. Palm flat and fingers splayed, she peered up to see flexed tendons and thick veins running beneath his tanned skin. Steve pushed, and sure enough, the door swung open with ease.

“In the kitchen, Steve!” Regan heard her dad call as the sounds of cupboards and drawers opened and closed, and her dad’s off-tune humming echoed through to the hall.

Having to move back home wasn’t ideal, but the warmth and familiarity of her dad’s apartment were welcoming nonetheless.

“Twinkle-toes!” her dad dropped the plastic containers into the sink and rushed around the island into the open hallway of his apartment. “You’re home!”

Regan let the horrifying nickname slide as she dropped her bag to the floor and sunk into the giant bear hug her father wrapped her small frame into. He wasn’t a small man, rivalling Steve in height he was built thicker around the middle. His long blond beard had turned grey and brown. But the same soft and sad chocolate brown eyes stared down at her as he pulled back to inspect.

“The London air has you looking all posh, have you been eating?” He asked, pinching her arm playfully.

“On a hearty diet of a pack of cigarettes and croissants.” She rolled her eyes.

He laughed heartily and attempted to ruffle her hair, Regan dodging to the side at the last second with a scrunched nose and a snort.

"A little early aren't you?" her father, Colin, asked, concern furrowing his brow.

"Yeah," Regan breathed as she shifted her weight where she stood. "Just felt like coming home. I'd had enough pretentious movie assholes to last me a lifetime."

A warm palm brushed the small of her back as Steve stepped by. Without a word, he grabbed the bag from beside her and carried it into the living room, setting the object on the sofa. Regan's eyes followed every flex of his broad back, tucked under a tight white t-shirt that made her brain turn to mush.

A little spark of irritation ran through her at both the gesture and the feeling it gave her in front of her father of all people.

"Come sit. You must be exhausted." her father motioned to the sofa where Steve just put her bag.

As she and her father sat down next to each other Steve opted to take the seat on the other side of the coffee table, settling on the armchair across from her. As she brought her father up to speed on her life, she felt Steve watching her attentively. Those incredible blue eyes she could get lost in bore right into her skin leaving a trail of flames in their wake. It was incredibly hard to have him so close but also so incredibly unattainable.

“Well, sweetheart, I hope you brought your appetite with you. Steve and I were just gonna fire up the grill and watch the game.” He voiced, tapping her knee as he stood from his place, “you up for some ribs and beers?”

Regan smiled softly at her dad, “That sounds great I’m just gonna wash the 5 hours of plane and screaming babies off and I'll meet you up there.”

Her dad winced in sympathy and nodded, ruffling her hair before heading back into the kitchen. Turning to Steve she smiled, which turned a little awkward and she began to flush, trying to decipher the look in his eyes.

“So I’m just gonna…you know…take a…see you later?” She babbled mentally kicking herself for sounding like a blithering idiot.

“Are you telling me or are you asking me, Princess?” He smirked.

Regan’s eyes widened in surprise, surely he couldn’t mean… She felt the flush creeping up her neck and spreading over her cheeks. With all her usual sassy responses abandoning her she turned on her heel and almost ran into her bedroom, pushing the door as she went through, not even bothering to check if it was fully closed.

Heading into her shower room she turned on the water and took off her clothes, leaving them in a pile in the corner of the room. She let out a sigh as she stepped under the spray, arching her back to let the water stream over her hair.

Steam was quickly filling up the bathroom with how hot the water was, but Regan really needed it. She stood still under the shower head, just letting the scalding hot water run down her body, warming up her skin and relaxing the tense muscle underneath it.

Truthfully, the plane ride over was greatly responsible for the tension, but she could admit, only to herself, that it wasn’t the whole reason. She could still feel the pressure and warmth of Steve’s palm over the small of her back, his fingers spread wide in an almost… possessive gesture.

She shook her head, trying to will the dangerous thoughts away. She’d always had a taste for older men, but Steve? He was her dad’s best friend, definitely off-limits.

Her traitorous body shivered at the thought.

With more force than necessary, she squeezed a dollop of shampoo into the palm of her hand. The artificial scent of strawberries filled her lungs as she massaged her scalp, sighing in relief. She had kept buying it because Steve told her he liked strawberries once, well, she chose not to think about that and quickly washed it off.

She kept the same pace while washing her body, slowly massaging the soap into her skin and letting the tension go. Steve and her dad were probably impatiently waiting for her to get out so they could all eat, but the feeling of suds being washed off her skin was too good to make quick work of it, and she still wasn’t done getting rid of her inappropriate thoughts.

Only a creaking sound got her to speed up, just barely audible over the loud sound of insistent drops crashing over her shoulders. The pipes were letting her know her time was up.

Steam plumed as she stepped out onto the mat, letting the partially frosted glass door slide closed behind her. A slight draft tickled her skin as she wrapped herself in a large fluffy towel; the bathroom door was open, letting the precious steam out. Regan sighed as she towelled her hair, scrunching it lightly to soak up most of the water. It would probably get wet in the pool later.

Coming out of the bathroom, she smiled, seeing her forgotten bag on her bed next to a neatly laid-out outfit; her dad was always so thoughtful. The pretty cornflour blue sundress was the same colour as her mother’s eyes, and the cute daisies patterned on the fabric were her favourite. It was perfect for a sunny rooftop afternoon.

Slipping the dress over her blue and white checked bikini, the fabric felt wonderful against her clean skin. Tying the dress behind her neck, she turned for the mirror. She had been home only a few hours and already she looked and felt more relaxed. Being home agreed with her, more than she would ever admit aloud. She picked up a cute white cardigan and, taking one last look in the mirror, headed up to the roof of the building.

New York's summer heat was a shocker after years in London, the sun sweltering on her skin the moment she stepped out into the open air.

“There she is!” Steve’s heart-stopping smile met her as she approached the two men.

Leaning on the brickwork of the building with his arms folded over his broad chest, Steve’s heavy gaze fell upon her. His blue eyes tracked over her figure, subtle in their journey from her legs to the halter of her bikini top — where they lingered as his jaw ticked.

Regan swallowed thickly and made a point of joining her father by the grill.

In her peripherals, she caught Steve pushing himself away from the wall and sauntering over to the cooler before a dripping beer bottle was held out in front of her with no other acknowledgement.

Regan’s hand brushed against Steve's as she hesitantly took it. The frigid drops of water melted down over her hot skin. “Thanks,” she said, barely getting the word out.

“Sure,” he winked. “That's your favourite right?”

She turned the bottle in her hand and smiled, “how’d you know?”

“Colin here tells all the stories in your absence, including the one about you sleeping in the bathtub after one particularly rowdy night,” Steve licked his bottom lip and tossed her dad a goofy smile.

“Is nothing sacred?” Regan tossed her hair over her shoulder, turning away from them both to take in the views from the rooftop. God, she had missed Brooklyn and for more than one reason, she looked over her shoulder at the broad expanse of his muscles stretching beneath his shirt as he pointed to the grill and chatted with her dad.

Taking a long, much needed gulp from the icy bottle, she prayed that it would be enough to cool her off. A slightly unsteady hand caused a drop of foamy beer to spill down her chin and neck.

"Fuck," she muttered under her breath as Colin's boisterous laugh echoed across the rooftop.

A tingle on her skin made Regan look up as she wiped the liquid with her fingers. Steve watched her from across her father's head as he told some story, gesturing wildly with a pair of barbecue tongs. It looked as if he was assessing her like she was a danger he couldn't figure out how to approach.

Emboldened by both distance and the heat, she raised an eyebrow and brought her thumb to her full lips. Gently sucking the beer from her fingertip, Steve's stare melted her from the inside.

There was another twitch of his jaw before he turned away to help her dad once more. That was all she got and Regan couldn't deny that it stung but shook the feeling off.

She walked to the edge of the rooftop, pressing her stomach against the railing, her eyes travelling over the beautiful New York skyline.

Suddenly she felt a hand on her back and it was clear from the way her body reacted to the touch who was standing behind her. His heat radiated over her as his hand lingered a second longer.

"You missed this, huh?" She heard him say and as she looked up, she found him looking at her.

"Yeah. London is beautiful but nothing beats this view."

"I can think of something that beats this view," His voice rasped, laced with something wicked and before she could respond, he was gone.

Regan looked over her shoulder, watching Steve’s retreating form, all firm muscles beneath his tight shirt, jeans hugging his pert ass.

She whipped back around, breathing in deeply, trying to calm her racing heart. Taking another sip of beer, she pushed off the railing and went to a lounge chair near her dad and Steve, just within earshot.

Regan lay in the sun, warming quickly, getting sticky hot in her dress. She sat up, glancing over at the two men and getting caught in Steve’s gaze. Her dad was busy with the ribs but Steve’s blue eyes bore into her.

With a sly smile, Regan slowly stood and peeled her dress up and off her body, revealing her bikini underneath.

She could feel his eyes on her as she hid a sly smile from his view. Regan sat back down in the lounge chair and took another long sip of her beer before dragging the cold bottle along her collarbone, trying to cool herself off. As she sat the bottle on a small table beside her, Regan could feel his eyes follow her every movement.

Meanwhile, Steve gulped and reached for his own beer as he adjusted himself as discreetly as he could while he continued to listen to Collin ramble on about his story.

Even though she couldn’t hear his words the lilting tones of her Dad’s narrative amidst the distant noises of Brooklyn eventually lulled Regan into a comforting bubble of sleepiness. The warmth of the late afternoon sun only exacerbated the tiredness she felt from her long journey and she let her lids slide almost closed, dozing lazily on the chair.

A whisper of breath against her neck made her shiver as a low voice sounded quietly in her ear.

“Careful you don’t burn that pretty skin of yours, Princess.”

Her breath caught in her throat and she swallowed thickly, trying to pass off the butterflies that erupted in her stomach at the closeness as she shifted and pushed her chest out slightly, "I don't think that's a concern for you to have, Rogers," she quipped back quietly and opened one of her eyes to meet his.

Steve's tongue swiped across his bottom lip as his left eyebrow ticked upwards at her comment, making a blush rise up her neck, "well that's something we disagree about..." his eyes flickered back to Colin who was still facing away from them, watching the grill, "all that time in London, and now you think you can get away with everything," he smirked.

The way he was looking at her made every nerve in her body tingle, the fear of her father turning around and seeing how close they were in the back of her mind, but the flirty almost demanding banter from Steve was enough for her to push it to the side.

"I guess we'll have to see how much I can get away with," she returned the smirk, and waved her empty beer bottle at him, plastering on a sweet smile and blinking up at him, "since you're up anyway, would you mind?" she teased.

Steve smirked at her and leaned over, taking one more glance at her father who was completely oblivious to what was going on. Gingerly, he plucked the beer bottle from her fingers, his skin grazing against hers. She could see the veins in his forearm and it took all of her self-control not to trace them with her eyes. Sparks crackled along her skin and cascaded all the way down her spine. She bit her bottom lip and heat rushed to her cheeks, blossoming across her skin as Steve let out a soft chuckle.

“Must be the sun making you blush like that, hmm?”

Regan swallowed hard.

“Are you gonna get me my beer or stand there staring at me?”

She meant to sound more confident, but the way he was looking at her made it difficult to talk or even think. Her brain felt fuzzy, and it wasn’t from the beer. Steve flashed another smile, wider this time, his ocean blue eyes shining in the sunlight.

“I can do both, can't I?”

With that, he winked at her and headed for the cooler, her empty bottle dangling from his fingertips. Regan sat, sweat prickling her skin, with her mouth agape as she tried to process what was going on.

This couldn’t be happening. Was the too-sudden heat confusing her?

Steve had never been this bold before. There had been fleeting heated looks and barely there touches lingering a bit too long to be accidental, but he’d never quipped back to her flirty remarks.

The doubt that had plagued her since she met him was quickly fading into hopefulness. If she wasn’t imagining things, if Steve was actually flirting back… it had to mean he felt it too, the magnetic pull between them.

Her train of thought was interrupted by the feeling of something cold and wet grazing her wrist. She hissed, instinctively trying to pull her arm back, but Steve was quick to hold it still, sliding the edge of the cold beer bottle along her pulse point and right into her palm. Then, as if she was a child, he put his hand on hers and closed her fingers around it in a tight fist.

“Careful, there,” he murmured, his hot breath on her ear, “Why so jumpy, princess?”

“Maybe if you didn’t sneak up on me,” she replied, trying to keep her tone sharp. But the close proximity and firm hold on her hand stole her voice.

Steve stood to his full height, looking over her, a handsome shadow haloed by the sun.

“You’re a big city girl, Regan. Being aware of your surroundings is the number one rule, isn’t it?” He flashed her a lazy grin, the greys in his bread glistening in the light as he turned to survey the terrace before peering back down at her. “You never know what you might miss.”

Regan’s whole body flushed hot and she was about to retaliate when Colin called a cheery ‘grubs up’, and Steve took two steps backward, a subtle wink and smirk on his face as he rubbed his hands together hungrily.

"Smells good, Dad," Regan said as she got up, following behind Steve to the patio table. "You always cook like this for Steve? Is there anything I need to know?"

Colin snorted, setting the heavy plate of barbecued meat on the table as he sat down. Slipping her dress back over her tousled hair, Regan glanced over at Steve and this time, she was sure he actually smirked at her teasing.

"Sorry honey, Steve isn't exactly my type."

Regan chuckled, choosing the seat opposite her father.

"Just checking," she smiled. "I can't have you spoiling just anyone in my absence."

As she reached to grip the wrought iron backing, Steve beat her to it, pulling the seat out wordlessly. Her eyes flitted up to his as she sat and fixed her dress, the flowing fabric falling just above her knees. There was a darkening in his eyes and Regan realized the position they were in again. If she leaned forward, her forehead would be at his stomach and her hands would-

"How about you, twinkle toes?" Colin asked as he passed a set of plates to Regan. "Was there anyone you were cooking for in London? Must be a shame that you had to leave so soon."

Steve casually pulled out the chair beside her and every muscle in her body tensed when he took his seat.

“Really wasn’t there for that Dad, and no one really caught my eye there,” Regan muttered, trying to end the conversation before it started. Colin opened his mouth to speak again but Regan beat him to it. “Looks like you forgot the barbecue sauce, Dad. I’ll go grab it,” she said, relief coloring her tone as she pushed back from the table.

Regan made her way across the roof and down to the apartment, taking a moment to breathe as she rested against the kitchen counter.

“You okay there, Regan? Need any help?” came a deep voice behind her, sending a shiver down her spine.

Regan gulped, feeling the hair on the back of her neck stand up. "N-no, I'm okay." She opened one of the cabinets but didn't find the sauce. Her dad must have moved things around again in her absence. He was always re-organizing things. Shutting the cabinet door, she opened another one, only to sigh. Where in the hell did he put the damn sauce this time?

Frustrated, she let out a huff before hearing a soft deep chuckle behind her.

"You're dad re-organized the kitchen in his usual manic state in prep for your return," he said as she finally turned to him. A smirk was plastered on his lips and his hair was dangling around his face while he leaned over the kitchen island propped up on his elbows, "told him the last thing you cared about was where the syrup lived."

Regan couldn't help but breathe out a laugh despite the tingling sensation crawling over her body as his eyes darkened at the sound she made. Steve stood up straight, the white in his shirt a deeper shade from the sweat forcing it to cling to the muscles in his chest. She watched his fingers drag along the edge of the island as he circled around it toward her. The fact that he couldn't hear her heart hammering against her rib cage was shocking to her considering all she could hear was the thundering of it in her ears with the closer he got.

As he moved to stand in front of her his tongue flicked over his bottom lip, "you've gotta be more observant, twinkle toes." Steve rasped, her father's nickname rolling off his tongue like a sin.

His hand reached up and for a moment she thought he was going to touch her with the way he took a step forward with the action, but he reached behind her pulling open a cabinet and showed her the bottle of barbecue sauce. Regan became acutely aware of the shrinking space between them as he towered over her and the swarm of butterflies in her chest began to swirl.

The smell of his deep ember and vanilla spiced cologne swirled in her nose and made her head feel dizzy. Regan couldn't stop her eyes from flickering towards his plump lips as he smirked at her and placed the sauce bottle on the counter beside them. He had to know what he was doing to her, despite trying to keep her composure, she was convinced her feelings were right there in the open.

His fingers brushed the side of her neck and pushed her blonde waves back off her bare shoulder, "I like your hair long like this," he finally spoke through the silence, "does your father know about the little tattoo on your rib cage?" his hand continued softly down over her dress, lightly brushing where the small lavender tattoo sat.

“Yeah, but he- he doesn’t really care,” Regan’s voice shook despite her trying to sound unaffected, “Do you?”

It was a bold question, and she wished to take it back as soon as it came out. She watched Steve’s face, holding her breath, waiting for him to react. What would he say? Had she read this wrong? Or, worse than that, had she read this right?

Steve didn’t react for a long moment, and she feared that this was it, that he would push her away, maybe even tell her dad, humiliate her.

Then, he hummed, low in his throat. “You really don’t keep any secrets from him, do you?”

He looked up at her, head tilted down and long eyelashes fluttering over his defined cheekbones, but it was the look in his eyes that took her breath away.

In the dim light of the kitchen, she could barely see the blue of his irises anymore. His pupils were impossibly wide, giving his eyes a dark, hungry look that had her core clenching around nothing.

He wanted her. He wanted her.

A spark of courage lit up in her chest.

“I could,” she whispered, wetting her lips.

“Yeah?” He breathed. “You think so?”

It was almost a challenge as he stepped toward her, closing the gap between the two of them. Every footstep, every breath felt so heavy between them as the tension mounted. Regan felt like she might burst.

Her heart was thumping in her throat while Steve stared her down, his eyes warm yet piercing. He was playing a dangerous game. They both were.

She grabbed the bottle and placed it between them as a barrier. Steve’s large hand wrapped around it and her fingers, his eyes locking with hers. Suddenly, she found it hard to take a full breath the second he started to lean forward. Heat bloomed in her belly and the soft fabric of her dress was suddenly the most constricting and irritating thing in the world. She felt his other hand wrap around her waist and pressed her tighter against the counter like he was testing her limits along with his own.

“Why don’t I take this up to your dad and you cool off in here?” He suggested, moving his hand to brush his knuckles against her bare arm. “You feel a little warm.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, her voice crushed by the weight of the tension between them.

He grinned.

“Keep telling yourself that, princess.”

Steve dipped his head, beard grazing her cheek on his way to her ear and sending a tingle down her spine. The hand on her arm travelled further south and Regan’s breath hitched as she felt the hem of her dress lift from her skin. Steve thumbed at the fabric, rubbing it between his fingertips.

“Pretty,” he purred, “a good choice, don’t you think?”

As he drew back, Regan peered up at him confused as she took in his raised eyebrow and the sparkle in the blue of his irises — or what was left of them. His pupils were blown wide as he tilted his, studying her intensely.

And then he was gone, the warmth from his body and the intoxicating scent left lingering in the air as he walked away.

The pieces of the puzzle slid together slowly as she stared down at the dress she was wearing. She had just assumed her father had laid it out for her, stupid and naive she swore under her breath. She huffed, pushing off the counter and out into the hallway. Regan closed the apartment door behind her and jogged after him as quickly as her little legs would take her, sliding between him and the entrance to the roof before he could open it.

She pressed her back against it, looking up at him. Arm tense and pressed into her side as he reached for the bar her back rested against. She watched a single bead of sweat roll down over his skin, trickling down his neck and disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt.

"Did you enjoy the show?" She asked, biting her tongue as he leaned close enough to brush against her nose.

A soft tsk fell from his lips, "do you like being watched?" he asked, countering her question with his own. "Be honest," he whispered.

His voice carried the slight trace of an accent as he spoke, his eyes now so dark with wanton that she wondered how much self-control this man had. Hmmm, I could put that to the test, she thought.

"Wouldn’t you like to know," Her hand travelled to the belt of his pants, tugging slightly.

She watched him carefully as his eyes flared up and she could feel him struggle with his control.

"You're playing with fire, Regan."

“I like the heat,” Regan quipped, slipping her fingertips along the sliver of skin between his shirt and jeans. She could feel his abdomen tremble and she grinned, quickly withdrawing them and pressing backwards, pushing the door open and semi-gracefully twisting to the open rooftop.

“Hey Dad, sorry that took so long, someone forgot to tell me they reorganized again,” Regan teased Colin as she made her way back to the table.

“You comin’ Steve?” Colin called out and Regan glanced back, seeing Steve still standing at the door, hand deep in his pocket.

She covered up a snort as he started, walking over slightly awkwardly before sitting at the table next to her again, a little closer than before. Regan glanced at Steve as he scooted his chair and adjusted how he sat before he began filling his plate with food.

"So..." she began. "What have you two been up to while I was gone? Besides embarrassing me by sharing stories about me." She only half listened to her father's answer as she suddenly felt Steve's heavy hand on her knee beneath the table.

She gave him the side eye. What the hell are you doing? Feeling him gently grip her knee while he openly acted as if nothing was happening only served to make the butterflies in her chest turn into bees.

His hand felt calloused and rough against her heated skin. She felt it slide further, pushing the hem of her dress with it just far enough to torture her with the question of how far he was willing to go with her father two feet away.

"Regan? Honey, are you okay?" Her father's voice filtered through the flash flood of thoughts currently drowning her mind.

"What? Oh--yea--yeah," She stammered. Steve's hand un-wavered from its position. Standing his ground and toeing the metaphorical line in the sand. She felt his forefinger begin to draw small tiny circles into the soft flesh of her inner thigh, setting fire to her scorched skin.

"Where's your head at twinkle toes?" Colin asked, taking a bite of ribs.

Regan shook her head, picking up her beer hoping to cool herself down, "Nowhere but here dad." She flashed him a somewhat convincing smile moving her hand under the table and curling her fingers around Steve's.

Her intention was to move his hand away, to silently scold him for being so bold in front of her father, but she couldn’t do it.

Couldn’t deny herself the delicious feeling of his fingertips pressing into the flesh of her thigh, blood rushing back to her skin every time he shifted his grip higher.

Her dad emptied his beer, reaching for the cooler to retrieve another and flashing them both a tipsy smile as he held one more out towards them in offering.

“Last one,” he shrugged, gaze flitting between them.

Only then did Steve’s hand leave Regan, long enough to flip the cap from the bottle and tilt it towards her.

“You don’t mind sharing, do you, sweetheart?”

"I don't know where that mouth has been," she scoffed, pulling it from his grip.

"Steve's a gentleman sweetie," Colin laughed at their playful banter, leaning back in his chair. "I'm sure he won't mind."

"You don't mind do you?" She tilted it toward her pouty lips.

"You can pay me back some other time," Steve laughed loudly, but his eyes never left her lips and she could feel his knuckle drift back to the hem of her skirt, lifting it higher than before. "You'll be home all summer." He added.

"It's gonna be so nice having my girl home!" Colin announced loudly, nearly spilling from his chair.

"Dad," Regan lurched from her chair, worried about him. "I think the beer and the heat are getting to you!"

"Christ, you might be right," her dad laughed, shaking his head. "Game hasn't even started and I'm already out of it."

"How many did you have before I got here?"

Colin looked somewhat sheepish as he stood, swaying on his feet. There was a pink tint to his cheeks that she hadn't noticed before. Sending Steve a confused look, she watched Steve hold up four fingers just out of Colin's view and suppressed a laugh.

"Okay, okay," Regan sighed, pushing up from the table. "C'mon, let's get you to bed."

"Alright, let's go. Steve, see ya." Colin waved his friend goodbye and they slowly made their way downstairs, her father hiccupping every second step.

She watched him get into his en suite bathroom after she picked up his pyjamas from the console across from the bed.

"I'm fine, little one. I can take it from here. Don’t worry about me, your tipsy dad can handle a nap by himself. Go relax,” he said as he pulled the comforter over his body. He had no idea what that sentence made her feel and she prayed to high heavens that he didn't notice the way the blush crept into her cheeks.

"Sleep well, pops. Thank you for taking me in." She whispered as her father closed his eyes.

"Anything for you, twinkle-toes. I'm so glad I have you back here. I love you." And with that, he dozed off into sleep.

A small shiver ran through her body and the realization that she’d forgotten her cardigan on the roof washed over her. Regan fought with herself for a moment, telling herself that she could grab it in the morning, but the other side of her wanted to finish what she’d started with Steve.

Or at least what she thought had been started.

Her body shook with anticipation at the delicious tension spreading through her body as she walked back out onto the rooftop and saw Steve sitting in one of the chairs, his legs spread apart, holding an ornate glass of dark liquid between his strong fingers.

"Regan..." She heard him rasp as her feet transported her closer to him as if they have a mind of their own.

Regan stopped a few inches from his right knee, staring down at it, until Steve shifted. He sat forwards in his chair, jeans pulling tight against strong, thick thighs, and he balanced his glass against his left thigh, right one open and oh so enticing.

“Wanna sit honey? Plenty of room,” Steve rumbled, lifting his glass and taking a sip of what had to be whiskey or maybe bourbon. Regan suddenly felt parched, dying for a taste.

She glanced around, looking for her chair but it was pushed off to the side. She finally met Steve’s playful stare, the fingers of his right hand drawing her gaze away, back to his thighs.

Before she could second guess herself, Regan took that last step forward and straddled Steve’s thigh, biting back a whimper at the feel of the strong muscles between her own soft thighs.

Steve leaned back on his chair, his jeans rubbing against Regan's underwear as he adjusted his legs. Goosebumps formed along her skin as warmth pooled between her legs while she settled herself on his thigh.

He tilted his head upwards, meeting her gaze with a playful smirk. He trailed his index finger along her thigh, circling a freckle that lay just below the bunched up hem of her dress.

"Are you comfortable, Regan?" he purred.

"Umm..." She took a steadying breath, knowing that he could see she was flushed from her ears to her chest. Feeling Steve move his leg again made her gasp and reach to steady herself by holding onto one of his shoulders. Shit

"What is it, princess? Something bothering you? Or is something feeling a little too good to ignore?"

Regan pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and turned her gaze towards the rooftop door. The slight fear of someone catching them, not just someone, but her dad, crept up into her mind. Even if he was drunk out of his mind and probably long passed out, he could stumble back up to the roof for something. It was too risky being so out in the open.

As if he could tell where her mind went, Steve placed his fingertips gently on the side of her cheek and turned her gaze back to meet his, the blue of his eyes flickering in the low light from the city that surrounded them.

"Eyes on me, beautiful," he whispered, moving his hand down to the side of her neck and tracing his thumb over her throat, "we're safe up here. It's just the two of us," he reassured, with his smirk returning, "now, answer my question, is something bothering you or are you done ignoring this?"

He continued moving his leg underneath her, pulling small whines from her lips as she kept her eyes on him, trying to think of a way to answer him coherently.

“I don’t think I could ignore this if I tried.”

Steve’s breath rushed out of his chest at her confession. There was no time like the present to be honest, and there was no way in hell she was going to walk away from this as terrified as she was to get caught. Steve’s cheeks were dusted pink and he licked his lips. He leaned forward, dragging his lips along her jawline until they reached her ear. She shivered at the sensation of his beard brushing against her skin and bit back a whimper.

“That makes two of us,” he rumbled. “Do you know how hard it’s been to stay away from you?”

Regan smiled and slid her hands beneath his t-shirt, fingernails just barely grazing his abs. Her hips instinctively rocked back and forth and she could feel herself getting wetter from the tension alone.

“Why don’t you show me?” She whispered.

He nibbled on her earlobe and she gasped.

“Careful what you wish for, sweetheart.”

Suddenly, he pulled back and his hand slipped around the back of her neck, pulling her toward him. The second their lips crashed, Regan groaned, butterflies swarming her stomach as Steve’s other hand gripped her hip and began to rock her back and forth along his thigh as his tongue slipped into her mouth.

He took his time, feeling her out, whisky and barbecue and something uniquely him flooding her senses.

Steve’s tongue was heavy against hers, teeth catching harshly on her bottom lip before he soothed the sensitive skin with small kisses, almost too tender compared to the way he guided her over him. Steve grunted, rough and from deep in his chest as she writhed against him.

With each rock of her hips, Regan felt his cock hardening beneath the denim, eliciting a gasp from her lips as he shifted beneath her. As glorious as the feeling of his rough jeans was, she was desperate for fewer layers and more skin.

Steve slipped a hand into the front of her bathing suit bottoms, his hot skin slipping between her folds with ease. "So ready," he groaned against her, using his hand to rock her faster, "feral for me. How long has it been since you've been touched, baby girl?" He asked.

When she tried to answer nothing but a heavily broken whine dripped from her lips, her mouth propped open by his as he worked against her faster. "Such pretty noises the desperate whore makes, don't stop." He demanded, "ride my thigh until you're moaning my name and then I'll flip you over and give you something to really scream about."

She nearly collapsed against him but he held her in place as he pushed his thigh up against her forcibly over and over, his fingers guiding her pussy back and forth until she was an embarrassing, withering mess.

His other hand wrapped in her hair and pulled her mouth back to his, tongue and teeth crashing together as her legs started to shake. Steve's heated lips moved down her jaw, leaving wet kisses that made Regan's noises grow higher in pitch and more breathless as her head fell back.

"Fuck me," Regan whined, embarrassed by how quickly she folded, but she felt like she was going to combust. "Please, I- I need more."

She felt his lips turn up in a grin and the throbbing in her cunt grew stronger.

"We'll get there, darlin'," Steve murmured against her damp skin. "First I'm gonna have you come like this. Then you'll get my mouth..."

Regan gasped as his thumb started to circle her clit and it nearly got her there, but his touch was too light, too soft for how he was speaking to her. He was teasing her and based on the twitching in his jeans, he really fucking liked it.

"And then," Steve growled, pressing up harder against her, the friction burning her thighs raw. "if you're a good girl, I'll fuck you like one."

"But what if I'm not a good girl?" Regan asked in a playful innocence she knew damn well would rile him up.

"Oh, Regan," he chuckled mischievously as he applied the slightest bit more pressure to her clit, her mind reeling and begging for release. "Then I'll fuck you like a good little slut," he rasped so close to her ear, his words vibrated through her body.

Little by little he increased the pressure and speed until he was just right, a scream left her throat.

"Fuck, the noises you make. Fucking beautiful."

Regan panted, body slumping into Steve’s firm chest, feeling it move under her as he chuckled.

“Don’t tell me you’re worn out already?” he teased, knuckles brushing under her chin and lifting her head until her blurry gaze met his sharp one. “Can’t very well make good on my words if you’re already fading.”

Regan shook herself, blinking rapidly before sitting up straight, fisting Steve’s long hair in one hand, crushing their lips together again.

“I can handle anything you’ve got for me Captain,” she murmured against his lips and he bit down sharply on her bottom one, a yelp escaping her as he pulled it away from her, sucking it into his mouth and letting it go with a pop.

“On the patio table now, Regan,” he growled, hands going to her hips and lifting her up onto her feet.

Regan bit her lip, her heart hammering against her ribcage in anticipation. Steve's lips found her purchase on her neck leaving a trail of nips and kisses along the way as he walked her towards the table, his fingers digging into her hips.

He pushed her against it, the feel of cold metal against her thin dress doing nothing to quench the heat surrounding her. Dragging his wet warm lips back up to her lips, he slipped his hands down to her thighs picking her up and sitting her on the table.

"Eager there, Rogers?" Regan laughed against his lips. Her teasing was quickly cut by a gasp when she felt his long, rough fingers wrap around her neck.

"That's Captain to you," he growled against her lips.

She giggled before gasping as he bit her bottom lip hard enough to cause a bit of pain. Regan pulled away from him with narrowed eyes. "What was that for?"

Steve gave her a hard stare before his face softened slightly. "Sorry," he murmured. He gently rested his hand on the back of her neck before placing a gentle kiss on her now painful bottom lip. "No more lip," he murmured. His demeanor changed again as he pulled her to the edge of the table and ran his hands up her dress to rest on her thighs. "Now... will you let your Captain have a taste? Because dessert sounds rather nice."

She nodded and Steve grinned.

“Good,” he whispered, pushing her thighs apart while dropping to his knees. The only thing she could see in the dying sunlight were those eyes digging into her fucking soul. Flames licked her belly, shooting through every muscle in her body as Steve took his fucking time sliding his calloused hands up and down her thighs.

“Now, spread your legs for me. I want ‘em nice and wide, sugar. And you stay like that, is that clear?”

“Yes, Captain,” she purred.

A growl sprung from his throat and she could see that he was struggling to keep control, kissing his way up and down each thigh. Trying to make the most of every moment. Regan’s breath caught in her chest as he worked his way higher and higher to her dripping cunt. He lifted his head and slowly began to slide two fingers inside of her.

“You keep calling me that and the whole goddamn city’s gonna hear you begging me to fuck you.”

Regan’s retort was cut off by the sensation of Steve’s tongue slowly dragging along her clit as he pushed his fingers in deeper. Her head fell back and she bit down on her knuckles, letting out a muffled groan.

He worked at her relentlessly, the patio table beneath her practically rocking as she lifted her hips from the table to press herself against his face. She wanted to ride herself free of the second orgasm against his nose while his tongue flicked at her core and his fingers curled inside of her reaching all the tender sweet spots.

"Wait for it," he growled, pushing her back down against the table. His hand slid from her hips and bit into the underside of her ass roughly, causing her to whimper from the pain. She hadn't expected to enjoy it so much but each rough touch sent a thousand tiny shockwaves rolling through her only making her crave more.

He was daring her to misbehave, she wanted to feel the crack of his hand against her ass, feel the sting of his fingers around her nipples and the sharp bite of his teeth on her thighs. She wanted more than ever before. She wiggled down against him, his beard rubbing against her inner thighs as his tongue pressed against her already stuffed pussy.

"I want more," she begged and without hesitation, he obliged but not without consequence. He rolled her hips to the side, so her leg was hooked over his shoulder pressed tightly against his cheek and rubbed the soft skin of her ass before laying into her.

"I told you to wait," he warned.

With a whimper, Regan wriggled in his grasp, chasing the feeling of his lips against her body again. This time his hand gripped her ass even harder, surely leaving purple marks on the creamy colored skin. In a blink, Steve rose up, gripping her chin tightly. Her lips parted as his calloused palm held her in place and Steve smirked at the dazed look in her eye.

"Be. Good. Regan," he murmured before capturing her lips again, leaving a salty taste on her tongue.

She nodded breathlessly, licking the dampness from her lips as he got back onto his knees, blue eyes blown dark in the lavender twilight.

"So fucked out, already, my girl can't even talk," Steve murmured against her thigh before his lips wrapped around her clit and pulled harshly before releasing it as she cried out. "You might not make it through me fucking you."

"I can, please," Regan begged him. Her voice came out a strangled whimper.

"So eager,” he growled, “I'm gonna fuck you so hard I might have to replace the patio table," his hand darted out and wrapped around her chin so she was captivated by his eyes.

"I want you to be good and use your words, sugar."

Regan bit back a whine and wrapped her hand around Steve’s wrist, pulling his hand from her face, and guiding it back to her dripping cunt.

“C’mon Captain,” she grinned, determined to take back some power despite her mouth falling open in a gasp as his fingers entered her again. “You want me to be good? Make me.”

Steve’s fingers immediately crooked against her spot, his thumb pressing down on her clit, rubbing back and forth until her thighs were shaking and her nails were digging into his skin.

“Fuck!” Regan shouted, waves of orgasm crashing over her. Before she could even come down, Steve was moving, slipping his fingers from her and flipping her over onto her stomach. He trailed them over her ass, slapping it lightly, then harder when she moaned.

“That’s my good little slut,” he whispered in her ear, bent over her back.

Steve's words flowed over her, making her shiver. If it were anyone else, she was sure she would whip around and slap them. But being Steve... something was different. Regen whimpered as she felt Steve pull apart her bikini bottoms, letting them fall to the concrete at their feet. "Steve... please."

She looked over her shoulder, watching as he stared down at her before she noticed his arm moving. Her eyes drifted down only to widen at the size of Steve's weeping cock. Oh my god.

Regan couldn't stop the whimper as it left her throat, and she felt her cunt clench around nothing in anticipation. Every thought in her mind melted away, all the fear she'd felt about getting caught was gone. She just wanted him. She needed him. And by the cocky smirk that was painted on his lips, he knew it too.

Steve stepped forward and positioned himself, his hard cock pressed into her folds, teasing her more with each slight movement.

"That's it Regan, beg me," he rasped, gripping the skin of her hip with one hand and moving the other slowly up her spine to tangle in her blonde waves, pulling softly.

She whined again, biting the inside of her cheek, "Please Steve... please," she pushed her hips back into him, pulling a growl from deep in his chest.

He brought his hand back and slapped it once more on her ass, "try again, sweetheart,"

"Please fuck me, Steve, please," she breathed, relishing in the stinging pain of her ass as he rubbed the sore spot, "I need you inside of me, please fuck me"

He teased her entrance with the tips of his fingers. He didn’t push them inside of her, but she could feel him working her clit, teasing it ever so slowly as he leaned over.

“You can do better than that,” he urged. “You want me to fuck you like a little whore? Then you beg me like one.”

“Fuck you!” She cried out. “You’re such an asshole.”

This wasn’t what he wanted, but it was what he was going to get. She was so desperate, that every muscle in her body was shaking. Steve smacked her ass one more time and she bit down on the inside of her cheek, swallowing a grunt as her clit throbbed.

“Do you need to be shown how to behave?” He growled. Very slowly, he removed his fingers and dragged the tip of his cock through her folds. “Because I can do that for you, angel.”

Regan’s eyes rolled back and she let out a sound that she didn’t even know she could make— broken and jagged. Steve placed his hand at the base of her throat and his lips curled into a wicked grin. Regan found her composure, drawing in a breath as he began to rub the tip of his cock against her swollen clit.

“Fuck me, Steve. I’ve been such a good girl for you, haven’t I?”

He chuckled, capturing her lips in a rough and messy kiss before pulling back.

“You’ve been anything but that.”

"I'll be a good little whore, I promise," she cried out, every inch of her aching for him. She could feel him running his rock hard length from her ass to her clit, over and over without remorse. Only a soft chuckle fell from his lips as she begged him for all of it. "Please Captain, fill me to the brim, I can't take it anymore. I'm begging you, I'll do anything."

"You say that like I doubted you," he whispered, the hand around her throat tightened gently against her skin and his hand ran down the sweat licked center of her back. He kicked her feet apart, spreading her wide and exposing her to him completely. She felt raw and on display as he rocked himself into her without warning. She wasn't prepared for his size, stinging pleasure rolling through her as he stretched every inch of her sore cunt, pushing her to her limits. The pain vibrated down through her toes as she pushed up onto them and fell into the hold around her throat.

"I can't-" she pleaded, feeling the hand that rolled around her ass, he was playing at it. Waiting for her pleas but she could feel him wanting more as he dragged himself from her clenching, dripping cunt slower than her body could process the size. "Steve," she panted, unable to finish her sentence as his balls slapped against her throbbing clit and he filled her again.

"You can't what?" He growled, his thumb brushing against her entrance. When she didn't answer him he slapped his hand across her ass, the sound ringing through the air alongside her strangled gasp. "Answer me."

Regan felt tears well up in her eyes, frustratingly turned on to the point that she couldn't even begin. His fingers tightened around her throat as another slap echoed across the rooftop, sending spots across her vision.

"You aren't a very good listener, are you? That's okay, I'll teach you."

"Please, please, please," she sputtered. "I can't take...fuck, Steve!"

This was what she needed, maybe a part of the reason she came back. Someone to break her and put all those pieces back together. A tear fell down her face and Steve's thumb turned her cheek towards him, his wicked grin appearing in the corner of her vision over her shoulder.

"Cry for me a little more and I might go easy on you."

Regan’s eyes rolled back into her skull as a shudder travelled through her body. She heard Steve curse and suddenly he was pressing against her entrance again.

“You have no fucking idea how you look do you?” Steve started pushing in, slowly, Regan moaning loudly as she was stretched again. “No idea how you look with that fucking body moving, caught up in pleasure, thinking of nothing but me. I’ll fuck you, pretty girl, I’ll fuck you until you’re begging me to let you come until you’re crying harder than this little display.”

Regan couldn’t catch her breath, between the tears and the way Steve had started fucking into her, punching the air out of her chest until she was nearly screaming.

A big hand came up to cover her open mouth, covering half her face with its width. “Shh, Regan, the whole neighborhood didn’t hear you yet,” Steve whispered into her ear, biting down on the lobe before sucking on it, hips pounding her into the suddenly creaking table.

She whimpered into his hand, her whole body shaking under his. She was desperate to feel more of him. Even inside of her he still wasn't close enough, there was too much fabric between them. Regan wanted to feel his taut chest against her back, feel the way his muscles flexed as he relentlessly drove into her.

Steve dragged his hand back from her mouth slowly, and as if they shared the same need his fingers worked the knot at the back of her neck the thin strands of her dress falling onto the table. His movements didn't falter as he pulled down roughly on the fabric causing the table to shake along with her.

"The... the table," she moaned, trying to do her best to help Steve remove her dress from her body. The table creaked loudly beneath them. Loud enough for her to wonder if they were both going to topple to the ground. The thought was fleeting though as Steve increased his pace, driving himself into her body. "Steve..."

"Steve!" His name came out as a louder sob than she'd meant it to, but it caught his attention just in time.

The table once more groaned loudly as the legs finally gave way, crashing the old metal table to the ground. Steve's arm linked around Regan's waist and caught her before either of them fell, stepping forward, his cock slipped out of her and he spun her into his chest.

The world felt like it was spinning for a moment as her fingers curled into the metal dog tags that hung around his neck. He helped her stand and catch her balance as his now dark blue eyes flitted over her features, concern sparking over his face.

"Are you okay?" he rasped, cupping her cheek in his hand and gripping her waist with the other.

Regan nodded and breathed deeply, keeping her gaze locked on him, "I'm okay," she repeated, the coolness of the dog tags bringing a new feeling into her otherwise warm body.

"Good," he growled, scooping his arms under her legs and making his way over to the chair she'd found him in earlier, "cause I'm not finished with you yet"

Her laughter echoed through the air and Steve sat down on it, letting Regan shift her body so that she could straddle him. She looked back at the mess that they’d left behind and giggled.

“How are you gonna explain that?”

“Communal rooftop, drunk teenagers,” he replied, cradling her face with both hands. The pad of his thumb slid along her bottom lip as he searched her eyes. His expression was tender and vulnerable, and it made her heart skip a few beats. This guy could turn on a dime. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

She nodded and Steve kissed her, so sweetly that she wanted to cry. Her arms snaked around the back of his neck, playing with his hair and running her fingers through it. She’d always thought about it, it looked so soft. Steve groaned as the kiss deepened and Regan decided to take the reins, easing herself back down onto his cock. Her eyes squeezed shut as he filled her to the brim. Regan felt tears sticking to her lashes as her cheeks flamed.

The whimper that left Steve's lips was addicting, and she began to rock her hips, taking control. There was something about him that made her feel insanely confident. She pulled back, bouncing on top of him as his head fell back.

“Fuck, Regan.”

“Atta boy,” she whispered. “How long have you been thinking about fucking me?”

He laughed, his chest heaving as she fucked him and he tried to swallow his groans. Regan grabbed his dog tags and pulled on them, forcing him to meet her eye while she took him as deep as she could. His eyes widened as Regan leaned in and flicked his bottom lip with her tongue.

“I asked you a question, Captain. I expect an answer.”

His hands ran down her back, his fingers tickling the bare skin down to the swell of her ass. He cupped her more gently than she would have liked but he helped lift her up and down his shaft, pushing the speed at which they moved together. His breath trembled from his lips as he opened his mouth to speak as Regan pulled herself to the tip of his expanding erection. She revelled in the pressure it built, she found sick, needy pleasure in how it drove him nuts to be out of control.

His hands tightened around her skin, pulling her ass into his palms as he fought his hungry urges. "I've wanted a taste of your weeping pussy the first time you bent over in those tiny jean shorts you wore around last summer." He nipped at her collarbone. "Tell me," he begged breathlessly, still gripping her tightly, "tell me you wanted it too."

She giggled, it dripped from her lips. She had visited her dad for a week and she could feel Steve's eyes watching her even then. She had dug those shorts from the back of her closet, barely squeezing her ass into them before parading around in the apartment. The tip of his dick rolled against her entrance, stretching her wider as he tried to pull her back over him. "I enjoyed watching you squirm," she whispered, "how often do you think about those shorts?" She asked, needing to know the answer.

"As often as I think about your pert little tits in my mouth," he dragged his teeth against her, "more when I dreamed about how good your pussy would feel wrapped around me."

Regan gasped, high and loud as he sucked her nipple into his mouth, biting down and pulling until she cried out before letting go. Her breast stung, pain spreading through it but she relished in it, digging her hands into his hair and pulling. Steve's head fell back, their eyes meeting, and Regan pressed their foreheads together, lips meeting in an open-mouthed, gasping kiss.

"Gonna make me come again, Captain?" she asked breathlessly, rising and falling quickly on his dick. Steve gripped her hips tight enough that her skin was darkening before their eyes but she didn't care, she wanted more. "C'mon Cap, I'm waiting."

Steve snarled and his hips jumped up, pumping into her hard, the chair groaning beneath them but somehow holding together as he fucked up into her. "Gonna make you come so hard you can't even say your name, Regan," he growled, and she hiccuped, tears forming in her eyes from the intense pleasure gathering at the base of her spine.

"Please- Steve I-"

"No, you don't say anything unless you need to stop," Steve grunted, nearly lifting out of the chair as he fucked her.

Regan's face fell forward and she took her bottom lip between her teeth, biting down almost to the point of drawing blood holding back her cries.

She closed her fists on Steve's shirt pulling at the sweat ridden fabric. Her fingers ached to feel his hot skin.

Steve dragged a finger up her chest, the soft graze making her hiss at the contact. He grabbed onto her chin forcing her to look back at him as he pounded into her.

He pulled at her bottom lip with his thumb, "You're taking me so well, sweet girl."

Regan cried out, her hands pulling even tighter on his thin t-shirt. Steve leaned forward hovering his lips over hers, "Rip it off, Regan," he breathed.

She grinned and licked her lips. Regan didn't have to be told twice. She pulled hard at his shirt, hearing the cotton tear between her fingers. Regan instantly let go of the fabric and ran both hands along his chest, enjoying the feeling of his muscles against her hands. "I've been wanting to do that since I saw you in the elevator," she admitted.

Steve chuckled as he halted his movements for a moment and sat up to fully remove his shirt and toss it to the ground before capturing her lips in a searing kiss, devouring her mouth with his. He moaned into her mouth, when she began rocking back and forth against his pelvis once more. Regan was getting so close. Steve pulled back from the kiss and smiled at her.

"Come on baby, ride me. Hard and fast."

As Regan began bouncing faster, clenching her dripping cunt around him, their sounds echoed out into the New York sky. All their cares about who might hear them disappeared. The only thing that mattered was them, at that moment, taking everything they could from each other.

The fire deep in her belly grew with every thrust and she knew she wasn't going to last much longer with the soft praises that dripped from Steve's lips.

“Doing so good for me, darlin’,” he moaned. "Taking every inch just like I knew you would."

All she could feel was heat in her belly, her toes curling and tingling each time their hips met. Their moans reached a crescendo and her fingernails raked down his chest as Steve’s hand came to rest at the base of her throat again. Regan’s lips parted and she grinned, reaching up to cover his hand with her own.

“More,” she whispered, pressing down on his fingers.

Steve grinned.

“You filthy little slut,” he growled as he pressed on the sides of her throat just enough to make her dizzy.

Regan rode him harder and faster, butterflies exploding in her belly and the knot that had been getting tighter and tighter as he hit her g-spot finally snapped. She cried out, wildfire spreading all through her belly and down her legs. Her muscles quivered and Steve released her throat, letting her bury her head in his shoulder as wave after wave of her climax washed over her. He stroked her back and let her slow down for a moment.

“Good girl."

The sound of his husky voice praising her made the wetness between her legs grow even as she drenched his cock and spiraled down from her high. She wanted him to call her all the sweet things all the time, especially if he was praising her for taking him so well. She wanted to feel every inch of him every second of every waking moment and she was quickly granted that wish as he began to pump again chasing the high he hadn't caught.

She leaned into him, offering herself to him like a prize to be won and he took it without mercy. He slipped her off him, lifting her effortlessly from his cock and setting her on her feet. "Prove to me how good you can be," he whispered, reminding her of all the dirty, shameful things she had promised him. She sank to her knees before him as he slid forward and presented his hefty length to her.

His cock had seemed impossibly large, crammed inside of her but as she popped her lips over the tip and sunk down on him she realized how wrong she had been. His hand wrapped into her hair, pulling her down against him until his tip pressed against the back of her throat and tears stung at her eyes. "That's my girl," he whispered, his free hand twisting her sore and sensitive nipple between his fingers. "My sweet little desperate whore, so willing to do as she's told."

She pumped her mouth around him, pushing her tongue against the base of his shaft until he was making sweet noises for her. The grip in her hair tightened and she loosened her throat, welcoming the tantalizing taste of her own pussy mixed with the sweat and need of him down. He pumped twice more, shooting his release down her throat without remorse as he rubbed his thumb across her face and cleared the tears from her eyes.

She pulled away from his cock, licking up from the base to clean him completely and rose from her knees. Standing over him, covered in sweat and bruises, her ass stung from his playful abuse and her cunt clenched sore and sex abused as he drank her in with a sex drunk devilish look on his face. His pupils blown and the strands of his long hair messy and ready to be tugged on, she licked her lips chasing the taste of him as his cock fell against his stomach and he held out his arms to her.

"Pretty girl, you look even better covered in my hand prints."

This time his hands were soft as he brushed her equally messy hair from her face, wiping the remnants of sweat from her upper lip. Regan felt like she was outside of her body. She couldn’t help but giggle, biting her lip when Steve laughed.

“What are you laughin’ at, sweetheart?” He asked softly, the rasp still sending shivers down her spine. “You’re gonna hurt my feelings.”

“We ruined this rooftop for everyone,” she shook her head and started laughing even harder. “You broke a fucking table, Steve!”

Steve buried his damp head into her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her waist, Regan forced herself to reach up on her tiptoes to alleviate his hunched position. Chuckles shook her body as his breath cooled her overheated skin.

After a few moments, they came down from the high they created in this not so-secluded location. Earlier on, Regan was worried that she would have regrets afterwards, but that was the furthest thing from her mind.

She watched Steve button his jeans and outstretch his hand, the cornflower blue dress clutched in it. Smiling up through her lashes, she practically vibrated with the feeling of a new adventure in her future. Being with this man was certainly going to be a wild ride.

As if reading her mind, Steve spoke up as his head popped through the neck of his tattered t-shirt.

“So…are we gonna do this again?”

The sweet questioning tone made Regan’s heart flutter, so much so that she crossed the few steps to him. Placing a soft kiss on his slightly chapped lips, she sighed into him and enjoyed the warmth. Heartbeats went by until he tilted her head back and she smiled at his raised eyebrow and stern expression.

“Hell yeah, Cap.”

Steve’s eyes grew heavy as his hand drifted up to fix the neckline of her dress and he bent down to whisper in her ear. His words made a shock of excitement run straight to between her legs, already wanting him again despite the bruises and aches.

“Then I better see you in those shorts tomorrow.”

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macaroni-rascal · 1 year ago

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I have so many thoughts but so little time, goddammit! Both dance events were fascinating. The junior event showcasing infinitely better skating skills than the senior one is such a bad look. My heart broke for Yahli, but at least she had Tanith there to console her, she's the perfect person for this because she's literally lived through it. Although I do feel bad every time Tanith curls her hair just so her teams would disappoint her. Overall I was pleasantly surprised by how much I liked the juniors, they were all so different and so good. Probably the best JGPF I've ever seen, especially the girlies!

Marjo and Zak are likely rooming with Lia and Trennt respectively because they looked like they rubbed off on each other. Zak looked like he knew they wouldn't have a good skate going in, so I wonder what's been going on. Marjo's hair piece is doing all the heavy lifting discipline-wide. The tech panel tried to do its job but the GOEs were a trip, as always. It's fascinating which judges fucked over their own teams. Charlene went out there with a vengeance and skated lights out, her ponytail floating in the wind like a plume of fire. They should've been in first. Barbara's stopwatch should be put up in the Olympic Museum when she retires. I love Mark so much, his ability to sneakily say things is unparalleled. When he said C/B have never won the GPF, all of us old-timers knew exactly what he was saying - they'll be handed the win. Luckily for them, G/P aren't helping themselves with this atrocious RD. Any team that's lying down on the ice better not talk to me. And Nik really isn't doing anything to get off my shitlist, huh? I was wondering when F/G's reckoning would come and I'm pleasantly surprised it was this quick, they needed a reality check.

The pairs event also made me stabby. The Germans had no business outscoring the Italians. Minnie better shield this boy lest Aljona try to poach him. What annoys me the most is that Deanna and Max repeat this trajectory every year - they start out strong, nail it at an early Challenger or GP, and then can't do a clean competition for the life of them, the choreo gets watered down, and by the time Worlds rolls around, they're completely out of gas and the judges have lost their faith in them. The axel has never been Trennt's jump, but I'm fascinated by how he's landing his former nemesis the 3S with such ease now but not the 2A. And it was only a matter of time before he started putting down lifts because Alison doesn't teach the girls how to hold themselves up in them. They need a harder throw and a Lori Nichol/Sandra Bezic/David Wilson program if they want to be competitive next year and of course they should keep spending time in London, it's doing wonders for them, and maybe they can learn a thing or two about lifts from the coaches there as well. Their free was the most beautiful of the bunch here. I see what Asher was trying to do with the SP but it doesn't really suit them, I much preferred the initial version they did at the sectionals. The Hungarians' free could also be so tender and special if it was being done by a team with any connection whatsoever. I want justice for Sara and Niccolo at Europeans and Worlds, but they also need to change programs once in a while. Is H/V's coach really powerful or something? What is going on here? What is this shit?

The women's event could've been an email. I'm still shooting daggers at Isabeau's coaching team. The way she can't recover from a mistake is deeply concerning. Amber is being served the national title on a platter this year and she better eat. Rion's skating usually doesn't do anything for me but I kinda enjoyed her here. I still actively dislike Hanna and Loena's SPs. Nina's dress is fabulous but she's the second coming of Alina on those crossovers when I'd rather forget even the first coming. Angel Kaori still doing angel shit, good for her, as an OG stan I'm fucking thriving. All I need is Wakaba back at full brilliance and I'll ascend. I'm so ready for this senior free dance event, I can't even tell you. Hope you feel better soon!

I didn't end up watching any of the junior gpf, but you're making me wanna go back and watch junior ice dance, I may do that!

Ice dance at the GPF could have been an email, I know you said that about women -- and that's fair -- but I really think this ice dance event bored the hell out of me. Same with the free dance I just watched. I skipped half the teams cause I just didn't really care to watch. I am happy F/G got a reality check, and I wish the Italians won, but what are ya gonna do? Go stalk and kidnap judges' families until they do what you want? Maybe?!

Pairs is a wild time, I think H/V have been very consistent this season, despite all their issues off ice, and the judges are into it. I enjoy them as a team, I wish they had better programs, and looked at each other more, but I think they've got a cool future ahead of them. I'm so sad for Deanna and Max, had she done a double axel the title would have been theirs. It is fun the top three teams were within two points of each other, that's a good time for me. The Italians (both teams) put me to sleep, so I don't really remember their skates.

I agree with all your opinions on the women's sp event, amen amen amen.

#konner talks skating #love yuo #fashionista nonny

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harryspet · 4 years ago

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secret service | bucky barnes

[Warnings] secret service!bucky x reader, reader is vp’s daughter, bodyguard!bucky, agegap, noncon/dubcon sex, brat tamer bucky, dominant x submissive, rough sex (wear protection kids!!)

A/N: this is for @nsfwsebbie ‘s dream fic challenge. Happy b-day sab! this is @mypoisonedvine ‘s dream fic and the prompt was “I would love anything dark bucky, especially if he starts out all nice and stuff but then he's all manipulative and it gets worse and worse until we're in heavy dub con/non con territory”. hope you enjoy bb!

In which a political trip to London allows you to be reunited with your favorite secret service member, Bucky Barnes.

taglist: @peterztinglez @lovelynerdytraveler @buckybarney @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @lovemassivelybeautifulbouquet @what-is-your-wish @marvelslut-musicalnerd @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar @mandiiblanche @cherienymphe

word count: 3.9k

main masterlist

“You’ll need to be on your best behavior this weekend. We can’t have an incident like last year.”

You didn’t meet your mother’s eyes as you looked out the window of the private plane. Surprising to most, this time you spent watching her read her millions of paperwork was the most time you spent with her. Your mother cared for you but she was not warm. You didn’t believe a warm person could make it so high in the government. Being the daughter of the Vice President, you saw the kinds of dirty, manipulative politics that went on behind the scene.

You wanted little part of it but, here you were, about to land in London for an important public event.

“Y/N? Are you listening?” She continued to talk despite your lack of an answer, “That means you tell your agents when you’re going somewhere. I don’t care if you’re only walking down the hall to the ice machine, you tell them. You’ve known this since you were a little girl, I don’t know why you always give me a hard time.”

“I’m already here alone, Mom. Must you torture me further by suffocating me?”

“I know you must think it’s fun to rendezvous with some foreign prince but I must ask you to keep your legs closed for this trip and listen to your security.”

Your mouth parted. She thought of you as some whore but the truth was that you were far from the persona she forced upon you, “You don’t know me at all. And Alden isn’t a prince, his father is a prince. He’s just a duke,” You faked a smile and she scowled at you.

You weren’t expecting her next words, “I have a surprise for you when we land.”

You paused for a moment, trying to read her face. She was perfect at disguising her true emotions and, as her daughter, the thought that you didn’t really know your mother was saddening, “A surprise? I thought you were lecturing me.”

“You won’t listen unless I bribe you, Y/N,” Just as the words left her mouth, the pilot spoke on the intercom. The plane was beginning its descent and in a moment you’d be landing. One of your mother's assistants had to approve all your outfits for this trip. After some discourse, you decided on a light pink dress for your arrival look. It hugged your curves the way you liked but it reached down to your knees modestly as your mother preferred.

When you were finally stepping down the stairs to the plane, watching your mother wave to the press, and the diplomats ready to greet her, you realized what your surprise was. Two sleek, black cars waited at the end of the red carpet and the sight of the man standing in front of the second one made your heart race.

It took everything in you not to run to him. His dark hair was styled neatly, his arms folded over his nicely pressed black suit and a soft look of happiness was displayed on his strong face. He was just like you remembered him, the earpiece in his ear and the gold pin on his lapel reminded you of his position.

“This is my surprise?” Your mother turned to you with a grin.

“I know how much you like Agent Barnes, maybe you’ll actually listen to him. You’re going straight to your hotel room, I will see you later tonight.”

“Of course, my beloved mother. Like all teenagers, I love sitting in my hotel room and doing nothing while I’m on a trip.”

You watched your mother walk away from you, going to the first car while you approached the second car. Your speed picked up as you neared him. He opened the door for you, winking, “Girl Scout is in the Stage Coach. I repeat, Girl Scout is in the Stage Coach.”

Everyone the secret service protected had a codename. You’d been a proud girl scout for most of elementary school and then middle school when your mother went from Senator to Vice President. The name stuck and you thought it was annoying now that you’d grown out of that phase but you liked the name on his lips.

As you carefully slipped inside the car, you were beaming and, as Bucky slipped in beside you, you had to wait to pounce. You attacked him with a hug as soon as the doors closed and none of the crowd could see you through the tinted windows. You felt his hand against your back, hugging you tightly and it was then that you realized how touch starved you had been.

Everyone you came in contact had to go through your guards and that was often an intimidating process for most guys. Even though you had started college, you decided to avoid boys altogether because of this.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Your eyes were wide even as you pulled away from him, “How?”

Bucky gave you a soft smile, “Well I can’t tell you all the details since they’re top secret but, let’s say, my mission didn’t take as long as predicted.”

Your eyes narrowed at him in curiosity, “So you killed the bad guys and they let you come back to play babysitter?”

Bucky shook his head, giving you an amused look, “So crass. I see nothing has changed,” He leaned over and, for the briefest second, you thought his face was leaning into yours. Instead, he had reached over to grab your seatbelt as he safely secured it around your waist. Your cheeks heated up and you found yourself looking into the rearview mirror where you could see the two agents sitting in the front seat, “I apologize for being gone so long.”

“You didn’t miss much,” You said to console him, “Just senior year which was nothing special.”

Seeing him now made you think about meeting him those six years ago. He was so young then, just having served in the Army, but somehow aging had made him look even better. You had a feeling he was just as king and loyal as before. You were just a middle schooler at the time, hormonal, and constantly fighting with your parents about your lack of freedom. Maybe you hadn’t changed much either.

You watched him fasten his own seatbelt as the car began to take off, “Nothing special, hmm?” He cocked his eyebrow, “What about prom? Graduation?”

“Oh, it was effectively ruined by my arch-nemesis. He stole my spot as Salutatorian, my prom date wouldn’t stop talking to him about nanotech for the entire evening, and guess who got into Stanford for early admission just like yours truly?”

“Little Peter Parker?” Bucky chuckled.

“He’s not so little anymore,” You crossed your arms, pouting, “He’s only jealous that my mother was chosen as Vice President and his uncle was chosen for the lousy Secretary of Labor position.”

“Seems he must like you a lot to follow you to Stanford. To move all the way across the country,” You gave him an incredulous look, “C’mon, princess, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

“Of course I’ve noticed,” You rushed out your words, trying to ignore that feeling you got when he called you princess. If anyone else had said that, you’d probably feel disgusted but … you couldn’t help but think that term of endearment had changed its meaning. The truth was that you never thought Peter liked you and now you were worrying that your lack of social awareness had caused you to ignore the warning signs, “The last person I want to talk about is Peter Parker, Bucky.”

“Fine,” He folded his hands in front of him, sighing.

“Besides,” You side-eyed him mischievously, “I have someone far more important who feigns for my attention.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky leaned in.

“A duke,” You finished.

Bucky’s face seemed to fall, “I can’t imagine you as a duchess,” You couldn’t imagine yourself as one either but you liked the excitement that Alden brought you, “And your mother informed me of what happened last year. I’ll probably lose my job if something like that occurs again.”

“You’d tattle on me? I thought we were friends, Bucky.”

“That was when you were a harmless little girl. Now, you’re …” His eyes seemed to roam over your face then they fell to your neck but they moved back to your eyes before they could travel any lower, “You’re going to make this hard on me, aren’t you?”

You reached out to tap his cheek playfully and smirked, “I missed you.”

You weren’t sure exactly what holier-than-thou charity that these rich people had gathered in ball gowns to donate to. It was probably a minuscule fraction of their wealth and they most likely were only here to keep up appearances. Still, you enjoyed a chance to dress up.

You moved through the historical museum in a red ball gown, admiring all the expensive artifacts, as Bucky escorted you. You expected your mother to be with you during the event she’d forced you to attend but it seemed that she was once again too busy. You would’ve felt lonely if Bucky hadn’t been there. The other agents kept their distance, wearing tuxedos to blend into the rest of the crowd as they watched you from a distance.

Every now and then your conversation with Bucky would be interrupted by a message coming through his squiggly earpiece.

He looked quite handsome tonight and by the outline of his biceps against the fabric of his tuxedo jacket, you could tell he had bulked up over the last year.

“Madam Vice President had a run-in with the Prime Minister's wife. Turns out they’ve been dying to talk. She’ll meet you once the auction begins.”

“Oh, an auction, is that what this is? What endangered species are we saving tonight?”

“Funny,” Bucky added sarcastically, “... I don’t see your prince around. Perhaps he found another famous daughter to entertain for the night.”

You gave him a venomous look, “That cannot be possible when I look like this,” You emphasized your glamorous look that had taken nearly five hours to get on, “Now, would you please escort me to my table? I’m sure he’ll come and find me once you’re not standing beside me like a big tree.”

The truth was that you had no idea if Alden even remembered you from last year. He did make out with you but who knows how many famous daughters he had tried to entertain before. You hated how right Bucky seemed.

Bucky didn’t add anything to your harsh words as he escorted you into a large ballroom. It was so elegantly decorated that the room smelled like money. Blue stripes of light wavered through the room making it feel like you were in the middle of the ocean. You couldn’t help that the feeling of drowning that she experienced was a bad touch on the organizer's part.

Of course, your mother’s table was right near the front of the room. As Bucky pulled back the white chair, you took a seat, not meeting his eyes, “You’re dismissed, Mr. Barnes,” You spoke over your shoulder.

To your surprise, he leaned down to whisper into your ear, “You cause any problems tonight, princess, and you deal with me.”

Your mouth pinched into a thin line as you were left speechless. When you looked back, he was already walking away, taking his position by the far wall. You looked away quickly, mentally cursing. So much for having the upper-hand. You slouched in your seat, looking around the hall which was now flooding with people.

A few people you vaguely remembered having a conversation with approached you to talk. Hollywood celebrities, European politicians, and even famous designers hoping to get you to wear some of their designs. Lately, the paparazzi loved to follow you as you walked to class and gossip sites loved to talk about what you wore.

Everyone was so busy trying to get your attention that you hadn’t noticed someone slip in the seat beside you, “You look like you need something to drink,” You were a bit startled but you immediately recognized his voice. It seemed a year had made him more handsome as well. With one hand he grabbed yours and kissed it and with the other he handed you a glass of champagne.

“Your grace,” You greeted him, accepting the glass. You had almost forgotten that you could legally drink here. Despite that, you knew it would be improper to your mother. That’s why you took a sip, “Thank you so much-” You winced at the bitter taste but continued to sip.

The young duke was tall and red-headed, his face peppered with adorable freckles. His royal get-up was even more attractive.

You looked back at Bucky who was staring intently, “Is a night of fun in the cards for us?” You turned back to the Prince.

“I’m not supposed to rendezvous with royalty anymore. My Mom was not happy with me.”

He leaned back casually in his chair, his leisurely nature was surprising to you, “Is she usually happy with you?”

“Touche,” You took another painful sip, “Still, I’m not supposed to leave this table and I’m supposed to go straight back to my hotel room. No funny business.”

“No shenanigans whatsoever?” He frowned and you wondered why the British accent was so heavenly, “You must, at the very least, keep me entertained through whatever ceremony this is-”

“An auction, your grace.”

“What endangered species are we trying to save this time? It won’t be enough money anyways since they decorated this place with literal diamonds,” You smiled as you saw him reach into his jacket pocket and pulled out a flask, “Something stronger, perhaps?”

Bucky tapped his foot, starting to tune out the voice in his ear.

The room was now full of socialites, Madam Vice President had been escorted to her seat, and now the auction was beginning. The Vice President hadn’t so much as hugged her daughter so Bucky doubted she had noticed you were drinking yet. The young Duke would refill your glass with a clear liquid every time it ran low.

You were now giggling and laughing with him as a serious speech was given. You had to be at least six shots in. You played with his hand in your lap, leaning over to whisper in his ear, as you had the time of your life.

Bucky didn’t panic, only made a quick decision, “Girl Scout is in need of some rescuing. Clear the exit.”

Bucky scanned the room and his men began to follow his orders, as he approached your table. Before you could take another sip of your drink, his hand was on your shoulder. Your mother flashed him a concerned look but Bucky gave her a look to tell her not to worry. Luckily, she hadn’t noticed yet that you were about to go off the rails.

“Want some?” You smiled lazily as you lifted your glass. Bucky took it from you, setting back on the table.

“I think you need to use the bathroom, Miss Y/L/N,” You gave him a confused look. You wondered why he was being so stern with you.

“Nooo, I think you have the wrong woman, officer,” Bucky grabbed onto your hand, urging you up from your seat, “Let me deal with this rude man, your grace, I’ll be back soon.”

It seemed the Duke was in a similar, drunk state and simply replied with, “Return soon, my darling. I shall wait for your return-” You couldn’t respond because Bucky was trying to pull you away. Luckily, Bucky hadn’t managed to cause a scene but he knew you’d end up getting blackout drunk and embarrassing your mother if you continued.

Agents flocked around the two of you as you were guided out of the room. You almost tripped on the long skirt of your dress though Bucky easily caught you. You held onto him, giggling, “You couldn’t make it one night, could you?” You walked through a long hallway, staff carrying large plates of food passed and stared.

He brought you to the bathroom which was ginormous in itself, chandeliers hanging across the length of it, and completely empty, “I don’t think you’re supposed to be in here, officer.”

He leaned against the wall, “Walk around. Splash water on your face. Sober up.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning against the sink counter, as you stared at your makeup. As if you would ruin your makeup to “sober up”.

You pouted, staring at him through the mirror, “I didn’t mean to make you mad, Bucky. Only my mother.”

“Your mother is my boss. When you upset her, she’s upset with me,” Bucky was terse, and you wondered where that soft side was starting to disappear to, “You shouldn’t be drinking anyway.”

You huffed, hating that this conversation was starting to ruin your buzz, “I’m not a child. Don’t tell me you never had a sip of alcohol before you were twenty-one.”

“You think you’re more mature than you actually are,” You couldn’t help the scowl that formed on your face, “You’re not drinking for fun. You’re drinking to spite your mother.”

He moved closer, his hands behind his back as he sunk his words into you like a knife. You turned to him, taking a challenging step toward him. He towered over you but you clung to that anger and turned it to what you thought was confidence.

You grinned up at him, reaching out to play with the buttons of his jacket, “I thought you knew me better, Bucky,” You looked up at him with longing eyes, “I’m not a little girl anymore and you know that. You look at me differently. Your eyes linger on places you shouldn’t even be watching.”

Bucky grabbed your wrist tightly, suddenly, “Stop,” You knew you had touched a nerve.

“See, I know these things now,” You teased, “You like it when you can swoop me up and save me.”

“It’s my job, Y/N,” He spoke sternly. He was still holding you despite his words.

“What is it that you really want from me?” You pressed yourself closer to him, “A kiss maybe? Or something more forbidden?”

His eyes were dark with lust and you watched them linger on your lips at the mention of a kiss. What exactly did you want from him and what hole had you just dug for yourself? The alcohol was giving you courage but you weren’t actually sure how to finish what you started.

Bucky decided for you. He turned your body quickly, pressing your back into him, as a hand tightened around your throat. He faced you toward the mirror and the two of you were illuminated with bright lights. Your eyes widened as you watched him lean into your ear, “You’re such a brat ….”

Maybe part of him wanted you to mess up. Maybe he wanted a reason to get you alone with him and away from the royal douche that you were talking to. Maybe he let you get to this point ...

“Bucky, what are you-” His hand tightened around your throat and you felt your knees go weak.

He shushed you, “You asked what I really wanted. I want to punish you, princess,” Shivers went through your body as his warm breath tickled your ear, “I want to fuck you speechless so you can’t talk back with that smart little mouth of yours anymore.”

You started to struggle against you but you felt his fingers tighten around the sides of your throat. His hands were so big that they wrapped perfectly around your neck, “Hands on the counter,” He loosened his grip but only so he could push you forward. Like instinct, your hands held the sink counter. You turned your head to look back at him but he grabbed your hair, forcing your face forward, “Look forward, I want you to be able to see your pretty face while I fuck you.”

“Bucky, I’m sorry,” You forced out shakily as you felt the back of your dress being slowly unzipped. Through the mirror, you watched as he carefully took in the view of your body, “Please don’t hurt me-”

“Have I ever hurt you before?” He interrupted you, his hands traveling over your bareback, “I’ll always protect you, princess. I just think, if I’m going to keep doing my job, we need some new rules.”

The straps of your dress fell down your shoulder, exposing your breast. Again, as you tried to look away, he forced your face towards the mirror again, “Don’t be shy now,” He pulled down your panties, slapping your now exposed bottom, sending a stinging pain through your skin.

There was aching between your legs and part of you feared what he’d discover when he took a closer look. As you watched him undo his belt, a dark look in his eyes, you knew that he was going to push you all the way. He slapped your ass again, watching your body convulse as you tried to run from the pain. Surprisingly, his intimate touch only made that aching grow.

Upon closer examination, Bucky did discover the wetness between your legs. You bit down on your lip as his fingers roamed over your sweet spot, rubbing your sensitive bulb. You bent over further, allowing him more access which caused Bucky to smirk.

Something switched in him once again because suddenly he was pouncing again, positioning himself behind you as he pushed you further against the counter. He wanted you to see his face as he entered you, roughly grabbing your hair as he teased you entrance with his hard, throbbing cock.

“Please…”

“Please what? You want me to fuck you?” You closed your eyes, unwilling to answer, only to receive another smack to your bottom, “Don’t worry about what you want, princess, I’m making the decisions here.”

He stretched you as he slowly entered you and you tightly wrapped around his member, “Fuck, Y/N,” He cursed, moving deeper inside of you. At that moment, he was all that could feel, and all that consumed your thoughts. He moved torturously slow in and out of you and you gasped every time he sunk his entire length within you.

“Bucky!” You cried out, your mouth wide as you gripped the counter for dear life, “Ah, t-t-too big … p-please. Ah!”

He moved faster now, reaching around to grab ahold of your breast as he thrust inside of you. You called his name again and that only made him speed up his pace. He was torturing with his ferocity and now you wished he’d go back to taking it easy on you. You watched in the mirror as he split you apart, taking whatever innocence you had left within you, “Good girl, princess,” He praised you, “Taking my cock. So. Good.”

He was moving too fast now. With each thrust, he was hitting the right spot and sending pleasure in cascading waves through your body. You couldn’t take it, already tightening around his cock as you orgasm. You tried to run from it, trying to pull your body forward but he grabbed your arms, forcing you back onto his cock. Tears stung your eyes as he went even deeper.

When he finally came, he grunted hard, his moaning deep and heavy. You were defeated, conquered, though you didn’t understand why being violated could feel so good.

You leaned against the counter as you tried to catch your breath. Bucky ran his fingers through his hair, breathing heavily, before pulling up his pants and tightening his belt again. He adjusted his earpiece before looking at you over again. Shaking, you were pulling up the straps of your dress.

“Sober now?” He asked, a wicked smile on his face. “Let’s try yes sir and no sir from now on. Understand?”

“Yes… Sir.”

i love the whole secret service concept so i hope you enjoyed it too!

#dark fic #bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky x y/n #bucky barnes smut #dark!bucky smut #marvel #marvel smut #writing challenge #bucky barnes angst #secret service!bucky #president au #politician au

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dream-a-little-bigger-x · 4 years ago

Text

Life in Quarantine (Part 1) | Owen Patrick Joyner

Summary: A series about being stuck in quarantine with your best friend Owen and trying not to lose your mind over being stuck inside all day every day.

Pairing: Owen x reader

Warnings: Fluff, minor swearing, lots of singing

Songs used: Don’t Let Go by En Vouque/ Washington on Your Side from Hamilton/ More than Words by Little Mix / Not a Pop Song by Little Mix -- All credits go to owners of these songs

A/N: I know nothing about songwriting and none of this will probably ever happened in real life, but it just worked for the story, alright? Alright. Enjoy!

Words: 3,372

Part 1: Not A Pop Song

Norman, Oklahoma. My home town. The place where I was born and raised. The place where I learned how to live and love. Where I learned what heartbreak is. Where I met and lost friends. The town all my most valued memories reside.

It’s also where I met my best friend, Owen. Our mothers were, and still are, college besties. So, us becoming friends was kind of inevitable. We went through everything together. Kindergarten, Elementary, Middle School and High School. Wherever you saw me, you saw Owen and vice versa. A lot of people often thought we were a couple, but that’s been off the table since day one. In Elementary School, Owen and I made a pact with five different rules to seal our friendship forever. The list only grew as we got older. But here’s the gist:

1. If one is teased or bullied, the other takes revenge 2. Always sing and dance together whenever one asks, even if you don’t want to 3. Always share cookies 4. Always play together at recess 5. Always sit together at lunch

Then the additions from Middle and High School:

6. We will never, ever, ever date each other or each other’s siblings 7. Ethan, Evan and Emmy are off limits too 8. Crushes too 9. Always go to Broadway shows together 10. Never lie even if you wanna do it for the right reasons. There is no right reason. 11. Always support each other’s dreams and successes 12. Always hate each other’s exes 13. Always share ice cream 14. Never share our secrets with other 15. Always go to parties together

That last one was added by Owen in senior year of High School when I didn’t want to go to a party since it was my exes party and we’re supposed to hate each other’s exes. But, since he’s been in LA for most of senior year to pursue his acting career, I really couldn’t say no. Him going off to Los Angeles for months, sometimes even longer, started in eighth grade when he landed the role of Crispo Powers in a Nickelodeon show called ‘100 things to do before High School’, which I religiously watched, of course. Rule 9 tells you to. After High School, the two of us split ways. I headed off to Boston to study at Berklee College of Music to major in songwriting as it’s always been a dream of mine to become a songwriter, while Owen went to LA to further pursue his career in acting. We’ve tried to keep in contact, but daily calls turned into weekly calls turned into monthly calls. Five months in, we just try to at least check in with each other every now and then, which is what works best for our busy schedule. Then December 2018 came and changed my life entirely for the better. The representative of Syco and Columbia records said he was in need of fresh blood to co-write songs with none other than Little Mix on their next album. They held a competition at Berklee College, and long story short, I won! Yay me. To say I was nervous to write with a girl group I’ve been a fan of since the very beginning is an understatement. But they were so nice to work with. We’d take turns flying to each other’s countries and wrote about five songs together of which only two made it onto the actual album. None of it made much sense to me at the time, it all just seemed like one big dream. Owen was pretty excited about it too. He knew how big a fan I was of the girls. Even though he wasn’t a big fan himself, he still listened to the album, mostly to listen to the songs I’d written. Over FaceTime, we even played a game called ‘Guess what song I’ve written’, and he’d gotten one right. The girls even gave you a full-time job as co-writer on more projects of theirs and even recommended you to other artists. This meant you had to quit college and become a full-time freelance songwriter. Thanks to Little Mix, though, you’ve gotten the nicest people to hire you. Since then, you’ve worked with artists like Meghan Trainor, Bea Miller, Isabella Merced -- who you could gossip with about Owen from her time working with him -- and even Harry Styles. The fifteen-year-old inside you didn’t know what to do with herself when that collaboration happened. But working with all those people also meant I had to move again. This time to Los Angeles. When I told Owen the good news, he immediately suggested you move in with him. It’s the thing you guys said you would do once you got older; get an apartment together. So, it was the only logical move. “Welcome to your new casa!” He said dramatically when leading me into the apartment. The tall white walls and large windows illuminated the entire place with a welcoming feeling. “Let me show you to your room, so you can drop off your excessive luggage and then I’ll give you the tour of the entire space.” I raise an eyebrow at his words. “Bro, I have excessive luggage because I just moved from Boston to freaking LA!” I exclaim, followed by an amused chuckle as I try to push him, but fail since he’s much stronger. From that moment on, I knew moving in with Owen would be the best and worst idea I ever had.

And speaking of ‘worsts’. From March 2020, the two of us were stuck at home together due to the outbreak of the coronavirus. Just when I was supposed to start working with Little Mix on their new album. I would’ve been in London now, but instead, I’m stuck in LA with my best friend who doesn’t have a job at the moment since he’d just finished filming a new Netflix show called Julie and The Phantoms. What I heard from it this far, it sounds pretty amazing. I even went to Vancouver with Owen for a few weeks. It was a fun trip and gave me some new inspiration for some songs. “Hey, Nugget,” Owen says as he walks into the room we call our studio where I’m working. “I’m kinda in the middle of something, Ace. Can it wait?” I know I shouldn’t work out my frustration on my best friend, but it kind of fell out of my mouth before I could stop myself. “Sorry, Nugget, I’m kinda bored…” I sigh exasperatedly and bob my head to signal his permission to come in. “What are you working on?” he asks as he sits down on the armrest of the armchair I’m sitting on. “This Little Mix song I can’t seem to make work,” I reply and point to the notebook in front of me. “I’ve got a few good lyrics, but the melody seems impossible.” Owen takes the notebook from me and closes it before getting up. “Time for a little break,” he says and goes to sit behind his drum kit. “Guess what song I’m playing,” he then says and starts with the cymbals, then hi-hats and when a beat finally floats through the room, my brain starts to work. This is a game we’ve been playing every time I’m in need of a break or just for fun. We’d take turns in playing a part of a song on our respective instruments and the other has to guess which song it is by singing along. “What’s it gonna be? Cuz I can’t pretend Don’t you wanna be More than friends Hold me tight and don’t let go Don’t let go Have the right to lose control Don’t let go” A smile appears on Owen’s as I get the first song right. He always underestimates my love for girl bands from the 80’s and 90’s. Though, I think he might’ve given me this one because I’m so frustrated from working on that song. “Your turn,” he then says after having hit a couple more toms and cymbals. I think about it for a moment, and then start plucking the sixth string to create a more bassy sound. Owen stares at the guitar for a moment trying to figure out what song I’m playing. Then, his eyes widen as he recognizes the sound. “It must be nice, it must be nice To have Washington on your side It must be nice, it must be nice To have Washington on your side” I let out a loud whoop in excitement, choking the strings to stop the sound. “I still can’t do that rap though!” he actually sounds disappointed in himself. “Washington isn’t gon’ listen to disciplined dissidents This is the difference This kid is out!” I proudly yell out, earning impressed applause from my best friend. The smile on his face warms me up inside. Owen has always had the most beautiful smile, in my opinion. He has one of those smiles that could just instantly make you happy. No matter how bad a day you had. “Very impressive, Nugget,” he replies with a smirk that sends shivers down my spine. Ever since I moved in, he’s gotten more and more flirty with me. I’m not sure if it’s just a change in his personality that he’s acquired in Los Angeles or if it’s something else, but it’s there. Not that I mind. Something has shifted in me too since we moved in together. It’s even gotten me thinking about removing rule number 6 from our pact. “Your turn, Ace,” I quickly change the subject, just so I don’t have to think about him like that too much. Our dynamic as best friends is too good to ruin it all. Twenty years of that is a long time to just throw away like that. “Alright, an easy one,” he says and simply starts stomping the bass pedal to activate his bass drum. It’s a slow, almost menacing thump that sounds very familiar. A little too familiar. “Oh, I need you more than words can say Oh, You saved me in ways I can’t explain Always been there for me, now I’ll do the same Oh, I need you more than words can say” It’s one of the two songs on Little Mix’s last album that I helped write. The song that means most to me since I wrote it with Owen in mind. It was a period of time where all I wanted was to see Owen and be able to talk to him and just spend time with him like we used to before his whole acting adventure. I think he’ll stop after the chorus, but instead, he picks up his drum sticks and starts playing the rest of the song on his drum kit. Deciding it could be a fun jam session, I start playing the chords on my guitar as well whilst continuing with the lyrics. “Won't forget, won't forget Won't forget when he broke my heart How you helped me through You turned, you turned, you turned a disaster into a dream Gave me the power, made my life brand new When the world try to break us, we found magic And we grew stronger, though every line, line, line Every night, every night, every night I strain and sing the truth Now, now they know that they gonna be alright, alright” The memories of when I wrote this song start slipping through my mind. I remember how alone I felt, even in a room with a dozen other people. I remember how much I missed Owen. “I find peace in every story you told I think of you, I'll never be alone It's true, true, true You know I do, do, do” My eyes lock with Owen for a moment. He shoots me a comforting smile that makes me feel right at home. And I don’t mean here. I mean home as in Norman, Oklahoma. “Oh, I need you more than words can say Oh, you save me in ways that I can't explain Always been there for me, now I'll do the same Oh, I need you more than words can say Oh, I need you more than words can say” We both stop playing and just look at each other for a while. I’ve never told Owen I wrote this song for him, but at the same time, I think he might already know. That doesn’t take away the urge to tell him though. “I wrote that about you when I missed you,” I blurt out without properly thinking about it. “Really?” he asks while coming out from behind his kit. Combing his long, blonde hair back, he makes his way over to me and grabs the guitar from my lap. “Yeah, I thought you’d know?” He chuckles, shaking his head whilst tickling the strings. I’d taught him a couple of songs on the guitar since we started living together. “You write with a lot of people, Nugget. Could’ve just been their words as well....” He isn’t wrong about that. Maybe it was a lot less obvious than I thought it was. “So, what are the guidelines for this one?” he questions. I grab my notebook again and open it on the page I was working on before he fluttered into the studio. “They didn’t want another pop song. Kind of more like a ‘fuck you’ to Simon Cowell for treating them so badly and telling them what to do and what to wear and whatnot,” I explain, showing the few lines I have already. Some of them Jade had sent me, others were Perrie’s, a couple were mine. “What are most pop songs about?” Owen queries. I know he’s trying to help me, but he’s kind of making me nervous with the constant strumming of the guitar. “Songs about falling in love, or drinks and drugs…” I sum up at the top of my mind, “Or heartbreak…” Owen nods his head whilst continuing to play the same few chords over and over again. I focus on the melody for a moment as my creative juices start to work again. “This ain’t another pop song ‘bout falling in love Or a party song ‘bout drinks and drugs No more singing songs ‘bout breaking my heart And my lonely nights dancin’ in the dark” I look up at Owen for validation. Nodding his head encouragingly, he keeps playing the same few chords but a little louder this time to support the flow of my lyrics. “If I’m a guilty pleasure I want this life forever I’ll take it all ‘cause anything is better Than another pop song ‘bout falling in love But if you wanna sing along say ‘I don’t give a fuck!’” Owen starts jumping around excitedly, and I can’t help but laugh at his adorableness. He used to get this excited whenever I sent him a demo of the songs I was working on. “Let’s record a demo!” he exclaims and, after handing me my guitar back, moves towards the recording equipment. “Let’s start with some guitar,” he says and that’s how our recording starts. First, the guitar, then Owen records some drums, and then I get behind the mic to sing the song all by myself. I can just imagine how amazing this’ll sound with the girls’ voices instead of mine. “No broken bottles Or glitter on the floor form the night before Ain’t no boy troubles If that’s what you came here for then you should know” I lapse back into the chorus one last time before we finish recording and put everything together. We listen to it a couple more times before sending it over to Little Mix and their management. Awaiting their answer, we head into the kitchen to make some dinner together. It only takes about half an hour before I get a call from Jade. “This song is epic!” she shouts into my ear before I can even say hello. “Exactly what we needed, Y/N, thank you so much!” I’ve grown accustomed to her thick Geordie accent, though it was hard to understand in the beginning. “Thanks, Jade! Owen helped me out a little,” I reply, looking up at Owen himself who shoots me a wink that sends a rush of heat from my head all the way to my toes. The girls all know about Owen. I’d told them about my best friend and how supportive he was, and they always teased me saying I was so in love with this guy. Which I didn’t realize at the time and always denied. Rule 6 clearly states no dating each other. “Give him a big snog as a thanks then!” Jade jokes, and I can even hear the others in the background. “I’m on Zoom with the girls at the moment. They say hi!” “Hi back!” I can’t stop the giggle from escaping from my lips. “I gotta go, Jade. Thanks for getting back to me about the song. I can’t wait to hear you guys singing it!” Jade snickers on the other side of the line. All while I’m watching Owen make some pasta at the stove. There’s something so attractive about him in the kitchen, I’m not sure what it is. Fuck, Jade is right. I am very much in love with my best friend and there’s nothing I’m going to be able to do about it. Stupid pact we made in the first grade. “We’ll call you later to discuss some more arrangements and stuff. Bye, Y/N!” “Bye, Jade! Bye girls!” I say loudly, knowing I’m probably on speaker phone anyway. “Bye, Y/N!” the girls chorus. I hang up the phone and look at Owen for a few seconds before bursting out into an excited cheer, dancing my way towards him. “They loved it! They loved it! They loved it!” I shout loudly, and cup Owen’s face in my hands before pressing my lips to his in an outburst of elation. I’m surprising yourself at first, but then melt into the familiarity of his embrace as his arms snake around my waist whilst kissing me back. He’s actually kissing me back. “And that’s rule number 6 out the door…” Owen mumbles when he pulls away. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have,” I mumble and step away from him, or at least try to. His arms tighten around my waist, restricting me from taking another step. “I’ve been thinking about talking to you about that stupid rule, Nugget. I’ve hated it ever since we were 16.” My eyes widen at his confession. Since we were sixteen? SIXTEEN? That’s four years ago. That’s even long before I realized I felt more for him than just a platonic love. “16? Why didn’t you say anything?!” Owen chuckles, retracting his arms from around my waist and instead tucking a strand of hair behind my ear before placing his hand on my cheek. “You were pretty enamoured with Ryan, remember?” My heart breaks at the mention of the prick’s name. Ryan was my very first heartbreak and the worst at that. Owen was in LA at the time, but when he heard the news, he almost immediately flew back to Norman Oklahoma to comfort me and eat ice cream together. “Besides, I was constantly on the move from LA to Norman, it wouldn’t have been fair to you…” “You’re the sweetest human being alive, Owen Patrick Joyner,” I tell him with a smile tugging at my lips, but then turn serious again as I flick his forehead. He lets out an ‘ow’ and shoots me a confused glare. “And the stupidest! I’ve been in love with you since I don’t know when, but I never realized until now! The girls from Little Mix even knew but I was too oblivious or stubborn to see it myself. If you’d told me, I probably would’ve realized sooner!” “Well… I told you now?” he tries, the cheesiest smile on his face that makes me roll my eyes. “I love you, Ace,” I whisper, “And not the platonic kind this time.” “I love you too, Nugget.” He leans down again after that, reconnecting our lips into a passionate kiss. The first of many. This ought to be a very interesting quarantine together.

Taglist: @hannahhistorian92 @marinettepotterandplagg @thequirkybookaholic @bookdealer5 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hemmingsness @iainttakingshitfromnobody @ifilwtmfc @angryknightstatesmantrash @kiss-themoongoodbye @rudysbay @thedarkqueenofavalon @caitsymichelle13 @calamitykaty @wiselight @kcd15

Lemme know if you wanna be on my taglist!

#julie and the phantoms #julie and the himbos #julie and the fat ones #jatp #owen joyner #owen x reader #owen joyner fic #owen joyner au #life in quarantine with owen #life in quarantine #not a pop song

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drawlfoy · 5 years ago

Text

The Wonders of Ohio P.5

masterlist (check here for parts 1-4!) request guidelines

pairing: draco x reader

request: from 14 year old me babey

warnings: cringe, mentions of drug use, mentions of sex, language, and just bad writing

summary: y/n is in her senior year of high school when she is asked to take on an exchange student from britain that’s a little...different. this is NOT a nonmagic AU. draco is still a wizard and this will become and integral part of the story shortly.

a/n: heyyyy everyone. i graduated from high school this week and i’m posting this as my happy-one-year-to-me. as some of you may know, i posted my very first fic on this day a year ago. i’m really happy to see how i’ve grown since and i’m so lucky to have shared this with all of you. anyways, nittygritty--

this part is really the last slow exposition chapter. chapters 6 on will be a whole whirlwind beginning with homecoming and i hope that you guys are willing to stick around. i promise itll be worth the wait. y/n is going to get the story arc of a lifetime and also please do not hate heather she is just going through it ok

anywayssssssss

tags tags tags @gruffle1 @missmulti @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @erisdogwood @loveissupernatural

word count: 4.6k (;))

song recs:

strawberry blonde -- mitski

in your neighbors garden -- mimi bay

wishes -- beach house

ode to artifice -- samia

pink in the night -- mitski

enjoy <3

The seatbelt buckle scorched the side of Y/N’s exposed neck as she turned to face the disheveled blonde in the passenger seat.

“Do I need to teach you to set an alarm?”

Draco let out a huff. “Stop. Do you have a….a comb, or a brush, or something here?” His hands looked abnormally fidgety. Their actions were shaky, varying from patting his pockets to running through his hair. He seemed more and more frustrated each time his hands left his pockets empty.

How curious Y/N thought as she racked her brain for any remembrance of putting a brush in her car. It was always a mess, and she honestly couldn’t blame Draco for assuming that anything could be in there.

“I don’t think there’s one here,” said Y/N, trying to sound at least a little sympathetic despite the fact that his tardiness had them 10 minutes late. “You can look around if you want, king.”

“What’d you call me?” His voice was suddenly sharp and awake.

Y/N rolled her eyes so hard that she thought they’d get stuck in the back of her head. “You don’t--ok. It’s a joke. You can call guys here that.”

“And it means that I’m…?”

“It means I’m acknowledging that you exist, I guess. It’s not like it has a strict negative or positive connotation. Like, I can say ‘Ok king’ to any man telling me something and it can either be sarcastic, or it can be because I don’t know what else to say and just want to let him know I heard him.”

Draco’s eyes looked a tad glazed over when Y/N dared a glance in his direction.

“I know it’s confusing. I’m sorry. I’ll try and ease you into the world of American slang.”

He granted her a little “uh-huh” before opening up the glovebox with great difficulty and rummaging through the mess. Y/N would’ve felt more embarrassed about the tampon that fell on the ground in the process if he seemed like he actually knew what it was.

Her attention turned back to the road as Draco continued to sift through things. Y/N couldn’t help but wonder if there was anything embarrassing hidden away in the corners of her car--after all, it hadn’t been organized since the beginning of summer--and decided that it was better to pretend it wasn’t happening.

It wasn’t the eerie silence that eventually prompted her to turn to look his direction--no, it was the weird energy in the car, like the feeling right before a thunderstorm. All the hair raised on her arms, and she shivered...but it was stifling hot in the car.

“Oh, did you find a brush?” she asked. His hair laid as perfectly as always, but his hands were lying shaking in his lap, palms to the sky. No hairbrush was in sight.

“Er... “ He was paler than usual, which was quite the feat for someone who looked like a ream of paper. “No. Just remembered a trick my father taught me.”

She tensed at the mention of his father--the very first time Draco had done so. “Oh. Okay. Glad you got it figured out, king.”

Her voice lightened on the last word, hoping she could coax a little smile out of him.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Ok.”

oOo

There were many things Y/N thought she understood, but Draco Malfoy being in her Physics C class was not one of them. She took pity and sat next to him as he fumbled his way through the first lecture. His notes, while neat, were littered with crossed out portions and question marks.

You do know there’s an eraser on your pencil, right? she jotted on a note that she sent his way. His brow furrowed and he seemed to tap at the end of the eraser for just a few moments before deciding otherwise and xing out another practice problem he’d done incorrectly. Symbols that she’d never seen before were scattered all throughout his notes.

Maybe the UK kids just learn stuff differently.

By the time that Physics came to an end, Y/N was eager to get away from the storm cloud that was brewing over Draco’s perfectly smoothed and infuriatingly pretty moonbeam colored hair. The amount of attention he was getting from all the other girls made Y/N want to jump off a cliff--suddenly everyone was her “best friend” “just wanting to check up on what happened over summer”. She was grateful to see the face of Lizzy, grinning and looking mischievous during their break period.

“You must be Draco,” said the redhead, a glint in her eyes. He looked a little scared.

“Er...yeah.”

“Mind giving us some privacy? Y/N and I have some urgent matters to discuss,” she continued, looking him up and down. Y/N attempted to ignore the twist in her gut as she watched him swallow and nod, turning away to go brood elsewhere. Once he was out of sight, Lizzy grabbed her arm and yanked her into the girl’s bathroom.

“It’s so funny how he’s following you around like a lost puppy,” Lizzy said. “Also, he’s gorgeous. If you don’t at least try to get some of that, then I’m never trusting your judgement again.”

“But, Li-”

“The boy’s a fucking walking Wattpad story cover. Dark, tragic past, unbelievably sharp jawline, rich parents, exotic accent....honestly, Y/N, I don’t know what else you could want.”

“Mom literally called him my host brother,” said Y/N. The bathroom was starting to smell suspiciously like cotton candy. “That’s wrong. On so many levels.”

“But you’re not related!”

“But it’s gross! And predatory! The kid doesn’t even know how to do basic algebra! I’m all he has!”

Lizzy’s eyebrow found its new home in the middle of her forehead. “You’ve gone absolutely batty if you think that every girl cursed with attraction to men in Cincinnati wouldn’t jump his skin at the chance. Use your head, queenie. He’s not alone. Shoot your shot.”

Y/N opened her mouth to serve back a retort--that was definitely there, thank you very much--but decided against it once she realized that the bathroom had become dead silent. “Um...maybe we can go over this later.” She flickered her eyes over to the line behind them that was now intently hanging on their every word. “I forgot I had to talk to the counselor.”

Lizzy was smirking as they exited the bathroom and began the search for Draco. It didn’t take long--the circle comprised of Heather and her friends was more than enough of a giveaway that he was about.

“Draco, sorry to make you wait,” Y/N called out. It took all her effort to abstain from cringing as her voice rang out across the group. Heather turned to send her a big smile.

“Hey Y/N! You didn’t tell me that Draco was from London!”

“He’s not,” she responded. “He’s from Wiltshire.”

“Wiltshire. Of course. That’s what I meant.”

Draco’s smile was tense as he looked down at Heather--who stood roughly 4 inches below him--but he was smiling, and that wasn’t something that Y/N was on the receiving end of frequently. She didn’t know whether to be offended or relieved.

“I’m sure. Break’s almost over, Draco. I can show you where the English department is before the time is up.”

He paused, looking down at the blonde grinning up at him. “Er, actually, Heather already offered to show me around for the rest of the day.”

“Yeah, for sure. I’ll see you in French.”

Y/N was shocked at the sheer amount of jealousy that rose up in her throat as she turned away and made her way to Art History---the only class Y/N and Draco didn’t share. The walk was strange. Being in solitude after having a gloomy British boy attached to her hip was understandably eerie. Because that’s all it was. Adjustment. Nothing else.

She settled in at a table full of her friends, namely Sylvia. The tall girl was always a bit whimsical, but Y/N found that she was a breath of fresh air compared to everyone else. It made sense that Sylvia would take Art History--her dark academic inspired aura and the perpetually hot mug of black coffee just screamed history nut.

“How’s your new brother?” she asked after the teacher had taken attendance. “I say that because I haven’t heard his name yet.”

“Ick, it’s gross to think of him as my brother,” Y/N responded. “And I know! We need to catch up. I’m sorry about not talking to you for a bit. The time difference was a bit weird during your trip.”

“It’s ok, I get it. I was away on family business, anyways. I didn’t expect you to spend your days staying up until the wee hours of the night to tell me all about your exchange student. Anyways. His name?”

“You’re gonna scream when you hear it, Vie,” she said. “Draco Malfoy. It’s so posh. You have no idea. It definitely suits him, though. He’s very...You good?”

Sylvia’s olive toned face looked a bit paler than usual. “Yeah. Yeah, I just remembered that I forgot to take the trash out this morning. I’ll have to text my mom about it.” She adjusted the wool cardigan that hung around her shoulders and came up looking composed. “Draco, huh? His parents must hate him.”

“At the very least! He’s so rude. And uptight. I can’t tell if it’s just a Brit thing or if it’s because he’s an asshole.”

Sylvia laughed. “I mean, when I was there over the summer, it was a different culture for sure. We’re by far louder. But I didn’t meet many mean ones. You must’ve just got a bad apple, then.”

“I guess so. He is pret--”

“Ladies, is there something you’d like to share with the rest of the class?”

“No, Mrs. Jensen,” Sylvia and Y/N said in unison.

oOo

“Thoughts, king?”

“I told you not to call me that.” Draco glared at her as he tried to open the passenger side door to find that it was locked tight. “Unlock? Please?”

“And I told you not to get cozy with ASB kids, yet here we are,” said Y/N as she slotted the key into the lock and turned.

“What’s it to you?”

“Nothing. I’m just looking out for you.” She slammed the door shut and threw her bag in the bag. The line of traffic to get out of the school was long and stuffy, and she was eager to just get it over with.

The wait was so hot that Draco peeled off his stupid formalish jacket that was on thin ice of being called a blazer and probably worth more than her car. Y/N tried to look away as his hair became slightly ruffled, but she couldn’t pry her eyes away. It was endearing, almost, how someone who could look so posh and serious could have ruffly hair--and hair that naturally light, too. She had asked him one night if it was dyed, and he scowled at her and told her the grammatically correct term was dead, and that his hair was alive, just like the rest of him, thank you very much. She dropped it.

Y/N finally rolled down her window after the AC simply refused to satisfy her, and the wind was a nice reminder to keep in her own lane. Draco was beautiful. There was no other way to put it. He had a feel of power to him, like he was capable of anything but just held it back. But he was just as inaccessible as he was pretty, and there was nothing she could do about that.

“Y/N?” He asked after a few moments of sitting in silence. “What’s Homecoming?”

“Who told you about that?”

“Heather. She asked if I had a date. Is that like a ball here?”

“She asked you if you had a date on the first day?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck. ASB kids never do sleep, huh.”

“What?”

“Homecoming isn’t a ball. It’s like a...an…” Y/N paused as she saw Draco raise his eyebrows. “It’s, like, uh….Well I guess it is like a ball. An American one, though. Way less extravagant. It’s an excuse to get dressed up and run around the city. There technically is a dance, and all the ASB kids have to go, but literally no one else does but the underclassmen. Normally I go out with my friends and a date to somewhere fun and take pictures. And then get trashed afterwards.”

“Classy,” said Draco. “I think you can go now.”

A honk behind her emphasized his point as the space in between her and the car in front widened substantially.

“Thanks. Anyways, it’s not really a big deal. I’d suggest not going with Heather so you can skip out on the dance portion. Or if you want to go with her, get her to come with us into Cincinnati because I am not going to spend my last homecoming watching a grind circle.”

“A...what circle? And I don’t want to go with her.”

The relief Y/N felt was embarrassing. “Um...better if you don’t worry about it. You have a long time to figure it out anyways.”

He seemed satisfied with that answer, propping his elbow up on the center console. The pristine button up he was wearing had ridden up, exposing the pale skin and the bottom of the tattoo she had seen a hint of earlier. “Do you have a date?”

“Um. No, not yet. I don’t think anyone except for couples do yet. We have until the end of this month to figure it out, so I’m not too worried about it.”

He nodded as Y/N’s car finally left the school parking lot and began picking up speed.

“I’m assuming you had balls? At your posh boarding school?”

“Er…” Draco ran his hand through his hair, ruffling it further. “We only had one. It was when I was 14. We called it the Yule Ball.”

“Why only one?”

“It was for a special occasion. We had two other schools join us as well. It was quite a good time.”

“So every student only has one ball in their lifetime?”

“Of course not. Some of us--the ones from old families--have events like that regularly.”

“I’m sorry if this is overstepping my bounds,” began Y/N, noticing how he tensed up, “So you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. But, I’m just wondering, what is your family like?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like are they nice?”

“Oh.” The line in his forehead relaxed. “No. They wouldn’t like you.”

“Glad to hear it,” she said. “Do you like them?”

She heard the breath hitch in his throat. “I don’t know anymore.”

“I’m sure it’s hard to think about it when you feel like they’ve just shipped you off without anyone,” she added. “I’m really sorry, Draco. I know I’ve been a bit mean to you. I know that I’ll never be able to understand what you’re going through right now.”

The slight smile that spread across his face would’ve knocked her to her knees if she wasn’t already sitting down. “It’s okay. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

The silence that awaited them for the rest of the journey was comfortable.

oOo

School began to pick up the pace after the first few days. Y/N got into the swing of homework and her extracurricular workload. Draco was having a bit more difficulty, she presumed, but he’d never admit to it. She took pity one evening and gave him her laptop opened to a Khan Academy tab for Physics and was pleased to see that he showed up to class the next day with completed homework. He asked to borrow her laptop on a much more frequent basis after that.

The routine they settled into had her heart leaping into her chest almost constantly--they’d eat breakfast together at the table, Y/N would try to ignore how pretty he looked across the table as they shared a pot of black tea (earl grey, which Y/N was thrilled to learn was his favorite as well), they’d get in the car, she’d write him notes in physics to help him (even though he never asked, he always smile and give a little shake of his head before unfolding them and intently staring at her writing), they’d drive home together and bitch about their French teacher, he’d retire to his room and do whatever pretty blonde Brits do in the afternoon, they’d meet unexpectedly at the same time in the late evening to have a final cup of tea, and then they’d go to bed and do it all over again.

It was difficult for her to admit, but Y/N was falling very quickly for Draco. It was gross, and wrong, and manipulative, and completely against the code of conduct for exchange families, but she couldn’t help but spend her days fantasizing about how his gold-spun hair would feel as she ran her fingers through it or how gently she’d trace her fingers around the tattoo on the soft flesh of his forearm…

But Y/N knew those thoughts weren’t right. And they would go away. Eventually.

“How’s it going?” Sylvia asked, effectively snapping her out of her thoughts. The Art History sub told them to go into independent study, whatever that meant. Y/N was not very good at either of those words.

“Pretty good. I can’t believe it’s been 3 weeks already,” she said. “It’s gonna be Halloween before we know it.”

“I can’t fucking waitttt,” said Sylvia. “I’m gonna be Wednesday Addams.”

“Again?”

“What else would I be? I get a new high collared black dress every year. It’d be a shame if it were going to go to waste. What are you gonna be?”

“One of the thousands of students finishing their UChicago ED app hours before the deadline.”

“You’re kidding. Can’t you just finish it the day before?”

“Where’s the fun in that? And, plus, I don’t have an idea as cool as Wednesday.”

Sylvia smirked as she opened up her planner and began to jot down something. “How’s Draco doing? I haven’t seen much of him lately. It seems like he never hangs out with us at break anymore.”

“Yeah, I ended up getting him connected with the Physics teacher. He’s getting tutored now. He thinks it’s all bullshit, but I don’t want to be the reason he doesn’t get into a good school.”

“Is that all you care about?” She smiled at Y/N. “Lizzy was telling me that you’re interested in him.”

“First of all, keep your voice down. Second of all, I’m not supposed to be, so I’m not.” Y/N hoped that the edge in her voice was convincing enough.

Her friend raised her eyebrows so dramatically that her glasses nearly slipped off her nose. “Y/N, who’s gonna hear about it. You guys are both going away at the end of the year anyways, and I’m sure he’s not going to be writing to his dear mum about his love life. If it’s consensual, there’s nothing wrong with it. I think it’d be good for both of you.”

“I see that, but let’s put me in his shoes right now.” Y/N shuffled in her seat and clasped her hands. “I’m rich. I’m British. I’m very hot. My parents throw extravagant balls for me and I kiss pretty girls that say water like ‘wota’. I’ve spent my life in silk and I only drink the finest teas. My family is so important that I had to be shipped off halfway across the world just to be safe. And now my incredibly expensive life has reached a peak because I’m sleeping with a random girl in Ohio that has run approximately 4 stop signs since I’ve met her.”

“You’re sleeping with Draco?”

Y/N turned to see Lauren, a wide-eyed, obnoxious, but well meaning girl staring at her. She heard Sylvia stifle a laugh behind her. “No. I was kidding.” The smile that she followed with was awkward and showed way too many teeth.

“Oh, okay,” said Lauren. “Do you know if he likes anyone?”

Sylvia’s smirk widened.

“No, actually, he’s a pretty private guy.” Y/N sent her another tense smile, and Lauren finally turned away.

“Jealous, huh?”

“Shut up, Vie. You know I wouldn’t go for him. Even if I had the chance.”

She just raised an eyebrow and smiled.

The afternoon brought its own set of struggles. Their French teacher had blown up at another student who had been caught cheating on their last test, and it was all Y/N could do but hold back her snickers until they were out in the parking lot.

“I can’t believe they still managed to conjugate their cheat sheet wrong.” Y/N was gasping for breath as she unlocked the car door and threw her stuff inside. Draco was watching from the passenger seat, his lips in a soft upturn. “Can you imagine? Oh my god.”

He just shook his head and turned to look out the window, but she could see the smile slowly stretching across his face. “Ridiculous. You could totally tell Monsieur enjoyed it, too. I bet he gets off on making kids like Joey cry.”

“I had a teacher like that,” he started. “He was a Poti-a chemistry teacher.”

“Oh? Did he ever attack you?”

“No. He liked me. Family friends and all.”

“Ah. I almost forgot that your family was rich and influential. Thanks for the reminder.” She reached across and lightly punched his shoulder. His smile, though still remaining, seemed to shrink. “Hey, what’s that in your bag?”

Y/N motioned to the cardstock peeking out of his nondescript black backpack that always seemed to fit more than it was meant to. She could make out a few words written in what looked like a bright red sharpie--something that did not exactly scream Draco Malfoy aesthetic.

He froze up. “Er. It’s from Heather. I think she called it a Homecoming ask?”

Y/N’s throat dried up to the point that no words would willingly make the climb from her diaphragm to her tongue; instead, she settled for giving him a little nod and what she hoped was a convincing smile.

“I told her I’d think about it,” he continued. “I remember you saying that the school dances sucked. So I let her know that I wasn’t sure yet.”

She nodded again. “Super cool. You can do whatever you want, though. You can come with my group if you’d like, but you’re welcome to go with Heather’s.”

“What? So you aren’t coming with me if I go with Heather?”

“Fuck no, dude. I don’t hate her, but I would way prefer to spend a night with my friends than some girl from my French class that only talks to me because she thinks you’re hot.”

The expression Draco made reminded Y/N that he would never get comfortable with American girls calling him hot. “Ok. Have you found a date yet?”

“Chad from Econ asked me yesterday.”

“Is that why my seat was covered in glitter?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you going with him?” Draco’s hand was clenched tight in a fist in his lap.

“I think so,” said Y/N, steeling herself and deciding to just go for it. “But, of course, if you asked me I would say no to Chad. Just out of principle. I am supposed to be your tour guide, after all.”

The only parts of him moving were the few stray wisps of his hair being pushed around by the AC going.

“But that’d be weird. I’d only expect you to take that up if you really didn’t want to go to the dance itself.” She swallowed and pulled out onto the main street, putting distance between them and the school. He was silent for a few moments. The quiet, normally comfortable between them, was stifling and strange. She pretended to ignore the way he was fiddling with his cuffs.

“Yeah, it could be,” was all he said before slumping against the window and closing his eyes.

Mrs. Y/L/N was sitting at the head of the coffee table when the two arrived home, carding between a stack of letters in front of her. The mug of something--probably that new decaf blend she hadn’t stopped raving about--was sitting lopsided on a coaster, just barely about to topple off the edge. She looked like she hadn’t moved for hours, the novel she had been previously reading sat face down to preserve the spot next to her no doubt lukewarm drink.

“Hey Mom,” Y/N said as she set her keys down. “Anything good?”

She looked up, her expression morphing from startled to happy. “Other than the college brochures? Nothing, except...hm, what’s this?”

Her well manicured hand pulled at a crimson envelope, with sloping writing that seemed to shimmer in the light.

To the Y/L/N Family, it read. The loopiness of the writing looked like it wiggled at the ends, but that had to be a trick of the light. It was dim in the kitchen during afternoons, after all.

“It looks cool, open it u--”

“No!”

Draco’s voice had never sounded so loud as it did then as he lunged across the kitchen, snatching it out of her mother’s hand and clutching it to his chest. “Er, it’s for me. I recognize the handwriting.”

“Cool, see you later,” said Y/N. She was up the stairs and slamming her door before either of her housemates could say another word. After the horrible embarrassment that was technically Draco’s rejection, she needed to be alone.

Even burying her face into her pillow and squeezing her eyes shut didn’t keep the scenes from their car ride at bay. She had been so stupid, so stupid. Why did she even think he wanted that? He was her brother, after all. Oh god, does he think we’re all from Alabama or something?

She wallowed for a few more mournful minutes before deciding that she had to pick herself up and handle it like an adult. After all, she was going to be 18 in just a few months. There was no excuse for her to act like a child anymore. And, plus, it wasn’t like she couldn’t just play this off as a pity invite. Yes,that’s what she’d frame this as if he ever asked her about it again. She felt bad for him was all it was.

Once satisfied with her internal dialogue, she rolled out of bed and made for the foyer where her bag was still on the table. She’d first walk on Legos barefoot before she had to let a stupid boy--especially one that didn’t know how to turn on their shower and had to ask for her help every time--come between her and her 4.0. Never.

Her thoughts were cut short, however, when she heard a new sound from his side of the hallway. She froze, listening closely.

Draco was crying.

#draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy #draco #draco x you #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco lucius malfoy #draco x oc #draco malfoy x oc

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atlafan · 5 years ago

Text

Take it Slow - Part Fifteen

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

(This part is loooong fam, but I promise it delivers. Fluff and smut.)

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve Part Thirteen Part Fourteen

Masterpost

You told all your friends about your upcoming weekend with Harry. Niall was just as excited for you. You didn’t bother telling your mom, and you certainly haven’t told your siblings. You still hadn’t updated your Facebook status. You found yourself using social media less and less the more you hung out with Harry.

You didn’t want to pack too much, but you also wanted to have enough options with you depending on the weather, Harry had been really busy these last couple of weeks. Everyone was trying to get in Fall photoshoots while the leaves were changing. You decide to pull out your small carry-on bag with wheels.

One night after work you went to a lingerie store to pick out something cute to wear. You found a silk, short night gown. It was blush pink with black lace over where your breasts would sit. You pack that first. You pull out some black booties and a couple different pairs of skinny jeans. You decide on a pair of leggings for the drive, you’d be going up Friday afternoon.

Next you had to tackle your toiletries. You had a bag for makeup, a bag for facial wash and moisturizer, and your travel body wash. Once you were satisfied with everything, you left it all near your door, so you could grab everything easily.

You leave work around 3PM to get back to your apartment to change. Niall wished you safe travels. You weren’t sure what was going to happen this weekend. You still weren’t ready to have sex with Harry, but you felt like you needed to give him more. You knew he wanted to use his hands more by the way he would grab at you. Would it be so bad if he fingered you? Your therapy has been helping a lot. Dr. Mara has helped put you back at ease. Jake can’t hurt you ever again. This was Harry, your Harry, who treats you like an absolute princess.

While you’re changing into your leggings, you hear the rustling of your door. Harry walks in with a beanie on. You trot over to him, and wrap your arms around his neck. He kisses you and smiles.

“I’m so excited Harry.” You squeak.

“Me too, I feel terrible I’ve been so busy.”

“It’s okay, it’s nice that you get so much extra work.”

He grabs your bags and brings them down to his car. It would be a little over a two hour drive up to New Hampshire. He let you pick the music. You put an RnB playlist on from 2014. You told him these were some of your favorite songs your sophomore year of college. Once in a while one of you would shout that you loved a certain song, or that you forgot it existed. Eventually you switched to some other playlists you had. You made a playlist with a bunch of songs you would listen to with your mom on long car drives. It had a mix on Bon Jovi, Journey, Barry Manalow, Gary Pucket, Eddie Money, and the Righteous Brothers. Harry was surprised you liked any of that type of music.

“How do you know all of these songs?”

“Well, my mom used to take us on a bunch of road trips and long car rides. She had these two huge CD cases in the car. She would let us pick which ones we wanted to listen to, and she would turn the volume like all the way up. We would just jam out and sing at the top of our lungs.” Shakin’ by Eddie Money comes on next. “Shit, I love this song, mind if I turn it up?”

“Go for it.”

You turn it up, and start singing along. Harry has never heard you really sing before. You didn’t have the greatest voice in the world, but you still sounded good. You could sing on key and in tune. You had sung this song enough times to know how to sing it right. Harry smiled while you sang, stealing glances when he could.

You made pretty good time to the inn. Harry only lets you carry in one of the small bags, while he carried the rest. He goes up to the check in counter, and you take the two room keys. You’re up on the second floor. As you walk in you’re in awe of how beautiful the room is. You put your bag on the floor and flop onto the bed. Harry laughs, but follows your lead.

“This bed is sooo comfy.” You sigh. “What time is it babe?”

“Just about six. We could just order room service tonight so we can relax. Go check out the bathroom, there’s a little surprise.”

You get up, and go into the large en suite. There’s a giant Jacuzzi tub that is begging to be filled. You walk back out to Harry who has a cunning grin on his face.

“Good thing I brought a bathing suit.” You wink at him.

“You don’t need a bathing suit to wear in a tub.” He wraps his arms around your waist.

“I brought a cute bathing suit, I intend to wear it.”

You unpack a bunch of your things while Harry orders room service. Twenty minutes later, a bottle of wine, two salads, and a side of fries are delivered to your room. The food is delicious, and the wine is perfect for an after dinner treat.

“Alright, let’s see that bathing suit.” Harry says while you pull your hair up into a messy bun.

“Let’s see yours.” You raise an eyebrow at him.

You go into the bathroom and change into a blue string bikini. It had a cheeky bottom, and the top just covered your breasts enough. You rarely wore it, but knew it would drive him wild. You turn the bath on to fill it up, and open the door to peak out. Your eyes grow wide when you see Harry wearing a pair of short yellow bottoms. You cough to get his attention, he whips around to look at you.

“Holy shit.”

“Told you it was cute.” You say, sauntering towards him.

“Do you wear this a lot?”

“God no, it’s way too revealing, this is a special bathing suit.” You look down at his shorts. “Yours is very cute.” He scoffs at you.

“C’mon, let’s not let those jets go to waste.” You grab the wine and your glasses.

You both get in and sigh immediately. The jets feel incredible. At first you’re sitting across from him, sipping on your wine.

“I’m so glad we did this, a perfect way to spend a long weekend.” You say.

“Yeah, it’s nice to get away once in a while. If you could go on any holiday what would it be?”

“Well, I usually go to Florida to visit with my Nannie. She has a house on the west coast, in this little community. There’s a pool and a rec center. Sometimes I’ll go with her to her jazzercise class, it’s a lot of fun. Honestly, it’s my happy place.”

“You’re really close with her, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” You want to change the subject. You’re not ready to dive in about your relationship with your grandparents, in fear you may cry. “But I suppose for like a real vacation, I love getting to go to Aruba. I’ve been twice. Oh! I went to Israel my senior year of college for a birthright trip, I’m desperate to go back there.”

“Wow, Israel, that’s incredible.”

“My sister and I went with a group, it was amazing. Honestly, my ideal vacation is just somewhere warm. I love going to the beach and getting to be lazy. I’m not into like the backpacking across a bunch of different countries thing. I bet you’ve been all over Europe.”

“Sort of. We lived hours outside of London growing up, and I never went until I was like sixteen. We didn’t have a lot of money, and going there was something the like rich kids did on the weekends. I like going to the beach too.”

“You definitely tan well, you were practically golden when you came back from New Mexico.”

“How nice of you to notice.” He takes a sip of his wine. “You’re too far away, c’mere.” You giggle and go over to him, straddling his legs so you can sit in his lap. “Much better.” You press your chest against his so he can feel you.

“So, what did you go to Aruba for?”

“Hm?”

“You mentioned you’ve been there a couple times? Was it a cruise or something?”

“Oh, no…my grandparents have a time share there. I got to go the first time as a sweet sixteen type thing. It was the most relaxing trip, but I’m always relaxed with them. The second time I went was last April with my mom and Nannie. It was the first time she had been back since I went.”

“Why’s that?” Your eyes droop, your lips form into a frown. “Sorry, I’m being nosey.”

“No, it’s okay. Um, it’s just hard to talk about is all.” You sigh. “Not something I want to dive into this weekend.”

“Alright…sorry again.” He smiles at you.

You run your wet hands through his hair while he presses his hands into your lower back. You lean down and brush your lips against his.

“You’re so handsome.” You scrunch his hair in your hands. “And your hair is always so soft.” You feel the wine hitting you more now. You lean down and kiss him, him happily taking your bottom lip into his mouth to suck and bite on. “Harry?”

“Mm?” He says, working his mouth to your jaw to plant kisses on.

“I really wanna cuddle tonight, can we do that? Just hold each other?” He looks up at you with his green eyes. His pupils are dilated.

“Of course, love. We can do whatever ya want.” You sigh happily, and set yourself so your back is to his chest.

The two of you continue to talk, and share travel stories. You learned that Harry loved when he could go to Jamaica, and he had spent one of his winter breaks in Japan all by himself. You told him more about your week in Israel, and how you’ve always wanted to go to Greece. When the water started to cool, and you both started to get pruney, you decided it was time to get out of the tub.

Harry changed into a pair of grey sweatpants, while you rummaged in your suitcase. You only brought the sexy nightgown for bed. You wanted to wait until tomorrow night to show it to him.

“Um, Harry?”

“Yeah babe?”

“Could I borrow a t-shirt for bed?” He smirks and hands you the one he had on earlier.

“Hope you don’t mind it bein’ used.”

“Not at all.” It smelled just like him, how could you mind? You wiggle on a pair of cotton panties, and climb onto the bed with him. “Why are hotel beds always so comfy?”

“I think it’s a scheme to make people come back.” He says with a half smile, and a yawn. He must be tired from the long drive. “I’m gonna turn the light off.”

“Sounds good.”

You turn over, pull is arm with you, and he wraps it around you. He nuzzles into your hair and lets out a sigh. You wiggle your butt to adjust to his shape while his legs tangle up with yours. You felt small yet safe in his arms. His body was so much bigger than yours, but it didn’t over power you. He was always so gentle and caring. You hear his light snores in your ear, and it makes you smile. He was just as comfortable with you as you were with him.

The next morning, your eyes flutter open, almost forgetting where you slept. You were laying on your back with Harry’s head nestled into your shoulder. You detach yourself from him so you can go have a shower. You needed to wash your hair today. You grab your toiletry bag, and head into the giant shower that had a waterfall head.

Harry woke up to the sound of your blow dryer, confused that you weren’t still in the bed with him. He felt sweaty, having fallen asleep in his sweatpants. He gets out of bed, and pears through the crack in the door, lightly opening it further. Your towel is wrapped securely around you, and your head is flipped over so you can properly dry the back of your hair. You flip it back over, and for a second Harry sees you in slow motion, like a movie star or something. You don’t notice him in the doorway. Your eyebrows are furrowed as you use your brush to smooth out your hair. Running your hands through, you’re satisfied with how dry you were able to get, and you turn the dryer off. You jump when you see him.

“Jesus, you scared me.” You giggle.

“Sorry ‘bout that, you just looked cute doin’ your hair.” He walks into the bathroom, and kisses you on your cheek. He grabs his tooth brush and brushes his teeth. “Was thinkin’ today before we head to the spa we could walk the property. Get some shots of the trees.”

“That would be great! What time is our appointment?”

“Not til this afternoon, plenty of time.”

You grab a pair of light washed skinny jeans that have a few rips in them, and put them on. Next you decide on a light green sweater. You plug your curling iron in, and put some makeup on while you wait for it to heat up.

“How come you’re doin’ all that?” Harry asks, sliding his black jeans up his legs.

“Well, if you’re gonna take pictures I wanna look nice, just in case I happen to be in one.” You smile at him, beginning to add curls to your ends. “Besides, you’re getting an insider look at my morning routine. Usually you’re dead asleep while I’m doing this.”

“Very true.” Harry puts on a black sweater and his beanie. He slings his camera over his torso.

“Okay, all done.” You slip on your booties, and take his hand. “I heard this place has really good breakfast.”

You settle on a waffle and some eggs for breakfast. Harry had some oatmeal with fruit in it. You both enjoyed a nice cup of coffee before heading outside. The inn sat on fifteen acres of land. Not the biggest, but not the smallest either. There were a ton of trails and paths marked out for people to walk on. The foliage was at its peak, Harry watched you gaze at the different colors on the trees that surrounded you. You hear him snap a photo.

“Harry.” You look at him rolling your eyes.

“You said you wanted your picture taken.” He laughed. “And a candid one is way better than some staged photo.” He gestures for you to look. “See, look at how beautiful you are.” You blush and kiss him on the cheek.

He continues to snap photos of the trees and leaves on your walk. You use your phone to take pictures as well. You take a couple of him while he took pictures of other things. You attempted to take a selfie, but he just took a photo of you instead with his camera.

“I want to be able to post these later.”

“You’ll be able to. I brought my computer so I can load the SD card right in.”

“Lemme take some pictures with your camera.” He takes it off himself and hands it to you. You fidget with some of the controls until everything’s set how you like it. “Go stand over there, the lighting is perfect.” He does as you say. He sticks his hands in his pockets and looks right into the lens. “Jesus, Harry, you look like a model.” You snap a picture. “Now, could you smile for me?” He laughs while his cheeks go red at both of your statements. You snap one while he laughs.

“There’s a timer on that, I could prop it up so we can take a picture together.” He says walking back over to you.

“Or we could take a selfie.”

“But then we won’t get the full effect of the background.” Another couple walks by and sees you two struggle to figure out your photo.

“Would you two like a picture?” The woman asks.

“That would be great.” You go to hand her your phone, but Harry hands her his.

“Mine has a bit of a better camera, love.”

“True.”

You both stand together between two large trees. He hooks an arm around you, and you snake one of your around his back. Your other hand is pressed to his chest. You both smile.

“Okay, ready?” The woman asks. You see her tap the phone a couple of times, and she moves around to get a couple different angles. You both start laughing, which makes for even better pictures. “Alright, that should give you enough variety.” She hands Harry back his phone.

“Thank you so much!” You say as the woman and the man she’s with walk away. “Don’t put that in your pocket, I wanna see how they came out.” Harry rolls his eyes playfully and hands you his phone. “Oh! These are so cute, she did a great job. Oo, I like this one of us laughing. That is going on insta for sure.”

“Insta?” He mimics your accent. You realize now how young you must sound when you say stuff like that.

“Yes, insta. That alright with you?”

“Sure, show me off all you want.” He winks at you.

Between the two of you, you must have taken well over a hundred pictures, but the trails were just too beautiful. You were in awe of Harry, basically watching the master at work. You both go up to your room to change into comfier clothes before your massage date.

“Oh my god!” You say looking at your phone with a big smile. Harry comes out of the bathroom and rushes over to you.

“What?!”

“Sorry, just, Sarah and Niall changed their Facebook statuses!” You practically shove your phone in his face. “That is so exciting!” You love the status and say congratulations with a heart emoji. You realize then that you still hadn’t changed your status. “Maybe tomorrow when I post some pictures I’ll finally change mine. That’ll give people some context of who I’m with.” You smile at him.

“Sure.” He shrugs his shoulders. You had to think back to the date of which he actually asked you to be his girlfriend. It was either the middle or end of September.

“Are you okay with that? I don’t have to post anything to Facebook.”

“Yeah, no, it’s fine. I thought you already changed your status is all, like over a month ago.”

“I haven’t really been on Facebook, or any social media for a while. It just slipped my mind.”

“Oh.”

“That came out wrong. What I meant was-“

“This is exactly why I got off Facebook in the first place. All these little societal rules make things so complicated. I know you’re my girlfriend, but for some reason, I need like everyone to know.” He groans. “I don’t want anyone to think you’re available, (y/n). I could reactivate my account so you could tag me in the post.”

“Harry, you don’t have to do that.” He was sensitive, he tried to hold it back as best he could, but he was your sensitive boy, and his feelings were clearly hurt.

“When we get back from the massage, we can look at all the pictures, and you can pick which ones you want to post, then I’ll airdrop them to you, and I’ll reactivate my account.”

“Why did you deactivate it in the first place?”

“I just thought it was unprofessional, but to be fair I used to post a lot of stupid shit on there. Besides, it could help me grow my freelancing more.” He sighs. “I just don’t want anyone to think they can have you, and I know how possessive that sounds, but it’s how I feel.” You put a hand on his cheek and he leans into it.

“It’s not possessive, I get it. I’m all yours, Harry. No one else’s.” He kisses you tenderly, just for a moment.

“We better get down to the spa. Our massages our first, then our nails.” You perk up.

“I thought we were just getting the massages.”

“I thought this would be a nice treat, it was all part of a package.”

A woman who works at the spa gives you each a robe and some sandals. You’re called into the couple’s room where two women are waiting for you. You told Harry to request that women give the massages because you didn’t like the idea of a man touching you that way that wasn’t him. They give you a moment to disrobe and get onto the massage tables. The music is relaxing and the room smelled like lavender. The second you feel the hot oil hit your body, your muscles immediately relax. It had been ages since you had done so much self-care like this.

The woman kneads into you, and you feel every knot in your back come undone. You just about fall asleep on the comfy bed until you feel hot rocks placed along your spine. They feel incredible, and you can’t help but smile at the fact that Harry asked for this specifically. After a few minutes of that, you’re told to flip onto your back. The woman places a clip in your hair so she doesn’t get it oily while she rubs your neck and shoulders. You feel like you could melt into the table, and only hope that Harry is feeling the same.

The hour is up before you know it. You’re told to both take your time, and to come out when you feel ready. You rub your eyes, and take the clip out of your hair while you slowly sit up. Your eyes grow wide when you look over at Harry. His chest is shiny with oil, he looks over at you and you blush.

“How ya feelin’, love?”

“Mm, really good.” He hands you your robe. You feel wobbly when you get up, and use him for balance.

You both walk out, and are lead to where your pedicures are. Your feet sink into the warm bubbly water, feeling relaxed once again. You pick out a really dark blue for your toes, and tell the woman you’ll decide on your manicure later. Harry picks out a peach color for his toes, and it makes you smile. He holds your hand during the pedicure, rubbing his thumb on you once in a while. You lean your head back and close your eyes. You feel yourself drifting off when he nudges you.

“Babe, time for the manicure.” You yawn and stretch.

“Alright.”

You both walk over to the seats at the manicure tables. You decide on two different colors. You always like the way white nails look, and you decide on the dark blue as well. You take a page out of Harry’s book, and ask to have the colors painted on every other nail. Harry goes for the same peach that’s on his toes and black. He asks to just have his thumbs and forefingers painted black, and the rest peach.

You’re very happy with how your nails came out, and you see that Harry is too. You both go to change back into your clothes, and return the robes and sandals. Harry gives you a piggyback ride back up to your room as you feel too tired to walk. He rests you gently on the bed.

“What time is it?”

“Only four.” He coos, lying next to you.

“Quick nap before dinner? I can barely keep my eyes open.”

“Sure, I’ll set an alarm to wake us in like forty-five minutes.”

“Perfect.”

You fall asleep only a second after. You find yourself dreaming about a forest. You can hear every crunch of every leaf you step on. You walk up to a tent and go inside. You see a beautiful bed only with white blankets and pillows with rose petals all over it. You look in a mirror and find yourself to only be wear a t-shirt, Harry’s t-shirt. He appears suddenly, taking your hand in his. His other hand slips into your panties. You don’t say anything you simply watch as his fingers rub against you. Your chest rises and falls quickly from his touch. Just as he’s about to curl a finger up inside you, you’re jolted awake. The dream fading away.

Harry had woken up about twenty minutes into the nap. He took the opportunity to have some alone time in the bathroom. He chuckled at himself when he saw that you had left a little bottle of pooperie near the toilet. He laid back down next you when he was done, and noticed your face was scrunched up, and your mouth was parted. You were breathing quickly and beads of sweat were starting to form at your brow line. Usually, you slept pretty peacefully. When you started grunting, he figured you were having a bad dream or something, so he shook your shoulder.

Your eyes burst open as you try to catch your breath, you look at Harry who has a concerned look on his face.

“Alright, love?”

“Um, yeah, why?”

“Looked like you were havin’ a bad dream. You were breathin’ heavy and makin’ all this noise.” Your face flushed. You couldn’t tell him you were basically having a sex dream about him. Actually, it’s something he probably would like to hear, but you’re far too embarrassed.

“Oh.”

“What were you dreamin’ about?”

“I, um, can’t remember.” You sit up and run your hands through your hair. “I’m starving.”

“Probably because we forgot to eat lunch.”

“Well, let’s get ready for dinner then.” You smile. You go to the dress you hung up last night, and take it into the bathroom with you.

Harry puts on some khakis and a dress shirt while you slip on your little black dress. He beams at you when you walk out.

“You wore that on our first date.” He gets up and wraps his arms around your waist.

“You remember?” You giggle, knowing he would.

“Course, how could I forget how good you looked?” He gives your bum a little tap. “Let’s head down.” He walks in front of you, and you can’t help but notice how great his butt looks in those khakis. You walk by him quickly, giving him a little pinch, and get into the hallway before he can do anything. “Oi, there’ll be none of that before dinner.”

“Oh, so after dinner I can pinch your butt as much as I want? Good to know.” You wink at him.

The restaurant attached to the inn is breathtaking, you were both thankful you brought nice clothes to wear. Harry pulled your chair out for you like he always did, once you were brought to a table. You each ordered a cocktail, you a vodka-tonic, and him a gin and tonic. Bread was brought over, and you practically attacked it the second you could.

“What do you think you’re gonna get?” He asks you, furrowing his brows at the menu.

“Hmm, I’m not sure yet.” You had a big night planned for him, and you didn’t want to risk anything upsetting your stomach. “Maybe this pasta dish?” You point to it and show him. “Looks like you can get it with black bean noodles if you want.”

“Oh, that looks good, maybe I’ll get that too.”

You each order once the waitress comes back. Midway through the meal, she brings you more drinks, which was perfect because you were starting to feel nervous.

“Love, how ‘bout a dessert tonight?” It was something you rarely did, but since he offered you didn’t want to decline.

“See something you like?” You ask innocently. He gives you a sultry look, and you cough to shake it off. “Oh, look they have a plate of assorted fruits with chocolate drizzled on it.” Normally you would just pig out and get a sundae or a brownie with ice cream, but you figured the dairy would bother you.

“That sounds perfect.” The waitress bring the dessert over quickly, and Harry tells her to just charge the meal to the room. You roll your eyes full well knowing he’s not going to let you pay for anything. “Mm, good choice. Although, I wish I could feed this to you like that other time.” You blush. It’s sweet that he’s been bringing up such nice memories.

You’re absolutely stuffed, you both are. You don’t want to dive into anything with him yet.

“Harry, can we look at the pictures?”

“Sure!” He grabs his laptop once you’re back in your room. You both sit on the small loveseat.

“These are incredible, god you’re so good.” He smiles at you and you press your nose to his for second.

“Lemme see the ones you took on your phone.” You show him a couple. “You have quite the eye yourself. Here, let me airdrop the ones you like to you so you can post them or do whatever you like with them.” You see him open his browser to Facebook.

“Harry, it’s really okay…”

“I want to, plus like I said, it could help with the freelancing.” You watch him log in, your jaw nearly hitting the floor.

“Holy shit, your hair was so long!” He smirks at you.

“Yeah, I grew it out for nearly two years. You like it?”

“Not a lot of people can pull that off, but it suits you. Although, I won’t lie, I love the length you have it at now.” You run a hand through it.

“Me too. Doesn’t get in my way as much when I’m out shootin’. Could ya send me the one you took of me takin’ a picture, I think I’d like to make that my profile picture.” Your heart could burst. You text it to him quick, and he opens his iMessages so you can save it. Before he reactivates it, he goes through his friends list and deletes a whole mess of people. He updates a bunch of his information, and adds a link to his professional Instagram. “There, all cleaned up.” He reactivates the account and sends you a request. You accept immediately.

You create a new album to put all of the wonderful pictures into, and tag him in the ones he’s in. Then you go to change your Facebook status.

“This profile picture is so cute, where were you?”

“Oh! Yikes, I should really change that. It was from my birthday party over the summer. Would it be cheesy to change it to this one of us?” You point to the picture of the one the woman took for you. “The one of us smiling, not the one laughing.”

“I don’t think it’s cheesy at all.”

You change your picture, and then, finally, go to change your status. You back track the date to read September, making him smile. You request him in the post, and he accepts, thus updating both of your statuses. Between adding the pictures, changing your profile picture, and updating your status, you get an influx of notifications. Both Sarah and Rachel leave comments, and you see a liked notification from Kate. Niall leaves a comment as well, just a wink emoji, but it makes you smile. A bunch of people like and comment on your profile picture.

“Sarah and Rachel both just friend requested me.” He looks at you.

“Is that weird for you?”

“Guess not.” He accepts both.

“Shit.” Your siblings liked your status.

“What?”

“My siblings are liking and now commenting, wonderful.” You roll your eyes.

“What’s wrong with them knowin’?”

“Nothing. They just always find a way to treat me like a baby.”

“Well, isn’t that their job as older siblings?”

“Does Gemma ever leave embarrassing comments about having changed your diapers? I had to block my oldest sister from like half of my posts. She’s the reason my insta is private.”

“You got me there, Gem was too close in age with me to help out with diapers.”

“Okay, I am putting this thing on do not disturb before one of them calls me.” You get up and put your phone on the side table next to the bed. You’re feeling less bloated, and very close to him. You grab your bag and go into the bathroom. “Just gonna change into something more comfortable.”

Harry untucks his dress shirt from his khakis. He scrolls through the countless comments on his own Facebook. Many friends happy to see his return to the online world. He had wanted to unzip your dress for you, and watch it fall to your feet, to see what underwear set you might have worn. He didn’t want to push you though. You were having such a nice weekend together.

You take out the nightgown and stare at it. It really was cute with the black lace over the blush pink, and you knew it would hug you tight where you wanted it to. You slip out of your dress, and go into your bag for a black lace pair of cheeky panties. You wanted to be as fresh as possible. You slip the short gown over your head, and adjust your breasts in the lace cups. You could just faintly make out your piercings that you knew he loved so much. It was a little tight around your butt and thighs, but that was the look you were going for. You open the bathroom door as quietly as you can so he won’t notice you. You creep up behind him, and cover his eyes with your hands. He smirks and closes his laptop, setting it on the coffee table.

“What are you doin’?”

“Nothing, just have a little something for you. Can you stand up without opening your eyes for me?”

“Mhm.” He stands up, and lets you guide him to you so he’s facing you. “Can I open now?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck.” He whispers as his eyes pop out of his head. “I mean, wow, no fuck, you look fucking amazing.”

“Really? You like it?” He walks around you to get a good look, and comes back face to face.

“I love it. You got this for me?”

“Mhm.” You nod your head. He moves to touch you, but you back away. His face falls slightly. “I’m still not ready for, well, you know. But, I think I’m ready for these.” You take his hands in yours and kiss his fingers.

Harry is sweating. You look amazing, he can’t figure out where to look afraid he’ll miss even a second of your beauty. What he really wants to do is stick his fingers into your mouth for you to suck on, but he’s not about to scare you off. Instead, he leans in to kiss you. Your drop his hands and put yours right through his hair. His hands travel down to your hips, and his fingers press into you harshly. They travel down to the backs of your thighs so he can pick you up. You wrap your legs around his waist, and he carries you over to the bed. He stands between your legs while you unbutton his shirt. He undoes his buckle and lets his pants drop to the floor. He nearly rips the t-shirt he was wearing off. He takes your face in his hands and sticks his tongue in your mouth. You suck on it and taste the mint from the gum he had chewed after dinner.

You skootch back on the bed, bringing him with you. You feel your head hit the pillow, and his hands go to your breasts while he straddles you. You let out a small moan when his mouth travels to your neck and down to your chest. He takes the piercing in your right breast through his teeth, careful not to tangle it in the lace. He bites down on your nipple, causing you to arch up into him. He looks down at you.

“What is it?” You say, almost in a whisper.

“I can’t decide if I want to leave this on or off. You look so fuckin’ sexy, but I wanna be able to see your body at the same time.”

“Here.” You lift your back a bit, and slide the straps down, bringing your arms through, you tug the top down just a bit, letting your breasts go free. “Meet ya in the middle.” He gazes down at your large breasts, and dips his head back down.

Harry takes as much of your left breast as he can into his mouth. Licking circles around your hard nipple. He sucks on you while kneading its twin. You put an arm over your mouth to help stifle your moans, you were in a hotel after all. He pushes the bottom of your gown up to your hips, revealing your lace panties, leaving a smirk on his face.

“These new too?”

“Maybe.” You take a deep breath, and spread your legs apart for him, only a little. He scoots down a bit to get between your legs.

“(y/n), if at any moment it gets too intense, please tell me to stop. I don’t want you doing something just because you know I want it.”

“I will, Harry. Don’t worry, I want this too.” You say, leaning up on your elbows so you can look at him properly.

Harry starts by pushing your legs a letting farther apart. Next, he brings his thumb to your clit, and rubs you slowly through the lace material. You know you’re already wet, that’s a given any time he sucks on your breasts. He dips his lips down to your right thigh, kissing you closer and closer to your center. He brings his mouth to where you’re dripping, and kisses you through the material while still rubbing you with his thumb. You let out a small groan at his teasing. He stops kissing you, and slides his thumb slowly down to where his lips just were, pressing lightly into your warmth.

“Is this okay, baby?” You nod your head yes. You can feel sweat forming on your forehead. “I need you to use your words.”

“Yes, yes it’s okay.” You muster out.

“I’m going to take these off now, alright?”

“Alright.”

You lift your hips slightly, as he tugs the panties down your legs, tossing them onto the floor. He dips his head back down between your legs. What he does is familiar, and feels amazing. He flattens his tongue against your clit, and drags it up and down slowly, then making circles around it. He starts sucking and nibbling on you.

“That feels so good.” You say through greeted teeth.

He smirks, looking up at you, as his tongue moves down to your folds. He licks you all over, and sticks his tongue inside you. Your hips lift to meet him closer, your hands diving into his curls. His hand moves up to your clit, his thumb rubbing furiously on you as he licks and sucks. You feel hot all over. Is he really going to make you come already?

“Harry, Harry, I’m going to-“ He rubs you even faster. “Shit!” You come undone all over his tongue. Your chest is heaving. You make eye contact with him as he sits up to wipe his mouth. “Wh, why did you?”

“I wanted to make sure you were nice and wet f’me.”

He takes his middle finger into his mouth, and sucks on it. If you had more courage, you would have sucked on it for him. But you were nervous as fuck. This was the first time you were going to let someone up inside you in over a year. You watch him take his finger out of his mouth, and he smiles at you.

“Ready baby?”

“Mhm.”

He leans down to kiss you, taking your bottom lip into house mouth. His lips were swollen from sucking on you. You feel his hand brush over you, and you flinch. He looks at you, but you give him a nod to assure you’re alright. At first, his wet finger just lightly grazes over your slit, moving up and down. This wasn’t so bad.

“Need ya to open up for me a little more.” You take a deep breath, and spread your legs for him. You have a hand on his shoulder, and the other in his hair. His head goes into your neck as he slowly slides his middle finger into you.

At first, you squeeze completely around him, not letting him move. Your breathing is quick and you feel slightly scared at the sensation. He picks his head up a little so he can whisper into your year.

“It’s me baby, just me. I’m not gonna hurt you.” Your grip loosens around him a little as you take a deep breath. “I’m gonna move a little now.”

He slowly brings his finger in and out of you, just to loosen you up a bit. You were ridiculously tight. It was a major turn on for him, but he didn’t want to say it out loud because you were only this tight because you were afraid to let someone in. He wouldn’t be able to get more than one finger in tonight, but he was okay with that. That’s not really what it was about. You felt amazing around his finger, and it was turning him on the way you would loosen and then tighten around him. He continued his slow motions, making you more and more wet. It was starting to feel good the more you relaxed. He curled his finger up in a “comer here” motion inside you, causing you to moan.

“Ohhh my god.” You say arching your back in pleasure.

“M’gonna use my mouth at the same time now.”

“Yup, okay.” Your chest is moving up and down fast. You can’t believe how good this feels.

Harry adjust so his mouth is back down on your clit, his middle finger pumping and out of you. He’s picked up the pace, only a little. The curling motion becoming more apparent. His dick was so hard it was starting to ache, but he tried to ignore it. He just wanted to focus on you, and make you feel good. His tongue made quick flicks up and down on your clit, while his finger pumped faster. You feel your stomach start to tighten.

“Harry, Harry!” You moan his name over and over between gasps. You put your arm back over your mouth and bite down on yourself. Your other hand grasping at his hair, and yanking hard.

The vibrations from Harry’s groans fucking send you.

“I’m gonna ohhhhh ahhhhh…” You come, you come so hard. Harder than he has ever made you come before. Your face and chest is drenched with sweat, and he continues to suck on you and pump slowly while you ride out your high. Your back came fully off the mattress when you arched from the pleasure. Tears started to roll down your cheeks.

Harry slowly takes his finger from you, and sucks it clean. You’re in absolute awe of him. He truly loves the taste of you. You were sweet to him. He looks down and notices your tears. He cups your face in his hands and searches your eyes for answers.

“Shit, are, are you okay? You came pretty hard, I thought it felt good-“ You yank him by the back of his neck and crash your mouth to his, forcing your tongue inside to meet his. You put your hands on his cheeks and pull away.

“That was the greatest orgasm I have ever had.” You say with a scratchy throat. He kisses you again. “Please, take this thing off me.” You lift up so he can pull the gown all the way, revealing your entire naked body. You take his shoulders and pin him to bed, straddling him in the process.

“What, um, what are you doing?” He has woken something up inside you that has been dormant for a long time. You remember how you used to be before. You remember how sexy you used to feel in bed with a guy.

“I’m going to take this.” You say, palming him through his boxers. “And suck you dry.” You feel him twitch in your hand. “You’ve been so good, so patient tonight, letting me feel good first. But now it’s your turn. Gotta get rid of these pesky things first though.”

#take it slow #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles y/n #harry styles smut fi #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles y/n fic #this is so long im sorry #i knew i was gonna cut it before she did him and i was considering breaking this in half #but i didnt wanna make yall wait for this moment

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mikasaessucasaa · 3 years ago

Text

Title: Why do I love you, who doesn’t love me

Summary: Before Peter and Michelle, there was Peter and Gwen, and Michelle had never been jealous of anyone the way she was jealous of Peter.

Michelle and Peter find comfort in each other after the death of the woman they loved

A/N: Title from I Can’t Make You Love Me by KINDA BLUE & Hwa Sa

PART 1

Gwen is the most amazing person that Michelle has ever met and will ever meet. She exudes all that is good in the world. Michelle will never have that kind of goodness in her, will never be as bright and smart, will never be petite and blonde and unawkwardly beautiful. She hates her. She wants to be her. She loves her.

In short, Michelle thought the sun came out of Gwen’s ass.

But there were two problems with Michelle loving Gwen.

The first is that Gwen only thought of her as a friend.

This was made most obvious when Gwen accidentally walked in on Felicia fucking her within an inch of her life with her fingers in a bathroom at a random house party.

It was the first party of their senior year of college, and she had just met Felicia, who was cooler and older and crashing the party to see some friends.

Felicia and Michelle were both more than a little drunk, but Felicia made her feel wanted, feel worthy, with the way that she swallowed in her face and body with her eyes, the way that she kissed like she was drowning and Michelle was air. And when she saw the danger in Felicia’s eyes, it was thrilling.

“MJ!” Gwen had screamed when she opened the door looking for her. She slammed her eyes shut and turned abruptly into Peter’s chest who was too slow (and maybe too dumb) to think of anything but keep staring, his face turning an ugly shade of purple.

And Michelle never came so hard.

When she came to, Felicia was tidying Michelle up, and kissing her goodbye. “See you later, kitty.”

“What the hell Jones, we’ve been looking for you for the last thirty minutes.” Peter hissed, unable to meet her eyes, but she knew he looked, saw as she came, by the red on his face that wouldn’t fade. “Gwen’s been worried sick.”

Her eyes snap to Gwen who looked a little ill, probably from too much alcohol, but maybe because she saw too much of Michelle.

“It’s okay, MJ. I was just worried. Felicia has some nasty rumors around her.” Michelle did too, and she never did anything to deserve them. She started to feel nauseous too. “I just wanted to make sure you were safe.”

“I’m fine. Felicia’s like really cool. No need to be such a clam jammer,” she said, but she can’t look them in the eyes. The experience is mortifying and all sorts of heartbreaking.

Later, Felicia would tell her that she had some real issues that she should get fixed.

“You’re fucked up Jones,” Felicia said between drags of her blunt before she passed it onto Michelle.

Michelle took too big of a drag in an effort to move on from this conversation, hoping to get too high to think about this, and started coughing. Felicia looked at her like she knew what she was doing, and she probably did, but she leaned forward from her side of the couch and started making out with Michelle anyways.

Felicia basically taught Michelle about her sexuality. She helped her grow out of her unrelenting awkwardness that she had through her childhood and puberty.

Even though they both had deadbeat dads Felicia somehow made it out of life on top. So Michelle did her best to mimic her, her confidence and bravado, the way she carried herself into a room and the way that everyone stared. It didn’t feel quite right in her skin, but it was better than the worthless, unlovable person she was in high school.

But Felicia was one to talk. So what if she’s in love with her best friend who was straight as an arrow? Michelle knew for a fact that Felicia was a kleptomaniac. And despite her airs, Michelle knew the real Felicia was just as broken as she was. It’s why they’ve stayed with each other so long even though they didn’t love each other. It was better to pretend than to be alone, and she was happy not to be alone with someone as awesome as Felicia.

The second problem was Peter.

From her perspective, Gwen would always be too good for anyone, but especially so with Peter. Peter was lame, rude, and unfortunately reminded her of all the things she hated about herself.

Every negative thing she thought about herself, he emanated with confidence.

She had major trust issues because of her deadbeat dad (he doesn’t know this about her, why would he?). He had major trust issues because everyone around him seemed to die, his parents, his uncle, it was a lot (Peter doesn’t need to tell her because everyone at Midtown knew). She was raised by her aunt. He was raised by his aunt. She was always out late, partying with Felicia. He was always out late doing god knows what.

He was awkward and gangly, and so was she. She thanks whatever higher power there is that she outgrew that, but Peter stayed awkward and gangly even as he filled out in adulthood.

But no matter how flaky and shady Peter was, he was undeniably good. The same kind of good Gwen was. The same kind of good Michelle would never be. You could see it in the way that he smiled, the way that he was selfless to people even if it was unearned, except to her. She could never do that with her natural inclination to distrust, without her feeling fake, without her feeling like someone would take advantage of it, of her.

And thus, Michelle never stood a chance, even if Gwen liked girls like her.

But she’s an idiot.

So when their senior comes and passes by, and all three of them are somehow struggling to find an apartment they can afford with their meager entry level jobs (Michelle doesn't even have that), and they drunkenly come up with the idea that they should all live together, she agrees.

Felicia dips somewhere in the middle of it. They were each other’s favorite hookups when Michelle was in college, but two fucked up people does not make a whole normal person. Besides, Felicia was always too big for the city.

And she loves Gwen, she really does. But she can’t stand Peter. Can’t stand that she might look at him and he might reflect her and be better.

Or maybe it’s the fact that they’re both disgusting as hell when Gwen has to go to London for business trips.

Michelle’s happy that Gwen has a decent, stable job, unlike her and Peter, but she resents her for making them fend for themselves. She’s only gone for a week, and the apartment is a disaster.

There are random articles of clothing everywhere, and she and Peter awkwardly wear the same size and on multiple occasions have accidentally worn each other’s clothes. Between the two of them, they can’t afford much except for the same white t-shirts and hoodies, and his occasional nerdy t-shirts. Gwen deserves better than Peter’s broke ass, but Michelle can’t say she’s any better, and Michelle hates that she even dresses like him.

She comes home and immediately smells something offensive in their mess of an apartment. Dear god, she hopes a rat didn’t freaking die underneath the pile of clothes that for some reason litter the living room. This would never happen if Gwen was home. All she had to do was smile prettily at the both of them, and softly shame them for their bad habits, and they would pick up their messes right away. Gwen has them perfectly wrapped around her cute little fingers.

“Peter!” Michelle yells. It’s four in the afternoon, and she just finished a lunch shift at the diner down the street. She’s exhausted, and she needs to nap in order to get ready for her bottle girl gig at a club in Meatpacking (it’s incredibly demeaning, misogynistic work but it pays significantly more than any other job she wants to get, and she’s got rent to pay).

Peter walks out of the room he shares with Gwen in only his boxers, his rat’s nest of hair sticking up everywhere. It’s unnerving how comfortable he feels in their shared apartment. It’s one thing to feel comfortable with your long-term girlfriend, but did he need to be so comfortable with his sworn nemesis? And he’s never said as much, but she can tell by the way he glared at her all of the time, like now.

She knows for a fact that he tries extra hard to look decent for Gwen. Everything he does is decent for Gwen, and never for Michelle. It doesn’t really bother her because she’s the same. She could care less about anyone else except for Gwen.

“What?” he grumbles as he’s rubbing his stomach, and she can’t help but notice his insanely defined abs — seriously when does he even go to work out? — or the happy trail that leads down, down.

Ugh Michelle, get a grip. It’s definitely been too long since she’s gotten laid if she’s thinking about Peter of all people. And besides, no one should be able to think about sex when it smells this bad in their apartment.

“What is that smell?” she hisses.

He takes a big sniff, and flinches back, only now realizing what she was talking about. The panicked look on his face indicates that he also has no idea.

So she sets down her bag and forgets about her damn nap and helps Peter find the offending smell. They make it to their tiny kitchen, and god it smells so horrible, she might pass out. Something definitely died, and if it’s a rat, then for once maybe she’ll be thankful that Peter’s around.

They find a plastic bag on the counter next to the fridge, and Michelle glares at Peter to open it.

“Why me?” he gripes.

“That is definitely not my grocery bag.”

“It’s not mine either.”

“Then it must be Gwen’s, and as Gwen’s boyfriend then you should definitely deal with it for her.” And she loves Gwen, she would do anything for Gwen. But Gwen’s not even around, and Michelle does not get any relationship benefits to justify dealing with this shit.

Peter tentatively walks to the counter, and Michelle steps back, unable to flee due to her curiosity despite every nerve in her telling her to run. What the hell could cause that smell?

He opens the bag, and Michelle nearly retches on their kitchen floor.

What the fuck.

“Oh gross!” Peter cries out, pinching his nose with one hand, and holding the plastic bag away from him with the other. “Gwen must have forgotten to put away the fish she bought before she left. It’s fucking rotten.”

She gags. This is why she’s vegetarian. “God, don’t tell me that. Throw that shit away! Oh god, the trash shoot is not far enough.” They were right next to it. “Find a dumpster and set it on fire or something nearby!”

Peter’s absolutely disgusted with his task, but he listens like the good boyfriend he is, gets quickly dressed, and throws the bag away.

When he comes back, Michelle has finished bleaching the countertops and spraying the apartment with Febreze. She would have had Peter do it, but she couldn’t stand the lingering smell a second longer.

She plopped down on the couch and covered her face with her hands. The apartment smells like rotten fish, bleach, and Febreze, and it’s absolutely nauseating.

“Want to get pizza?” Peter asks, plopping down next to her.

Without lifting her hands from her face, she asks, “How can you even think of eating right now? It still smells so gross.”

Peter shrugs, “Not here obviously, but isn’t your next shift starting soon?”

Peter may absolutely hate her, but he’s never made a comment about her night-time gig, even when Gwen made concerned statements that were more condescending than helpful. He can even be kind to his nemesis.

She's hungry, and she does have to head down to the club to help set up soon. So she gets dressed in a fitted black dress. It’s cheap, short, and shows all too much skin, but it gets the job done, literally. She puts on a faux-leather jacket, but she knows she still looks like a hooker. But Peter doesn’t even once look at her the way that other people look at her, and it’s nice that he can pretend she doesn’t stand out when they go to the 99 cent pizza place next to their apartment.

She hates him.

#spideychelle #i can't help myself #angst #MCD obviously #happy ending sometime #minor Michelle x Felica #minor Peter x Gwen #slow burn #one sided Michelle x Gwen

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notalwaysthevillian · 4 years ago

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A Different Side of Hogwarts

Warnings: Siblings picking on each other, swearing, anxiety

Word Count: ~1.7k

Pairings: Platonic LAMP at the moment, Pre-Romantic Reston

Masterlist

Chapter 2

“Um, Roman, are you sure you know where you’re going?” Rose asked as they walked through the streets of London.

“Yeah!” Roman’s voice echoed along the street. He was quick to lower it to a whisper. “We go to the Leaky Cauldron and tap the bricks in the back alley. Logan put it all in the letter in invisible ink.”

A look of confusion crossed over Henry’s face. “I thought you couldn’t use...you know...outside of school?”

“He used lemon juice, Dad. Trust me, Logan’s not one to break any kind of rule.”

Spotting the sign for the Leaky Cauldron, Roman grinned and raced forward. As soon as he entered, he saw Logan, who looked like he was arguing with Remy.

“If they don’t get here soo-oh, hey there you are.” Remy flashed a smile. “Logan has been waiting for you.”

“I worried that you wouldn’t be able to follow my instructions.”

With a huff, Roman crossed his arms. “I may not be a Ravenclaw but that doesn’t mean I’m dumb.”

“Apologies. I tend to compare Gryffindors to my brother.”

“Hey!”

Roman’s parents caught up, moving to stand behind him. His mother gave the Page brothers a friendly smile. “Hello. I’m Rose.”

“Logan. A pleasure to meet you.”

Roman held in an eye roll as Logan shook his father’s hand. “Can we go now?”

“Roman, manners!” Rose scolded.

A small sigh left Roman’s mouth. “Sorry Mom.”

“Hi, I’m Remy, and the squirt is right, we should get going. We’ve got lots of supplies to buy and we’re burning daylight.”

With those words, Remy headed to the alley behind the Leaky Cauldron, not looking back to see if anyone was following him. Logan sighed and gestured for Roman’s parents to go first, falling into step with Roman in the back.

By the time they got outside, Remy had already tapped the correct pattern on the bricks. Roman’s parents gaped as they watched the bricks pull back.

“Wow.” Rose said, eyes wide. “When we were here last year, we were...teleported here?”

“Oh, you Apparated. I’m surprised Headmaster Thomas brought you that way. Splinching can be quite painful, especially for Muggles.” Logan rattled off, oblivious to Rose and Henry’s growing looks of fear.

Roman elbowed him. “Lo, shush. Besides, Headmaster Thomas knows what he’s doing.”

“Well, um...I think it’s best if we wait in the tavern, honey.” Both of Roman’s parents looked out of their depth. “You have a list, and I’m sure these fine young men can help you out. Besides, you were looking for your other friends too, right?”

Roman gave them a nod. “Yep. I’ve gotta stop at Gringo - um, the bank first and exchange my money, but Patton and Virgil are probably waiting for us over there anyway.”

“That would be the smart place to meet up, as we all need to stop there.”

Roman’s parents gave him quick hugs before heading back into the Leaky Cauldron. He turned to Logan and Remy. “Let’s go.”

The boys reached their destination easily. Roman headed up to the exchange counter while Logan and Remy headed over to get some money out of their vault. He watched them disappear with a goblin, knowing it would be a bit before they came back.

“Ro!”

The call of his name was the only warning Roman got before he was tackle-hugged by a familiar face. He managed to steady the both of them, laughing as he wrapped his arms around his Hufflepuff pal.

“Hey Pat.”

“‘Sup, Ro?” Virgil asked as he walked over, avoiding the hug.

At least, until Patton gently pulled him into it.

When they all let go, Roman glanced around. “Is you-know-who here?”

“You mean Nana?” Virgil whispered, earning a nod. “No, she avoids Diagon Alley in the summer months. Something about ‘too many snot-nosed brats’.”

Virgil pitched his voice up ever so slightly, doing an impression of Nana. Patton burst out laughing immediately, Roman following immediately afterwards.

“Might I ask what you’re laughing about?”

Upon hearing his brother’s voice, Virgil shrank in on himself, taking a step closer to Patton. “It’s an inside joke.”

Devin grinned, his teeth seeming sharp in the dim lighting of the bank. “Oh? I’m sure Nana would love to know you have inside jokes with this...mudblood filth.”

“Oi! Fuck off, you little shit.”

The boys turned to see Remy and Logan walking back up. Remy shot Devin a look, silently daring him to say something else.

Instead, he just waved to Virgil before heading out of the double doors and joining back up with his parents.

“Let me know if he bugs you again on this trip, okay?” Remy said, his voice gentler than any of them had ever heard it before. “I might not be able to do much, but I can at least hang around until he fucks off.”

“Are you threatening my brother, Rem?”

Preston walked up, a single eyebrow raised. He stopped by Virgil, giving him a squeeze on the shoulder.

Remy simply grinned, tipping down his signature sunglasses. “Not this one. Besides, you and I both know Devin sucks.”

“He might, but he’s still my brother.”

Logan cleared his throat, stopping the argument in its tracks. “We’re going to look for books now, meet us at Fortescue's later.”

The four of them headed out, Virgil walking next to Logan while Patton and Roman ran up to look into the windows of the Owl Emporium.

“That was weird, right?” Virgil asked, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. “They were like...arguing, but it kind of seemed flirty.”

“Thank goodness you noticed too.” Logan glanced back over his shoulder, not seeing either of their brothers in the crowd. “I don’t think it’s anything though, Remy would flirt with a damp towel. It’s just his nature.”

A squeal caught their attention and they saw Patton pointing into the window. “They have Pygmy Puffs!!”

“That’s what that is? I thought it was a living puffball.”

“They do appear to look like that.” Logan said as he and Virgil caught up.

The four of them looked through the window, admiring the creatures in their own way. Roman and Patton were cooing over them, pointing out the ones they wanted. Logan simply peered through the window, locking eyes with a puff that was dark blue. Virgil stayed a little further back, startling when one jumped up and hit the window.

“They’re so cute.” Patton pressed his hand against the glass. “I wish I could get one.”

“Perhaps someone will get you one as a gift?” Logan suggested, before looking down at his list. “There aren’t really strict rules on pets at Hogwarts anymore - well, at least not for creatures who quite literally couldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Oh that would be amazing! It could sleep on my pillow, and V, you could cuddle it when you’re feeling bad!”

Biting back a smile, Logan flicked out the paper in his hand. “We should get back on track. There’s quite a few textbooks on the list, and I have a few I wanted to get for fun.”

“Books aren’t exactly my idea of fun.”

The face Roman made had the others laughing. Or, in Logan’s case, playfully rolling his eyes.

“You just haven’t found the right book yet.”

The four of them made their way to Blotts, with Logan trying to convince Roman that some books were worth reading in his spare time.

Leaving them to talk, Patton and Virgil peeled off to grab their own textbooks.

“What are you looking forward to the most this year, V?” Patton asked, straining himself to reach a book on the top shelf.

Reaching over him, Virgil snagged it and handed it over. “I’m not sure. Not having flying anymore will be nice.”

“But you got so much better!”

“Only because I didn’t want to be a splatter on the ground.”

A gasp fell from Patton’s mouth. “Leo never would’ve let that happen! Remember when I fell off?”

“Of course I do!” Virgil grabbed his last book and started walking to the check out. “I thought I was going to have a heart attack!”

When they reached the check out, they found Logan and Roman already waiting for them.

“How’d you beat us?”

“Magic.”

Rolling his eyes at Roman’s answer, Virgil turned to Logan.

“He’s correct. We asked Senior Blott, and he Accio’d the books up here for us.”

“You mean to tell me the two full-blooded wizards didn’t think of that?” A grin spread across Roman’s face.

Handing over his sickles, Virgil turned to his friend. “You don’t want to rely on magic all the time.”

Roman waved him off, before noticing that Patton was done. “Can we go to Quality Quidditch Supplies? I can try out for Quidditch this year and I was hoping to find a model for sale.”

“Why not just use the school brooms? They’re sufficient.”

Patton nodded, seconding Logan’s statement. “Yeah, Leo makes sure they’re upgraded every few years!”

“I know, but I really want my own. Eventually.”

Seeing Roman’s spirits fall, Virgil nudged him. “There’s always Christmas.”

After they spent some time at Quality Quidditch Supplies, and Roman decided to hold off, they headed over to Fortescue's.

Patton and Virgil opted to share a two-scoop sundae, choosing Felixis (a new banana flavor) and chocolate. Logan grabbed a single scoop dish of Crofter’s jam, while Roman moved through, looking at each individual flavor.

The other three sat down, joined after a few minutes by Roman, who’d settled on Moonlit Madness.

“Did you mean to order a children’s cone? If it’s a mix up, I’m sure they’d fix it.” Logan said, starting to lift his hand to call over a waitress.

Yanking Logan’s hand down, Roman shook his head. “It’s not a mistake. I didn’t want a lot, and - wait, is that Remy and Preston?”

Two heads whipped around to find their brothers sitting at a booth in the back, practically hidden from view. Logan groaned, seeing the agenda in Remy’s eyes.

“I think my brother is trying to seduce yours.”

Virgil simply groaned, a thunk sounding as he put his head on the table.

“Why?”

“I mean, your brother is pretty hot-”

Virgil lifted his head enough to peer at the Gryffindor. “Roman, I mean this in the nicest way possible. Shut. Up.”

Laughter rang out from Patton, sending them all into a giggle fest.

“Just 25 more days until we’re back!” Patton was practically vibrating in his seat. “I can’t wait.”

#adsoh #a different side of hogwarts #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides hogwarts au #sanders sides au #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #remy sanders #preston night

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demivampirew · 5 years ago

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So we meet again - part 2

Henry x Reader

Summary: A recent graduate recounters someone from her past with who things did not exactly ended up in great terms. She holds a grudge on him for that and still has unanswered questions about what happened.

This will have another part soon.

You can find part 1 in the Masterlist

Triggers: crying; cursing and drinking.

- Look who decided to re-joined human society! Have you finally broken your relationship with your boyfriend? - greeted you, Mark, as you approach the bar. - What boyfriend? -you asked confused - Book. - he joked and you rolled your eyes and grinned - Nope. I'm still working on it. But fortunately, everything is going great. I have a lot of material to cover yet, though. I'm just here because I needed a drink and some human interaction as well.- you replied winking. - My friend asked me to come and meet her here. She met a guy in this pub and wanted to introduce us. - Has cupid brought another couple together? - he questioned as he gave you a cold Guinness - Apparently. I mean, I'm the reason she's allowed to drink here, so I guess I play a part in their love story. - you smiled. - Which one of your friends is? The cute blonde one or the brunette? - The blonde one. The other one is Emma, the doctor. - Oh, so it's the college girl. The one that brags about being friends with you. -he added laughing. -Does she? - you were amused by that fact - Are you kidding? She always brings your name when she orders something. It seems that she wants everyone to know that she's friends with a graduate and the pub's owner's niece. That makes her feel exclusive. - he pointed out and you both laugh and then you started to drink your cold beer. - So, tell me, when is cupid going to get her piece of cake? - Nah, I don't care about relationships, at least not at the moment. I'm focusing on my book and later to seek for a job teaching in a university. Besides, with my luck, he's going to be either a liar or a cheater. - Isn't that the same thing? - Well, yeah... - you sighed.- I'm the worst at dating. - Maybe if you let me I could introduce you to someone. - You just want to steal my job as cupid. - you joked. - No, I'm fine, but thanks. - You let me know if you change your mind. And, here comes blondie. - he said pointing out with his head towards the entrance of the place. You turned around and saw your friend approach you, with a huge smile on her face. Y/N! - she exclaimed excited- I haven't seen you in months! I missed you so much! - she said as she hugged you. - Hi Tara. You look gorgeous! - you saluted her. It wasn't a lie, she always looked beautiful. She was younger than you; she was a junior in college and you were a senior. You met her when tutoring for a class that she needed to pass and then you became good friends. Even though she was a few years younger, she was mature for her age and she was one of the girls everyone turned around to look at. You, on the other hand, were pretty - like the girl next door kind of- but definitely not a femme fatale. She was the one who would wear dresses, skirts and whatever was trending at the moment, while you were the girl who loved jeans, leggings and t-shirts or plaid shirts. - I've been working on the book, as I told you when we chatted before; that's why I haven't had much time to get out and party. - It's great that now you can finally work on your book. You have been planning that since I met you. - Since before that, actually. - you said smiling - That makes me even happier! You deserved to do what you love and what you're amazing at it. - she assured you. - So, you wanted to introduce me to someone.- you reminded her, raising an eyebrow.- Where is he? - He was answering a phone call outside, he'll be here in a minute.- she explained. She started talking about how they met right in that place about a month ago, and how sweet and wonderful he was and more great things. Then you hear a deep male voice calling her name. A voice that you'd have to recognize everywhere. And you felt a lump forming in your throat and felt dizzy for a moment. Your luck was getting worse day by day. - Baby, come! - Tara invited him to join us. You could see in his face that he did not expect to see you either. - Let me introduce you to my friend, y/n. - she told him as she grabbed his arm and the looked back at you- Y/n, this is my boyfriend, Henry. - her smile couldn't be bigger. She was beyond happy. You, on the other hand, were dying inside. You wanted to run far away. What were you supposed to say? Should you mention to her that you knew him and why you did it? Has he ever talked about his past feelings for you with her? Probably not by name, but were you important enough for him to mention you as part of his past? Your brain was about to explode of how fast was working and that made you even dizzier. You gulped and try to speak when he interrupted you. - Hi, y/n, nice to meet you.- he said smiling and your world crashed into pieces. He pretended that he didn't know you. He probably had not to desire for her to know about your past friendship and the reason why it ended. You shook his hand without saying a word, just nodding. - I have to be honest, I did not only asked you to see you introduce you to him.- she said and looked at him excited- I asked to see you because, as a thank you for being the reason why we met, we wanted to invite you to a yacht trip in the Caribbean. You don't have to worry about money, its all taken care by this amazing guy. - she explained as she put her arms around him and smiling at him. On one hand, you were so happy to see her like that. On the other hand, you felt like if someone just dug a hand in your body and grabbed your heart and was trying to ripped it off. How was it possible that you had such crappy luck? Why did he continue to go to that pub? There were plenty of places in London where he could've gone, but no, he went to your uncle's pub. And also, there were tons of beautiful women out there, why did he have to meet her?- So what do you say? Would you join us? You have been working so hard, you deserve to have a break and enjoy yourself for a moment.- she prompted, smiling. - I'm sorry, I need to get this. - you said after taking your phone from your pocket and pretending to answer a call. You went to the back of the place and locked yourself in your godfather's office. You were out of breath. You pressed your back against the door and slide it until you were sitting on the floor, grabbing your knees with your arms and hiding your face in your thighs as you started to cry. Seeing him a few months ago made you realize that you still had feelings for him and that was the reason why it hurt you so bad the fact that he cut you out of his life without explanation. You thought about him constantly. And now you saw him again, happily in love with your friend, pretending you were a stranger to him. "Fuck my life," you thought. You decided to text her and excused yourself for going out again, explaining that your uncle asked you to do a work in his office that would take you so time. Tara said that was ok and she insisted on you thinking about the trip and to let her know your answer as soon as possible. A few moments later, you heard a knock on the door. You cleaned your face, you did not want your uncle or Mark to see you cry. You opened the door and saw Henry standing outside. He asked you for permission to get in and you allowed him to enter the room. After he closed the door to make sure no one heard you two talk, he turned around to face you and apologized. - I had no idea she was your friend. She said that a friend that worked there allowed her to hang here and I thought she meant Charlotte or Felicity - the other bartender that cover shifts when Mark and Charlotte couldn't go. If I'd have known she was your friend, I would have not asked her out.- he assured you. - Why did you still hang out here?- you said angrily - You know that I hang here. This is like a second home to me. Why do you still come here?! You have an entire freaking city to go for a drink, why did you have to come here?! - Because I was expecting to see you. - he admitted.- After our last encounter, I felt so bad that all I wanted to do was to apologize to you for everything, but I did not have your number. So I came here every chance I had, expecting to see you and then, one day, I met Tara and we started to see each other. - Well, good for you - you sarcastically said.- You might feel good about lying, but I don't. I'm not going on that trip, obviously, and I want her to know why. So will you tell her or should I do it? - you told him firmly and he sighed. He decided to tell her the truth about what happened between you two. The next day you received a message from Tara in which she apologized for having to cut her friendship with you. She appreciated you deeply, according to her words, but she simply could not be friends with someone that had a history with her boyfriend and she could not leave Henry. She insisted on the fact that she was truly sorry about it and that she felt terrible for having to make that choice. If you were mad at Henry before that, now you straight hated him. He did not just take himself away from you, but now he took other of your closest friends as well.

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #demivampirew

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beautifulletdownfics · 5 years ago

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Twenty Good Reasons :: Part Three

Hello! Welcome to the ‘Someday, Someday’ sequel! I hope you’ll enjoy your time here! Before you start, make sure you check out the Harry & Nina Chronology page to catch up on a few of the drabbles and novellas that slot in the gap between ‘Someday, Someday’ and ‘Twenty Good Reasons’. As always, please don’t be strangers, posting into the void is a terrifying thing! Love K x

We had three weeks at home together after getting engaged before Harry got an offer for a writing session in LA he just couldn’t refuse.

He’d been scribbling lyrics and melodies down for days, pulling me into the music room upstairs to play things for him on the piano more times than I could count. Even though he was more than capable of playing them himself after years of my teaching him, I humoured him because my favourite times with Harry was when we were making music together. His compositions were all muddled chord progressions and numerous melodies he could never settle on, but we sung our voices high together in that room, choosing between lyrics and working through possible harmonies. Over the years Harry really had formed himself into a gifted songwriter, and I was happy to just be invited into the process sometimes.

He came tearing into the kitchen one night when I was starting to poke about the fridge for what we could have for dinner. I listened while holding back a laugh as Harry bashed his elbow on the bench but still tried to enthusiastically wave his phone about while yapping out that Lenny Kravitz wanted to work with him.

“Years of keeping up a friendly rapport have finally paid off, Neens,” He was breathless, flinging his hair back over his head and blinking at me with wide eyes, “I mean, the man’s a legend.”

“He is,” I agreed, “Is it just one day?”

“Two days in his home studio,” Harry told me, grinning from ear to ear.

I raised my eyebrows, impressed, “That’a amazing! You’re totally gonna write a hit, aren’t you?”

Harry rolled his eyes at my affectionately and I was filled with pride at the blush I conjured on his cheeks, “Don’t jinx it, Neens.”

“So,” I said loudly, steering the conversation to practicality, “You’re going to LA for a bit?”

He picked up my mug of tea and took a long sip but tried to nod at the same time, “Yeah,” He spluttered, puckering his eyes together in an adorable look of confusion and betrayal at the drink. He deserted the tea. “It's sort of a last minute thing, I put out the feelers a few months ago and I think he's sort of am 'off the cuff' kinda guy. I'd have to get a flight tomorrow. Afternoon at the latest. I figured maybe I make a week of it, have a little beach holiday too?”

My heart sunk, I knew what was coming next but tried to distract him anyway, “You could definitely work on a tan,”

“I mean, I dunno,” Harry started, covering the base of his neck with a nervous hand, “Maybe … Maybe you could come too, make it a post engagement trip?”

I picked at the dirt underneath my fingernails, leaning back against the closed fridge door, “Harry, I mean—"

“—We’ll go out of LA once I’m finished with work. I’m not on tour, we won’t get bothered. Besides,” He’d walked forward and was pulling me out of my small stance, “You can have a few days to breathe before you start writing again, yeah?”

“I’ve had months to breathe, Harry,” I said quietly, “I need to actually start writing.”

“A change of environment might help.”

I sobered quickly, “I was going to head up to Blackpool for a few days, hang around Dad’s classes.”

Harry knew that wasn’t a concrete plan, he slipped his hands around the lowest part of my back and hoisted me up against his body, “We could both go up when we get back? I mean, we haven’t properly spent time with your family since we’ve been engaged, a couple of hours over dinner but that’s it. Come with me to LA, Nina.”

“Harry,” It felt like my chest was shaking everything was so tight, “Don’t make me the bad guy when I say no.”

“I’d never make you the bad guy,” Harry said, devastatingly sincere. “I just … I wish it was different. I wish you wanted to come. I wish you weren't scared.”

I looked away hoping the tears wouldn’t fall, a single one did, “It’s not fear … It’s …”

“Dread?” Harry offered, his right hand came up to the side of my face to have our eyes meet again, while his left hand took mine and rested it against his chest, “I don’t know how to help … I don't know what to do.”

I drew my features up in a small smile, “You go to LA, write something amazing and have a great time … Then you come home and I’ll be here.”

Harry’s fingers were playing with my engagement ring, a new habit of his, but it was the frown on his face that worried me, “Are you alright?”

“Alright?” I repeated back to him.

His eyes darted down to our joined hands, “I mean, we’ve been pretty much together non-stop for the past few weeks but I still,” His frown deepened, “I still get this yucky, sucking feeling of just … That I need to do more, that it’s not good enough you hole up in yourself when I even mentioning you traveling with me when I’m doing work stuff somewhere. Things are obviously still not okay … I’d really like to be able to bring you along with me, particularly when your writing at the moment is mobile.”

I couldn’t stop the deep sigh that came from me, “H.”

He wasn’t wrong. I had been commissioned by the orchestra to write another piece, this time to be used as something playable by the senior and junior orchestras together. My work in the past teaching at schools meant that I was able to pitch to the board and, miraculously, they gave me the opportunity to write another symphony for the LSO’s 50th Anniversary Showcase in eighteen months time. Ideas were hard to come by though, and I was struggling under what Harry had identified was similar to what his second album anxieties had been like.

“Nina,” He urged, letting me pull away from him and go to stand on the other side of the kitchen. Just the short walk gave me some time to think. “Neens, c’mon. What’s … What’s on your mind? Why … Just, what are you worried about?” He gave in. "And I don't just mean about LA, there's ... There's something else, you've been off all week and I know you’re struggling with your new symphony. Just, talk to me, babe.”

When I looked over to him I wanted to cry, he looked so concerned but so receptive like he was ready to take on anything I had to say, “I’m … Worried about some things, yeah. But I’m okay, Harry, really.”

“What are you worried about?” His question was direct, and had an edge to it that I knew meant he was ready to do whatever he had to do to rectify it.

“Harry, you don’t have to go all Alpha male on me—

—I’ll decide that, thank you,” He clipped, crossing his hands over his chest, frustration clear. “Just talk to me, Nina.”

“I’m worried about the future,” I said vaguely after a moment and a silent look between us.

Immediately, a look of horror came through Harry’s eyes and I watched him struggle to put his thoughts into words, “Not about getting married?”

“No,” I straightened and went back over to him, “No, Harry. No. Not that.”

Every single night in bed before we fell asleep we talked about our wedding, and being married, and what it would all be like—what we wanted it to be like. Nothing was set in stone and usually our sensible ideas were giggled away by Harry’s fantastical suggestions. It always just came back to both of us deciding weddings were generally too much fuss and we just wanted to get to the married bit.

“I’m worried about my career, about getting a job that I like in London if this symphony doesn’t happen soon enough … And ... And so I don't want to leave for LA right now," I fumbled out, hoping it would be enough to pacify him for now.

“That might not happen right away, Nina, going away for a few days won't ruin your career,” He looked more relaxed now, but still somehow upset on my behalf, “And you’ve got loads of time still, you only pitched a month ago! On an 18 month timeline you've got some breathing room, you don't have to have it finished as quickly this time.”

“It took me eighteen months last time,” I reasoned with him, sinking against his chest when he held out his arms for me. “I’m already behind.”

“I know I’m not the guy to talk about deadlines because I’ve never had a deadline on any of my albums, not like what you’re looking at anyway … But, Nina, you can do this. There is not an inch of me that doubts that. You’re too far in your head right now, we need to get you inspired.”

"I'm just not sure that it’s reasonable right now for me to take time off," I frowned and picked at the zipper of his jumper.

“Don’t think of it as time off then,” Harry was talking very sensibly and it was crushing me to talk my way around his very reasonable solutions. “A sea-change can help you think differently about things, that’s where inspiration comes from ... Unless there’s something else going on, which I’m starting to think is the case …”

"Something else?” I watched him cross his arms over his chest, his furrowed brows a sign of him trying to figure me out.

"Something else," He confirmed, "You're worried about writing … Or …”

I sighed, but not because Harry was prodding … Because I knew he shouldn’t have to.

I said everything in a rush, all at once, “I’ve started getting offers … And they’re not in London so obviously I’m turning them all down but it’s making me wonder if maybe this is the universe’s way of telling me I’m not a composer, that I should get back in my lane and take a chair in an orchestra again.”

There was silence for a short moment, I watched my feet, then my hands on his chest.

“First of all,” Harry said so eerily evenly it was jarring, “There is no question of whether you should be a composer or not, if it’s what you want to be doing right now that’s what you should be doing. You’re gifted enough to do whatever the hell you want to and be the best in the room at it.”

“Harry—”

He held up a hand and my insides clamped at seeing the anger behind his eyes, “Secondly, why would you ‘obviously’ turn down something that’s not in London.”

"Harry," I smiled softly, looking away from my hands and up into his eyes. I knew exactly why he was angry, years together had taught us both exactly where our brains jumped to and in my case, I knew exactly why Harry’s anger was ignited so instantly.

"No," He breathed, brows furrowed, "Why would you turn down a job that wasn’t in London?"

"I love you, Harry," I said simply, which only appeared to frustrate him further, ”You're ... You come home to London. I don't want to leave. Not now," I let out a breathy laugh, "Especially not now."

Harry walked to the other side of the kitchen and leant down against the bench facing away from me. There was a second where he turned back to look at me but before I could muster what to say he had turned away again.

"Nina," He growled, and the rage in his tone had me standing up straighter.

“We live in London, Harry! Of course I’m not taking something elsewhere,” I tried to reason but knew it wasn’t going to register with him. "And it's all hypothetical anyway! I've not taken anything!"

After a few awful, silent minutes of me just watching the blades and muscles of Harry's back move up and now with his breath he gradually turned around. His stance then looked relaxed, leaning back against the sink with his ankles crosses and arms folder neatly over.

"The worst part is I know you're not anywhere fucking close to kidding," I tried not to visibly shroud away from his words. "It's not hypothetical if you're getting offers—why the hell haven't you told me about them, by the way?"

"Harry," I tried with a croaking voice.

"No," He spoke over me, loudly, "No! Nina, just let me fucking think about what to say for a minute!"

"Okay," I started to turn around to leave the kitchen.

"No, don't go anywhere," He stepped forward with his hands out in front of him, and I halted instantly, sinking back into my previous position. "Just ... Just stay."

I thought about sorting through some of the letters and papers on the centre part of the bench, where junk seemed to accumulate, but Harry didn't turn around and something told me he needed a few moments of still. Still, he kept his eyes on me.

"Nina," His words were measured, and his eyes held mine as he spoke, "If you ever turned down something, or didn't give yourself the opportunity to audition or go somewhere because ..." He thought for another second and then spat out the next words like they left a bad taste in his mouth, "To be convenient for me I'd be ... I'll be so completely pissed at you. And I'd hate myself even more."

“H—

—You’ve worked too hard to do that, Nina! You're better than that. I’ll be fucking damned if I hold you back in anyway. Christ! The fact I’m in your head stopping you from taking opportunities … ”

"Okay," I took a deep breath, hating watching him spiral with his thoughts, "That may be true, but why can't I make that decision? Why can't I choose you, Harry?"

"Because you've already been doing that for the past four years!" He yelled, frustration evident in everything about him right now. "You've already had four years dating someone who could never guarantee he could actually be here when you need him. How long can someone put up with that, Nina? Waiting for someone to come back, waiting for them to call you back?"

"Harry ..."

"I told myself it was okay because while you were at London Philharmonic because you had to be based in a certain place anyway ... But now ... No," He said finally, "No, you're going to go wherever you want and it's my turn to be the supportive fiancé."

"Oh," I let out a little sarcastic laugh, "Because up until now you've been a completely unsupportive dick. Okay, Harry."

"Don't bate me, Nina."

"You did it yourself, Harry!" I implored, "As if the past four years have been some deep infliction on me. And that's just not true."

He shook his head and his eyes fell to his socked feet, "You're so used to it that it's normal," He said, "You don't even see it anymore. It's not normal, me going away for months, us spending so much of our time apart and missing each other."

"Maybe it's not normal for other people, but it's normal for us. It works for us. We choose it, Harry. Cause I'd rather that to not having you at all," My voice was small enough that he had to look up to read the words coming from my lips to properly decipher them but I knew he understood, "I get you, H. I get how performing makes you feel and I'd never take that away from you, or dictate how or when you do your job."

"Yeah," Harry's laugh was bitter, and that's when I knew this wasn't a fight that was going to be resolved here, "But apparently I'd do that to you, and without even wanting to, just by being here. Or not being here, I suppose," He laughed darkly and then walked out of the room.

******

The next morning I woke up to a kiss on my forehead, "Nina."

"What?" I sat up as soon as I opened my eyes and saw that he was crouching beside the bed, fully clothed with slicked back, wet hair. "I'm awake."

Harry smiled softly and ran his hand down my hair, "It's alright, wake up slowly. I'm not leaving yet."

I let out a long breath and let my eyes adjust to the room. Harry must've woken up and showered, then got about packing his bag for the next few days in LA. It sat by the door to our bedroom neatly, a hat and jacket resting carefully atop it. Just before we fell asleep last night he told me he was booked on an early morning flight, our argument still looming over us.

"Okay," I let out another breath with the word.

Harry picked up a mug off the bedside table I hadn't noticed until then, holding it out to me, the tea bag label hanging delicately against his index finger, ”Will you drive me?" He asked.

My shoulders sunk slightly as I took the drink, "Of course, H."

I always drove Harry to the airport. Without fail, even when his flights were at two in the morning. If we were at home and Harry was going away I drove him, and almost every other time, when it was going from one tour spot to another and I wasn't coming on with him, I at least went with him in his driven car. The only time recently I could recall he left alone was the night of my debut, when he woke me in the middle of the night and I barely had time to figure out what was happening, and when I woke up again naturally later in the morning all by myself all I could do was sit up in bed and cry because we didn't have a proper goodbye.

"Good, thank you," Harry's knees cracked as he stood and pressed another kiss to my forehead, "We probably have to be leaving in the next fifteen minutes. Here you go," He produced one of his old jumpers and dropped it onto the bed next to me, "I'm going to go put my stuff in the car."

"Alright," I said quietly, holding up the jumper to see which one it was and then slipping it over my head and around my shoulders.

I spent the next few minutes stumbling into the bathroom and using the toilet, splashing some cold water on my face and running my toothbrush roughly through my mouth. Eight minutes later I was half hopping into the kitchen slipping on my Nikes and trying to pull Harry's jumper further down my legging clad legs. He had been standing over the skin draining the last few mouthfuls from his mug when I made enough noise to alert him that I was up.

"Sorry I startled you," I ran my fingers along the top of the bench and eventually reached for a banana from the fruit bowl. "Ready?"

The sound of the ceramic mug hitting the side of the sink filled the kitchen rudely but Harry seemed unfazed by it, "Yeah, I am. Are you alright to drive?"

We took the familiar roads silently, which might have been comforting and peaceful if it wasn't for the sick feeling in my gut. A feeling of dread came over me at the possibility of Harry getting on a plane to America angry with me.

I got a park in the same multi-story carpark we always used, it was opposite the terminal and meant that we had however long together we wanted without being interrupted. Then Harry could walk across the footbridge over to the terminals and deal with any paparazzi on his own as he went in.

Harry got out of the car as soon as I turned it off and I stayed in my seat, resting my head back against the headrest just praying this wouldn't be it; silence. I shut my eyes but they immediately flew open when my door was opened for me.

Harry's eyes were red and the look behind them was distress, "I'm not leaving like this, Nina. Stop looking like I'm going to leave us like this. Cause there's no way I'm getting on a plane right now."

"Harry," I turning around in my seat and he easily settled between my legs. I reached out for the bottom of his shirt, "I'm sorry I—

—Hey,” He stopped me, frowning, "Nina, don't you dare. I'm the one who yelled, I lost my cool," Harry kept pointing to his chest, "That's never okay. Especially not when we're taking about something that's bothering one of us."

I slouched against the seat, waiting a beat and then looking back up at him, "Sucky night."

Harry brought a hand up to cup my cheek, "Yeah. I'm sorry I took my frustration out on you. And I'm sorry that was my reaction to how you feel."

"I'm sorry I pushed you," I said back.

"A lot of what I said was true though, Nina," He added solemnly, "You have a gift, Nina. An incredible gift that you've been working so hard for since you were a kid, years before I appeared, and I won't let it be that my career shits all over yours. I want you working in something you're passionate about that challenges you and makes you happy, and I couldn't give a flying fuck what country it's in. It makes no difference where I'm coming home to, as long as my beautiful wife is there I'll be happy."

"Harry," I tried to sniff them away but the tears fell anyway.

"I'm serious, Nina. We're in a position where we can afford to live anywhere we need to be."

"You're gonna miss your flight," I went to turn around as if looking towards the airport would convince him.

His hand pulled my face back around, "I'm not going until you tell me you know what I'm saying."

"I know," My eyes went anywhere but his.

"Neens," Harry leant all the way in and and I was forced to look at him, immediately I calmed, "I love you. And I want to hear about these offers you’re getting, okay? I’ll call you when I’m in the lounge and you can tell me about them as you drive home.”

I took in a deep breath, letting Harry’s words hit me square in the gut but in a good way, “Okay.”

He looked on at me for a moment more before his lips slowly turned up in a smile, “If there was one you wanted to take we’d get to learn a new city together. Get a cool place to live. Be all exotic to the locals.”

I snorted through a small laugh, “Harry, you are many things, but exotic isn’t one of them.”

“Hey!” He pointed a finger right at me defensively, “I can tan, can you tan, Nina?”

I leaned up quickly to sweetly kiss his nose, “You’re an idiot, I love you.”

His shoulders slumped when I didn’t argue back and he rolled his eyes as if he hated what I had just done, but his pink cheeks gave him away, “Neens.”

I grinned at him, “As much as I’d love to keep making you blush, you’re going to miss your flight.”

The backs of his hands went up to his warm cheeks and Harry’s eyes went wide, “I’m not blushing! I must be coming down with something …”

My hand wound around his neck to pull him in for a kiss, “You’re perfectly healthy, Harry. Gimme a kiss and then bugger off to LA, yeah?”

“I’m not buggering off,” He hummed happily, scooting me towards his body and pressing a warm kiss of his own to my lips, “Be safe, Neens. I love you.”

“Love you too,” I returned.

*******

I didn't go back to bed after the airport like I normally might. Instead, I returned home and spent a few hours behind the piano. Then I called Rodger.

Down the street from Rodger's work there was a sandwich deli whose window sign writing claimed the best lunches in London. He was already waiting out the front for me as I approached.

“Hey, Nina," He greeted brightly, slipping his phone into his pocket and reaching towards me for a hug. "You alright?"

I gave him a friendly kiss on the cheek and a tight squeeze,"Good. Good. How're you?"

"Great," He grinned, twisting a loose piece of hair around his pointer finger and then tucking it back behind his ear, "Was beginning to wonder when Harry and you were gonna finally start seeing other people. Having a good time there with that fiancé of yours?" He gave me a mischievous smile and then threw back his head and laughed when I blushed.

Rodger held open the door for me and I pinched his arm as I walked through, "Idiot."

We chatting freely while waiting in the line, and when we got to the register to pay for the sandwiches we had assembled I pushed Rodger's wallet away and pointed at table, "My shout," I said, "Because this is a business lunch."

Rodger looked confused for a moment but went to one of the only free tables to wait for me. When I sat down opposite him there was already a glass of water poured and waiting for me.

"Business lunch?" He asked while taking a big bite.

I picked at the crust of my turkey and Brie, "Yeah. I need some help and I think you're the best first person to get advice from."

"Okay ..." He eyed me curiously, "You know I'll do whatever I can for you. What's up?"

"I was ... I was sort of wondering if you had any contacts or people you know or ideas about kind of ... Anything that might help me get a job? I mean, more than just sessional gigs … In some area that suits me?” I tried looking hopeful but I wasn't sure I had convinced him.

"I thought you were writing your second masterpiece?"

"Say for the purposes of a fall back, then," I tried, pushing down my immediate frustration.

"And why on earth would you need a fall back?" His face wasn't giving anything away.

I chewed quickly, "Why does anyone need a fall back? In case I need it."

Rodger was frowning now, and a small part of me understood then that coming to him about this might have been a bad idea,"How's writing going, Nina?"

I took a deep breath in through my nose, "It's not. I don't know that I'll be able to do it, so I was hoping you'd be able to help with some contacts ... I've been getting offers for seats in orchestras but I was wondering if you might have anything more in teaching or mentoring ... Something where I'm still learning too."

His eyes narrowed at me, "What's going on? You don't need a contingency plan …”

I fumbled picking up my sandwich for a bite, “Nothing’s going on. I just—

—Sorry,” Rodger interrupted firmly, “Which fucking orchestras are approaching you? You’re very publicly in contract still, right?”

“I am, but playing is what I do best, it makes sense—

—They’re taking advantage, Nina,” Rodger said, “Not that you aren’t a thousand percent poachable as a player, but they want you because you’re great at playing … You can’t limit yourself to just that, that’s the whole reason writing for LSO is such an incredible opportunity! You’re building skills, not leaning on old ones.”

Years of knowing Rodger meant I knew better than to take terse words from him as completely rooted in his harsh delivery. He was being encouraging … In a roundabout way.

“You and Harry are infuriating,” I sighed finally.

Rodger laughed, "I'm well aware of that, don't you worry. Where are your offers?"

Harry had asked the same thing, in anger, the night before and in the heat of the moment it hadn't been answered. I paused for a moment on telling Rodger, unsure if this was really a conversation I should be having with Harry first.

"Berlin," I told him, feeling brave.

"Shit," Rodger said, his eyebrows raising. He put his sandwich down instead of taking the bite he was about to take, "Berlin?"

"Yeah. Amongst others."

"Not your dad?"

"No," I replied quickly. My dad had long been Music Director of the Chamber Orchestra of Europe, "No, he wouldn't."

Rodger nodded solemnly, "No, I don't suppose he would. Where else?”

I looked at my food and let out an inaudible sigh, having thought telling Rodger about Berlin would have been enough. The Berlin Philharmonic was well established as the premier orchestra in the world, and taking the call from them had been a cruel kind of happiness. Joining that orchestra had long been the top of my professional bucket list, but the offer felt sour under the circumstances and something I held in such a high regard my whole playing life suddenly lost some of its magical sheen.

“I got a call from Venice and one from Europe Youth, that—

—Do they still call you every six months?” Rodger asked, smiling at shared memories of me constantly being offered mentoring positions in the Europe Youth Orchestra that I was a member of as a teenager. Long had they been trying to get me over for a teaching period.

“They do,” I smiled back at him.

His face turned solemn, “Why haven’t you seriously considered any of them?”

“I don’t know if I should be trying something completely different?”

He narrowed his eyes slightly like he wasn't exactly sure what my words meant, “What does that mean?”

“What if ... What if I’m supposed to do something else?” I’d repeated myself and Rodger’s confusion didn’t move at all from his features.

“Nina,” He stated quietly, “You’ve worked harder than anyone I know for your whole life, if you need another break from it all that’s all you have to say.”

I started shaking my head, “I don’t need a break. I just ... I’m scared I’m pigeonholing myself.”

“I mean sorry if this comes across as insensitive but ... I don’t think being commissioned to write your second symphony is being pigeonholed, I think that’s being given another chance to impress. I think the fact you’ve written for the London Symphony and been asked to do it again is a huge compliment but I don’t think it’s striping you of any future opportunities.”

He was right.

I sighed, “I don’t know why I’m scared, but I am. And it’s making me itchy for seeing what else is out there.”

Rodger’s eyebrows raised slightly but he nodded, “Okay. I’ll have a poke around and let you know what I find.”

He didn’t have a very long lunch break, but Rodger stayed with me for a long as he could manage. After our serious chat about work, we laughed and reminisced and caught up on everything that had been going on for both of us. Harry and I still managed to see Rodger pretty frequently, but towards the end of writing for my debut performance I became a social hermit in order to get everything done. Rodger was the sort of friend that didn’t need to be seen weekly to still call close, I doubted that I would ever tire of his company, and the fact remained that he was one of the few people in my life who could push and challenge me.

We parted with the promise that Rodger would be in contact as soon as he had any job leads for me.

But I wasn’t expecting to hear from him as quickly as I did.

I spent the next morning compiling all my compositions and orchestrations together so that when it came to actually putting my name forward for things everything would be easy to find. Harry FaceTimed me to let me know he arrived in LA. In the afternoon I met up with Laykn to go shopping together for our Mum’s birthday.

So that evening, when I had barely been home for twenty minutes and my phone rang—the song echoing loudly through the house and I had to race downstairs to get it in time—I thought perhaps it would be Laykn, telling me he’d locked himself out of his room. Or that it might be Harry again for another quick chat, but it wasn’t.

“Rodg,” I tried to keep the hopeful questioning out of my voice, “You alright?”

“Yeah,” I could hear the smile in his voice. “Check your email, Nina.”

“My email …” I trailed off, not quite getting what he was talking about, “It’s eight in the evening, Rodger—”

“—I’m still at work,” He cut in, “Get your email up, I need to talk you through what I’ve sent you.”

I stumbled my way back upstairs to where my laptop was resting, already open, on top of the piano. I sat down on the piano stool and hit the page refresh.

The subject of the email read: New York Youth Symphony Orchestra, Assistant to the Director of Business

“Got it?” Rodger’s voice interrupted my speed reading of the first paragraph of what was inside the email. “It’s a broader role than just what’s in the title, my mate is the person they’re replacing. It's not a playing or even a music role at all really, it's a bit of business management and a bit of corporate affairs and he did a boat load of work with the board of directors ... Might just show you a different side to things?”

“It … It sounds interesting ..."

“Yeah? They’re having the first round of interviews tomorrow,” He told me, “But I’ve spoken to them and they’ll see you Thursday if you can get there … That’s when they’re meeting together to go over the applicants.”

“Rodg,” I stopped reading and looked at the ceiling, “Thursday is …”

“You’d need to get yourself on a plane tonight to make it. But can I just say one thing, Nina?”

"Go ahead," I held my breath, knowing Rodger wouldn't be holding back.

"It's below you, this job. You're worth more, your talent and skill is worth more than a position that they're not going to be utilised. If Harry lets you do this--

--Harry doesn't 'let' me do anything," I replied quickly.

"You know what I mean," Rodger refuses to let me get away with it, "You're a superstar, Nina, a once in a generation talent ... You need to give yourself a break. My advice would be go out into the world at let yourself be inspired. Holing yourself up at home bashing your head against the wall for ideas isn't going to get you anywhere. And neither will chasing other jobs.

******

There weren’t any flights.

I spent forty minutes trying to find them on my phone before I gave up on the tiny screen and moved back onto my laptop. I even resorted to calling the airline directly, still, I couldn’t find any flight that was soon enough to make the interview in New York on Thursday. Rodger was right, I would have to be on one tonight, tomorrow morning at the very latest.

Tears of frustration prickled behind my eyes, this whole opportunity hit me with such force I almost felt winded and now it was even more crushing to see it in front of me but not be able to physically get there.

I ran my fingers through my hair roughly, leaning over the kitchen bench on my elbows with the laptop open in front of me. My fingers blindly reached for my phone.

Harry’s personal number rang out the first time I called which was when the first tears started falling. It was the middle of the day in Los Angeles which I knew meant Harry would be working, but I didn’t know what Plan B could be at this stage other than calling Harry for help.

“Neens?”

“I’m so sorry,” I got out quickly, snuffling down the line messily, “I know you’re in the middle of writing.”

“It’s fine,” He dismissed, worry laced through his tone, “What’s going on?”

“I … I need your help…”

“It’s okay,” He interrupted gently, “Take a breath. It’s late for you, are you at home?”

I swallowed thickly, “Yeah, yeah I’m home. I’m okay. It’s stupid that I’m crying, sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, babe, breathe.”

“I’m worked up,” I let out a shaky breath, “It’s actually pretty … Pretty great news.”

“Well then,” Harry laughed, probably at my mood swing, “What is it then?”

“Rodger got me an interview for a job in New York,” I said it quickly, feeling as though the words weren’t quite about me yet. It was such a surreal thing to think about. “But I’ve got to be able to get there for it first.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I’ve just spent forty minutes on the phone and the British Airways website trying to get on a flight for tonight … Well, tomorrow morning now but I can’t. And I mean, the actual interviews or whatever are tomorrow New York time which is impossible for me to get to, but Rodger somehow convinced them to see me on Thursday instead which is fantastic in itself, but bloody useless if there are no flights and—”

“—Okay. Okay, alright,” Harry spoke loudly over the top of me, “I’m beginning to see what’s going on here.”

“Yeah,” I sniffed pathetically.

“You need a flight?” He began with, just to clarify the situation, “Did you try booking under my name?”

That sparked something in me, “What? You mean did I flap on about how Harry Styles is my boyfriend to the lady from British Air?”

“Fiancé,” Harry corrected.

“Fiancé,” I agreed quickly, “And no, Harry,” I tried to stay calm and not work myself up again over the way he seemed to be making fun of me right now, “I didn’t name drop when they said there weren’t any flights.”

I could hear the cocky smile in his voice, “So now you want me to call up and name drop to get you on a flight?”

I waited a beat, and then took in a sharp breath, “You know what? Okay … Don’t worry, I’ll talk to you later, Harry. Sorry for interrupting your session.”

I hung up on him.

I put my phone down and the frustrated tears were back.

If getting to the interview couldn’t happen, then I’d have to face the fact that this job wasn’t going to work out. Which was fine, it was the first one. Twenty-four hours ago I didn’t even know it existed so why was I getting so upset about it now?

Harry calling

I counted to four in my head before I reached over and slid my thumb across the screen to accept his call.

“Okay, so I’m a complete wanker,” He started with, sounding one hundred percent sincere. “Can you give me half an hour to call around and get you on a flight?”

“There aren’t any, Harry,” I told him, completely dejected.

“I’m getting you on a flight to New York, Neens.”

“Maybe this is a sign that I shouldn’t—”

“—Or it’s not a sign of anything and it’s the simple fact that you got considered for application at last minute so of course it’s tricky getting on a flight. No Negative Nancy, Nina,” Harry told me.

We were silent for a moment, “I’m freaking out, Harry.”

“We’ll talk through that in a moment … Neens, I’m gonna leave you for a bit, my work number is calling and it’ll be about your flights. I’ll call you back. Go have a hot shower and get into your PJs, yeah?”

“Thank you, Harry.”

“Absolutely not necessary,” He insisted, “I’ll call you back soon.”

********

A car came to pick me up in the morning for a flight out of Heathrow.

Because we had booked so late I didn’t have any flight itinerary, so once I was inside the airport I had to go up to the flights desk and give them my name. I would never get used to accepting the five star treatment of flying as a first class passenger, especially when Harry wasn’t with me. It all seemed like a whole lot of fuss over no one special. I understood the puzzled looks I was getting from other passengers, who only saw a comfortably dressed, plain looking girl flying to New York City. Without Harry standing beside me it was rare that anyone above the age of twenty knew who I was. Even with Harry standing with me, I was used to the curious looks.

I was a good flyer though, which was a bonus and something I was tremendously thankful for given my anxiety.

As a kid I’d developed the ability to sleep pretty much anywhere, and so generally that’s what I was able to spend my time in the air doing. In a perfect way, Harry was much the same.

This time though, I spent it reading and re-reading through sheets of music and brushing up on the work of the organisation I was interviewing with. Five hours in I conjured Harry’s relaxing presence and forced myself to watch a few episodes of ‘Friends’ and have something to eat.

He got me on a flight that landed pretty late on Wednesday night into JFK, but the bonus of that was that he was able to fly over from LA to meet me straight after his last day with Lenny. Harry told me to stay in the airport because if his flight wasn’t delayed at all, he wouldn’t only be twenty minutes behind me. That certainly took the stress out of the initial navigation once you’ve land in a new place.

As it turned out though, his flight was on time and mine had to taxi on the runway for almost a whole other hour after we landed in America. The pilot explained it was a busy time for flights this time of evening, and that, for whatever reason, there were four bays completely out of use for us.

Harry iMessaged me to say that he was waiting outside the gate for me, because it was late and there weren’t too many people around despite what I was lead to believe by my flight having to wait. The only people around where he was were coming off flights and all hurrying to get to the luggage carousels first. Harry only had a carry-on bag and so had no reason to keep going through until he had collected me as well.

“Enjoy your stay in New York, Ms. Styles,” The hostess, Angela, told me with a wide smile as the first class passengers were let off the plane first.

I blushed through her name for me for the final time, somehow knowing it was a deliberate move of Harry’s to have put my details as such. Whether by him directly saying it, or letting them deduce the information from him making the booking for me. For a seemingly meaningless thing, it filled me with a bubbly warmth to be attached to Harry through name, although I would definitely be bringing it up with him later.

But all I could do when I saw him standing off to the side was walk over to him and fall into his chest, “Hi.”

“Hello,” He chuckled, pressing three kissed to the crown of my head and wrapping his long arms around my waist, “Fancy seeing you here, hey?”

“Very fancy indeed,” I returned, “Was first class really necessary?

“Yes.”

I pinched at the skin just above the top of his jeans, “It wasn’t.”

He swayed our bodies together then, and bent down to press his face into the crook of my neck, “Hello, wonderful fiancé.”

It was then that the majority of the passengers on my flight started coming by where we were standing, so Harry picked up his bag and then settled his hand firmly in mine to start leading us in the right direction. He ducked his head as we walked, and I found myself listening out for whispers of his name from the lips of the people around us like was habit now.

Nobody inside the terminal pulled us up as we walked through the last bit, and it took the photographers who were always waiting outside a few moments to realise it was Harry Styles manoeuvring out of JFK and into a car parked waiting for us. We were ushered into a waiting car before anything exciting could take place.

“Are you hungry?” Harry was rummaging through his bag and pulled out his two phones, “We can stop for something if you want.”

“I just want to lie down flat somewhere,” I told him, eyes lingering on the crowd we were leaving behind.

“Not a problem,” He said to me, before he leant forward and instructed the driver to take us to the serviced apartment we had stayed at the last few times we were in New York. It was nice to feel like we had our own space, and not that we were cooped up in a hotel. It was also nice to not feel as though we had a huge ‘X’ marked on us for people to find Harry while he was here.

After a shower at the apartment I was expecting to come out of the bathroom to find Harry getting ready for bed, but the bedroom was empty. In just a sleep shirt I started making my way through the living space.

“Harry? If you’re taking all the sofa cushions out on the balcony again like last time I will actually murder you.”

“Kitchen,” He responded and I followed his voice there.

“What are you doing?” I walked up behind where he was leaning over the bench top writing, my palms scaled up and over his shoulders so his back came up against my chest. “Hmm?”

He let my hands wind around his tummy in a tight hug before he responded, “Just jotting down some last minute edits.”

“Another good writing day?” I asked, knowing the first day had been productive, and Harry had been hopeful the second would be even more so.

“So good,” He told me, moving to the side to sit down on a barstool so that I could move and stand between his legs, our faces almost at the same height, “Ended up with three songs, two demos recorded as well which I didn’t expect.”

I smiled and spoke softly to match, “That’s great, Harry. You’re happy with them?”

His green eyes found mine again, and the light danced off his irises, “Yeah, really happy. Just …”

“Completely petrified?” I guessed.

Harry nodded but his lips twitched happily, “Something like that ... But really we need to talk about you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah …” Harry let out a long breath, “What are we doing in New York, Nina?”

I dropped my hands onto the bench carefully, “What do you mean?”

“What’s the job?”

He was watching me with an unreadable but unrelenting expression on his face, and while it mightn’t have outwardly looked like it, I knew he was ready for war.

“It’s a bit of a different angle …”

“Don’t dance around it, Nina, it’s not a playing role, is it?”

I narrowed my eyes at him, “You’ve spoken to Rodger.”

“He’s your person when it comes to your career. If you don’t speak to your dad—I knew you hadn’t, by the way, there’s no way he’d let you do this—you go to Rodger when you need someone to say yes regardless. And you definitely don’t come to me when it’s anything to do with diminishing yourself because you know there’s no way in hell I’d ever condone that.”

“Seems like you’ve really got me figured out there.”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, on the cusp of anger, “I kind of do, Nina.”

“Let me guess,” I started, “If we did things your way, you’d be jetting us off to some island somewhere to get inspired by coconuts and bikinis? That’s not really how it works for me.”

“I’m going to overlook how offensive if is for you to imply my music is inspired by coconuts and bikinis,” Harry returned through a huff, “But yes, I would be suggesting you take the time to consider what you want to create and why, and then I’d be doing everything I possibly could to facilitate that.”

I hated the way my anger made me want to continue biting back, but I knew that Harry, as always, only came from a good place.

“Just … Please let me do this,” I said quietly, “I’m scared I won’t pull of this symphony and I just need to feel like the universe isn’t hanging on my doing so.”

Harry’s stance softened, “Neens, c’mere.”

I stepped into this arms and Harry he'd me tightly, his cologne and our washing detergent mixing into the comforting, clean smell I was used to. I didn’t know how to further explain myself, other than wanting to shed the feeling of being trapped by the potential to fail. I just wanted to show myself that my whole career wasn’t riding on the work I was struggling to get along with.

“They’d be mad not to offer you a job,” Harry said finally, giving my one last squeeze and kissing the crown of my head.

We drew apart slowly and I frowned at him, remembering something from earlier, “Did you tell the airline we were married? They called me ‘Ms. Styles’ every three minutes.”

Harry beamed, “They called you that, hey?”

I couldn't quite bring myself to role my eyes at him, but I got somewhere close to it, "You're ridiculous."

"I'm a romantic," He declared proudly, "And you love me."

"C'mon, come to bed with me," I stepped away from him but kept a tight grip on his hand.

"Young lady," He scoffed cheekily but stumbled up and followed me, "Are you propositioning me? I'm happily taken, my fiancé is ferocious and I fear she'd kick your arse."

"She'll kick yours if you don't shut up," I laughed back, pulling the collar of his shirt down so he was within kissing reach.

He waited a breath before catching my lips in his, stepping right into my body and pulling mine tightly against him as the kiss deepened and I lost the control over it. In one smooth movement his hands went underneath the bottom of my shirt and dragged it all the way up and over my head, and then his hands descended to my backside.

"You're frighteningly good at that," I breathed out, his lips against my neck as I fumbled to do the same with his shirt.

"You're pretty good about letting me practice," Harry said between kisses.

My feet felt the carpet of the bedroom then, and I took Harry's cues and let him lift me up onto the end of the bed. He easily slipped his trousers down and before he had even stepped out of them I was backing up and taking his warm arms with me, our laughing grins matching perfectly.

******

“Neens, wake up.”

“I am,” I groaned throatily, crossing my feet over at my ankles and pressing my face further into the pillow.

“Get up,” Harry clarified as his fingers ghosted down my side and then abruptly pressed into my ribs. “It’s morning and I love you.”

“I hate you,” I told him as I pulled my shoulders up to my neck. “Go away.”

His fingers jabbed me again and I squirmed to one side away from him, “Don’t be unkind. And don’t lie.”

Harry’s whole body pressed on top of mine then, his bare chest against my naked back which suddenly made sleeping on my tummy uncomfortable from the added pressure, “I’ve got breasts, Harry. And now you’re crushing them, and me.”

“If you got out of bed I wouldn’t be annoying you anymore.”

“Ha,” I scoffed, managing to roll onto one side, “A likely story.”

“I flew all this way to meet you yesterday, does that mean nothing to you?”

“Absolutely nothing,” I drawled, trying to suppress my grin when Harry’s fingers dug in around the skin of my collarbones, they were cold and my neck involuntarily shrunk in on itself.

"Nina," He whispered my name right into my ear, causing a creepy shiver to run up my spine. Harry laughed at the involuntary reaction. "If we get up now there's time for a nice breakfast somewhere before we get a cab downtown."

That woke me up.

"Oh my god," I sat up and started scrambling to get the sheets untangled from my limbs.

"Woah, hold it, hold it," Harry was right up there with me, grasping at my frantic hands and stilling my entire body with a gentle but commanding hold. "Slow down for a second."

"Harry I need to be there in four hours."

"I know," He nodded calmly, wrapping a lazy arm around my waist and drawing my down against his side, "So you need to eat and relax beforehand because it you get yourself into a tizzy you'll only make silly mistakes when it matters."

He was right.

“You’re right,” I admitted, my shoulders sagged against him heavily and I took in a deep breath, as I let Harry calm me with the warm circles his thumb was making against my hip bone.

“It does happen, you know? Me being right,” His lips turned into a smile at the shell of my ear, “Hungry?”

I only nodded in response and it was enough to have him pushing me up and slipping out from underneath me. It didn’t take long then for Harry and I to get through our usual morning routine; he liked to shower in the morning while I got ready, and then he always thought it was funny to suggest ridiculous things for me to wear, usually items belonging to him. He was extra playful this morning, which I know was his way of trying to counteract my nerves.

At breakfast he stole my pancakes before they landed at my place and took a few moments to rearrange all the fruit on top into a smiley face. Even when I was swatting his dirty hands away from my food I couldn’t help but laugh at him and the proud look he wore when he figured out sliced kiwi fruit made great eyes with built-in eyebrows.

In the cab he held my hand tightly, and I felt his eyes on me every now and again. But I was focused on the streets flying past us, the shop fronts became staves and then notes played out in front of my face as I tried to focus on what was coming up.

“Neens. We’re here, love.”

#fic: twenty good reasons #hina #harry and nina #harry & nina #1dff #one direction #one direction fic #one direction fanfic #one direction fan fiction #harry styles #harry fic #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles stories #fanfiction

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 4 years ago

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LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

December 16, 2020

Heather Cox Richardson

The reality that Joe Biden is about to become president and Kamala Harris is about to become vice president is sinking in across Washington, and today gave us some indications of what that’s going to mean.

Stories about what exactly happened in the Trump administration are coming out, and they are not pretty. Politics trumped everything for members of the administration, even our lives.

Today Representative James Clyburn (D-SC), who chairs the House Select Subcommittee on the Coronavirus Crisis, revealed documents from senior appointees in the Trump administration overriding the work of the career officials in the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Those documents show that the political appointees at the Department of Health and Human Services called for dealing with the coronavirus crisis by pursuing a strategy of “herd immunity,” deliberately spreading the coronavirus to try to infect as many people as possible, with the theory that this approach would minimize the dangers of the pandemic. While doing so, they downplayed what they were doing, tried to hide the dangers of the virus, and blamed the career scientists who objected to this strategy for the rising death rates.

Although the White House has tried to distance itself from senior Health and Human Services Adviser Paul Alexander, last summer he was widely perceived to speak for his boss Michael Caputo, the Health and Human Services Assistant Secretary for Public Affairs whom Trump had appointed, and for the White House itself. Alexander, a part-time university professor from Canada, defended Trump against scientists, accusing CDC Principal Deputy Director Dr. Anne Schuchat of lying when she provided accurate public information about the worsening pandemic. When she suggested everyone should wear a mask, he claimed: “her aim is to embarrass the President.” Alexander attacked Anthony Fauci for his attempts to protect Americans. “He just won’t stop!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” wrote Alexander on July 3, 2020 (yes, I counted the exclamation points); “does he think he is the President???”

Alexander advocated spreading the infection to younger Americans: “So the bottom line is if it is more infectiouness [sic] now, the issue is who cares? If it is causing more cases in young, my word is who cares…as long as we make sensible decisions, and protect the elderely [sic] and nursing homes, we must go on with life….who cares if we test more and get more positive tests.”

Alexander wrote to Caputo: “There is no other way, we need to establish herd, and it only comes about allowing the non-high risk groups expose themselves to the virus. PERIOD.” On the same day, he wrote: “Infants, kids, teens, young people, young adults, middle aged with no conditions etc. have zero to little risk….so we use them to develop herd…we want them infected…”

On July 24, he wrote to FDA Commissioner Stephen Hahn and Caputo: “it may be that it will be best if we open up and flood the zone and let the kids and young folk get infected” as a strategy to get “natural immunity…natural exposure,” an argument that illuminates Trump’s insistence this summer that schools and colleges must open.

But the idea that young people are safe from the virus is wrong. Today, an article published in the Journal of the American Medical Association reported that while Americans older than 65 have borne the brunt of the coronavirus, young adults are suffering terribly. From March through July, there were almost 12,000 more deaths than expected among adults from 25 to 44. Young Black and Hispanic Americans make up not just a disproportionate number of that group of victims; they are a majority. Those extraordinary death rates have continued. Younger adults are indeed endangered by the coronavirus; the idea it is harmless to them “has simply not been borne out by emerging data,” doctors Jeremy Samuel Faust, Harlan M. Krumholz, and Rochelle P. Walensky—Biden’s pick to run the CDC-- wrote in the New York Times today.

Another report today showcases two former CDC political appointees who are now speaking out to call attention to the silencing of career scientists at the agency. Kyle McGowan, a former chief of staff at the CDC, and his deputy Amanda Campbell watched as political appointees in Washington ignored scientists, censored doctors’ messages to the public, and cut the agency’s budget. “It was… like a hand grasping something, and it slowly closes, closes, closes, closes until you realize that, middle of the summer, it has a complete grasp on everything at the CDC,” McGowan told New York Times reporter Noah Weiland. “Every time that the science clashed with the messaging, messaging won.”

Politifact, the Pulitzer Prize winning fact-checking website from the Poynter Institute, named the downplaying and denial of the seriousness of coronavirus its “Lie of the Year.”

Today it became clear the administration dropped the ball in other important ways. We have more information now about the extensive computer hack that appears to have been conducted by operatives from the Russian government. It’s bad. Hackers placed malware on commercial network management software upgrades to gain access to government computers, along with those of major U.S. companies, as far back as last March. They have been able to root around in our secrets for months. Hackers accessed the Treasury and Commerce Departments, the State Department, the Department of Homeland Security, and parts of the Pentagon, among other targets. The intrusion was discovered on December 8, when the cybersecurity company FireEye realized it had been hacked and alerted the FBI.

Today the FBI, the Cybersecurity and Infrastructure Security Agency (CISA), and the Office of the Director of National Intelligence (ODNI), issued a joint statement acknowledging “a significant and ongoing cybersecurity campaign” and indicated they are not sure yet what has been hit. “This is a developing situation, and while we continue to work to understand the full extent of this campaign, we know this compromise has affected networks within the federal government.” It is clear the U.S. has been hit hard: Trump’s National Security Adviser Robert O’Brien has cut short an overseas trip to come home and deal with the crisis.

In the New York Times, Thomas P. Bossert, Trump’s former Homeland Security Adviser said, “the magnitude of this national security breach is hard to overstate.” He insisted the U.S. must call out Russia for this attack (assuming it is confirmed that that country is, indeed, behind the attack). “Trump must make it clear to Vladimir Putin that these actions are unacceptable. The U.S. military and intelligence community must be placed on increased alert; all elements of national power must be placed on the table.”

“President Trump is on the verge of leaving behind a federal government, and perhaps a large number of major industries, compromised by the Russian government. He must use whatever leverage he can muster to protect the United States and severely punish the Russians.”

The New York Times called this breach “among the greatest intelligence failures of modern times.” Senator Richard Blumenthal (D-CT) called it “stunning.” “Today’s classified briefing on Russia’s cyberattack left me deeply alarmed, in fact downright scared. Americans deserve to know what’s going on,” he tweeted. Blumenthal also recognized the severity of the coronavirus early: he tweeted on February 25: “This morning’s classified coronavirus briefing should have been made fully open to the American people—they would be as appalled & astonished as I am by the inadequacy of preparedness & prevention.”

And yet, there are signs that the country is reorienting itself away from Trump and modern-day Republicanism.

Former New Jersey Governor Chris Christie, previously a staunch Trump supporter, has released an advertisement urging people to wear masks and admitting he was wrong not to wear one at the White House. It seems likely he is eyeing a future presidential run, and clearly is calculating that it is wise these days to distance himself from Trump’s anti-mask politics.

Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell (R-KY), who has refused to advance a coronavirus relief bill since the House passed one last May, seven months ago, is now trying to make a deal that includes direct payments to Americans hurt by the pandemic. He explained to Republicans today that Republican senate candidates Kelly Loeffler and David Perdue, who are running against Democrats Raphael Warnock and Jon Ossoff in Georgia, are “getting hammered” because the people want the bill and the Senate is holding it up.

Finally, Bloomberg last night ran a story by journalist Craig Stirling highlighting the work of economists David Hope of the London School of Economics and Julian Limberg of King’s College London, who examined the concept of “supply side economics,” or the “trickle down theory.” This is the economic theory popularized in the 1980s saying it’s best for the economy not to support wages at the bottom of the economy—the demand side—but rather to free up capital at the top—the supply side—because wealthy entrepreneurs will create new jobs and the resulting economic growth will help everyone. This idea has been behind the Republicans’ forty-year commitment to tax cuts for the wealthy.

In their study of 18 countries over 50 years, Hope and Limberg concluded that this theory was wrong. Tax cuts do not, they prove, trickle down. They do little to promote growth or create jobs. Instead, they mostly just help the people who get the tax cuts.

—-

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

#Letters From An American #Heather Cox Richardson #Criminal GOP #corrupt GOP #political #election 2020 #COVID-19 #global pandemic #incompetent GOP #malevolent GOP

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tenderedsouls · 4 years ago

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* seo ji hye , cis woman + she / her | you know margot kang , right ? they're thirty , and they've lived in irving for like , their whole life off and on ? well , their spotify wrapped says they listened to malibu nights by lany like , a million times this year , which makes sense 'cause they've got that whole constantly running her fingers through her hair , haphazard piles of designer clothing cluttering her bedroom , and sipping honey sweetened green tea while enjoying a quiet morning thing going on . i just checked and their birthday is september 19th , so they're a virgo , which is unsurprising , all things considered .

001. DOSSIER .

name : margot kang . nicknames : none . date of birth : september 19th , 1990 . zodiac : virgo . birthplace : irving , north carolina ( raised on orion avenue ) . orientation : bisexual , biromantic . residence : irving , north carolina ( port apartments ) . height : 170cm ( 5′7″ ) . positives : captivating , freethinking , genuine , polished , and self - reliant . neutral : moralistic , whimsical , sensual , mellow , and ambitious . negative : compulsive , devious , argumentative , shallow , and unreliable . likes : buying new clothes , sleeping in , banana muffins , warm blankets , bubble baths with lavender , and not sleeping in pants . dislikes : authority , being lied to , long meetings , her parents , her flightiness , dry hair , candy , and interrupted sleep . style : her style highly consists of matching pieces , think something akin to cher’s iconic yellow plaid outfit from clueless . she has an affinity for accessories , but especially small ones like hair clips , earrings , bracelets , and necklaces . she has a strange hatred for jeans and sneakers , and thus , she will never be seen in them .

002. BACKSTORY .

growing up in a household full of expectations was , by margot’s definition , was the worst existence known to mankind . she desired to do what ‘ normal ’ children would do , and that didn’t include church and excursions as if it were a right of passage . perhaps it was , but for margot , this was not what she wanted to do with her life . don’t get her wrong , though , margot didn’t hate church . if anything , she didn’t understand why she was expected to go so often as if that were going to change anything . she did well in school , save for a few small quizzes that would catch her by surprise , and she played a sport . what more could her parents have wanted from her ? apparently , they expected for her to shoot rainbows out of her ass .

of course , high school comes around and like most teenage girls , margot develops crushes . her first boyfriend is nothing but a puppy love scenario , which lasts all of three months after she gets mad at him for forgetting her cutie pie’s order . next comes a string of boyfriends that aren’t good for her , nor are they what her parents would have liked for her . it’s during her senior year that margot finds herself truly falling in love for the first time , and it’s also what will become the worst year of her life . everything about their relationship was built on wishes . they would wish to get out of their small town . they would wish for more time in the days to be together .

the bad year builds . first it’s arguments with her parents because she stayed out thirty minutes , an hour , two hours past curfew . she could remember slamming her bedroom door on countless nights , and texting her boyfriend that she needed to leave now . and finally , it happens one friday night when she manages to sneak clothes in her sports bag and finds herself on the road out of irving once school is over on that day . they barely make it three hours into their escape , and the police catch up with them . margot is returned home so fueled with anger that she could burst , and her parents scold her for making them worry like that . their strictness tightens on her then , and if it has nothing to do with school , then she’s barred from doing so . for the rest of the year , margot keeps her head down as her attempted runaway was the talk of the town , and she figures that it’s best for her to aim far .

by far , margot means leaving irving once high school graduation rolls around . she finds herself in california , attending uc berkeley where she majors in marketing . the distance between herself and her parents is what she needs as she’s finally from under their thumb . margot excels while at berkeley , and she even manages to find love again . she welcomes paloma when she moves to los angeles as well , and she was happy to reconnect with her little sister again . it’s a could of years after her college graduation that margot says goodbye to paloma once more when her boyfriend is transferred to london . their long term relationship turns into an engagement , but margot strangely finds herself homesick . thus , she ends the engagement , and finds herself back in irving .

currently , margot works as senior marketing manager at a small fashion magazine and lives in port apartments . it wouldn’t surprise me if people think she haunts the apartment as she comes and goes at all hours and doesn’t really talk to anyone . her return to irving had been done quietly , as margot has placed herself in a self imposed exile away from her parents , and she doesn’t want her parents to know that she’s in irving again . margot has the itch to get up and leave at all times , and this will often times reflect in her relationships .

003. PERSONALITY .

margot , for the lack of better words , is someone who can never make up her mind . she says what she wants and she does what she wants , which can sometimes get her in trouble even if she doesn’t mean to do so . she is extremely flighty , and finds herself running from situations even if they’re going well . most people will say that she acts like an overgrown teenager , and that could be agreed with . as she felt so sheltered and removed from the world , margot has taken her adult years to do as she so pleases . often , this means taking random trips to charlotte to get a blowout or to go shopping for things she doesn’t need . she will offer you her opinion even if it’s not asked for , and she struggles with not wanting to argue over even the pettiest of situations .

004. CONNECTIONS .

as always , i’m down to work based on chemistry or fill any connections that you may have for your muses !

the high school boyfriend . maybe they see how stupid it was to try and run away together , or they were completely serious .

the fiance . they were together in la and london , but margot left him suddenly a little over a few months into their engagement . perhaps ... angst 👀 .

some friends pls !

a neighbor ? mayhaps they share their sugar , and they also share ... their sugar 😏

her high school best friend ! maybe they were an influence on her rebelling , or maybe they weren’t ! margot would need a voice of reason that she promptly ignored .

hook ups ... put them in my hands . 🤲🏽

this could be fun , but someone that she absolutely annoys the shit out of VCNXVCBHX

but i would also love someone who makes her want to stay in irving 🥺 her flightiness is always itching , but one hang out with them and she suddenly thinks that irving is the best place in the world

#irvingintro #police cw #time for plotting finally !!!!!!!!

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louthestarspeaker · 5 years ago

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Wheelhouse

Here is my first contribution to @gumnut-logic ‘s wonderful IR Relief challenge. I combined the prompts “John and Penny being close friends (bonus if there’s a suspicious Gordon in the background)” from @eos-in-orbit and “Any characters – trapped in a lift/elevator” from @darkestwolfx .

Summery: John steps up to the plate and out of his comfort zone when he offers to go to attend a meeting in Scott’s place. He’s hoping for a simple straightforward evening, but when is anything ever that easy?

John fiddled with the cufflinks on his suit sleeves. Should he not have worn them? It felt like he was being too formal. He should have asked for another second opinion besides Grandma- she always liked to see him and his brothers all dressed up.

John was standing in the lobby of a fancy hotel in London, the chosen site for a business transaction between Tracy Industries and a potential partner, waiting by the door for Lady Penelope, who was to help him negotiate.

FAB1 rolled up in front of the hotel, the bright pink in sharp contrast with the stormy weather around it. Parker hurried around to open the door for Penny, holding an umbrella above her head until she was safely under the awning, before heading back to park, valet’s not to be employed for obvious reasons.

John smiled as Penny entered, wearing a cream colored pantsuit and long pink overcoat, her eyes widened in surprise as she caught sight of John. It’d been quite some time since they’d seen each other in person.

“John! Oh, I’d hug you but I’m soaked. Umbrella’s can’t do much in that wind, I’m afraid.”

John reached forward for a quick hug anyway. “It’s just water. Besides, it’s nice to have a little weather after coming down from the office.”

Penelope shook her head. “Speaking of ‘the office’, what are you doing here? Not that I’m not delighted, but wasn’t Scott supposed to be coming?”

John smiled ruefully. “He’s had a bad day, I’m filling in for him.”

“Oh dear, he’s not hurt, is he?”

“No, he’s alright. But you can hardly expect him to play the part of the billionaire business tycoon after spending most of the day rescuing Lemaire.”

Penny hummed in understanding. “Hits a bit too close to home, does it?”

She laughed at John’s silent nod and flat look, hooking her arm through his and pulling him into a walk. “Trust me, darling, you’re nothing alike. Now we’d best be going, Parker said he’d meet us upstairs. It doesn’t reflect well to be late to your own party.”

“Hardly a party, Pen.” John muttered. Penny glanced up to see John eyeing the people eyeing them. A Tracy or a Creighton-Ward was enough to garner attention on their own, together they attracted the eyes of most everyone in the lobby.

Penny winced internally at John’s obvious discomfort. As much as she’d tried to pull him out of his shell, he still detested the attention.

“You didn’t want to send Virgil instead?” She asked gently. “I know you don’t care for this sort of thing.”

John shrugged. “You know Virge. He’s more R&D.”

Brokering a business deal was kind of out of his little brother’s wheelhouse. Out of John’s wheelhouse too actually. He was more the numbers guy, and the great thing about being the numbers guy was you could do it all remotely from your space station twenty-two thousand miles away, or from your private island that might as well be just as far.

John sighed, finding himself pulling at his sleeves again. Scott really was better at all of this. Did Scott ever wear cufflinks?

“Stop that, John.”

“Stop what?” He asked, jumping out of his head.

She eyed him with a look saying ‘you know exactly what’. “You’re brooding again.”

“What? I don’t brood.” He said, hitting the call button for the elevator so he didn’t have to look her in the eyes. “I… ruminate.”

“Whatever you want to call it doesn’t change the fact you need to stop. You are more than capable of heading this meeting.”

John shook his head ruefully. “If you say so, Pen.”

“I do say so, and don’t even think of trying to argue with me, John Tracy.”

John let out a laugh at this bit.

As if he’d ever stand a chance… Penny was an excellent negotiator, a talent that served her well- and often- in her line of work. And was one of the many reasons never to start an argument with her.

“Wouldn’t dream of of it, Pen-”

A loud clap of thunder interrupted him, and the lights buzzed before flickering off completely. Leaving the lobby, and it’s occupants, in the dark.

“Well. This is rather unfortunate.”

Penn’s remark was one of many as the murmuring of the crowd rose in volume and temperament, many using language not nearly as polite as hers. One call rang above the others though, because it was downright panicked.

“My sister’s stuck in the elevator!”

It was a young man standing near them, alarm evident on his face. The manager rushed over, walking quickly but not running, trying to exhibit some control of the situation. “No cause to worry, sir. The elevator breaks have engaged, she’s in no danger.”

“No, you don’t understand, she’s claustrophobic, she’ll be having a panic attack!” The young man said, looking as if he was about to have a panic attack himself. John stepped in then, instinct driving him.

“Hey, take a breath, your sister will be fine.” John assured the young man. He turned to the manager. “Have someone call the fire department, in the meantime we’ll call the elevator. We can see how she’s doing.”

His instructions were carried out without complaint, even if the manager looked a bit put out to be ordered around in his own hotel. But he, like everyone else, recognized John’s seniority in the situation. He wasn’t only the camera-shy Tracy heir, after all. He was International Rescue.

The manager led the small party over to the receptionist desk, followed by no small amount of obvious eavesdroppers, to connect with the elevator phone.

“Hello, Emma, are you there?” The young man, James, asked, his voice shaky.

The empty silence meeting James’ question had John sending Penny a grim look. Silence on the comm lines was never a good sign.

“Emma? Are you there?” James’ voice had risen an octave, and still no answer.

The manager was sweating nervously, having given up all pretense of authority. “What- what do we do?”

John calculated quickly in his head. The fire department was sure to be delayed with the traffic and thunderstorm conditions to contend with, during which time Emma, in the best case scenario, couldn’t catch her breath, and in the worst case, was already passed out- which would slot her with a possible head injury as well. John shook his head. It was hardly a decision at all.

“Where did her elevator stop?”

“Between the third and fourth floors.” The manager supplied.

“Penny, have Parker meet us on the fourth floor.”

`*`

Parker arrived quickly, toting the leather bag he deemed to be his ‘lucky kit’. Elevator doors were harder to pry open than the movies made them seem, but one well placed ice pick and an impressive round house from Lady Penelope had the door open in moments.

John readied himself for the trip down to the elevator car. As far as civvies went for performing rescues, evening wear probably had to be at the bottom of the list. John removed his jacket, rolled up his shirt sleeves, and pocketed his cufflinks.

He doubted he’d ever be able to wear the suit again after clambering down the oiled elevator cable, but he’d sure as heck try. Growing up in a Kansas farm house with four rowdy brothers meant he’d adopted his grandmother’s mentality of keeping nice things nice.

John wrapped his hands with strips of cloth- shredded dish towels, courtesy of the kitchen staff. It should help him grip the elevator cable. He stood at the elevator opening, eyeing the ten foot drop before turning back behind him.

“Are you coming, Lady Penelope?” The mission-like atmosphere of the situation had him switching to her professional title.

She shook her head. “Three’s a crowd, darling. I’ll wait here with James.”

John nodded in understanding. Best not to overwhelm Emma with too many people, and her brother seemed to be only just keeping himself from tipping over the edge into hysterics- he could do with Lady Penelope’s calming presence.

With a calculated leap, John jumped into the elevator shaft. He met the cable full on and clutched it tightly- reminded oddly of the rope climbing exercises in a high school gym class. His make-shift hand wraps did their job and John was able to climb down without too much slipping. He unwrapped his hands from the now shredded material, called a quick okay to Lady Penelope upstairs, then dropped down through the top emergency hatch, landing neatly in the elevator car.

Flicking on a penlight, he illuminated the small space, taking stock of the situation.. Emma stood on shaky legs, slumped against the wall, fingers clutching the silver rail that ran along the length of the car in a white knuckled grip. She was wheezing desperately, and swaying on her feet, but still conscious- always a good thing.

John approached her slowly, not wanting to frighten her further. “Emma? You’re brother sent me. I’m International Rescue. I’m here to help.”

Her eyes darted wildly around at the walls surrounding her, before making contact with John’s. “I c-can’t… can’t breathe-”

“It’s gonna be alright. I’m John, I’m going to stay with you until the fire department comes.” John gently pried her fingers away from the rail and took her elbow, leading her away from the wall and seating her in the middle of the floor.

John crouched down in front of her, meeting her eyes and directing her to cup her hands around her nose and mouth. “Now breathe in deeply from your stomach. Hold. Breathe out.”

It only took a few repetitions before John admitted to himself it wasn’t working. Emma kept breaking eye contact, and every time her eyes drifted to the walls she choked.

“It’s alright.” John soothed again as it happened for the third time. “Let’s try something different. Close your eyes.” If Emma couldn’t see the walls, perhaps he could convince her she wasn’t trapped. “Now, you’re not here anymore, you’re watching the sky. The sun is setting over the ocean.”

John channeled his inner Virgil, describing an island sunset in bursts of crimson and gold, waves reflecting warm sunlight before soft pink fades into the deep indigo of night time. Silver light pricks the sky, the stars revealed in swirling constellations, like fragments of the sun. The stars go on forever.

“And there’s a breeze coming off the ocean.” John said. “Match your breath. In… and out. In… and out.”

Minutes blended as John kept up the soothing narrative, his words smoothing Emma’s wheezing gasps into even breaths. Quite soon, help arrived, signaled by a thump from the ceiling, and things began to move in quick succession.

A firefighter dropped through the hatch like John had, checking they were both alright before fitting them with harnesses and winching them up one by one. As John was pulled up out of the elevator shaft he was greeted by- not a familiar face, but a recognizable one. After all, the news reports had been notoriously hard to avoid after she and Virgil decapitated the world's largest building.

“Chief McCready.”

The chief grinned and nodded, clasping John’s hand and hauling him onto solid ground. “Tracy.” A familiar name paired with a new face. “And here I thought you boys chased after trouble, but it looks like it might be the other way around.”

John’s civilian clothes, oil smeared and wrinkled, were a dead give-away he hadn’t been expecting this particular mission. He could see Grandma now, shaking her head and clicking her tongue, amazed at all the ways him and his brothers managed to ruin clothes, but not at all surprised that they did.

He allowed himself a small smile. “The job follows you around.” On duty or not, the calls never went unanswered.

The Chief clapped him on the shoulder, understanding the sentiment in a way only a first responder really could. “That it does.”

Their conversation was brief, the Chief dragged away by her duties and John by an overwhelmingly grateful Emma and James, both of which hugged him tightly and thanked him profusely.

When John finally had a moment to catch his breath, he caught Penny watching him, a hint of humor in her eyes.

“What?” He asked, her levity in his tone.

“Nothing at all. It’s just I can hardly believe this is who the tabloids call the ‘reclusive elite’.”

There was a brief moment of confusion before John realized with a start just how many eyes were on him. A whole crowd of obvious rubberneckers, both indiscreetly peeking at him and gaping unashamedly. And all John could do was laugh.

What could he say? He’d talked down an emergency victim, spoken with site officials, and was now standing there in filthy clothing post-rescue. He was in his element.

#irrelief #irrelief2020 #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #eos-in-orbit #darkestwolfx #fanfic #john tracy #lady penelope #lou writes things

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musedblues · 5 years ago

Text

Always Something There To Remind Me [Part: 1]

summary: Home is where the heart is. You're working on finding yours. After a handful of misfortunes, your old friend Joe helps to unravel life's greatest mystery while adding a bit of extra grief to the mix.

warning: Major character death, mentions of car crash, angst, and general sadness

w/c: 2k

a/n: Proceed with caution this fic will probably break your heart. This first part deals with a lot of backstory. It's been really cathartic for me to start writing this. It will be my first full-blown chapter fic, so stay tuned for more sorrow! (but it gets sweeter, I swear!)

Part 2

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

"I'll just miss you." Joe cast his sad eyes to the airport gates. You would miss him too, but you knew you'd end up back together. You always seemed too.

"Just try and remember what it was like before we met. But don't forget to call me!" You teased, full of adrenalin that surged through your feet and charged you away from your home, family, and very best friend.

///

For a little while, you measured time before and after moving to New York. Your father split before New York. Your mother had a break down before New York. Then you moved. Your mother became a sought after wedding photographer in New York. You started and finished high school in New York. You made a very best friend in New York.

As hard as it was to leave Joe behind, that timeline was eventually skewed after you moved to Wales. You met Kris in Wales. Then, every single thing before Kris faded into relative obscurity. Even the dream you had in every place you lived before.

You wanted to play the piano. You played every dance recital, choir practice, and bar mitzvah that came across your highschool bulletin board. Through a series of whims after graduating, you decided to move to London to play the piano in shopping malls and hotel lobbies while waiting for better gigs.

Kris singled you out during a show one of those late-night low down venues and demanded you play some Eton John number. He utterly charmed you and raved about your talent, and showed up every night you were on the bill with another outlandish request. His request eventually blossomed outside of the musical universe. He asked you to come up to his hotel. He asked you to go to dinner. He asked you to move back to his home town, Wales.

You were hot on his trail, blinded by his pretty blue eyes and the fun you'd been having together. Kris played the guitar. He drove you deep into the lush green fields where sheep roamed between castles and posh shops popped up across the road from his tiny brick one-bedroom flat, where you moved in no questions asked. Kris took you to all of his gigs, which mostly consisted of county festivals and birthday parties. Kris eventually stopped opening party invitations to strictly play bar gigs. They would barely bring in enough money to pay rent, but Kris gained more of a following and he swore that was more important.

You picked up a job tending one of the more hip pubs trafficked by college kids and hardly any creeps. That's where you met Tegan. She had long dark hair, and you'd never seen her without a smear of dark eye shadow surrounding her big green eyes. She trained you on the drink specials and Welsh slang, and in turn, you told her all of your secrets.

Kris started traveling to bars in the surrounding cities, drinking more than he played the guitar but somehow scraping up enough money to go out and do it again the next night. You stayed behind your bar top and bonded with Tegan like a long lost twin. She understood you, and you respected her. Not only for her values and opinions but for the way she let you take extra long breaks to call your best friend, Joe. The one from New York, before Wales.

"When are you gonna come home?" Joe whined like a little boy through the cell phone static that represented the time and space between you.

"Why? You're never there. You're in L.A. and Australia and everywhere but New York." You laughed bitterly into the phone. You weren't upset with Joe at all. You just missed him. You missed walking across the street from your porch to his, to wait for the school bus. You missed ditching school dances to drive to Coney Island without telling your parents. You missed movie nights, and cheating on homework, and spying on each others dates from across your favorite diner.

Life was easier back then, and no not just because you were young and dumb. There was plenty of sadness. Like on your senior trip to Canada, when your drink got spiked. Or when Joe nearly died of pneumonia. The time you got kicked off the volleyball team for covering up one of your teammate's terrible pranks. And the time Joe got punched in the face and needed stitches, when some new bully moved into town and found out your best friend was the "whiny prick" from Jurassic Park. But you were together for it all, and that's what you missed. It was the way you could tell Joe anything and the way you made him laugh that coated your memory in a golden sheen. He visited you in London once. And you flew home one Christmas not so long ago, and celebrated with his family across the street, like always. But you hadn't seen Joe since you moved to Wales, and your vision was going grey around the edges.

But Kris was all you could see, anyway. He was outlandishly handsome. He read all your favorite books. He held your hand on rollercoasters and taught you how to cook traditional Welsh food. He listened to you play the piano and encouraged you to go out and perform. That was the whole reason you traveled overseas. He would ask you to play your keyboard when he practiced his guitar and you spent the majority of your time in that corner of the room where you kept your instruments. But Kris wasn't getting enough gigs, so your night shift was becoming more demanding, and you stopped practicing. He started to drink. He said it was because he felt bad for the way you'd had to pick up shifts to support the pair of you. So he decided to prove his musical worth by going out every night, booking gigs far and wide. Kris played new bars every night, one's you'd never heard of till he told you on his way out of the door.

Then he stopped telling you when he'd be home. Tegan would come over to keep you company on weekends. Kris would miss birthdays and holidays. Tegan was always sleeping on your sofa via your invitation. You traded stories about your favorite things and your childhoods. You talked a lot about Joe, because he used to always be around. Tegan listened, and eventually started joining you on weekly facetime calls with Joe. He was glad to see you'd made such a valuable friend and to talk to Tegan like he knew her just as well. He was still the best friend you ever had thousands of miles away.

Tegan took you on a trip, one odd summer day, calling it a distraction. When you ended up in Dan yr Ogof, you knew you'd made a life long friend in Tegan. The lush green park was decorated with life-sized dinosaur statues and the cafe on grounds served dino shaped nuggets. When you sat down to eat you facetimed Joe, and took him on a digital tour of the dinosaurs scattered around the entrance. He was thrilled that you thought to call and show off the wonder you were surrounded by, and seemed so sad to hang up. You wished he could be there to spew made up dinosaur facts and pose for pictures. But you had Tegan. She was all smiles, holding your hand while you toured the caves and admired the nature all around you.

In the years you'd lived in Wales, you'd never heard of Dan yr Ogof, but were glad to have wound up there with your Tegan. It was like the best of both of your worlds. When strolled around the park and found a couple fake velociraptor bursting from falsely hatching eggs, you just stopped and stared for a moment. Tegan came around to look at her paper map of where to go next, and you wished for an option to go all the way back to freshman year. When Joe was embarrassed to tell you about the movies he'd been in, and how normal every day felt doing homework at his dinner table. You missed that normality. You wished it was normal to see him... to see anyone each and every day.

You tried to fix that by calling your mom every morning. You rambled for hours and even kept your phone turned on behind the bar during shifts. Tegan worked with you most days, but she had her own life. You even stopped hearing so much from your best friend, Joe. Texts would be responded to too late and voicemails only reminded you how far away you were. Messages from Joe were peppered between a few from Kris, who would call you drunk with promises he'd be home soon.

The day's your boyfriend did make it to your shared bed, you would just be getting home at sunrise from a shift. He would be gone when you woke up, out to another gig.

Then Kris skipped out for a whole month, and wouldn't answer any of your calls. You tearfully sold your keyboard for cash to keep groceries in your cabinet but practically lived behind the pub counter to make sure you'd never run out of money again. Tegan took you out to dinner and to films, but movies made you sad. They reminded you of Joe, who you'd see pop up on the television screen more than you heard from him directly, by then. Tegan would ask about him, knowing your old stories were like stars in the black ink darkness, but she learned to stop asking. Why wasn't anyone around anymore? Your family and friends remained frozen in photographs on social media, and you spent Christmas alone in your boyfriend's house.

When he came back home all you did was fight. He refused to tell you where he'd been, and you snapped his vintage mandolin in pieces in a brokenhearted rage. You slept in the same bed but stopped speaking to each other, just floating through the motions like ghosts- for weeks. And then he was gone again. I could just leave too, ya know? You realized. I could get up and be gone the next day. But where to?

You spent one long day on the phone with your mother, talking over what to do and how you felt and how much you missed Joe.

"He's in London now. Didn't you know that? Has been for a while." Your mother gently revealed. She would have known because his family lived right across the street. Because his parents loved your mother, and she still attended every cookout and birthday party even after you moved away. The Mazzello's were more than just your neighbors. Your mother was privy to everything Mrs. Mazzello told her on their weekend shopping trips and scheduled brunches.

"I didn't." You breathed heavily. Maybe you should have known. Maybe Joe had warned you in one of his voice mails you'd let pile up.

"He's filming there. You should call him, Y/N." Filming meant staying. Joe was five hours away from you, but you'd never felt further apart.

"Well, I might not be here much longer anyway." You reminded your mother.

Something in your gut was telling you to get out of Wales, that there was no point in your sticking around. But what about Tegan? You would wither into a humorless husk without her banter from the other end of the bar top. What about those dog-rose flowers you planted outside of your tiny little home? What if Kris stopped drinking and you could start listening to records together again? You built a life here. You made friends with the women at the market and the men at the bank. You didn't even care if Kris's mother hated you, because he hated her, and you each got a kick out of every passive-aggressive Christmas gift exchange. But you'd barely spoken to Kris since the last time he left, and the days before then, you'd only swapped venom.

You mopped around the flat, wondering if you should dust the shelves, and considered how to salvage your situation. Soon, you dozed off on the sofa as the sunset and wished you didn't have to make up your mind.

You were awoken to a house without any lights on, and a pounding at your door. There was a muffled voice crying outside and your heart speed to a million miles a minute as you hurried to your feet and rubbed your tired eyes. You flipped on a light and opened the front door to find Tegan in tears, black makeup streaking down her cheeks. She threw her arms around you and mumbled cries into your neck. You managed to pull her inside and shut the door for a bit of privacy amidst her break down.

"What is going on?" You demanded calmly, holding your friend by her shoulders and looking at her face.

"You wouldn't answer your phone, I've been trying the whole way here." She explained in a rush, sucking in a shaky breath. "The car... your car. I passed it on my way home. I only knew it was yours because the guitar-shaped the air freshener was still on the mirror."

"What?"

"I know it was your car. It's wrecked. It's..." Tegan stopped speaking to search your face. There was no time to wipe her black tears away before another one fell, she looked as if she'd seen a ghost.

"It's wrecked? You saw the guitar-shaped air freshener?" You confirmed.

"You weren't answering your phone," Tegan whispered gravely, as her lip quivered once more. Whatever she saw on the way to your place mustn't have been good at all. As you stood there watching Tegan's tears fall in silence, sirens started to whir in the distance.

Time froze to a halt as the noise grew louder and louder, piercing through your ears from just outside your window. Your heart was beating so fast you couldn't feel it until a few sharp knocks came at the door you stood next to. You didn't want to answer it. You didn't want to hear another word. But your instincts took over and you released your grip on Tegan, and opened the door.

A couple of stone-faced officers stood on your steps with no good news.

You came to find out that Kris played a gig that night, and the bar paid him in Guinness. Kris was well beyond the legal limit when he stumbled behind the wheel. Officials decided he must have swerved to avoid colliding with another vehicle and crashed through the rails of a bridge and onto the roadside below. Your boyfriend had been found without a beating heart, and yours nearly stopped at the news.

His mother blamed you for treating him so poorly, for running him off. Tegan only left your side for a couple of hours, while she went to collect a few things so she could stay over at your place. You planned a funeral and moved through the motions. But before you called your mother to tell her you were coming home, you called Joe. He didn't answer.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

#joe mazello x reader #joe mazzello imagine #joe mazzello fanfic #joe mazzello

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