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voltagesmutter · 4 years

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Lucifer x MC - Reunited

Pairing: Lucifer x MC (F).

Fandom: Obey Me.

Prompt: Face-sitting || Creampie || Anonymous sex

Warning: Face riding (Female receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, reunion, fluff, cock-warming, cream pie/ internal cumshot.

Notes: My final piece for kinktober from the marvellous @alloveroliver list.

Thank you as per to my beta’s @theinariakuma - I wouldn’t have made it at all without your help, your an amazing friend and thank you for everything.

Also thank you to @sparrowwritesforop and @rikumorimachisgirl for betaing as well!

Golden strobes of light reflected off the crystal chandelier. Reflections glinting down onto the crowded floor below, cascading the audience in a hazy glow.

All eyes had fallen onto the stranger who had entered, leather oxfords echoing off the tiled floor capturing the attention of everyone. Black hair with grey wisps at the end was slicked back, held perfectly without a single hair out of place. A black tuxedo with a white crisp shirt, a bow tie nestled just beneath the collar, power and pride radiating from his being. Capturing the gaze of everyone.

That was until *she* followed under ten minutes later. Elegance and regalness beaming from every pore. Hair swept into a loose up-do, golden pins with diamonds kept it in place. A plunging neckline of red satin traced the curves of her body, settling and accentuating her petit waist whilst bringing out the ampleness of her bosoms. The material sitting just below her knees, a slit running to shortly stop just beneath her hip bone on the right side. A gemmed necklace hung perfect between the valley of her breasts. An uncut ruby, sparkling in the beams of the light. Garnet red, the same colour as the eyes who met her wondering stare-

“-Lucifer…”

Dropping all of her graceful presence, she ran. Practically gliding on the air into his arms, the pathway clear for her to make a straight bee-line towards him. Without missing a beat he caught her, strong arms pulling her into an embrace as he swept her off the floor in a twirl.

He’d anticipated her excitement the moment he saw her, senses heightened upon her arrival. A blur movement of them spinning to the rest of the world, the couple purely focused on each other with little regard to what was happening around them. His hands secured tightly on her waist before one of them moved to cup the back of her neck whilst he placed her back on the floor. A smug grin on his face as his fingertips came into contact with a studded diamond at the base of her neck, his pact, his mark of claim upon her skin.

“What are you- Are you really-?” The young female questioned in shock, throwing her arms around his neck as if frightened if she let go he would vanish. “Lucifer, you're really here”. A warmth flooding his chest as she nestled into him, his lover, his human, finally back together after four months apart. The couple falling hopelessly in love with each other during her time in Devildom, giving themselves to each other for countless nights, letting her and his bed be shared in their passionate throes. The mixture of the headboard, the rickety springs and the sounds of them both was enough for his younger brothers (and anyone else, Diavolo) to know Lucifer's claim to the human. That he belonged to her just as much as she did to him. But the end of the exchange had seen her sent away, tears falling from her face as Barbatos opened the portal.

‘I’ll fight for you to come home, I’ll find you, just wait for me and I promise I’ll bring you home where you belong with me’ Lucifer whispered between kisses, brushing away her tears. A man of honour, a man always of his word.

They’d been able to communicate thankfully to the D.D.D she had snuck into her purse, no-one thinking to check for it until it was too late. Able to text and call her beloved, to resume their love whilst apart over face-time. But it wasn’t the same as having his physical presence next to her, keeping her warm on cold nights or stroking her hair when in need of comfort. He had thought tirelessly against the rules and conduct to find a way to bring her home, until finally Diavolo turned to him. ‘You have always been the most loyal to me Lucifer, without you I fear the citizens may have revolted against me a long time ago. I feel it is in my power to re-pay you…’. Diavolo had sent him to the human realm to-

“I’m here to bring you home,” The purist of love spoke through his words, unable to hold back the smile that took over his lips to see the excitement growing on her face. The squeal that left her as she leaned up to kiss him, finally able to be back in the arms of the man she loved.

The event they attended was a charity ball, one Diavolo knew she would be attending as it was him who had sent the invitation, little knowledge to her about this. Diavolo had sent Lucifer here as means to collect her, she was still in shock to see him. To have him in her world being told she could finally come home after their time apart. It still felt surreal to her, like she was floating on cloud nine whilst she danced in the arms of her lover.

“Can we go home now?” Big doe eyes staring up into his ruby ones, the plea in her voice as her fingers messed with his collar. Hidden away in the corridor, Lucifer pressing her up against the wall, hands roaming at the top of her dress with greed. His lips attacked her neck in soft kisses until she spoke, repeating a question she’d ask many times already that night. Lucifer reminding her she was a guest and that his honour demanded they at least stay for a while and that they would have everyday from now on to be at home together. They danced and mingled, stealing fleeting kisses, longing glances and lingering touches throughout the evening until Lucifer could take it no more.

“Yes my dear, it is time for us to depart,” A low groan to his voice, the desire clear in his eyes as he tugged her by the hand to the exit. Exiting quickly and ushering her into the parked limo.

“Diavolo sent it,” He answered her question before she could ask, cozying up to him as the divider between them and driver opened. Lucifer gave him an address, her address to be exact. She looked at him with a quizzical look of horror, was he sending her home? “We must pack for your arrival, my dear. We shall embark to Devildom in the morning,” He reached over tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. A glance followed by a nod at the driver sent the divider back up, Lucifer instantly pulling her onto his lap, “I know the minute we get home my brothers will demand your attention… and I fear it’s been too long, so forgive me for being greedy my love, but I refuse to share you this evening,” His lips instantly on her, her hands fisting into his hair as she pulled him closer, body’s flushed against each other. The feeling of having him back and the free champagne that had been flowing making their needs more urged than normal.

His hands ran up her thighs, bunching up the material of her dress as he did so. A low hum of approval to feel the, very little, underwear she was wearing.

“Lucifer-“ A soft moan broke the kiss apart, fingers pulling her panties down they effortlessly fell off, hanging off one of her ankles. The pads of gloves replaced the material, stroking effortlessly against the wet of her slit before pushing one finger inside her. Hands tugged at his raven hair, pulling it out of place as her hips moved against his hand, another finger added shortly after. Lips attached to her neck, her mouth dropping and eyes screwed shut. She knew they weren't alone and that the need to be quiet was there, but with the way he stroked the inside of her, her skin and blood felt on fire. Whilst her body grew hot, hips rolling against his hand, her hands impatiently tugged at the button on his trousers. A plea full look of lust was shared, Lucifer lifting his hips to let her continue as she dragged down the zipper with haste. Black boxers stained from his leaking head, pushed down just enough for his cock to spring free.

“Lucifer… please,” Shallowly stroking his length in her hand, heat pulsing from him, a low groan against her neck. Pulling his fingers from her, he wrapped them around her wrist to stop her, the wetness of her arousal from his gloves dripping down her wrist and around his cock. Time apart from cruel, Lucifer fearing if she handled him too much the first round would be over far too quickly. “I need you… hurry please!” Her voice slightly frantic, a mad woman driven by pleasure as she raised herself, aligning herself over his cock. Her arousal was enough to help him glide into her without much friction, stretching her in a pleasant burn each time she lowered and raised her hips until finally she took him fully.

His lips crushed against her, holding her still with one hand on her waist whilst the other gripped the back of her neck. He took her moans, each one boosting his ego more as pride swelled his chest. To be back with his human, back inside his human. She tried to raise herself but the red nails kept a grip on her, somewhere between impaling herself on his cock he had shoved his arousal slickened gloves in the pocket of his jacket.

“Not yet,” Followed by a nibble bite to her lower lip. He told her how he wanted to wait until they were at her house, so he could savour the moment and really make her scream.

“Please,” She whined once more, a desperate attempt to roll her hips but the iron grip on her refused her movements. The thin straps of her dress fell off her shoulders, letting her bare breasts spill free, his mouth already leaning down to catch a taunt nipple in his mouth. Her muscles clenched over him, the warmth of her pulling him into the deepest depths. Letting his mouth release the nub in his mouth with a wet pop.

The ride home was torturous, lips locked as teeth and tongue clashed against each other. The final time she tried to move caused a swift slap to her behind, a warning growl of Lucifer's throat and she knew better to push his buttons. “I’m sorry…” She whispered against his lips, tracing his bottom lip with her tongue, “I just need you so badly”.

"You waited four months my love, you can hold out another twenty minutes." Lucifer chuckled in her ear, caressing along her sides as he had her seated on his lap, his cock buried to the hilt inside her.

"I.. Didn't have your cock inside me for four months." She's bit back only to whine as his fingers pinched at her nipple to reprimand her light back talking.

The rest of the ride felt longer than it was, her tight cunt pulsing over him, gripping him to keep him from ever leaving her again. Every bump sent them closer to the edge of ecstasy, until finally the car came to a halt outside. Lucifer taking all his restraint to pull from her dripping core, patting her thigh as a sign to get up. Her dress adjusted to recover herself, underwear quickly rolled back up, messy lipstick wiped from around her mouth and hair smoothed. She bolted with weak knees to the front door. With shaky hands she hurried to put the key in the door, Lucifer pressing his body tightly up against her once bidding the limo goodbye.

The door has barely shut behind her when she found herself pressed up against it, claws running down the side of her dress letting the fabric fall off her body in two halves. Impatiently his tongue pressed against her parted lips, gripping her thighs and dragging his hands all over her body. Her underwear torn in two, the sound of fabric ripping getting lost between the lewd pops of his mouth moving down over her skin.

“Did you ever touch yourself?” He teased, breath hot as a trail of wet kisses pressed over her collarbone. A gasp leaving her speechless as he took a nipple once more in his mouth, teeth teasing the sensitive skin before twining his action on the other. His rain of kisses showered lower, a suckering puck over stomach just above her hip bone whilst fingers grazed over her sopping slit.

“You know I did…” Eyes rolled to the back of her skull, the soft thump of her head falling backwards against the solid wood of the door. Her referencing the many nightly videos of her fingers dancing across her thighs, disappearing under the pjs shorts before plunging into her core. The good morning showers of slippery sud hands covering her breasts with a teasing peak of skin underneath. The dirty phone calls leaving little to the imagination, the sound of buzzing flooding Lucifer's ear as she withered from the vibrating toy.

“It was the darker than the pits of hell,” The normally towering demon pressed down on his knees, guiding her leg over his shoulder from the soft grip of his hands over her thigh, “Lying in the bed you withered in without you there, the memories haunting me in mind and physical presence” His breath hot over her clit, core clenching at the first flicker of his scale over tongue over her flesh, “No matter how much I spilt on my hand… it was never enough”. Wet flesh of his tongue devoured her, ravishing her tight cunt like a starved man- a starved man driven with the need to please and pleasure. Lips suckled over her clit, strong hands curving and cupping her ass to keep her in place. Unable to control herself as she bucked against him, spreading wetness over his mouth and jawline. A scent and taste he’d craved every moment, that he would crave for the rest of his life. Hair disheveled, a layer of perspiration forming over her skin, one hand cupping and tugging her breast for added stimulation. Her moans groaned louder as he tongue delved deeper, deeper than her fingers or any toy could reach, his name rolling from her mouth like her hips rolled against his face. Knees buckling as she came, his strengthening grip on her keeping upright as her muscles pulsed over his tongue.

“Fuck-fuck,” Her breath lost in whimpers, palm gripping into a fist as she slammed it against the solid door behind her. He finally wrenched himself away from her when she shuddered from over-stimulation. Through heavy lidded eyes she peered down to meet his strong-lustful gaze, cherry red burning up at her. Everything they wanted to say was conveyed through their look.

“How do you want me?”. Her belly clenching in anticipation at his words.

They just made it into the living room before all of his clothes were removed, her delicate fingers tugging off his bow tie which he had undone during the ride home followed by his shirt sending buttons flying across it. Her hair loose, hair pins lost in a trail of his clothes as they groped at each other with need. His trousers pushed down along with boxers, her hand wrapped back around his cock spreading the heavy bead of pre-cum over his thick girth.

“How do you want me?” Taking her lip between his teeth as his hands ran up the curves of her sides. Without words she pulled back, sinking to her knees before resting on her elbows keeping her ass high. A glance over her shoulder was all she needed to convey what she wanted. Watching as he stood in awe as he stroked himself to the sight of her, staring at her spread thighs showing her glistening cunt in full view. And it was all his for the taking.

Her fingers twitched, grasping desperately at the carpet beneath her as he pushed into her until he bottomed out and was fully buried inside her. A string of curses fell from both of them as he started at a gentle pace, taking all his self-control to not pound her until she was begging for him to stop- it had been such a long time since their last physical intimacy he wanted to take his time. He was also a lot closer than he wanted to admit.

The soft clap of wet skin filled the silent house. The sheer size of his palms were enough to wrap fully around her waist, pulling her back into each thrust.

“Oh fuck, Lucifer…” Jaw-slacked from the repeated hit of him inside her, sending sparks across her spine and vision. Electricity dancing over her skin as she came apart beneath him. Her orgasm hitting hard with little warning, a flood of warmth releasing from between her thighs as her hips pulsed backed backwards whilst Lucifer kept his steady rhythm to ride her through it.

“That’s it’s princess,” He cooed softly into her ear leaning over her back to press the toned muscles of his chest against her. Pressing tender kisses as she continued to mewl under him, her cunt trying to milk him as her muscles continued to contract tightly over him.

He continued to ease in his steady pace, enough to satisfy him but not push him over the edge. Wanting to last longer, to delve into her pleasure before his own. That was until it came out in a broken moan, ‘harder… please Lucifer… harder’. He grip tightened as he pulled her back a little harsher, but it wasn’t enough for her. The glance she gave him over her shoulder was enough to break his self-composter.

Black onyx wings spread out in full glory, ivory black horn sprouted in twisted curls, his pact shining like rising flares of fire between his eyes as he began to drive into her with wild abandonment. His eyes unable to be taken away from his cock disappearing and stretching her, the ripple of her ass as his groin slapped against her over and over until the skin began to redden from the impact. Bruises formed from his grip on her, leaving marks upon her skin for weeks to come of their passion. The curve of her back was mesmerising to him, her cunt swallowing him whole whilst attempting to grip him tighter each time he pulled back.

“Fuck! Yes, there!” Her voice in a telltale whine, one that signaled her climax was close again. Sweat dripped as his movement pounded her into the floor, her arousal and previous releases creating a pooling mess over her thighs, his cock and his balls before puddling onto the floor.

His climax followed quickly with hers, spilling and shooting hot release inside her in thick ropes whilst she shaked in his hold before collapsing to the floor. A string of drool dribbled from her lips, eyes threatening to shut as she took a few moments to come down from her high. Failing to realise, Lucifer was still buried deep inside her, still fully erect as he curved over her back pressing fleeting kisses up her salted skin.

“I missed you,”... “I love you,” He whispered softly on repeat, praising her for how well she did. Until finally he pulled himself out of her, a predatory growl leaving him to see the mixture of their release leaking from her abused hole. It lit a primal need inside him, to leave her ruined and filled with his seed. A raw primal need that suited him.

“I love… fuck.. you too,” She panted heavily, letting him gather her in his arms as she rest on his chest.

“Do you wish to go to bed?” He smiled, he knew her human body was fragile, that he could easily over stimulate her with a few touches. But rest was important, that he needed to be careful with her.

“No…” Her hand cupping his jaw, a contrast of sharpness in the softness of palm. Adjusting herself, she straddled him and took his erection in her hand as she lowered herself onto him. She had an insatiable appetite that only he could fill.

And she was currently starving.

By the time the sun rose, the couple was passed out from their blissful night. The house a mess as they took each other over every surface and furniture they could find, by the time they made it to the bedroom their bodies were slick with sweat and her thighs coated in thick rivers of essence.

Lucifer had spent part of the night between her thighs when she finally fell asleep, eyes zoned and focused on her bare thighs, speechless and growling low to see her physically weeping with his release.

But finally when they both awoke, naked with a thin blanket draped over their spooning form. The only thing on their minds was to finally go back home and enjoy the rest of their lives together.

Kinktober masterlist here.

#alloverkinktober #kinktober #obey me #obey me smut #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer x mc #shall we date lucifer #obey me lucifer smut #shall we date obey me #shall we date smut

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windhamsrotunda · 3 years

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Roman Reigns - You Look Even Better Than The Photos (FULL PART)

KEY WORD(S) - R/N MEANS READER'S NAME LIKE YOUR NAME {Y/N}.

Pairing(s): Roman Reigns x Female Reader!

Category: SMUT / NSFW

Summary / Theme: Roman is frustrated tonight, but the head of the table will get his frustration changed quick when he sees his girlfriend in the middle of the night.

Warnings: Explicit Language, Smut! | Angst! | Aggressive Dom! | 17+ READERS ONLY!

Word Count: 4,000k+

Tagging: @ringer04 @lghockey @saccreigns @ziasaph @ava-valerie @bayley-no-friends @blueberrycane21 @hungmanhorsecarriage @demonqueen29 @papireigns-05 @kingswitchblade @writtingrose @junglecassidy @riveliciousx @squirrel666 @enigmaticandunstable @flesheatinglette @kaileyjade and any others who wants to be tagged!

As he stepped into the luxurious shower of his bathroom, Roman cleansed himself with body wash. Scrubbing down those dead skin cells layered on his skin, the scent of strawberry and peppermint spewed the room. White fog sprays the whole bathroom, the temperature of the shower scolding hot. Roman’s fingertips stroked against his scalp, digging in deep roughly as the water from the pearly white shower head screamed down on him. A few minutes later spent in taking the shower head off the holder to wash himself down, Roman turned the knob to the shower off and grabbed a towel off the towel rack.

Stepping out of the shower, he wrapped his body like a grave digger wrapping a deceased human in soiled dirt. Shaking off the excess water from his hair, then he blow dried his masculine, black Samoan long hair. Setting the black blow dryer down, Roman stared at his reflection in the fogged-up mirror, unrecognizable to see. He sprinted a hand through his hair quickly and got the remaining tangles out of his hair. Fingertips delicate like layers of daffodils overlapped over fields of fresh green grass. Eyebrows furrowed downward, he got dressed to head out to the real world.

Running out the door with keys in one hand grasped and phone in the other, the tribal chief headed towards his richened black Lamborghini car and got in. Turning the key to the ignition, he backed out of the driveway and put on GPS to go to his girlfriend’s house. Scuffing his face while driving, Roman glanced at his phone receiving a message from his girlfriend:

Reader’s Name {R/N}: ‘’You coming to my party?’’

Roman: ‘’Perhaps I will’’.

Focusing on driving after the little text he received, he thought about her. He did not know she was having a party at 9:30pm at night; Although he got backhanded by her text, he thought it was just going to be him and her alone. No, he was pissed. She should’ve told him she was going to invite friends over. Arriving at her house at about 9:45pm, Roman kept his cool. Not making a ferocious scene, his girlfriend opened the door to where the house was filled with busy activity like bees in a beehive. ‘’Hey babe,’’ she greeted with her drink in her hand, going in for a grasped hug. The head of the table clamped his arm around her, fingers dug into her back. ‘’You okay?’’ she winced a tiny bit at his fingers digging into her back.

‘’Keep our business on the low-low,’’ Roman whispered, taking her hand into his.

‘’What...?’’ His girlfriend said slowly, walking into the crowd of different people she invited over. Approximately 30 people in the house, the music overpowered their conversation.

‘’Let’s go into another room,’’ He suggested to his girlfriend.

‘’I want to hang out with my friends, though----’’ He cut her off abruptly.

‘’No, you’re staying with me whether you like it or not!’’ Roman boomed, his lips pressed together.

‘’I’m leaving.’’ She pushed her way through the tribal chief, he was left with a sour attitude. Crossing his arms pressed against his chest, Roman Reigns was not the man to mess around with tonight. He walked away from where he was standing on his own two feet and went around to find his cynical girlfriend.

‘’R/N!’’ He hollered through the buzzing music, his pupils large and filled with anger and hate. He now couldn’t find his girlfriend; his plans were ruined! A tall adult jock had bumped into Roman, spilling his drink onto his darkened clothing.

‘’Oops,’’ He sarcastically said, as he went on his way. He scowled, Roman gritted his teeth to attempt from violently throwing the jock to the ground viciously. He moved on to keep searching for his girlfriend R/N in the crowd of people at her huge house.

‘’Have you seen her?’’ Roman’s eyebrows furrowed; his face heated up with angriness. He was about to explode if she didn’t come announced.

‘’No man, what I am assuming is she probably went outside,’’ One of R/N’s friends told him, pointing with one finger towards the slider door.

‘’Thanks,’’ He scoffed, storming off to the white slider door, forcefully sliding it open and slamming it shut behind him. ‘’R/N!’’ his lungs shacked in his vocal cords; his eyes were an orange fire. Steam blowing off on the top of his head.

‘’What do you want?’’ She turned her body frame to face Roman, there, she was sitting on a wooden log with her legs crossed next to a blazing campfire.

‘’It’s you that I want to speak to!’’ He grunted, forcefully coming at her. ‘’They don’t call me the tribal chief for nothing,’’ Roman stated, as if he were giving a promo. R/N cocked her head up from her iPhone, setting it down.

‘’Listen, sweetheart. I am sorry----’’ He cut her off with a firm ‘’You better be sorry,’’ look. Aggressiveness and dominance in his whole complexion, his shoulders laid back, his mean pissed off look meant something to her. In order to calm the Samoan man down, she had to actively spend time with him, and him only.

She was shaken by his aggressive tone, ‘’P-Please, if there is anything I can do to make this better.’’ She stuttered, her facial expression a sudden change from content into complete horror.

Roman pulled something out of his pocket, a familiar-looking object that was once his girlfriend’s.

‘’Remember this?’’ He asked, sly smirk curled upon his lips. R/N looked down at the bulky necklace hesitantly, she mouthed the words:

‘’Yes, yes I do.’’

‘’SPEAK TO ME!’’ Boomed Roman, his eyes poured into the soul of his girl which caught the attention from the other people inside. ‘’No, don’t look at them, look at me.’’ A small whimper came from her, she felt deep down inside she was being taken control over. She stood there motionlessly, arms stiffly by her sides. Not wanting to make eye contact at the head of the table, she cried quietly so he couldn’t hear her. ‘'Come on,’’ He urged, tugging away at her motionless arm stuck by her side. R/N was in mixed emotions as of yet, she didn’t know how to express herself towards her boyfriend. She had the courage to finally say this:

‘’R-Roman... I don’t feel comfortable, it’s just that—I need to go.’’

He mimicked: ‘’I don’t feel comfortable. Why? Is it because I showed up unannounced and you decide to leave me after we didn’t spend time together in over 2 months? Is that what it is?’’ Before leaving, Roman realized his actions. How he affected her, she was left in tears. He needed to fix this or make this up to her. Being a heel was never an answer to solve for your problems. Especially his. The blazing campfire still lively, the heat pressed against Roman’s face from being so close to it, he had to sit down, think about what he did. Running a hand through his long, black hair, he had his arms clamped behind his back. Wanting the stormy rain that was about to arrive to take him alive. A huge lightning bolt struck across the gloomy sky; Roman wasn’t intimidated by this weather. All he wanted was R/N.

Back in the house, the party had seemed to die out. Besides, it was 11pm at night and it was storming. Everybody who attended her party had to scurry home to avoid from being caught by this hellions storm.

’Hey, you seem inconsolable. What happened?’’ R/N’s best friend asked in concern, stroking her shoulder.

‘’My boyfriend,’’ Her shallow breath vocalized as she fought back her choked up bottled tears.

‘’Oh, sweetie. Come here.’’ Her best friend pulled her into an embrace, telling her it would be okay and perhaps he will get over his hot-headedness. Roman, however, was still outside.

‘’Where is my boyfriend?’’ She asked out of nowhere, sensing he might be still outside, in which he was.

‘’He’s outside,’’ Her best friend explained, looking at the outside of the slider door. It was hard to see Roman outside, there was no glow in the orange, red fire. But her best friend knew for a fact he was outside. She scurried on her feet to open the slider door half open, she proclaimed:

‘’Roman! Come back inside!’’ He turned his head like a deer in the headlights, nodding in response. He got up from the log he was sitting upon and came back inside.

‘’I am so sorry...’’ R/N’s tears began to form in the creases of her e/c eyes, Roman’s hair was drenched from sitting in the pouring hard rain, almost shocked by a lightning bolt. He gave all his attention on her, but not her best friend. He wanted to be acknowledged. Walking up to her, he grazed his thumb across her jawline as her best friend watched.

‘’Leave,’’ he muttered, eyes on her best friend. She backed away and left the house. It was now him and her. Roman took notes mentally of his girlfriend, how her posture was, and how heavy she was breathing. Skipping breaths, she took a step closer to her boyfriend Roman. The terrifying, once called baby face, she first met when he was considered a ‘’good guy’’. He tilted his head back, looking up at the ceiling, then eyes back on r/n.

‘’Roman....’’ She breathed; her eye contact was on point so she made sure he didn’t do anything hell-riding. She could feel his presence, how desiring he was not to say ‘’no’’ to.

He grabbed a chair from the empty person kitchen, and straddled the chair.

‘’Sit,’’ he firmly said, eyes furrowed this time. As she made her way to Roman, he lifted her body weight up and sat her on his lap. Legs stretched over at the end of the chair; r/n was surprised by a deepened kiss from her boyfriend Roman. He kissed her deeply, there they sat, in the chair the two of them comfortably. She straightened out her narrow spine to adjust in his lap, his fingertips touching her bare back. Her fixed gaze focused on the tribal chief; he could feel her heart beat rapidly pound in her chest. R/N was tensed up, he gave a question: ‘’Why are you so tense?’’

She blankly stared into his pupils, snapping a finger in front of her face, she unfocused on him and shook her head.

‘’I said, why are you so tense?’’ This time with more aggressive tone, he chuckled lightly at the reaction she gave him. ‘’Now that you’re acknowledging me, I say I am your tribal chief.’’ He brushed up against her, he rubbed the nape of her neck, earning a slight whimper from his girlfriend r/n.

‘’I-I am nervous,’’ she states, being completely honest with the head of the table rubbing the part of her neck where he touched her there. He laughed at her response; he crinkled his nose up.

‘’You’re telling me, I’m making you nervous?’’ He cooed, his hand wrapped around her hair now. ‘’What if the blinds are open...?’’ r/n panicked, wondering if her best friend will come back and find her straddled on Roman’s lap.

‘’I’ll make damn sure they’re not.’' He growled, getting impatient with her. ‘’After all, you’re in the hands at the head of the table now.’’ She nodded slowly, finally acknowledging what he was telling her. It’s like she was deeply under his spell. Roman shifted his body weight facing the front of the chair, with r/n still on his lap. He got up quickly, scaring her for a second like he was about to drop her on the hardwood floors. '’Chill out,’’ he growled deeply, rolling his eyes. Tension grew between r/n and Roman as she hugged his leg. ‘’Off,’’ he demanded.

‘’Yes, tribal chief.’’ She stammered, crawling on her hands and knees now away from her boyfriend. The 6’3 Samoan man followed her to where she was going, perhaps to the upstairs basement. He smirked, watching her crawl up the stairs in awe as her bottom swayed in front of him. He grew with desire, wanting her. His veins throbbed in his neck, his bare chest from where he removed his shirt off bellowed up and down. Roman’s shoulders slugged back, basically enjoying himself. His girlfriend finally got up off the floor from army-crawling, walking normally towards the upstairs basement where she stored her necklaces and jewelry and other things in there. He followed right behind her, then closing the door to the basement and flipping on the light without any effort.

‘’God why you have to do this to me, baby girl?’’ Roman fingers tapped on his leg impatiently, waiting for some slight approval. She was getting rid of her shyness, then she placed her phone on her big wooden dresser stored in the basement where there was nothing on it. She gave the ‘’one second’’ finger gesture to him, and put on: ‘’The Hills – The Weeknd Slowed and Reverbed’’

INTRO:

Your man on the road, he doin' promo

You said, "Keep our business on the low-low"

I'm just tryna get you out the friend zone

'Cause you look even better than the photos.

This was r/n and Roman’s song to dance to, he blinked slowly while she swayed back and forth in front of him. The song slowed speed wasn’t any ordinary slowed verbed song to dance to, but it was meant to be in a romanticization way. He growled, she turned the volume up to drain his groans and growls of frustration. He took it out on her by slamming her on the dresser, she winced in pain as he grabbed her neck softly.

‘’You’re going to be a good girl for the tribal chief, got it?’’ He firmly states, she nods in response, enjoying a little bit of pain produced in her body. She choked softly, crying out the words:

‘’Yes.’’

He lifted her up and set her down on the dresser top, he kissed her deeply enough to sweep her off her feet. Her garden was in heat, her face flushed bright red wanting the head of the table to take over her. Feeling extremely confident, she laid her shoulders down on the head of the surface of the dresser, body shifted upwards.

I only call you when it's half past five

The only time that I'll be by your side

She arches her head up, he kisses her neck gently, biting down earning a yelp from her. A bead of sweat pooled down the side of the face of Roman, his fingernails dug into both of r/n’s sides until she yelped more. Wincing at the pain again, he smacks her across the face.

‘’Who is your head of the table?’’ He asks her, smacking her again this time on the rim of her bottom before she could answer.

‘’Y-You.’’ She choked; teary eyes filled like a waterfall lasting for a lifetime.

His lips curled into a smirk, her legs stretched and wrapped around his torso, r/n’s hair fell upon his tattooed chest, strands of hair touching delicately at the peak of his nips. The song continued to play through the speaker of her phone, he made fiery love to her on a cold wooden dresser, he was rough and quick; Roman’s body weight sprawled on top of her, wildly thrusting in her treasured garden as she cried out. Her acrylic nails dug deep into his flesh of his back, giving one last thrust his collapsible lungs screamed out: ‘’R/N!’’, spilling and pulling out of her.

‘’Da-Damn.’’ He wheezes, a look of concern appears on the face of his girlfriend.

‘’You--- You okay?’’

‘’Now that I’ve got you to admire me, yes.’’ He chuckled darkly, breath all weakened out.

Attempting to stay in character, Roman’s chuckle switched over into a devious smirk. ‘’I’m not done with you, yet.’’

A look of surprise read all over the face of r/n, thinking mentally: ‘’Fucker.’’

She kissed him passionately, then pulling away to catch her breath. He twirled her hair with one finger,

‘’Pretty baby girl.’’ He spoke. She blushed in response, the dominant, Samoan man had her on her knees. He pushed her head towards his manhood, "I can see you're soaked for me? Huh?" He cooed once more, "You can release that anger out all on the chief anytime, baby girl."

R/n whined in response, like he was teasing her. Before diving her mouth onto his manhood, Roman reached down her garden, rewarding her by rubbing her folds softly.

"Mhhh!" He growled, yanking her head deeper by making her choke on him. "Good, that's it. Adknowledge me as your chief." She bobbed, her jaw getting sore from fucking him. "Ah-ah yeah...." Roman mouthed his girlfriend harder, releasing and pulling out again. His face looking like this:

"God." His breath all weary, the tribal chief spent hourless sex with his girlfriend r/n, rough and dominant until his body collapsed onto her.

"Yes! Yes!" R/n exclaimed, the four walls echoing throughout the basement while she's getting pounded. Flesh hitting against flesh heard through the upstairs basement, Roman growled in her ear,

"You like when you're claimed by the chief!? HMM!?" He exclaimed back, slapping her rear end dominantly. Crying in response, she nodded.

"I-I love you----" Before finishing off her sentence, she passed out heavily in his arms. He strokes her hair with one hand, arm draped over the naked torso of his girlfriend r/n.

"That's how it's supposed to be," he whispered into his sleeping girlfriend's ear, leaving a hickey on her pale neck before getting changed and exiting her house. He left her a little note saying:

"Hope you had a fun time tonight. Love, Roman"

R/n woke up the next day, finding the note by her stomach. She picked it up, smiling softly to herself. "I'm the luckiest woman to be considered his girlfriend."

Roman was at home, he texted r/n:

Roman: Hey baby girl, I am sorry I gotten all dominant on you last night; it was to teach you a lesson and claim you're mine. You know, there will be consequences once you piss the head of the table off.

A buzz came from her phone, she read and text back.

R/n: No, it's okay honey. I love your dominant side; It's sexy as fuck on you anyway.

Roman: That's my girl.

A/N - Thank you for reading! Hoped you guys enjoyed!

#romanreignssmut #romanreigns #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns x reader #wwe #wwesmackdown #wweraw #wrestling fanfic #wwe fanfiction #wweimagine #headofthetable #tribalchief #universal champion #roman #reigns

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years

Text

Honeysuckle

Summary: The BAU decide to head out for a picnic one summer afternoon, but they’re soon rudely interrupted by a bee sting and anaphylactic shock. Seeing Spencer carted off in an ambulance is not exactly how they expected the day to go.

Tags: whump, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, hurt spencer, friendship, medical conditions, severe allergic reactions

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.3k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

Spencer had initially been wary of Penelope’s invitation to picnic in Meridian Hill Park one beautiful summer afternoon — he burned way too easily and didn’t like exposing himself to insects more than absolutely necessary — but as soon as she’d mentioned Derek was going, he’d given in. He wasn’t about to turn down an afternoon spent in the sun with his best friends and boyfriend. It was a rare day off for the team: one not even spent hanging by their phone expecting to be called in any minute, so they were all insistent on making the most of it.

He’s the last one to arrive, spotting the others sat in the shade of an oak tree, already laughing as they get stuck into their first drinks of the afternoon. Despite his initial hesitations, as soon as he feels the sun on his face and sees his friends he’s immediately glad he turned up and he hurries over to join the rest of the team, his own contributions to the picnic in hand.

“Pretty boy!” Derek shouts, grinning widely as he jumps up from his lazy position on the blanket to wrap Spencer in a hug, before pulling back slightly to kiss him. He can already tell he’s a little tipsy, and although Spencer doesn’t drink he has nothing against everyone else letting their hair down and having fun; God knows they deserve it.

His relationship with Derek is only a few months old, and he still relishes every moment he gets to spend wrapped up in his arms.

“Hey guys.” His words are muffled slightly by Derek’s shoulder as his boyfriend is reluctant to let him go, but as soon as he’s released, he turns to match everyone’s wide grins.

“Did you bring the strawberries?” Emily asks, levelling him with a faux-stern look that she can’t maintain for long, melting back into her relaxed smile soon enough.

“Of course.” He takes a seat on the picnic blanket only to be immediately wrapped into a side hug by Penelope. He hugs back before beginning to unpack his bag.

“What about the icing sugar?” she asks, and her stern glare isn’t fake at all: Spencer knows how seriously Penelope takes a) organisation, and b) sweet treats.

“Who do you take me for?” he laughs, retrieving the fruit and sugar from his bag and taking a swig of the cool lemonade he’d packed in his thermos.

Sometimes he wishes he could go back in time and show lonely, teenage Spencer pictures of days like these. One day, he’ll be twenty six, working at his dream job, and spending his days off in the warmth of the East Coast sun one Sunday afternoon surrounded by his best friends, kissed by his boyfriend at every opportunity. They’ve never asked him to be anything other than exactly who he is, inviting them into their group and doting on him relentlessly, loving him just as much as he loves them.

It’s a luxury you only appreciate when you’ve known the loneliness of summer: when the hum of the AC is the only sound in your stuffy, humid dorm room, and you’re researching the effects of methane on winter weather patterns as you long for cold weather again, because then at least then you don’t have to listen to the excited shouts of friends outside anymore, then it’s acceptable to isolate yourself inside with only yourself and books for company.

He shakes himself out of his miserable recollections and reminds himself to be in the present. Emily has her head in Penelope’s lap as they discuss which incarnation of Doctor Who is the best while JJ and Derek discuss the new jogging park opening up across the border in Virginia. He knows which conversation is more suited to his interests and immediately goes up to bat for the Seventh Doctor, which manages to engage him in a spirited debate with both women.

Soon, though, they find themselves all discussing their workplace embarrassments and recalling the funniest moments from over the last few years, and Spencer loses himself in the heat of the afternoon and the warmth of his friendships. He’s gorged himself on all the strawberries and sandwiches he could stomach, and as the afternoon stretches longer and evening approaches he lies down on the blanket and rests his head in Derek’s lap, mirroring Penelope and Emily. His eyes flutter closed as his full belly and heat of the sun tire him out, and Derek’s fingers thread themselves through Spencer’s long hair, a light and welcome touch.

The haze of his friends still chatting around him as he dozes comfortably is interrupted, however, when he feels a sharp pinch on his wrist and seconds later, he’s fighting for breath. He launches upright, wheezing as he claws at his chest, trying desperately to fill his lungs with enough air.

“Spencer? Oh my God, Spencer, what’s wrong?” Penelope cries, immediately by his side as she looks him over frantically, not knowing what’s happening.

“Derek, call an ambulance,” JJ directs, taking charge as she rushes to Spencer’s side as well. “He’s in anaphylactic shock. Spencer, listen to me, do you have your epi-pen with you?”

Her words manage to get through the panicked haze and light-headedness as he can’t get enough oxygen. He can feel his face swelling and his heart racing, but he’s still coherent enough to point to his bag.

“He didn’t eat anything, though,” Emily says, panicked and confused as she watches her friend have a medical crisis while she’s powerless to help.

“He’s allergic to bees,” JJ says, keeping calm as she prepares the epi-pen and administers it to Spencer’s thigh. “One must have stung him for some reason.”

“There!” Penelope points to the bee sting on Spencer’s wrist and JJ lunges for her bag, rummaging until she finds her credit card which she uses to carefully slide under the stinger and remove it, preventing any more venom from flowing into Spencer’s system.

It’s clear after a few minutes that the epi-pen hasn’t worked: Spencer still feels like he can’t catch his breath and the world is fading slowly as his heart beats out of control and his organs can’t get enough oxygen.

He feels himself be moved gently by various hands as JJ directs the others until he’s leaning up as comfortably as possible against Derek’s chest as Penelope elevates his legs to keep blood flowing to his vital organs.

“It’s okay, Spencer,” JJ says loudly, right in front of his face. It’s blurry and out of focus and he can feel himself losing consciousness fast. “The ambulance is on its way.”

It’s the last thing he hears before he collapses completely as he passes out.

⭐️

It’s dark outside when Spencer finally wakes up. His bed is warm and comfortable and he lets himself listen to the somewhat comfortable steady beeps of the heart monitor and movement of staff and patients around the ward before finally opening his eyes to scan his room.

Derek’s sitting in an uncomfortable hospital chair right next to his bed, sketching what Spencer can only guess are plans for the property he’s just taken on, an empty jello cup balancing on the armrest of his chair.

“Sandwiches and strawberries not fill you up?” he asks, voice croaky as he cracks an eye open. He can’t help but smile, too. He has the best boyfriend and the best friends anyone could ever hope for.

Derek’s head snaps up as he hears Spencer’s voice, setting his notebook and jello aside to grab for Spencer’s hand. “You are something else,” he chuckles. “Your first thought when coming round from a medical disaster is an observation of my eating patterns.” He shakes his head fondly. “ But you know I can’t pass up a tub of jello.”

“That’s true. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you say no when it’s offered.”

“You’re one to talk, pretty boy.”

They lapse into short silence, accompanied only by the quiet beeps of the machines. “Sorry I scared you,” he whispers eventually, feeling guilt wrap itself around his stomach.

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not your fault.” Derek looks sincere as he holds Spencer’s hand tighter, careful of the IV in his wrist. “The doctors… they said it was a severe attack, which is probably why the first epi-pen didn’t work. They’re monitoring you overnight to make sure there was no damage to your kidneys, I think. I’ll go find a doctor to tell them you’re awake.”

He moves to get out of his seat, but Spencer pulls him back down, as well as he can when he’s still feeling weak. “No, just… don’t leave,” he asks, his voice coming out a little too pleading for his liking. “Stay.”

The idea of being alone right now twists his stomach; the idea of being without Derek so desperately scary.

“Okay, okay, baby,” Derek relents, sitting back down and running a soothing hand through his tangled hair, Spencer’s eyes fluttering closed at the contact. “I won’t go anywhere if you don’t want me to.” Instead, he presses the button for the nurse.

“Where are the others?” Spencer dares to ask after a few seconds of quiet.

“The nurses weren’t too happy with four people in here,” Derek chuckles. “I’ve been updating them by text; I’ll tell them you’re awake in a minute. JJ saved your life, you know. None of us had any clue what was happening but she was the only one who kept calm and the only one who got us through those awful minutes waiting for the ambulance to show up.”

“I know,” he whispers. “I told her I was allergic to bee stings years ago. It was just an off-hand comment, it never feels like that big a deal… this is only the third time this has ever happened. I guess I don’t feel the need to bring it up.”

“Well that off-hand comment saved your life, pretty boy.” Derek squeezes his eyes closed for a second, and when he opens them the emotion written on his face is heart-wrenching. “God, I can’t believe I could’ve lost you. There were a good few minutes there when I didn’t think you were gonna make it and after… Tobias… I was just so scared.”

Spencer’s stomach clenches at that, imagining the roles reversed is terrifying just as a hypothetical. He can’t even begin to imagine how Derek felt. He reaches a hand out to touch Derek’s face gently, squeezing his hand with the other. “But you didn’t lose me,” he murmurs. “I’m here, I’m okay.”

“Yeah.” His voice is barely a whisper as his eyes close again. “Is it bad that I kind of want bees to go extinct now?” he asks with a wet chuckle a few moments later.

“Derek!” Spencer laughs weakly, acting scandalised. “Bees are fundamental to the global ecosystem. Civilisation would effectively collapse if bees went extinct, it’s definitely not worth eradicating bees for the sake of me avoiding the rarity of anaphylactic shock, not according to the laws of proportionality. It’s actually frightening how fast the bee population is depleting though… did you know that there are only about 2.5 million honey-producing hives left in the US? That’s down from 4.5 million in 1980 and the loss has largely been attributed to colony collapse disorder—”

“Ah, Doctor Reid, you’re awake.” A smiling nurse bustles through the door and comes to check his vitals, fiddling with one of his IVs before taking a step back. “How’s your breathing? Is the nasal cannula okay or would you prefer a full mask?”

“The cannula’s good,” he says, smiling politely. Really, he just wants to get back to telling Derek all the bee facts he can recall. He has some really good ones itching to be let out. “I’m breathing fine, just feel a little weak still.”

“Good. Your vitals all look stable, so a doctor will be round in the morning to talk you through your treatment and medication. Is that okay?”

“That’s fine, thank you,” Spencer nods, and she gives them one last smile before leaving the room and sliding the door shut quietly behind her.

“I should bring her back in,” Derek chuckles as the nurse leaves the room. “She missed out on your bee lecture. Fascinating stuff.”

“Shut up,” Spencer huffs, sinking back against the pillows. “You don’t deserve to hear my bee facts.”

“No,” Derek protests, grinning widely. “I’m joking, baby, carry on. You were telling me about colony collapse disorder.”

Spencer knows that, of course — he does have an eidetic memory after all — but it makes him smile that Derek remembers exactly where he was in his spiel. Maybe Penelope’s onto something when she says that Derek is “whipped” for him. (It had taken at least fifteen minutes for Spencer to fully understand what she meant by that, mostly because he kept asking about the etymology, history, and statistical usage of the word and she kept rolling her eyes, which he would then insist was not an answer.)

“Colony collapse disorder is depressing,” Spencer sighs, feeling quite tired all of a sudden. “I don’t feel like explaining it.”

“It doesn’t sound great.” Derek goes back to threading his fingers through Spencer’s hair. “Why don’t you tell me your favourite three bee facts, and then you can go back to sleep”

Spencer hums, giving it a bit of thought before replying. “Scientists trained bees to score goals in bee soccer in return for a sugary treat, which is especially interesting because they have brains the size of a poppy seed. They communicate with one another by wiggling their butts. It’s like their own language, they tell their nestmates where to go to get the best food. Bees also live in loads of different places, not just in the countryside. My favourite place they live is in marshes and wetlands, because I love insects that live in watery areas.”

“I’d pay to watch bees play soccer,” Derek laughs quietly. “You’re so smart, baby, I’m so proud of you.”

Spencer sighs happily. “Love you,” he murmurs, eyes closing against the exhaustion.

“I love you more.”

Spencer isn’t awake long enough to argue with him.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @strippersenseii @hotchgans @suburban--gothic @takeyourleap-of-faith

#my writing #moreid #derek morgan #spencer reid #derek morgan/spencer reid #derek morgan x spencer reid #moreid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds writing #criminal minds fic #spencer reid whump #spencer reid angst #moreid whump #moreid angst #moreid fluff #hurt spencer reid

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renjunfromthestars · 4 years

Text

slow dancing in the dark

Pairing: Jeno + Reader bestfriend!Jeno

Genre: angst, best friend!au, College!au, Best Friends to Lovers! Au

Song recs: Slow Dancing in the Dark (Joji), Don’t Wanna Fall in Love (KYLE), Best Friend (Rex Orange County), EARFQUAKE (Tyler, The Creator), Apricot Princess (Rex Orange County). CAN’T GET OVER YOU (Joji), Me and Your Mama (Childish Gambino)

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: You and Jeno have always had a complicated relationship, but time is running out

Jeno is in love with you, but can never express it the way he needs to

Notes: this one kinda hurt me to write ngl,,,I was real sad so I wrote it in one sitting

Please let me know what you guys think!!! I’m still pretty new to writing

---

Up until yesterday, it’s been months since you and Jeno have been in contact. Even though you go to the same school, you can’t help but think that he is avoiding you. If you’re going to be completely honest with yourself, he definitely is. Classic.

When you feel the slight pang of hurt ripple through your chest, you shake your head, trying to snap out of it. You rather not think about him right now. The 15 spotify playlists you embarrassingly curated denoting the emotional anguish of your most recent Jeno-filled-altercation was enough proof you’ve already spent too much time dwelling on this boy, who by the way, you’ve never even dated.

You have other things to worry about. College decisions are coming out soon, and it's absolutely imperative that you keep your grades in good standing. No school wants to accept a student just to find out that they’re a slacker. Better to be more upfront about you really are to the end, rather than to disappoint others later on.

Jeno’s idea of school is hitting his dab pen in the bathroom, and sitting through every class high. And apparently, his idea of romance is not doing anything about your ambiguous relationship, and telling you to break up with Jaemin after only a week into dating. It was unholy unfair to Jaemin, and it's not like he's had almost three years to tell you how he feels, only to always come whining to you when you’re with someone else. It was a little different last time though. This is your last year of high school, and you both know it. It’s unlikely you’ll ever have as much time to be with (or to avoid) him at such close proximity--you’re almost definitely going to college out of state. Jeno has told you many times your ass is smart enough to pull it off.

But that was months ago, things have since died down and there is no use dwelling on the past. You’ve cried enough tears, and you’re tired of waking up with puffy eyes that look like you have been stung by an angry bee hive because of it. According to Renjun, Jeno had stopped sulking in his library during his free period and started playing computer games with him again. See? It’s a thing of the past.

But that didn't stop you from occasionally calling him late at night in your many moments of weakness. I mean, it doesn’t really matter if you’re always met with a dial tone right? If he doesn’t pick up, it’s like you never called in the first place. The end always justifies the means.

You don’t know why it took you so long to figure out that if you really missed him that much, you should have probably just shot him a text instead of randomly calling him in the middle of the night. Jeno, like with school, is never prepared for anything. Even if he picked up, he’d probably just stay silent. It happened that one time he actually did pick up, both of you silent, not knowing to say in the moment (silence could also hardly be considered a phone call).

Looking down at your most recent conversation, you sigh. Even before things became so messed up, you valued his companionship. Things are obviously still tense between you two--you don’t know why you even try. Jaemin wouldn’t be too happy about it either.

...

“It just makes me feel like shit when I hear people telling me like, ‘Oh you stole Jeno’s girl.’. You’re my girlfriend, not his.” Jaemin scoffs. His grip on the steering wheel tightens, along with his hold on your hand.

In an attempt to soothe your angry boyfriend, you rub your thumb over your interlaced fingers soothingly. “I know, I know. I can’t help it if we have history Jaemin, people like to talk.”

“I had a talk with Renjun the other day about you and Jeno, and all the shit he was saying. I thought he was my friend.”

Although he was good friends with both boys, Renjun was admittedly closer to Jeno than Jaemin and there was more to his actions than it seemed just though looking at the surface. He was your closest mutual friend to Jeno, and knew more than anyone about the complicated relationship between you two--maybe a little too well. He respected the decision you made, but it was clear that he thought things should have ended differently.

…

When you first see Jeno outside of the glimpses you see in the school hallway, he looks different. His hair is styled differently, with the wispy blonde hair of his hair framing his forehead quite nicely.

Jeno’s eyes quickly flutter to the ground when you look at him, finding a sudden interest in the rocks on the ground. For a boy who treats his shoes like they’re his babies, he’s awfully unconcerned with the scuff marks that begin to appear on his Air Force Logos when he digs a rock into the ground.

“Where do you want to eat?” you ask, walking around him to open the passenger seat of his car.

Jeno looks like he regrets ever even agreeing to meet you for lunch in the first place, with his eyebrows furrowing and as indicated with the speed in which he gets in his new BMW.

“Chick-Fil-A.” He mumbles, pressing the start button on his car.

“Unbelievable. You want to go to Chick-Fil-A? ” you scoff. “We always go to Chick-Fil-A. Don’t you ever get tired of chicken?”

Granted, it’s been months since you’ve been there together, but you at least expected some variety. There’s been a lot of buzz about the Popeyes chicken sandwiches these days.

“No, but I get tired of you whining about my food choice when you asked for my opinion in the first place.”

And just like that, like old times, you both bicker on the car ride to Chick-Fil, this time about chicken sandwiches.

When you finally get to Chick-Fil-A, you manage to order your food without any major altercations, save a blazing glare you shoot Jeno when he says “Ranch is disgusting” when you ask for it to go with your nuggets.

As you sit down and dig into your food, you attempt to make small talk about your post high school plans.

“University of Buffalo?” you say with a mouthful of fries. “I thought you wanted to stay in state.”

“Yeah I do. But I thought it would be smart to keep some options open”

“Lee Jeno, keeping his options open? Being prepared?” you tease.

His cheeks flush in embarrassment, and you can’t help but admire how pretty he looks, with sunlight shining on his frame. His lashes are long, and with the way the light is hitting his face, his brown eyes are like pools of dark honey.

Suddenly becoming hypersensitive to the boy in front of you, and you quickly change the subject.

“How’s your cousin Jinyoung? I haven’t seen him since I last visited your aunt’s restaurant. He was nice enough to me some free dishes off the menu. I told him he needs any help with his college applications he can ask me.”

Jeno stays quiet, picking at his food as you blab about his cousin. Although you’ve only met him once when he came to visit from New York City, he was a sweet boy and you guys kept in contact. Dismissing it as part of Jeno’s natural propensity towards being quiet, you chatter on for a little while longer until you ask him, “why aren’t you saying anything?”

“Jinyoung died four months ago.” He says in a low voice, lowering his gaze to his lap.

Although there were a handful of others eating their lunch in the restaurant, you can barely process the background chatter as a small noise begins to ring in your ears. “What happened?”

“He was diagnosed with cancer, but he didn’t really tell anyone, ” he said in between sips of his drink . “he was in remission for a while but it came back really bad.”

“He has a younger sister right? It must be hitting her really hard.”

Jeno stays quiet as you fall silent, fidgeting with your fingers on the wooden table. Both of you don’t have much to say as your eyes begin to water in the middle of a Chick-Fil-A.

Jeno places his hand over yours in comfort as he looks out the window. Life is short, and you can’t help but think how much time you have with him.

...

Weeks pass, and although Jaemin isn’t exactly overjoyed about the fact that you’ve been seeing Jeno regularly again, he accepts it as what he understands it is--two friends reconciling and just hanging out, which you are eternally grateful for. The issue is that being friends with Jeno is never being just friends. You two have too much history for that. Everyday, the bottled feelings left unresolved over the years are at risk of exploding at any moment--it’s only a matter of time.

You know you’ve got it bad when you find yourself checking your phone for his messages, or smiling at the thought of him. It’s everything--from the way he picks you up in minutes after an argument with your mom, to the way he drapes his heavy lined jean jacket over you during a particularly cold night. No matter how hard you tried to suppress it, or how much you thought it would work, it was already over from the start. Even earlier when you two acted like strangers and the days you never even thought onnce about him, he was still in your dreams at night. But this time, Jeno is very much real, and alive in the flesh in front of you. And you don’t know if you want to admit to yourself that these feelings for Jeno are also very much real.

You finally decide to tell him when college decisions come out, after you get into your dream University. Graduation was nearing and it meant new beginnings. No matter how deeply rooted Jeno was in your heart, you needed to let go of the things that were holding you back. At least, it's what you’re telling yourself.

“Jeno...” your voice falters, “I can’t keep doing this with you..”

There’s an unspoken understanding between you two as Jeno runs his fingers through your hair to soothe you, and tells you not to cry while you cry. It’s the middle of the night when you tell him you love him. You should be home. You should be with Jaemin.

On the car ride home, Jeno stays silent.

…

Jeno calls you when you get home to check on you. When you start to cry again he stays silent for a moment.“Don’t be sad’ he murmurs. We have a lifetime to figure things out.”

You only cry harder at his words.

When your sniffles begin to subside, and you’re sound asleep in no time (not a surprise to Jeno, considering all the emotional turmoil you’ve faced tonight) Jeno sighs. He can’t help but feel selfish. Every time you tell him you want nothing more for him to be happy, Jeno’s moral compass can’t help but tear a little at the seams. You seem unaware that to him, happiness is being with you. But Jeno can’t have you. He knows that. They say that if you really love something, you need to let it go. But this is something he isn’t ready to let go of just yet.

A few weeks ago when you two went out to eat, he notices that he always lets you choose the song on the way there, and what you want from the menu.

“You know all the things we’re ordering are yours right?”

You begin to apologize, but you’re soon distracted by the special drink menu the waiter drops on the table.

When your eyes light up at the silly lightbulb boba drink you plan to take home to your sister, Jeno just sighs and pays for the meal.

On the car ride home, your shared favorite songs play, and he doesn’t say a word to you. Jeno isn’t the best driver, and you vocalize that by nearly blowing his ear off when he brakes a little too fast at the red stop light. When you grab his hand for support, he lingers a little longer before he lets go. Like usual, he panders around your neighborhood when your house draws close, purposely taking the long way home. Jeno thinks about it some more when he waits for you to walk through the door of your house before driving off.

Jeno always tells you he loves you when it’s too late. When you get your first boyfriend, he gets a girlfriend and tries to forget about you. It’s painfully obvious how he feels when he not so jokingly tells you to dump that “skinny bean pole” for him. He hates himself for taking you for granted when you broke up with said boyfriend around the time his girlfriend dumps him, telling him “I know you just aren’t happy”. For telling Renjun “Don’t worry about it, I know she loves me.” when he tried to warn him about Jaemin’s budding romance with you, even pleaded for him to make his move. It seems that everyone knows what to do with his feelings better than himself, and all he knows how to do is reap the consequences.

He usually doesn’t have much to say. But tonight, over the phone, he tells you that he loves you. He tells you that he sees you in his future, and to him, you’re like no other. Jeno tells you that he knows you never meant to hurt him, but he’s been hurting for a while, and he can’t stand to see you with someone else.

But you’re asleep, and you can’t hear him. For the longest time, Jeno has wanted so badly to show you his whole heart. This situation you two are in isn’t what he wants and he knows you feel the same. He wants to stop being on his Mac Demarco shit, to man up and tell you clearly how he really feels, and maybe, have you be his girlfriend, you know-- instead of messing with some other guy’s girl.

Even through all of this, Jeno has learned a little secret about love. To love you was never about having you.

...

Twirling in your red dress, your arm wraps around Jaemin’s neck. It’s prom, and graduation is right around the corner. Smiling, you think to yourself that you have finally succeeded, the end is near. Laughing, gazing, looking up at a face smiling back. But for a split second, you don’t see Jaemin’s face in front of you. You see Jeno.

The memory of the first day, when his laugh over the phone meant something more to you. His voice brings about some of the happiest times you’ve ever known. Memories of the small moments--late nights--a soft smile--a teasing voice--the warm heat on your face in the midst of a teasing comment, and a boy with a subtle charm to find the way through.

Spontaneous trips and laughter, the occasional periods of silence when the both of you were fed up--people who understood you two, but only enough to get in the way.

The light nod of your head when it first found its way to your shoulder, and the dull feeling of yearning it left when it was gone.

You’re at a children’s playground, and you whine about wanting to fly a kite even though you’re nearly 18. Jeno teases you for being a kid, and for even trying when there was hardly any wind out. When you suggest that he run from behind and try to fly the kite with you, you scold him for the third time that it would only work if he ran slower than you. Jeno laughs and you feel your heart tug a little.

You’re devastated, and when Jaemin asks you if something is wrong, all you do is rest your face in the crook of his neck. You don’t want him to see you crying. You hate yourself for doing this to him. You’re not really a religious person, but sometimes at night, staring into the darkness and slightly trembling, you ask God to make it stop. It hurts. You don’t know how it feels for Jeno. You knew every decision you would make wouldn’t be fair to anyone. What do you do? How will you know? Will you ever know?

You don’t want to admit that might have known all along. You know you’ve known all along. To you, there is no one like Jeno. There is no one like him you’ve ever met that has made you feel this way, and if you weren’t with him, then you would spend your entire life searching in vain. You want to be with him so badly, that when you think about it, your heart grows impossibly heavy. But at the same time, you feel free. The timing is never right. You’re with the wrong people. You’re doing it all wrong. He’s doing it all wrong. We’re doing it all wrong.

You can’t stop thinking about him in the most difficult way. When you suppress him consciously, he shows up in your dreams, smiling, glowing. Ruffled hair, eye smile and all. You can’t help but think about him every night, and when you see something that reminds you of him. Jeno reminds you of everything sad, everything hard, and at the same time, everything easy. He makes your heart feel so heavy, but also at peace. When he told you that you two had a lifetime to figure it out, you want to believe that if it was meant to be, it would happen. But that’s the hardest part. You don’t know what will happen.

Right now, you know one thing, and you know that you love him. You love him so much it brings you to tears. It makes your hands tremble, your body tremble, your heart tremble. You have such a love for Jeno that even if it wasn’t meant to be you wouldn’t care. You want Jeno to be happy. You want him to be healthy, not do stupid shit, and you want him so badly to love you too, and it would be okay if that didn’t happen. You’ve been delaying it-- you always say to yourself and everyone else you need time. You’ll sit on it, think about it, leave it for later. But it’s been months, and years, and you’re right back at the starting point.

Everytime you tried to convince yourself you weren’t in love, it felt like a dark shadow would cast over you. Because every time you tried to convince yourself you weren’t in love, you realized every bit of you knew you were.

Jeno is your best friend, part of your happiness, and he is your first real love. It’s something you can say with a certainty you’ve never had before.

…

Jeno can feel his heart tear into shreds when he sees you and Jaemin so close. You look beautiful. So beautiful. You’re going away to your dream college and he’ll be many, many miles away from you. Jeno’s cheeks prickle with warmth as his eyes begin to dappen. His heart sinks, just to bobble back up with an expected disbelief. He thought he knew what was coming.

“There are other things to do without me.” he had told you in the car that night, but the truth is, Jeno doesn’t want to do anything without you. He’s loved you since he met you, and he’s not quite sure that will ever change.

It always hurts. but that's because love isn't perfect, Jeno thinks. He may move on days from now, maybe weeks from now, and could realize he never really loved you.

If he truly loves you, it's never going to be okay, but it will get better. It will get easier. He will be able to go on.

You might creep into his mind years from now when he finally thought he was over you.

And that's okay, that's what love is.

It's when his memories come back to him 5 years later, when he wonders how you're doing, maybe if you think about him a little too. But it won't hurt nearly as much and he will realize all that heartbreak did something to heal him.

It's always hard, he thinks, as he walks out of the Prom venue. But he promises himself that it will always get easier.

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babybottlepop96 · 3 years

Text

Home Again Chapter 1

Jean x Marco

Summary: Jeana and Marco have been friends since the tender ages of 5 and 7. They grow together and fall in love.... then Jean disappears.

Warnings: This story will contains mentions of past rape and abuse. The violence parts will probably be descriptive, but the rape will not be. There will be eventual smut further along into the story.

~20 Years Ago~

"Jean, honey, this is mommy's new boss, Mr. Bott. He is the man who is going to help us, so I need you to be on your best behavior, okay?" The small five year old with ash blonde hair, dark brown undercut and honey golden eyes nodded his head as he stared at the tall dark haired man with dark chocolate eyes.

"Nice to meet you Master Jean." The man smiled down at the boy with a warm smile. "This is my son, Marco, he just turned seven a few months ago. Heard you enjoy dinosaurs and superheroes?" Jean nodded as he stared at the boy just two years older than himself with wide eyes, mapping out all the freckles along his tanned skin, milk chocolate eyes staring back into his own with a smile that could make the grumpiest of men relax. "Marco has a boatload of dinosaur and superhero toys, Marco, why don't you show Jean your room?" Marco smiled, grabbing Jean's hand and dragging him up the giant spiral staircase to the second floor.

Once inside the room, Jean's jaw dropped, the size of Marco's bedroom was bigger than his whole house combined. The ceiling was high with detailed trim along the edges, painted in a dark brown and a pale maroon shade of red. The bed was bigger than what any seven year old should have, a giant flat screen tv was mounted onto the wall across from the bed and games, movies and toys filled the rest of the room. "Do you want to play a video game? I have Spyro the dragon, Crash Bandicoot, Mario Kart?" The freckles kid asked, naming off games while setting up one of the many gaming consoles he owned.

"I… ummm.." Jean stood there nervously, rocking on his feet while twiddling his tiny thumbs. "I've never played a video game before." He looked up to see Marco smiling at him.

"That's okay! I'll teach you! We can start with Mario Kart, it's a multiplayer game, so I'll be able to teach you!" He smiled proudly as if he just won first place at the spelling bee.

"Oh, okay! Thank you!" Jean grabbed the controller Marco handed out to him with shaky hands. The two sat down on the squishy blue and purple bean bag chairs and started a game, Marco showing him how to pick his character, how to move and control the kart and how to throw the special abilities gained when hitting the boxes with the question marks.

"So, Jean, what's your favorite color?"

"Purple." Jean spoke as he tried to concentrate on what he was doing on the screen, still having a bit of trouble with the turns.

"Cool! Mines red!" Marco spoke as he gestures to the room around them.

"Favorite food?" Jean asked, stealing a glance at the older kid next to him, he couldn't help but smile, Marco's smile was infectious.

"Spaghetti! Well, all kinds of pasta! Penne, ravioli, ricotta-"

"I thought ricotta was a cheese?" Jean questioned, he wasn't actually sure himself, he just knew that cheese was a luxury in his home, never having enough money most of the time for really fancy things like cheeses.

"Oh, yeah! It is!" Marco giggled, "I just really like ricotta cheese." Jean giggled too, this kid was alright. "You're my new best friend, Jean."

~8 Years Later~

"Will you just shut up, Yeager?" A thirteen year old Jean Kirstein, as calmly as he could, spoke with his fist balled up at his sides as he walked out of the middle school building.

"Come on, Kirstein, didn't your poor piss excuse for a mother teach you it isn't nice to tell people to shut up?" Eren, the school bully, asshole and dick, in Jean's opinion, insulted. That's when Jean's resolve faded into nothing and landed a swift punch to the tanned, unblemished skin, a crunch was heard throughout the whole parking lot. Eren fell to the ground but quickly regained his strength and landed a kick to Jean's guy. The wind was knocked from Jean's lungs, but his anger was dominant. He lunged for the bastard who insulted his mother, the only parent he ever knew who worked her ass off to make sure he survived, to give the douche-nozzle a good pounding, but warm, strong arms held him back before hos fist could collide with it's intended target.

"Jean." A warm voice whispered in his ear, Marco. He relaxed in the freckles arms but he was still livid. "Let's go." Then, he was dragged off to the black Chevy Impala.

"Is that your boyfriend Horse Face? Man, I knew you were fruity but seriously? You could do better!" Jean almost got out Marco's grip, but the taller, older teen had his grip firm and all but threw the teen into the back seat.

"Jean-"

"No, don't start Marco! He taunted me about how I have to live my life, insulted my mother, then insulted you! He deserved to get his lights punched out!" Jean yelled, unshed tears forming in the corners of his Carmel eyes, threatening to spill any second. Marco just simply drew the younger into his arms and the driver drove towards Bott Manor. "He… he doesn't have to be so mean! I never did anything to him!"

When they finally pulled into the Manor, Marco led Jean to his room, the same room they first became friends in eight years ago. The stuffed animals and small toys are now replaced with books, CDs and even more games and movies. Marco sat them down on the bed and neither spoke for a few minutes. "He was right, ya know." Marco finally spoke and Jean looked at him like he had four heads. "You could do better than me, if we were together."

"Marco Bott, you stop right there! No one could ever replace you! You are literally the best person alive! If I had the balls to kiss you I would!" Jean and Marco's eyes widened and Jean turned into a blushing, flustered mess. "Oh my god! I'm so sorry! I.. I don't know why I said tha-", but Jean couldn't finish, Marco's lips pressed firmly against his in a gentle yet passionate kiss that spoke thousands of words and so many feelings.

"I love you Jean." Marco whispered as they pulled apart, foreheads still touching as both tried to regain their breath and slow their hearts. Jean cupped Marco's face in his hands and kissed him again.

"I love you too, Marco."

~2 Years Later~

Jean Kirstein, fifteen year old freshman at Trost High, walked through the park on his way home after work. He hates his job, hates working behind the counter at the local Taco Bell, hates that Eren works there too in the kitchen as a prep cook, hates dealing with annoying ass customers with snarky attitudes complaining that their crunch wrap supreme doesn't have enough sour cream. Well sorry, Karen, I don't make the fucking food nor do I determine how much sour cream goes on it. Today was a particularly bad day, Eren called off claiming he was sick when Jean really knew he was out with his "boyfriend" leaving him to prepare food and take orders. Then someone took a dump on the men's bathroom floor, didn't even try to aim for the fucking toilet! Just took a shot right there in the middle of the goddamn floor which he had to clean up himself while his manager bitched about him not doing his job at the counter. All Jean wanted to do was go home, talk to his boyfriend for a little before he eventually went to bed and got up early the next day for school.

It was a simple request that he wished for while the clock ticked by slowly. Jean was so into his own head, he never heard the footsteps coming up behind him until it was too late. A wet cloth covered his nose and mouth, his eyes widened for a second before the world faded to black.

-------------

"We have to find him!" Marco shouted at his father who was looking at him with a solemn expression. Marco paced back and forth in front of his father's desk, hands taking through his u kept hair. He has barely slept a wink since Jean vanished three days ago, his mind wondering about all the worst scenarios it could think of.

"We are trying, son, but we have no evidence of anything taking place. No struggle, no personal belongings, nothing to suggest anything has even happened."

"But Jean couldn't have just vanished into thin air! He wouldn't run away either! He loved his mom too much to just up and leave her and me…" Marco trailed off, thinking about his and Jean's time together over the last two years. Picnic and arcade dates, eating pizza and hot wings while they binge watched their favorite tv series at that moment, the soft and gentle kisses they shared between one another before they parted ways, always promising to text each other once they got home, letting the other one know they got there safe. That's the single most reason why Marco knew something was wrong. Neither of them forgot to send the 'im home safe and sound' text. Not once, in the ten years that they've known each other, did they miss sending that text. Even as children and Marco's father gave Mrs. Kirstein a cell phone as a gift to keep in contact, did they miss THAT text.

"Son, we are doing everything we can to find Jean. But we also need to think rationally, Jean might not ever be found." Marco froze at those words, Jean may be lost forever? He may never see those honey eyes, beautiful smile, perfect sketches and vibrant paintings painted by those slender pale hands and fingers? May never run his hands through those soft locks of ash and brown ever again? That's when Marco broke, he screamed and fell to the floor in a fetal position on the floor. His father looked at him with hurt in his own dark chocolate eyes, for him, his son and Jean's mother who was currently out looking for her only child as they speak. Don Bott rose from his leather chair and walked around the desk, kneeling in front of his son. He put his hand on his back and whispered a pained, "I'm sorry, Marco."

~10 Years Later (Present Day)~

Here he was, once again, at an underground auction. Mr. Bott hated these things, but he had no other choice, ever since Mrs. Kirstein passed away three years ago from a drunk driving accident, he hasn't been able to find someone who cleaned as well as she had. Every person he hired had an attitude or just didn't speak at all, always forgetting to dust the book shelves or take out the trash. So he relented and took up on Mr. Ackerman's suggestion to go to an auction. Getting there early to get a good seat, Mr. Bott, along with Mr. Ackerman, Mr. Braun and Mr. Hoover, the Dons of their respected parts of New York City, all sat down to converse while the auction for the…. Pleasure portion of the auction slowly came to a close. Mr. Bott cringed as the scum of New York bid money on these poor people just for the gratification of getting their dick in a hole.

"And now for our last and best prize of the night!" The auctioneer spoke as the Dons sighed in relief, none of them liked the idea of people being sold for pleasure as they themselves, tried for years to get it under control but never succeeding. "This one has been in the business for ten years, used and a bit rough looking, but this little beauty will be the best fuck you ever had. Clean and pliant, not a bad body either if I do say so myself. Number 54!" The announcer spoke as someone roughly shoved a young man out into the center of the room. The numbers flying from the crowd started pouring in left and right and it got the Dons wondering whom this "prize" was. "Three-thousand!" "Ten-thousand!" "Twenty Five-thousand!"

"Two hundred-thousand!" The crowd went quiet after hearing the deep booming voice coming from the front row.

"Two hundred-thousand! Going once! Going twice! Sold! To Do Bott!" The young man was then hauled out of the room to be prepped for leaving the facility.

--------------

"Dad! I'm home! Reiner, Bert, Mikasa, Eren and Armin are here too!" Marco called from the doorway as he and the others walked into the Manor. "Dad?!"

"In the living room son!" He heard his father call and the group walked towards the sound.

"What's up? We heard your voicemail and hauled ass here. What happened?" Marco asked as soon as he saw his father, eyes brimmed with tears and a small smile. The others in the room, specifically Dr. Yeager, looked at them, small sad but slightly happy smiles on their faces. "What's going on here?" The group looked at each other, confused and concern plastered on their faces. Once Mr. Bott moved to the side and gestured to the couch, it was then that the group realized what was happening. On the couch asleep, lay a thin pale man, dark circles under his eyes, bruises and scars and even some fresh wounds, now neatly stitched up thanks to Dr. Yeager, littering his almost naked form. Marco stared at the man laying on the pale green couch and tears flooded down his cheeks. "Jean?"

#attack on titan #Jean Krischtein #marco bott #jean x marco #kidnapping #abuse #eventual smut #jeans mom #marcos dad #eren yeager #mafia au #reiner #bert #mikasa #armin #erens dad

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spine-buster · 4 years

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the storm before the calm (f. andersen) | 1

A/N: The prologue has 150+ notes...I can’t believe what a positive response it got! Thank you so much for your support, comments, DMs, likes, reblogs, and tags! It means the world! Enjoy the first chapter :)

She could be at Early Mercy.

It was all Frederik could think about as he tried to celebrate Bee McTavish’s birthday. She could be here. She could be one of these people that keep looking at us, that keep brushing up against Auston and I trying to get our attention. She could be one of their friends. She could be in the washroom. She could be coming, on her way now to Early Mercy, and she might walk through the door and I’ll see her. It could happen.

That wasn’t to say that Fred wasn’t present and in the moment; having fun with his friends and celebrating Bee and her 24th year of life by buying drink after drink at the bar; but in the back of his mind, constantly, for the last three months – almost four – was the thought that in a random location in Toronto, in a random building, in a random place, he would lock eyes with the girl he’d seen in the middle of the night at Shopper’s Drug Mart and finally find out who she is, why she was crying, and why he was so devastatingly transfixed by her.

Fred had tried to find out who she was since then, almost obsessively so. He was a man mesmerized and he needed to know. He had tried to get the name of the band that performed at the function by contacting the heads of the charity, the head of public relations, the human resources manager, the man who answered the 1-800 call desk, even the poor accounts payroll manager whose email was listed on the charity’s website, but nobody would divulge the information. He wasn’t allowed to know. They weren’t under the discretion to divulge that information publicly (even though it was a public event). He contacted the photographer who ended up uploading photos of the night onto his professional website (not one photo of her uploaded – what a load of shit), who expressed he couldn’t remember the name. He tried remembering the members of his table that he had to schmooze with who could have picked up the name – nothing. He scoured Instagram – the hashtags, the other girls that were there, the profiles, the tagged photos, the socialites he didn’t socialize with just to see if they had a picture with her or mentioned her by name. He asked Brendan Shanahan if he knew. He asked Kyle Dubas if he knew. He asked every Leaf that was there that night if they caught the name, if they spoke to any of the members, if they took a picture, if it was in the background of another picture, if they remembered any minute detail that would give him a lead.

Nothing.

His chest has been permanently tightened for almost four months now. He needed to know. He needed to find her.

“Serena’s here,” Auston’s voice interrupted Fred’s thoughts as he slammed his empty glass – his fourth of the night, at least – onto the bar beside Fred.

“Who?”

“Serena – Serena!” he emphasized. Fred’s face was still blank. “Serena DaCosta, dude,” Auston said. “Remember…we were hooking up a while back…”

“Oh. Right.”

Auston looked at his friend skeptically. “Dude, come on.”

“What?”

Fred could see the gears shifting in Auston’s head pulling him in two different directions. Fred wanted to stop him. Usually when this happened to Auston, it pulled him into conspiracy theory territory. “Bro…you…you’re not hung up on Bee, are you?”

“NO!” Fred screamed, a look of disgust on his face. “Jesus fucking Christ, Auston, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What?! You can’t blame me for thinking it!” he tried to defend himself. “Anytime she’s not in sight you look like someone ran over your dog.”

It’s because I’m looking for somebody. And I can’t do that when the birthday girl is around. “You’re a fucking lunatic. And I know that’s the alcohol talking,” Fred shook his head.

“Then why do you look like someone ran over your dog?!” Auston persisted. “The city’s hottest girls are in this damn club right now practically lining up to hook up with you and you seem to not give a fuck because of…what? Hmmm?” Auston waited for an answer dramatically, sticking out his head, raising his eyebrows, and pursing his lips slightly. “You can’t hate me for wondering.”

“Yes, I can.”

“So what’s the reason, then?”

“There’s no reason,” Fred shook his head again, taking a sip from his drink and hoping Auston would just end it.

But of course, that wasn’t the case. Auston always had to explore the other side of the gears shifting in his brain – the non-conspiracy theory side. The side that was – unfortunately – usually right. “Wait a second…” Auston narrowed his eyes. “Oh…dude.”

“What?”

“You’re not still hung up on that girl, are you?”

The hairs of Fred’s neck stood on end. “What girl?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Auston said. “The girl you’ve been obsessed with the last three months. From the charity event. That you haven’t been able to find.”

Fred didn’t mean to hesitate – he really didn’t. But in his simple hesitation and shaking his head and stuttering out a “N – No,” Auston had him, Auston won, and Auston knew he was right.

“Brooooooo,” Auston threw his head back in disdain for Fred. “Let. It. GO!”

“Fuck off, Auston.”

“Are you honestly going to be hung up on her for the rest of the year? For the rest of your life?” Auston kept asking. “It’s already been three months, Fred. You couldn’t find her. You can’t find her. It’s a lost cause. You can’t let this dictate your life. You’ve gotta…you’ve gotta move on. If it was meant to be you would have found her already, and you haven’t.”

“Thanks, Auston,” Fred rolled his eyes.

“I’m serious, man. Think about it. You can’t get hung up on this girl when you don’t even know her name. There’s so many other things you could be spending your time on, so many other girls you can be paying attention to, that can be paying attention to you, but you can’t even see it!”

Before Auston could continue his lecture, the girl Freddie could only presume to be Serena DaCosta appeared behind Auston. Her long, wavy blonde hair and plump lips spread into a smile enticed Auston automatically. “Hey,” Auston smirked.

“Heeeeeeyyyyyyy yyyoooouuuuu,” she drawled out flirtingly, giving him an unsolicited and dramatic kiss on the cheek. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for a friend’s birthday,” Auston said.

“Anybody I know?” Serena asked. Fred could see the rest of her group of friends approaching them. He held his breath.

“No,” he said sharply. Auston knew better than to mention Bee’s name in front of girls like this, after what happened. Not that he ever did, though, because Auston was somewhat protective of Bee too and didn’t want these types of girls even knowing about her. “What are you doing here?”

Serena shrugged her shoulders. “Just had a feeling that I should be out tonight,” she said, her eyes flashing towards Fred. “Hey Freddie.” Fred nodded towards her as he took another sip of his drink. He didn’t even bother. When her friends approached them, he clocked out altogether. Serena got the hint. “Auston, you remember Jessy and Rachel and Loren?”

“Hey ladies,” Auston winked at them, not remembering them at all.

“Catch you later,” Fred said quickly into Auston’s ear, attempting to get up from his seat to go and find Bee, Morgan, and Tyler.

Fred saw Auston’s hand come up and hold him down. “Have you met Loren?”

***

“Are you guys going to take a taxi home?” Bee asked as she clung onto Morgan for dear life. After dancing the night away at Early Mercy, Fred knew Bee was ready to call it a night. Auston had tried to convince the manager to keep it open (while Serena hung on his arm, nonetheless), but to no avail. Special rules couldn’t be made for Auston Matthews. It was law. The manager was really sorry. So everybody decided to call it a night.

“Don’t worry, sweetcheeks,” Tyler fumbled around with Auston’s phone. “Our Uber’s just down the street.” He looked towards Auston, another ping coming from his phone. “That girl just texted you five times in a row.”

“Of course,” Auston rolled his eyes.

“Am I still sleeping over yours?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not cockblocking am I?”

“Far from it. If you’re over it gives a legitimate reason for her not to follow us home.”

Tyler’s eyes widened. “I’ll call the cops if I need to.”

“Freddie?” he heard his name called by Bee’s overly sweet voice. “Freddie how are you getting home?” she asked as she approached him, clinging onto the material of his shirt.

“I’m grabbing an Uber with Auston and Tyler,” he said, holding her in place so she wouldn’t fall over. He loved seeing Bee like this, if only because she was so poised and in control of herself 99% of the time. He loved seeing her let loose.

“Are you going home?”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to be safe?”

Fred giggled at her tone of voice. “Yes Bee. I’ll be safe. I don’t know many people who would jump a six-foot-four, two-hundred-and-forty-pound man. In an Uber.”

“But you always look so expensive,” she said. He also loved that Bee had no filter. “You always dress so nice and wear such expensive things and look put together and I once got told by this lady that people look for people who look rich because --”

“Bee --”

“Because it means they have money and did you know that thieves will actually target people who have sleeve tattoos because it means they have a lot of money if it means they can get all that work done? So Auston has to be careful too.”

Fred couldn’t help but laugh as he saw, in his peripheral vision, their Uber come up along the curb. Tyler was waving his arms like one of those flag guys on the tarmacs outside of planes. “I’ll make sure Auston is safe, Bee.”

“Thank you, you big boy.”

“Alright! Let’s blow this popsicle stand!” Tyler yelled from the car. Fred gave one last ‘Happy Birthday’ and kiss on the cheek to Bee before shoving himself into the backseat (why, oh why didn’t they order an SUV? His legs were going to cramp so bad), pulling an almost-drunk Auston in with him, and ordering Tyler to take the front seat (it should have been him taking the front seat, because, you know, leg room. Tyler was 5’9”. He could fit in the trunk.) so they could get on with it.

Because they had ordered the Uber from Auston’s phone, the driver was bringing them to Auston’s address. Fred made sure to tell him right from the get-go that he would need to make two stops. The driver complied easily.

“Did you like any of them?” Auston asked as he leaned awkwardly into the middle section of the backseat, looking at Fred with beady eyes.

“Like any of who?” Fred asked. He overheard Tyler making awkward conversation with the Uber driver from the front seat, telling him his name was Inigo Montoya a la Princess Bride.

“Loren thought you were hot.”

“Oh for fuck sakes,” Freddie sighed. “Auston--”

“Get over her,” Auston said authoritatively. “She’s not gonna appear out of thin air, Fred. She’s not just gonna appear in a Starbucks while you’re ordering coffee. Loren is a real person,” he emphasized. “With lips, and boobs – nice ones – and--”

“Auston.”

“Will you at least just think about it?” Auston asked. “I hate seeing you so pissy. You’re Frederik fucking Andersen dude. You should be having every God damn girl in this city if you wanted.”

On the one hand, Auston had a point. Fred hated to admit it, but he did. Maybe he was too hung up on this. Maybe he was over-the-top about his search, about his constant thinking about her. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be, and he was just holding onto a dream that didn’t need holding on to; a dream that needed to stay unfulfilled, undone, incomplete. Maybe he was trying to force fate – the last thing anybody should do.

Fred took a deep breath as they felt the car pull up to the curb. Out the window, Fred could see the façade of Auston’s apartment building. “I’ll think about it.”

Auston smiled mischievously before winking. “Atta boy,” he pulled himself up, opening the door to the car. “Her Instagram is at lorenxoxo. Thank you kindly, sir,” he directed to the Uber driver, saluting him dramatically. “Slip into her DMs.”

“Goodnight Auston,” Fred dismissed him. Fred watched as Tyler and Auston stumbled their way into Auston’s building, getting inside safely. The car had been quiet from a lack of music, but as he saw Tyler open the door, the opening notes of a guitar riff began to play over the stereo.

Suddenly, Fred heard the back door opposite his side of the car open, and a body slipped into the backseat beside him, closing the door once they were in. The first thing he noticed was the abundance of thick, luxurious hair, styled in old Hollywood waves, cascading down the back and side profile, obstructing the view of her face. Then, he noticed the outfit: a loose, spaghetti strap, silk v-neck top, lazily tucked into tight, seamless black pants, and strappy black heels.

“Take me to Stewart Street, please,” the woman said to the driver. Her voice was off, somehow, but Fred couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“Ma’am – I – I already have a passenger. I--”

“Stewart Street, please,” she begged, and Fred could hear in her voice that she was crying.

He looked up.

***

Aleida Casillas was crying. Again. She felt like she had been crying for months, that her tear ducts were getting their own workout now for how often she used them. She cried in bed. She cried in the shower. She cried in her car. She cried in her Ubers. She cried in restaurants. She cried in restaurant bathrooms. She cried at her parents’ house. She cried at her sister’s house. She cried in her own house. She cried on her couch. She cried underneath a blanket.

She cried alone.

And right now, she needed to get into the privacy of her own home so she could cry there. But she’d have to cry in the back of an Uber to get there.

As she walked down King Street, she saw an Uber – she knew, thanks to the sticker on the back windshield – pull up and let out two drunken men who scurried into the glass condo building. She ran towards the car as fast as her heels could carry her before it could drive away. She opened the backseat door and slipped in, closing it behind her.

“Take me to Stewart Street, please,” Aleida said to the driver. She could hear the cracks in her own voice and hoped to God the driver didn’t make some sort of comment about it. She didn’t think she’d be able to handle it. She really didn’t think she could sob any harder at the back of an Uber more so than she had been doing the last few months. Uber drivers in Toronto probably had her on their radar.

“Ma’am – I – I already have a passenger. I--”

“Stewart Street, please,” she begged, looking down at her feet, her feet in their strappy heels, so she could wipe away her tears before the driver could know she was crying. She wasn’t really listening to him. She didn’t really care about what he was saying, truthfully, the other passenger be damned. Turn it into an UberPool – whatever needed to happen for her to get home. She’d even pay for the other passenger’s fare. They could live all the way out in Scarborough. Mississauga. Aurora. Newmarket. She didn’t care.

“Holy shit.”

She looked up.

***

Fred was going to pass out.

Her.

It was her.

He was pretty sure that his mouth was gaping open; that he looked like a complete idiot at the other end of the backseat, but his mind couldn’t process what his eyes were seeing fast enough. The rich, dark brown hair. The perfectly tanned and contoured skin as smooth and flawless as glass. The dominant eyebrows that framed her face. The perfectly cut cheekbones blushed and highlighted. The lips, full and bow-shaped, painted with a neutral pink instead of the daring red he’d seen so many moons ago.

Her eyes with their striking hazel irises, were staring directly into his soul. Again.

She was here.

In the car.

Crying again.

“Fred,” his name escaped her lips quietly, the tears immediately stopping. She was just as shocked as he was, apparently. Because, really, what were the chances? To be going home at the same time, to get into the same time…

“It’s you,” he said, not knowing what he was saying. His brain was still trying to process everything, and it was doing a shit job.

“It’s me.”

“Ma’am, you’re going to have to leave the vehic--”

“No no, it’s fine,” Fred said quickly, making eye contact with the driver in the rearview mirror, waving him off. “Take her to Stewart Street.”

“You sure?”

“Positive,” Fred said without even looking at him. Soon, he felt the gear shift into drive and the driver pull away from the curb.

The girl had begun to wipe the tears away from her face delicately, trying to mask her condition. As if Fred didn’t catch it. He watched her for a few moments as she stared straight ahead as to not make eye contact with him, not knowing what to say at all. What could he say? That he’d been obsessed with her? That he’d badgered his teammates and strangers about her? But before he could overthink it, his mind decided to say the one thing that was true. “I’ve been trying to find you.”

She didn’t bother to look at him, still trying to collect her tears, her emotions. “You have? Why?”

He had to be honest. “Your eyes,” he admitted. It was at that point that she looked at him again, the hazel irises stabbing him. “Your eyes are so sad.”

They were both hyperaware of the verb he used. Are. Because they definitely were sad then, and they were sad now. For a moment, however quick it was, there was an acknowledgement on her face; it soon turned to anger – brows furrowed and lips pursed, looking away again. “That’s none of your business.”

Fred acquiesced. He knew that. Maybe that was too forward of him. “What’s your name, then? I – I need to know your name.”

She shot him a glance. Against her better judgement, she answered him. “Aleida.”

“Aleida what?”

“Aleida.”

“How did you know who I was…am,” he corrected himself.

Aleida gave him another look. “Everybody knows who you are, Fred. Goalie extraordinaire of the Maple Leafs. Girls in this city would line up outside your bedroom if only you’d let them.”

It was Fred’s turn to give her a look. That wasn’t true at all. Well, not to him. He could still go around some places in the city without getting recognized – especially when he was alone. He mostly just kept to himself. When he was with Auston it was a different story, since Auston’s reputation preceded him. “Why don’t I know who you are?”

“Maybe you just weren’t looking hard enough,” she said.

That was a joke. If she only knew what he had been up to. If only she knew. “Why aren’t you answering my questions?”

“Why do keep asking them?”

“Because I want to know who you are,” Fred hit back, more firmly this time. Didn’t she get that? Didn’t she get the reason why the first words out of his mouth were ‘Holy shit’ was because of exactly that?

“Ma’am, we’re here. Stewart Street,” the driver said from the front seat. “Wasn’t a log drive.” He put the car in park and unlocked the doors, the sound dramatically filling the air.

She took once last look at Fred as she opened the door. “My name is Aleida. That’s all you will need to know more.”

And then she was gone.

***

Frederik found himself riding the elevator up to the 31st floor of the St. Regis Hotel. The elevator attendant marveled at his size, trying to hide the fact that he was staring. The other women in the elevator – four of them – stared too, trying not to giggle to each other. But Fred could see their eyes. He could see their eyes dart towards him and then to one another, smirks appearing on their faces, stifled little giggles escaping them as the elevator rushed up.

When the elevator pinged, and the doors opened, Fred found himself at Louix Louis, the luxurious, gilded bar that had Torontonians salivating at the mouth. It was the most luxurious of the luxurious. Lavish. Opulent. You name it. It was everything people loved about indulgence. Everything people loved about exclusivity; about standing in line and not getting in; about calling for reservations and being denied; about watching people, seeing people, wanting to be seen, waiting to be seen.

“Hey Fred,” the hostess winked immediately as he approached her podium. “Auston’s been waiting.”

“Thanks,” he responded shyly as she grabbed a menu from beneath her.

“Follow me, sweetie.”

Fred shook his head and chuckled to himself as she turned her back to him, leading him down the bar and to one of the booths in the back where he could already see Auston waiting. And of course, like the sky is blue, Auston was wearing a beanie. He was the only person in Toronto who would wear a beanie in Louix Louis.

“’Bout time,” Auston smiled as Fred shuffled into the opposite side of the booth.

“Shut up.”

“Serena, Jessy, Rachel, and Loren are on their way,” Auston winked.

“You didn’t,” Fred deadpanned, thinking this was just going to be a quiet night. He should have known better. He should have known better to accept an invitation by Auston to go to Louix Louis.

“Oh, I did,” Auston smiled. “She’s into you, bro.”

“Who?”

“Loren.”

“Who’s Loren?”

“Oh, fuck off, Fred.”

Fred rolled his eyes. He couldn’t care less. He decided to one up Auston; to tell him what he wanted to tell him ever since he agreed to go out with him tonight. “I found her, by the way.”

“Found who?” Auston sipped at his drink.

“The girl. Aleida.”

Auston almost spit out his drink. “What?!”

Fred nodded his head. “She got into the Uber the night of Bee’s birthday once you and Tyler left.”

“You’re fucking telling me--”

“Aaaaaaustttooooooonnn!” a perky, overzealous voice cut their conversation way too short. From the opposite end of the bar, where Fred was let in, he saw the same group of girls from Bee’s birthday make their way towards them. Their designer purses hung on chains against their shoulders as their long hair, perfectly blow-dried at some salon in Yorkville, moved with their scurried movements. At Louix Louis, you wanted to be seen in the same booth as Auston Matthews.

“Hey heeeeey,” Auston smiled, scooting over to make room while the four girls entered all on his side. The girl Fred could only assume was Loren eyed him like a hawk, the waitress approaching the table not long after to get everybody’s drink orders.

Auston exchanged formalities with the ladies as Fred stayed silent, but he could tell that Auston was pressed about the news Fred had just revealed. For all Auston seemed like he didn’t care about things and was generally aloof, he could be a snoopy bitch. A really snoopy bitch. And Fred could tell Auston wanted to talk about it so bad.

Fred thought he would wait.

But he didn’t.

“Hey girls, can you help me with something?” he preempted quickly. “Actually, it’s more so helping Fred.”

Fred’s eyes widened. “N – No--”

“What do you girls know about a girl named Al-ay-da?” he stressed her name – improperly – eyeing Fred quickly.

“Oh my God.”

“Oh my GAWD.”

“Aleida Casillas?!”

“Oh my God, are you joking?” Serena piped up over the other three. “There is no way Aleida Casillas didn’t bite Fred’s head off if she met him. That girl is a fucking cannibal.”

“What? Listen, all I wanna know is the details,” Auston held his hands up innocently.

“What is there to say about Aleida Casillas,” Jessy quipped, and Fred felt like she was going to break out into the Regina George monologue from Mean Girls. “You know who her mom is, right?” she directed at Auston, but looked between him and Fred.

“No, I obviously don’t.”

“It’s Dr. Casillas – she’s, like, the best plastic surgeon in the city. The country.”

“Girls who go to her say she does the best work,” Loren contributed. Fred so desperately wanted to ask if she had gotten anything done for her to say something like that, but he of course decided against it. “It all looks so natural.”

“And her dad – he’s like, the best cardiologist in the country,” Serena added. “I’m not exaggerating. My cousin in med school once watched him perform a quadruple bypass and a ten hour ventricular restoration. He’s even done heart surgery on a former Prime Minister or whatever. He’s been honoured for his work all over the world. It’s insane.”

“Not to mention the family is loaded. She’s got everything anybody could ever want. I mean, Aleida thinks she owns the city,” Jessy said.

“Well…she kinda does,” Rachel said something besides oh my God. “She’s got all the money in the world, she knows everybody worth knowing, but like, she’s friends with them too, and people want her to wear their clothes or whatever, or come to their bars, or attend their charity events. I mean, it’s mainly because of who her parents are, but still. She sings, sometimes, I think, but I think mostly she just shows up places--”

“--she’s a model--”

“—she’s a model, and she’s pretty, and people are, like, scared of her, because I heard one time she, like, ruined the career of some up-and-coming influencer – or was it a designer? – but she ruined his career cause that person, like, didn’t dress one of her friends for an event or something and she went ballistic.”

“She’s a cannibal, like I said,” Serena said assertively. “She’s a huge bitch. Why would you want to know anything about her?”

Fred was shocked, to say the least. The person he’d met – if you could even call it that – in the Shopper’s Drug Mart that night, and the person he’d seen in the backseat of the Uber could not have been the same person. There was no way. There was no way that crying girl was a ‘cannibal’. There was no way. The family stuff could be true, sure – who was he to question that – but the other stuff? Ruining a career? Impossible. It wasn’t that Fred thought they were lying. But maybe…maybe they had the wrong girl. How many girls could be named Aleida? Maybe they were…embellishing.

“Yeah. Why would you want to know anything about her?” Loren asked, eyeing Fred like a hawk again.

Fred tried not to make it seem like he was physically uncomfortable every time she looked at him, but he was getting physically uncomfortable. “She just performed at an event we went to,” Fred explained briefly.

“I wouldn’t even think of like, doing anything,” Serena took charge again. “She’ll rip your head off.”

Well Fred knew where she stood.

“Enough about Aleida,” Auston held his hands up again, looking past everybody at the waitress that was bringing their drinks to the table. “What are we up to tonight?” he smirked.

Fred clocked out. He didn’t care about anything that was being done or said around him – he didn’t care what those girls were saying at all. He didn’t care. He didn’t care. He didn’t care.

Casillas.

Her last name was Casillas.

He got up abruptly, asking a passing waiter where the washrooms were. Auston was too entranced by the girls to care, so Fred had no qualms leaving. As he made his way towards the washrooms, he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He typed out her name into the Google search bar . ‘Aleda Casiyas’

‘Do you mean Aleida Casillas?’

Well fine then.

There she was on his phone screen. It wasn’t like she had a Wikipedia page or anything, but perhaps even more important, especially in this city, was that she had her own tag on the Toronto Life website. The Narcity tag was there too, but that wasn’t as important. He clicked on the Toronto Life link.

Aleida Casillas, wearing vintage Jean Paul Gaultier, at Soho House, Toronto.

What Aleida Casillas wore to the premier of Guillermo Del Toro’s new film.

Aleida Casillas is the face for emerging Toronto fashion designer Guinevere Jones.

“I’d be careful if I were you,” he heard an all-too-familiar voice behind him. “Loren’s barely turned 18.”

Fred spun around dramatically.

There she was behind him.

He almost couldn’t believe his eyes. Almost. But if she could sneak into the backseat of his Uber, she could appear at Louix Louis. She could appear anywhere. And of course, she looked flawless. Makeup flawless, hair flawless, all of it. If she really was a model, he could see why. “What are you doing here?” Fred asked.

“Who isn’t at Louix Louis on a Friday night?” she countered.

Fred’s head whipped back and forth between the direction of the booth and Aleida standing in front of him. He was willing to ditch this entire scene. “Are you ready to talk?”

“About what?”

“Why you were crying in a Shopper’s Drug Mart at two in the morning four months ago,” Fred deadpanned. “And why you were crying before you stole an Uber?”

Aleida’s face dropped. Whatever confidence she had in her power and persuasion over Fred left her and was replaced with something else – that something else, Fred didn’t know yet. But it wasn’t confidence, and it wasn’t self-assurance, and it sure wasn’t was the cheekiness she’d displayed in any and all interaction she’d had with him (however brief) up until this point. “You don’t want to get into it,” she said, her voice soft. And for the first time, emotional.

“I do.”

She looked at him. “Fred.”

“Can we get out of here?”

Aleida took a deep breath. She tugged on the hem of his shirt as she started walking away.

He followed her.

She made an abrupt stop at the booth. When Auston saw her, he didn’t think anything of it, but when he saw Fred behind her, his eyes went wide. All the girls stopped talking and looked like a ghost had just appeared in front of them.

“Ohmigod Aleida, hi,” Serena said first.

Aleida smiled at her, but it wasn’t politely. She focused her attention back to Auston. “I’m taking Fred.” She didn’t give him an option.

“Th-that’s cool,” he couldn’t say anything else to her.

Aleida looked back at the girls, specifically Serena. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

Serena’s jaw almost dropped from embarrassment. It was clear to Fred that despite calling her a cannibal a mere ten minutes ago, Serena would butter herself up if it meant Aleida would eat her. “It’s…it’s me! Serena Da Costa.”

Aleida’s eyes flashed. “Oh! Right! From my mom’s clinic!” she exclaimed, her surprise feigned and her polite tone just as fake. She pointed at Serena. “You came in with…” she went through the girls with her pointed finger, stopping on Loren. “You! How was your eighteenth birthday in June? Looks like your parents allowed you to get the boobs you wanted.”

Loren looked absolutely mortified. “I--”

“And your new lips,” Aleida focused on Serena again. “Isn’t my mom just so great?”

Now Serena looked absolutely mortified. But it was Auston who looked ready to crawl into a hole and die since she mentioned the eighteenth birthday party. “Uh--”

“Anyways, see you guys later. I’m sure one of you will want a nose job soon,” she winked at the group before walking off.

***

“So why were you crying?”

Fred was on Aleida’s couch now, after having followed her home by foot, walking for half an hour. Half an hour along King Street West, illuminated lights and flashing storefronts lighting the way. Eager clubbers spilling onto the streets tried to do their part to distract Fred or block him from following, but he was like a man possessed. His eyes were like a hawk’s on her. There was no way he was losing her again in a crowd full of people on King Street.

They passed the Shopper’s Drug Mart.

It was when they happened upon a row of expansive, luxurious, modern townhomes, coincidentally just a few blocks from his building that Fred began to realize that maybe the things those girls were saying were right, or at least partly true. But the other thing he realized made him want to scream. He had searched for her for months and she was practically just a few steps away from him? He understood the universe worked in mysterious ways, but this was just plain cruel. That she had been so close to him, physically, and he had no idea. It tore him up.

They’d gone inside. She took off her heels. She’d opened a bottle of wine and poured it into two glasses before standing at opposites ends of her expansive kitchen island, staring at each other, waiting for the other to speak. It was Fred who obviously broke first. It was Fred who couldn’t wait any longer; who wanted to get to the bottom of why her eyes were – are – so sad that night, and in the Uber, and tonight. Because behind her façade, he could see her sadness. Behind the snarky comments she made towards those girls with Auston, Aleida Casillas was profoundly sad.

She took a deep breath. “My uh…my old piano instructor – from when I was a kid – she passed away earlier that day,” Aleida revealed, her voice low.

“Were you close?”

“I think I loved her more than I loved my parents when I was a kid.”

Fred was shocked to hear such a statement come out of her mouth. Considering that he just learned who her parents were, it was…different for him to hear such a thing. “Why?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “She listened,” she said simply. “No-one ever listens. No-one ever…no-one ever listens. To me. But she did. She listened. More than anyone. And she saw me."

“She saw you?”

“She saw me for who I was and not what she wanted me to be,” Aleida continued. “She was the best.”

There was a moment of silence between them. Fred was unsure of what to say. He knew he wanted her to open up to him, but he wasn’t expecting…this. Truthfully, he was expecting something completely different. A breakup with a boyfriend, or at least a fight. A disagreement with a friend. A lost job opportunity or a firing. But not a death of a childhood piano teacher. “I just couldn’t get over your eyes – the sadness in your eyes. And it’s still there.”

“Listen. I don’t know what those girls told you about me tonight. And I didn’t mean to make you scared that night when I called you Fred and knew who you were. I just…you made it obvious that you didn’t see me in there. Nobody did. And that was a stark reminder to me of her being gone. Anyway…there…there’s a lot going on right now, and nobody cares.”

He could tell she knew she was rambling; that she stopped herself from revealing too much. He persisted. “Nobody cares?”

“Nobody fucking cares,” she stressed before taking a long sip of wine.

“Well, can you tell me a bit about yourself?” he asked. Her eyes flashed at him, her brows furrowing. “So I can get to know you? So I can care?”

“I’m sure those girls told you enough about me,” she commented. “Whatever people say I am, I am. Isn’t that how all this works?”

“No, and you know that,” he said. “You apparently know all this information about me and about those girls with Auston, but why don’t I know anything about you? Just be honest.”

“Well what’d those girls say about me?”

He paused before taking a deep breath. “Cannibal.”

“Cannibal?”

“Serena said you were a cannibal. Your parents – doctors. Your family – loaded. All the money in the world. That you’re a model. A bitch. That you ruined someone’s career because they wouldn’t dress your friend for an event,” he listed off.

Aleida’s eyes narrowed at the last bit. Her tone was as assertive as the click of her heels on the sidewalk on the way here. “That designer attempted to sexually assault one of my best friends, so you’re damn right I ruined his career. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

So she was misunderstood. Or at least her life was. Fred still didn’t know. “But what’s the truth?”

“Isn’t there a bit of truth in everything?” she asked rhetorically.

“You tell me.”

Aleida couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. “Everything they told you about me is true. Doctor parents. Loaded. All the money in the world. A bitch. A cannibal.”

“Yet you cry about your piano teacher dying,” he commented. Her eyes shot daggers at him at his comment. For a second, he was sure he was going to die right then and there. “You’re hiding behind this tough exterior and I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude but I think you care more than anyone.”

“Don’t you ever use that against me ever again,” she snapped back at him. “I do fucking care, okay? Everybody fucking cares, and if they say they don’t they’re liars. That’s why Serena was practically salivating at the mouth when she saw me and couldn’t handle it when I pretended not to know who she was. She’ll call me a cannibal but if I’m the shark she’s that fish that attaches itself and sucks the bacteria off my body.” Her tone was so scathing, Fred had never heard anything like it. She paused. “You want to know the truth? Here’s your truth. I’m Cuban-Canadian. My dad is one of the best cardiologists in the entire world and my mother is the best plastic surgeon in the country. I’ve got an older sister named Alejandra who’s a plastic surgeon too. I grew up in Rosedale. I went to private school. I received the best education. I have millions and millions of dollars at my disposal whenever I want it and get to spend it however I want it. People ask me to model their clothes, to go to their events, to say nice things about them. They want me to sing and play piano and give this air that their event is high-end and exclusive and luxurious just because I’m there – because my presence apparently means something to a lot of people in the city. And every single one of those people – my dad, mom, sister, her husband, everybody who wants something from me – they look at me, all the time, but they don’t see me. And for once in my life…for once in my life, I just want to be seen.”

Fred listened. It was all he could do as she went into her speech. There were no words of comfort that could be said to her, no grand gestures that could be done to make her feel better. He barely knew her – really. He barely knew her. He only felt a connection to her; to her and her sad eyes, to her tears, to the image of her cathartic crying at two in the morning in a drugstore neither of them had any business of being in at that hour.

So instead, he stared at her. He nodded his head in understanding. Because he did understand, to some extent – how people in their lives look but they never really see. It was something that bound them together. In the vast city of Toronto, from the bright lights of King Street West to the luxurious décor of Louix Louis, to the couch they found themselves sitting on sipping on an expensive wine, it connected them.

He took a deep breath. “So you play piano then? And you sing?” he asked. Aleida nodded her head. He couldn’t read her emotion as she took another sip of wine. “Can I hear or see you play sometime?”

“No.”

Fred nodded. It would take a while for her to open up more. To show him more of herself, to let her guard and her attitude down. For her to allow him to see her.

But he’d be there for it.

284 notes · View notes

connorandersons-blog · 4 years

Text

Kinktober Day 3: Prostitution, RK1K

Markus/Connor! Enjoy!

------------------------------------

Connor highly doubted this was legit, but the Mistress said it was, so he was going to go anyway. Some days it was hard to believe what he did for a living, but at this point, he tried to just focus on getting into character.

That's never been too hard before, even with the most outrageous demands. As long as they paid good enough and respected his terms then he'd do almost anything.

The hotel was the same as all the others he often visited. Actually, if his memory is correct (which it always is), he's been to this exact hotel seven times before. It was definitely more classy and he didn't even get odd looks from the staff, though they were sure to whisper about him and wonder who he was there for later.

That was fine, let them imagine him draped over some old fat white man that paid him in hundreds for a single night just to get slapped around a little. Those men were the easiest. Most predictable. They were dominant in their social lives and needs to be treated like shit every now and then.

He expected that for most of his clients. Some surprised him with their requests. It was always interesting when they wanted him to bottom. Sometimes that could be rather nice but there were also the men that made his skin crawl and need to take a very long hot shower after.

It wasn't just men who hired him either, there were plenty of women or people of other genders. Most of the feminine people who hired him wanted to dom him, which he gladly let happen.

He glanced down at his outfit, satisfied it was to his standards before unlocking the door and walking in. He had said there was no need to knock, so Connor didn't.

He was fully ready for some random rich dude posing as his client but was surprised to see that wasn't the case at all.

Markus Manfred, CEO of the largest paint store, and the CEO of a tech store standing in the hotel room, shirt off, and painting. It really was him. He was also painting. Which made sense but his brain was still trying to wrap around the fact that he'd have his legs wrapped around Markus Manfred tonight.

Best. Job. Ever.

He was a professional though, and he easily pulled himself together, swaying his hips as he walked in. "Mr. Manfred, you didn't need to get all dressed up for me." He says.

Manfred jumps and Connor has to contain an eye roll. Hadn't the dude heard the door open? He really hoped he wasn't going to be creepy. If he was then he'd get to bitch to Gavin about it, so there was that.

Manfred turned and eyed him. Connor stood there, hip out, and let him. He gladly soaked in the attention, ready to do a fucking twirl if Manfred wanted. "Uh, just Markus is fine…"

"Hello, Just Markus. I'm Connor, but you can give me a different one if you like. I'm partial to baby boy, or master depending on what you like." He added a wink at the end, but he had a feeling Manfred was more of a top. Hopefully, he had a big dick or a lot of stamina. Connor was lucky to be graced with both.

Markus nodded, holding out his hand. Connor raised an eyebrow but shook it, not too bothered about the paint that had gotten on him. "Right, hello Connor. Um, not to sound like a dick… but do I know you? I generally have a really good memory, but maybe I was drunk? I'm so sorry, I don't mean to offend you."

What? This was the right room, and definitely the right client. Maybe Markus wanted to play into this, but he seemed genuinely confused. What the hell was she supposed to do?! "I'm Connor, from Bees Love? You did set an appointment with me for the whole night."

Markus's eyes go wide and he face-palms. "I'm going to fucking kill North," he grumbled before dragging the hand down his face.

It's oddly adorable that Markus seemed to forget he had not-quite dried paint on his hands that were now on his face. "I'm so sorry, North said I needed to relax and sent me here. I thought it was just to get away and paint in peace. I'll still pay you, um, and tip? Do you take tips?"

This was actually happening. And it was the funniest damn thing that had happened all week, and he had gotten to sleep with a very famous comedian. He burst into laughter, not able to hold it in anymore.

"I'm so sorry, this is great!" He laughed, trying to take in air. "Yes, I do get tipped depending on how I do. Uh, I don't really have anywhere else to be. You sure you don't wanna sleep with me? I'm up for almost anything."

Markus was looking at him kinda funny. A look he hadn't seen in a very, very long time. No. Nope. Big nope. He was not going down that rabbit hole. "Ah, no? But not because you aren't beautiful! You are, very much so. If you weren't a prostitute I'd sleep with you. Wait, shit, I didn't mean it like that!"

Uh, so Markus was actually adorable. Too bad he wouldn't sleep with Connor. He'd probably be the best lay he's gotten all month. "No, it's fine. I understand. Could uh… can I stay though? I just wasn't planning on going back home tonight, I got a dog-sitter and everything. We won't do anything unless you want. I won't even talk." He was good at not talking, or talking. He could be good at basically anything if he needed to be.

Markus fidgeted and Connor was ready to be told to leave. This would most definitely be his shortest appointment ever. But Markus surprised him once again. "Sure. Do you like painting? I've got another canvas."

Connor shrugged and rolled up his sleeves. He could just get another shirt if this one got messy, it wasn't like he didn't have enough money. "Sure, I'm always willing to try something new. Makes the job easy."

Markus snorts and looks around before pulling out a medium-sized canvas. "I'm sure it does. Alright, so there are these paints you can use. Go wild, I've got plenty." Markus said, pointing then out before picking up his paintbrush.

He's never really painted and he had no idea what to do. Was he supposed to come up with an idea himself or maybe still life? It was called that, right?

"Hey, you don't have to. I'm gonna pay the whole thing and tip. If you don't wanna paint I'm sure I can find something else. Food? Uh, tv?" Markus says, looking around the rather large hotel room. "I think there's a hot tub, and a bathroom if you need it. Just do whatever you want."

Connor couldn't help the smirk. "What if I want to do you?" He watches as Markus's face flushed slightly. It was barely discernible but he could tell. Also how the fuck was this man so beautiful? It was completely unfair that he was so pretty.

"I- um, thank you? I just, I don't want to pressure you just because it's your job. I'd rather get to know you first? I just, I guess I really do need to relax but it would feel like I'm taking advantage of you." Markus shrugged, staring at the ground.

Of course, the one guy he fully wanted to sleep with, like would actually do anything, was giving him reasons he wouldn't. Yet it just made the want stronger. He hadn't felt this… whatever this feeling was in awhile. "Alright, well then we can get to know each other. Let's start off easy, who's North?"

"My best friend. We were high school sweethearts but little did North know she was hella gay, so we broke up at the start of college. We stayed close and I even introduced her to her wife." Markus smiled so fondly it almost hurt to see.

Would his friends smile like that when talking about Connor? Sure Gavin was friendly (in his own weird way and only after he made a complete ass of himself) but they weren't that close. The Mistress was his boss, and he'd like to think they were friends. Not like this though.

He knew so many people, had slept with so many, and knew secrets they'd never even tell their dogs, and yet no one he had like Markus had North. It never hurt so much before.

"Best friend," he said, clearing his throat. "So, I'm assuming you have more friends than just her then."

Markus nodded, the smile still on his face. "Yeah, Josh and Simon. I also used to date Simon but… things happened. The only one I haven't dated was Josh, but he's also straight so it's not like I even ever had the chance. I met Josh in college, he was a professor, and I met Simon through work."

Connor nodded, taking mental notes. "You seem really close." He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but by the look, Markus was giving him, he failed.

"We are, but the situation pushed us together even more. If I wasn't supposed to be on my phone I'd text North to have them come over." He nodded towards the table where the phone was.

Markus was really making this too easy. "Oh? Well, that's technically extra but I'm always up for an orgy, haven't been in one in a while." He smiled, tilting his head.

"I- uh, no! No, I just, I didn't mean-" Markus rambled.

"It's fine, I'm fucking with you in the only way you'll let me. So, if I'm just going to hang out for the night, who do you want me to be? I can be innocent, sophisticated… lustful." He said, stepping closer to Markus.

Markus took a step back, shaking his head. "I just want you to be yourself. You don't have to do or say anything you don't want to, there's no pressure. You can even leave whenever you want without question."

Oh. Himself? No one ever wanted him to just be himself. Sure he was asked for slightly different versions of himself but nothing like this. Not when Markus actually meant it. "M-me? Just, um, myself?"

Markus nodded, smiling softly. "Yep, just you. You probably don't get a lot of time to do that, so feel free."

Hm, fine. He'd be himself. "Mind if I use the bathroom then?" He grabbed his bag, and at Markus's nod went to the bathroom.

He took off his lingerie, clothes, and contacts. Instead, he put on soft pajamas after taking a shower and put his glasses on. He didn't bother straightening his hair. If he was going to be himself then he was going to do it fully. He always kept these with him so he could slip into it after the job was done.

He walked out, shuffling slightly and looking anywhere than at Markus. He'd never let a client see him like this, but Markus wasn't actually a client. Not in the normal sense. "Uh, you sure this is ok?"

He finally looked up and felt like running back into the bathroom and putting his other clothes back on. Those always made him more confident, it was like putting on a mask. He felt more exposed like this than he ever did naked.

Markus made a small choking noise before trying to cover it with a cough. "Uh, yeah. You, yeah this is definitely fine."

Connor nodded and dug around his bag again before pulling out a book and sitting down on the bed crisscrossed. He was a little over halfway through, but he hadn't had as much time to read as he'd like.

"What are you reading?" Markus asks, going back to painting.

Connor looked up then back to his book, a real actually blush forming on his cheeks. "Oh, uh nothing you'd be interested in."

Markus turned slightly, raising an eyebrow. "Try me."

Connor chuckled, looking up at him through his lashes. "It's… it's a criminology book? I was thinking about trying to be a detective if I ever got tired of this, but even if I don't it still fascinates me. My adopted father is a Lieutenant at the local police."

It made him chuckle again when Markus's jaw dropped. No one would think his dad worked in law enforcement considering Connor's job. But in reality, Hank made sure he was safe and not pressured into anything. Plus Hank knew loopholes and even commented on how it should be legal so they can protect sex workers.

"I know, I know. He's actually really chill about it. Plus I make plenty of money so I can pay for college without going into debt." He had been putting away money for a while so he could live comfortably for the rest of his life.

Markus nodded, "that's actually a good idea. I'm sure you'd make an incredible detective considering how intelligent you must be to be this good at your current job."

"You really know a way to a man's heart." Connor chuckled and he meant it. Most people thought so lowly of escorts and prostitutes, saying they only did this because it was the only job they could do. When in reality you had to be quick on your feet and able to read people from just a glance.

Markus shook his head, but he was smiling. "I just say what is true. You can put music on if you want. I don't know how you normally read."

"Not in a fancy hotel with a man who won't sleep with me, that's for sure." Connor snarked before snapping his mouth closed.

His worry disappeared when Markus fully laughed. "Ah, that's true. As I said, it's not that I don't want you. I just don't want to push you into anything."

Connor sighed and leaned against the headboard. "I'm wounded, but I think I can survive."

They went back to their own activities barely interacting unless Connor came across a particularly interesting part or Markus asked for his opinion. It was actually really nice and he found himself relaxing more and more.

It wasn't like he had sex with every client. Some wanted him to be a date to an event, spend time with them for the week, or anything else. It wasn't always sex.

Yet even this was different. There were no expectations at all. It was completely freeing. It just made his want that much stronger. Huh, that was a new turn on.

It was late into the night when Connor started yawning. The soft sounds of Markus's brush strokes and Markus's humming was calming in a way he hadn't expected. He was warm and comfortable in the huge bed, and he was tempted to just fall asleep for the night.

"You can sleep here if you want. I can take the couch or get another room." Markus said, making Connor's head snapped up.

"Huh? Oh! No, no, no, it's ok. If anyone should take the couch it's me. You paid for the room, it's yours." He was most definitely not letting Markus take the couch.

"No! Seriously you expected certain things and I didn't deliver. The least I can do is offer the bed." Markus whipped his hands and turned to face Connor. God damn this man was gorgeous. Could he be any more perfect? Maybe he had a really small dick and absolutely no stamina to make up for everything else.

Connor huffed and closed his book. "Nope, not happening. The bed is big enough that we can easily share without bothering each other. I promise not to try anything." Just to show he scooted over and pat the bed.

Markus frowned and looked around. "I...ok. let me get washed up first." Connor nodded and watched him grab his clothes and then watched as he went into the bathroom.

The door closed and he let out a soft sigh, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. He didn't want this night to end. He knew it was a bad idea to actually connect with clients. Sure you can make semi-friends but never anything serious. Don't get attached. He knew if he let himself he'd get attached in some way. There was just a connection.

He jumped slightly when the door opened back up. Had he really been falling asleep?

He looked up at Markus and wanted to scream. The man was wearing fuzzy robot pajamas pants without a shirt. It was an odd combination of sexy and adorable as hell.

"Do you have a side you prefer?" Connor asked ready to move to whichever side was needed of him.

"Either is fine, wherever you're comfortable." Markus said, stretching his arms above his head.

Connor nodded and put his book to the side, taking his glasses off. He wiggles under the blankets, trying to get comfortable.

Markus walked around and climbed in. Like Connor had said, the bed was so huge that he'd have to reach out his whole arm to be able to touch him.

"Sleep well, Markus." Connor says, reaching to turn off the bedside lamp.

Markus did the same, and the room was flooded with darkness. "Sleep well, Connor."

He falls asleep much faster than normal. Perhaps it was that the bed was just more comfortable, or maybe it was the company.

When he woke up his back was pressed against something warm and soft. He knew it was Markus but he was still shocked.

What was even more shocking and definitely welcome was the warm hand under his shirt and the very obvious hardness pressing into him.

Markus was also most definitely asleep, and Connor sighed heavily. He was still half-asleep so it took even more in him to not press back. Markus definitely didn't have a small dick. Of course, he didn't.

The slow and even breath on his neck made him shiver and close his eyes for a second. Then the hand was moving down and he arched into it. "Markus I swear if you're awake I'll murder you." He whispered.

Markus sighed and moved his hips just slightly. Connor whined but tried to keep his voice down. This was so not fair.

He was getting hard and he pushed back just slightly. Fuck.

Maybe he could take care of himself without waking up Markus. Just get off then clean up. He could even leave right after so he wouldn't have to see how he'd react. He was off the clock so…

He reached down, gently teasing himself. He should just do this quickly. He didn't know how long until Markus would wake up.

The hand on him was so low but not low enough. It wasn't enough! "Fucking hell Markus," he whimpered.

He increased the pressure but still didn't pull himself out. Not yet. He wanted to savor this.

He tried to keep his noises down, keeping his hips still, and yet he kept pushing back. He wanted to touch Markus so bad. "Please. Please."

The hand on him stiffened and Connor froze. "Hm, Connor?" Markus says, his lips brushing against Connor's neck. Oh, that was not helping. Neither was Markus shifting against him, accidentally pulling him closer.

"Do-don't." Connor whined, squeezing his eyes closed. He didn't know what he was pleading for, but he just wanted to continue so bad.

"Shit! Uh, do you want me to leave? I'm so sorry." Markus said, trying to move away but Connor grabbed the arm.

"You can stay, please stay. I want you." He really did. He wanted him so bad. He took Markus's hand and pressed it against his stomach. "You don't have to do anything."

"Fuck." Markus muttered, his hips twitching forward. "Are you sure? I… I don't want to overstep."

Connor huffed rolling his eyes. "I don't wanna sleep with you just because it's my job, I want you to fuck me." He pressed back against him, sliding Markus's hand lower.

"I don't know… um," Markus said, shifting again. His breath was fast and warm against Connor's neck.

He wiggled his hips, pushing down his pants. He kept a hand over Markus's before taking himself and jumping slowly. "If, if you want to leave you can. But I will definitely not complain if you stay."

Markus pulled him close and he could feel him. Oh. Oh, Markus wasn't wearing underwear either. Fuck that was hot. "Ok. Ok, I'll stay."

Connor smiled and sped his hand up. "Yes! Yes, thank you." He babbled, tilting his head. He wanted Markus's lips on him. Thankfully Markus seemed to agree because soon Markus was pressing feather-light kisses to his neck.

"You're so beautiful." Markus mumbled, moving his hand down lower to cover Connor's as he stroked himself.

Connor bucked his hips, trying to get more. It wasn't enough. He needed more. "Markus, please."

Markus nodded and pulled his own pants down, freely rubbing himself against Connor. "I've got you. What do you need, baby?"

Oh, that was good. That was delicious. "You. Anything you want. I just need more."

Markus pressed hot kisses down his neck, nipping just slightly. Not enough to leave marks but it made him whine. "Are you sure? Connor… this isn't because of…" he trailed off.

Connor turned and pressed Markus back into the bed, straddling him. "If you ask me that one more time I'm chopping your annoyingly large dick off."

Markus's eyes went wide, and he placed his hands on Connor's hips. "Alright, I definitely wouldn't want that."

"Thank fuck." Connor chuckled before leaning down and crushing their lips together. Markus's lips were so warm and just slightly rough from Markus chewing on them.

He rocked their hips together trying to get more friction. "Are you willing to fuck me? I can fuck you but I've been dying for you in me all night."

Markus panted, nodding his head. "Definitely. God, you looked amazing yesterday, but then you changed and I nearly lost it. You looked so soft and fuckable."

Connor whined, rolling his hips down. "Yes, yes please. I've got a condom and lube in my bag. I'm clean."

Markus nodded and flipped them over which was way too fucking hot. Apparently, he noticed the shocked expression because he kissed him with a chuckle. "I work out."

"That you do." He said he panted as Markus got off, grabbing Connor's bag and digging around.

"Sorry, should have asked but I feared for my annoying large cock." Markus said, pulling out a condom and lube.

"I used the word dick, but I think you can be forgiven if you hurry the fuck up." If he wasn't being fucked within the hour he wasn't going to scream and maybe cry.

"My bad, my annoyingly large dick." Markus crawled back into the bed, moving in between Connor's legs. "Alright, how do you like this?"

Connor spread his legs, getting into a good position. "However you want but I do require that I actually get fucked. Even if I come you gotta fuck me until I can't walk. Deal?" He offered his hand and Markus chuckled.

Markus took his hand, shaking it before using it to pull Connor up and into a searing kiss. "I think I can do that baby boy," Markus mumbled before pushing him back into the bed.

Connor let him, spreading himself even wider. He took deep breaths, easily relaxing even when Markus gently pushed against his hole.

"There we go," Markus mumbled before pressing a kiss to his inner thigh. Connor whined, arching his back. His thighs were so sensitive and no one ever kissed him this gently, this lovingly. It broke his heart.

"Markus," he sighed, eyes fluttering closed. Markus hummed and did the same for his other thigh.

Then he was nipping at him, sucking slightly on the skin as he pushed his finger in. He would definitely leave marks here. For some reason, he didn't want anyone to see these marks or touch them. He didn't want anyone kissing them and trying to mark over these. These were just for him.

Markus was so slow and gentle, but Connor could tell he was holding back. He knew there was an urgency and want behind every movement and soft touch.

Yet Markus held back for him. It was odd being on the receiving end. Just being able to lay back and take just because he wanted it and not because someone was paying him to. This was for him as much as it was for Markus. He felt truly beautiful.

Markus kissed his hips, using his free hand to gently run a hand down his side. "You're amazing. You're doing really well." Markus says, pushing in a second finger.

He had had so many people that tried to rush this but Markus seemed to be genuinely enjoying it. "Markus!" He sighed, arching his back and trying to push down into his hand.

Markus chuckled slightly, "so needy. How many do you normally need?"

"Most stop at two." Connor says, mind fuzzy with pleasure and want.

"I didn't ask what other people did to you, I asked what you need. I don't want to hurt you. So I'll ask again, baby, how many do you normally need?" Oh, that tone of voice was unfair. It was raspy and demanding and so very in control.

"Um, three without too much of a stretch but for you… I, um, three. I wanna feel it." He wanted that burning stretch like never before.

Markus nodded and slowly added a third finger. "Alright, I'll be slow and gentle. If you need me to stop or go slower at all let me know."

"I… ok," he nodded. Markus was being so kind. Yet that hurt more than any physical pain he'd been in, and one rather angry woman liked to whip people. Wasn't the best night considering she didn't really like it when he asked for her to stop.

Markus paused, frowning. "Are you alright? We can stop if you want." His hand paused and Connor felt like screaming. It was such an odd mixture of emotions.

"Please don't stop! I'm, just not used to this." That was the worst description ever.

"Wait, I thought… has no one?" Markus asks, pulling his fingers out. Connor groaned and instantly missed the feeling.

"No! Yes, yes I've done this in the physical sense, but not," he waved his hand between them, "this? You're, you want me to feel good and you're taking your time. I haven't had anyone do this in a long time."

Markus blinks at him before his jaw drops. "Are you saying no one ever pleasured you before? If they were too rough you… you could tell them to stop right?" Oh, this sweet, sweet boy.

"Well yes, they still have to pay for my time, but it's different. I do get pleasure out of it, but it's never just for me. If I'm being fucked then the person wants me to be. I want this. I want you. And not just… you're kind, Markus." He said, sitting up and gently holding his face. "Kinder than I'd ever imagined. You could be the snottiest man on the planet and yet you turned down a prostitute who had already been paid for and was willing because of your morals. None of my clients would ever do that. I'd like to think some would, but they just need the release or a date. Someone pretty on their arm so they bought me."

That didn't mean he didn't enjoy his job. He loved being pampered and could have as much sex as he wanted and get paid for it. He was living the dream, but it was also nice to have this. Something so soft and gentle, and kind.

Then Markus was leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to his lips like he would break. And he loved it. He loved the way he cradled his head and gently pressed into him. He loved the calluses on Markus's hands as they intertwined their fingers.

He was slowly leaned down back onto the bed, Markus's hands slowly searching his body. He had a few small scars from when clients took it too far, but Markus traced each one like he was a masterpiece. It made him shiver and whine, pushing against the hand.

"You really are beautiful, Connor. All of you." Markus mumbled, pulling back to kiss down his jaw. He raised his other hand to gently card through Connor's hair, pulling at it just slightly so he'd tilt his head. He gladly did, sighing when Markus's lips trailed down his neck.

"Hmph, fuck," Connor muttered, biting his bottom lip. This was too good. He doubted anyone will ever be able to compare to this. Damn it.

"You don't have to muffle yourself, baby, I want to hear you." Markus mumbled against his skin. Connor was sure his entire body was going to be kissed and he was completely ok with that. More than just ok, really.

Markus took his time finding every little spot that made him whine and buck his hips. He was almost in tears from want when he finally grabbed the lube again.

He was still somewhat stretched so Markus started with two fingers, slowly stretching and exploring. "So amazing. I can't wait to be in you." Markus muttered. It was so quiet Connor could barely hear him. Markus had said that to himself, and it sent a thrill through Connor.

"Fuck me! Please, I need it, you." He whined, rocking his hips down. Markus smirked and put a third finger in, moving his hand a bit faster. Connor whimpered and gripped the sheets of the bed, hips moving uncontrollably.

He yelped when his dick was enveloped in the warm heat of Markus's mouth. He bobbed his head before sucking on the head, swirling his tongue around the top.

Connor bucked into his mouth, almost choking him. He rambled his apology which quickly turned into pleading.

Markus took him down again, hollowing his cheeks and running his along the underside.

"Fuck! Fuck, stop I won't last much longer!" Connor begged. He wanted to come with Markus in him. It took Markus an agonizingly long time to pull off, licking his lips once he does.

"Damn I could just do that and be happy. You make the best sounds. But I think I should give you what you finally want." Markus said, slowly pulling his fingers out.

Connor quickly nodded trying to spread his legs even more (he is very proud of his flexibility, he has all of his splits).

"How do you like this?" Markus asks, tearing the seal off the condom then throwing the wrapper off the bed. He easily slides it on and Connor is drooling.

Wait, right Markus had asked him a question. That dick was definitely a blessing, Jesus Christ. He really wanted to suck on that but held back. "Like this works… I want to see you."

Markus smiled and gently brushed a few curly strands of hair out of Connor's face. "I can do that."

Oh, this was definitely gonna hurt and he couldn't wait. Thankfully Markus wasn't stalling either. He moved closer, carefully lining up before looking down at Connor.

He took one of his hands and laced their fingers together before pushing in. Connor whined, squeezing his eyes shut and Markus instantly stopped. "Fuck you, I did not say to stop, you ass." He growled out.

He heard Markus chuckle and Connor forced his body to relax. It was just a good pain, one he'd like to take every day if Markus let him.

Once Markus bottomed out they both stilled, panting for air. Markus used his free hand to brush through his hair again, pressing a quick kiss to his sweaty forehead.

They stay still until Connor gives a small nod. Markus slowly slides out and slowly pushes back in. It's too slow, he wraps his legs around Markus and pulls in back in roughly, sighing when it finally creates the friction he wants. "Yes!"

Markus grunts, chuckling softly. "Fuck, ok." Then he sped up, rocking his hips at a fast but consistent speed.

Connor rocks his hips in time, panting into Markus's kiss. He moaned praises and pleads, mind hazy. It was too good. It all felt too good.

Markus's hands on him, keeping him down but also driving him insane. He took one and put it in his hair, which thankfully Markus completely understood. He tugged on just enough and Connor whimpered.

It was also too much but not enough. He was so, so close. "Please, Markus I need…"

Markus nodded, tugging Connor's hair so he could bite at his neck. "What do you need, baby?"

"I, I uh, I don't know." He hated how whiny he sounded but Markus just seemed to soak it all up. "Ah, Markus!"

He hit the spot and Connor almost cried. "Such a good boy, good beautiful baby boy." Markus said, his hips spasming slightly.

Connor choked and his vision blurred slightly, coming without any warning.

His whole body turned limp and Markus groaned, his hips snapping forward. There was so much but Markus didn't stop. He was so sensitive but he loved it.

"I'm close, baby, you ok?" Markus asked. Connor nodded, hips and legs trembling. He was more than ok. This was ecstasy.

Sadly it didn't take too much longer until Markus froze and Connor wished he hadn't mentioned a condom. He wanted to be filled and maybe even plug himself so he could keep it in him the rest of the day.

Markus took his time sliding out before taking the condom off, tying then tossing it in the trash. He flopped down onto the bed, pulling Connor to his chest. "This ok?" He mumbled.

Connor nodded, wrapping himself around it. "That was the best I've had in a long time. You're amazing." He said, pressing a kiss to Markus's chest.

Markus chuckled, gently soothing Connor's hair. "Why thank you."

Connor hummed, closing his eyes and just basking in the warmth and happiness. He never wanted to leave his bed.

He would have to, though. He'd have to forget all of this. If he didn't then he wouldn't be able to stop thinking about what happened or Markus. He'd never be able to forget the comfort of Markus's arms or the tenderness and adoration in the way he touched him.

He hadn't even realized he started crying until Markus gently wiped away a tear. "Hey, you ok? Did I hurt you?"

Connor sniffled, trying to hide his face. "No, you didn't. I'm… happy?"

He was but he was also so sad. "I should probably leave." He said, pushing away from Markus.

"Wait, what? I have this room until tomorrow. Do you have work?" He asks, running a hand down Connor's back as he sat on the edge of the bed.

The way he seemed to completely respect that it was work. He didn't judge him for it at all. "I… I have to, I…" he trailed off, shaking his head.

"You have to what?" Markus asks, placing a gentle kiss on his shoulder. "What do you need to do?"

Connor roughly brushed his tears away. "I have to forget you. I can't… you're too good. I can't get attached. I'm sorry." He shook his head and stood, grabbing his bag and clothes.

Markus was quick to follow him, tripling on a blanket. "Wait, Connor hold on!"

Connor shook his head, trying to pull on his clothes. It was too much. This was all too much.

He was quickly turned and pressed against the wall by Markus's strong hands. "Connor, wait."

He ducked his head, hiding behind the strands of curly hair that fell into his face. "Please don't." He whimpered.

Markus sighed, softly trailing his hands up and down Connor's arm, making him shiver. "Connor, hey, talk to me. I'm not here to judge."

"I can't get attached, it's the worst thing to do in this profession. I can't stop just because someone I like asks me to. No matter how mind-blowing the sex is." No matter how beautiful and wanted it made him feel.

Markus shook his head, brushing the hair out of his face. "I'd never ask you to stop. I… I'm not going to push you for anything you don't want. Maybe we can just be friends? There's just something about you."

Connor knew exactly what he meant. It was like their bodies and minds were two puzzle pieces that fit seamlessly together. Friends. "I… I don't know."

"We don't have to have any sex. Maybe just hang out whenever we're both free. I think North would adore you… oh, actually you meeting would be a very bad idea." Markus said, frowning.

He tilted his head, "wait, why?" Wasn't she the one that had actually paid for him?

"I would not stand a chance if you two teamed up. Terrifying to think about." Markus smirked and Connor huffed.

"Alright, friends. I guess we can start the whole no sex thing tomorrow." He said before leaning in to Markus.

"So needy," Markus said, shaking his head fondly.

"You love it," he whispered, pressing his lips against Markus's neck.

"That I do."

42 notes · View notes

soranihimawari · 3 years

Text

...Chimera & Jackal...

@m0nstergeneration20xx & @sakuric bc my brain said let’s do a sakusa story at midnight.

There is an album in your gym neighbor’s hands. He is clutching on to it like a landline; there is an audible hum rising around him and the scowl he wears deepens.

“If you stare long enough you might turn to stone.”

Your voice crescendos around his aura and he finds himself visibly relaxing. You’ve been in enough classes with him to know the visible signs of a sensory overload break coming through, so you walk toward the information desk in the concourse you’re in, passing the venue banner. you maneuver through the crowd like the worker bee and pretty soon, he understands what you were doing.

When you reach the other side of the concourse, you turn around with an approving bop of your head when your eyes meet. You flash a toothy grin at him and he momentarily blinks. The hands on the album becomes ironclad as he begins the arduous journey to meet you.

“Miss me already?” you chuckle at the way his brow furrows when his cousin snickers at the way you’re slowly changing each other for the better. You let the cousins know you’re heading out after Komori suggests you join them for dinner at the family estate.

“It’ll be fun. It’s scrabble night,” komori informs you. His cousin on the other hand, yells through his eyes at his ex-captain. You entertain the idea of attending, but at the same time, you are considerate to the pillar who seems like he’s about to die of you accept, so you do what you do best: you say a word which is recognized with the scrabble dictionary.

“Adipopexia,” you say the word with ease. Your tone is warm and vibrant, thus causing a small change in tone. You don’t know what kind of game Komori is playing, but you feel he loves to make his cousin a little more accepting of the general public.

“If you’ll excuse me boys, I have a meeting with my thesis sponsor. Text me later if you need me!”

What you don’t see if the way Komori chuckles at how flushed his cousin’s cheekbones turn as you wave from across the promenade on your way to the liberal arts office building.

☆+ ﾟ. ꕤ.+ .ﾟ*.ﾟ｡ﾟ ♡｡. +ﾟ｡

A month passes and finally you stare at the giant iron gate in front of the largest estate you have ever seen. You had half a mind that this was a prank and the tiny houses in the surrounding neighborhood was where the Sakusa/Komori residence truly was. Then you decide to take out your phone from your purse thereby tempting fate when you press the sequence of digits both of them send you (the first time, you thought Komori was really joking, but when your phone receives a confirmation from the other, you close your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose.)

Currently, it is eleven thirty on a Saturday morning. You mutter a curse as the gates truly do open before you and you follow the path through the front lawn. In your hand, you hold a congratulatory card for your fellow (thesis candidate partner) classmate after news traveled he was signed to a professional team. An accidental panic sets in because of your simplistic style choice of tapered indigo pants and graphic tee (paired with ballet flats). Your hair was pulled back into place with a banana clip, so you weren’t expecting the house door to be answered by a professional housekeeper whom you mistake for a family member.

“Who are you?” Her voice is a mixture of annoyance and false kindness.

“I’m a friend of Komori and Sakusa? From the university down the road...?”

Invoking the name of the young men of the house did not dwell well with this lady. You were still denied entry, so you apologize a first time after the third attempt. You extend the card in your hand sighing with as you turn on your heels to leave the premises leaving it in her care.

Inside, the first floor is filled with a few sponsors along with fellow members of the team are seen conversing with their new player who remains oblivious to your sauntering off his father’s home. Komori sees the house keeper holding a card which she is abut to place in the recycle bin, he asks her why she turned away the celebrant’s friend at the door. He takes the card from her and works his way to where his cousin stands in his business-casual attire.

“Excuse me,” Komori interjects. “I need to borrow Omi, for a second.” He explains what happened on the way to the garage entrance reassuring him he’ll bring you back and clear up the misunderstanding.

“In the mean time, you should read the card they got you, ‘Snake-Eyes.’”

Sakusa Kiyoomi only allowed one person to call him that when they met him on orientation day; they were the same one who taught him what adipopexia meant. And when his phone rings, Sakusa hears your voice through the receiver.

“I’m with Komori-San right now, but he wanted me to tel you our eta is ten minutes. Is that ok with you?”

That question was the first easily answered one in a long time for him.

When Komori walks back into the main house, you have to do a double take. You’re a few paces behind him before you hear a rather rambunctious group of voices around the corner.

“Komori! There you are! We were looking for you,” his aunt greets. “Seems like you forgot to introduce us to your friend there.”

You straighten your back and relax your shoulders a bit before sticking out your hand which goes unshaken, so you smile as you play with your own wrist.

“My classmates call me Chi.”

“Ah like the auras?”

You walk past her after Komori stares at his parent for their rudeness. Sakusa and the other players see you and judging by the angered expression on his face, you weren’t going to back away from this woman.

“Mother, please. Not now.”

“My name is Chi, ma’am. It’s short for Chimera, the Greek monsters which breathe fire and traditonally are depicted in the arts with a lion’s head, goat’s body, and serpent tale.”

Sakusa looks to Komori who just shrugs it off like it’s the best damn thing he heard all week.

“You’re a rude little thing, aren’t you?” she seethes as you keep your composure. “Where did you learn to speak like this to someone above your station?”

“The moment you brought down the collective intelligence quotient of the entire neighborhood ma’am. Maybe we’ll meet again on scrabble night when you’re done day drinking to your success.”

Komori has a hard time keeping a straight face while Sakusa’s expression is hard to read, you could tell he was trying not to chuckle at your clever wit.

“I should of recorded that,” Komori says. “It’s about time someone else put that woman in her place.”

“Your mother is wild,” you chide. “Is that why you asked me to come to scrabble night?”

“Nah,” Komori answers. “I was just tired of hearing Omi talk about you like you’re the only one he cannot function properly around.”

“I like him too,” you say as Sakusa starts walking toward you with the newer members of the MSBY team. Everyone on the rookie and senior roster were eager to introduce themselves to the outspoken student with a mighty name.

☆+ ﾟ. ꕤ.+ .ﾟ*.ﾟ｡ﾟ ♡｡. +ﾟ｡

You don’t often find yourself inside the MSBY training grounds, but this was at the request of the captain and the manager. Apparently their starting setter called out Sakusa for not being able to hit his sets and somehow that spiraled into the two of them not syncing up the rest of practice. From what you gather with the information presented, you knew the setter would bounce back first the following day, but Sakusa, who still keeps mostly to himself, does not budge. He elected to stay behind for a little while after to collect his thoughts.

You are given a family and friends badge to clip on the collar of your jersey styled dress (you had a dissertation presentation to attend earlier that day, so here you arrive with a metallic jumpsuit and jacket). You sent a text to Sakusa’s phone letting him know you were invited to come. You hear the rhythmical combination of plays being made in center court. You arrive in time to see your classmate nail an close cross-shot with a loud thwack!

Presently Sakusa walks side by side with you back toward his apartment. You think nothing of it when you ask him to come inside when you reach the fancy building in this district. You listen to him complain about everyone including the damning things Miya had said to him during practice. You figured you let him vent as you were recently still getting better acquainted outside of academia as a whole. You switch the conversation topic to a foolish once:“Mmhm,” you muse. “You do like my company Omi.”

Instead of a proper answer, Sakusa Kiyoomi opens the door of his home behind you as you step back into his home. It takes an insane amount of control on both of your parts before you see the athlete pull down his mask to finally act out what he was feeling since he had properly been introduced to you on campus in your joint third semester. His lips touch your Cupid’s bow first because of your height difference, but you shake your head with a soft smile.

“Care to do that again?” He asks you in a playfully menacing way.

His bag lands in the floor prior to leaning forward again and he drops his center of gravity as though he’s about to receive a serve from his captain.

“Sakusa, I swear to you if I—ack!”

The surprise lift he has you secured in was irratic on it’s on accord, but when you adjust your arms and place them against his shoulders, Sakusa nearly growls at the contact.

“My lips are right here,” you chide. Tilting your face to your left, Sakusa manages to successfully kiss you this time.

First kisses are a difficult thing for anyone to navigate, yet there is a veil of innocence surrounding you both since you teach him that showing displays of affection is a love language you are fluent in and his, on the other hand, is touching the subject of desire aka you. And so one kiss turned to two, which turned to three as you let him walk you to the kitchen that has an island counter and he tells you to sit still for a moment.

“You’re being awfully affectionate today,” he tells you this in confidence. You sit atop the granite surface expecting him to kiss you senseless, which he does the moment your hands bring him down to press chaste kisses up and down your collar bone.

You accidentally moan his name into his ear when his nose tickles the nape of yours neck.

“I’ll kiss you for real princex,” the slight growl is there again. “I’ll kiss you until you’re breathing stops.”

If anything, you relearn a few things: one, Sakusa Kiyoomi comes from a successful family; two, he’s insanely dedicated to playing volleyball ; and right now, he’s thoroughly enjoying kissing you in the comfort of his own home.

“Sakusa, is~ahh~ are you formerly asking me to be your lover right now?”

Sakusa pauses his onslaught of wanting to mark you with his lips for a moment, so he nods sheepishly. Your smile is radiant the moment you accept his proposal he almost loses his composure entirely. There is time for that too, but for now being drunk in love in his kitchen is a good start.

#🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue #sora scribbles #🌻.txt #sora after hours #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa scenarios #msby signing party shenanigans

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miracul0us-multishipper · 4 years

Text

Felix Idea

Continuation of this

“-and anyway, I told Marinette pink is just her color, but I’m sure you would have swooned if you’d seen her in that blue dress she made. Like, not even you, Sunshine would have been able to get out a word in the presence of that angel! A revelation in pastel hues, lemme tell you!”

“Alya,” Felix managed to interrupt her when she had to take a breath. Finding the Ladyblogger had been easy, but getting her to shut up for long enough to speak? Not so much. “Marinette” - or Marian, or whatever her name had been - “looks great! I believed you the first fifteen minutes you told me about it, and I still do now.”

“Oh, but you can’t believe it until you have seen her!”, Alyas blonde friend - Rose? - emphasized as her goth girlfriend nodded along. “We should go visit her right away or you’ll miss the opportunity to witness true lov- beauty!”

God, how did his cousin survive these girls. Felix had only been in their presence for minutes and he already felt the urge to stick his head in the Seine, just to drown out their voices in his ringing ears!

“Later.” he promised, “But I came here to ask you something, and it’s really important.”

Alya had the self control to keep her mouth shut and nod. Finally.

“A few months ago, you posted that interview with Ladybug on your blog, remember?”

Alya nodded again, enthusiasm sparking in her eyes. Before Felix could stop her, she was talking again.

“Pff, if I remember? Boy, that was like, the kickstart of my journalistic career! If our little networking Queen hadn’t managed to convince LB-“

“Alya!”, he interrupted again, his mind racing to keep up with her. Networking Queen? “I need you to listen. You’re my friend, right? Friends listen.”

Immediately, she let herself fall back next to him.

“Right! Sorry! Gettin’ a little carried away here.”

“No problem!”, Felix pressed out with the friendliest, most Adrien-like smile he could muster up. Even if he was at the brink of loosing his mind.

“Anyway. Our ‘Networking Queen’... I need you to get me a meeting with her. Today.”

Alyas eyes began to sparkle in a way that made Felix wonder of this had been a mistake.

“Oooooh, I get it.”, she all but cooed. “You want some alone time with your ‘just a friend’?”

“A date between model and fashionista?”, Rose chirped up, that same expression in her eyes.

“Chat Noir’s voice talking to our Everyday Ladybug?”, Juleka followed suit, red eyes eerily unblinking.

They could’ve texted him in ancient hieroglyphs and he would’ve understood more than the nonsense that had just left their mouths.

He was about to give up - fuck it, he’d just create an Akuma and wait for Ladybug to show up - when a shrill voice caught his attention.

“Did I just hear ‘Ladybug’?”, snickered a blonde girl walking out of a nearby boutique. “Because if you want to talk heroes, Adrie-chérie, you’ll want to talk to me!”

“Chloé”, Alya growled, but Felix wasn’t listening anymore.

Everything clicked into place.

Networking Queen? Chloé knew lots of famous people by living in an exclusive hotel.

Adrien’s ‘just a friend’? Who else could it be than his oldest companion, who was also too much of a headache to ever be considered more than a friend?

Fashionista? Well... personally, Felix would have preferred to go blind this very instant before having to look at that garish yellow jacket again, but Chloé’s mother still was the Style Queen.

And an Everyday Ladybug? He might not know how, but Chloé did have a miraculous at some point, making her a lower-tier, more ordinary hero. An everyday Ladybug, if you wanted to flatter her and insult the goddess that was Ladybug.

In other words: The contact that would get him Ladybugs attention? It was Chloé Bourgeois! Everything made sense now.

“Well, that’s my cue.”, Felix told the three furies next to him and got up. Chloé looked surprised when he actually walked over to her, but the girls? They looked flabbergasted.

“W-Wait a sec! Didn’t you want to go to Marinette’s with us?”, Rose pouted, tears forming in her ridiculously oversized eyes.

“Yeah!”, Alya complained. “Since when would you rather hang out with Chloé than grab some pastries and compliment Mari?!”

That’s it. Felix had had it with their pushy, unhelpful and downright obsessive interest in his view on some amateur-designers dress of the day! Jesus Christ, did Paris do this to people or were they just born with an endless reservoir of mindless chatter?!

“For the record,” Felix’ friendly facade began to crack as his smile turned malicious, “I do not want to visit Marinette. In fact, I do not care about this Marinette at all! And I don’t care about you, your infuriating riddles and your absolute gibberish either!”

Chloe next to him spit out the smoothie she’d been slurping and stared at him in disbelief, but he wasn’t done yet. Now that their faces varied from shock to anger to hurt, he had an idea for a back-up plan. Prime Akuma-material was prime Meeting-Ladybug material, after all.

“It has been almost half an hour until something even vaguely useful left your mouth!”, Felix happily continued his rant. “Up to then, the only thing you did was bore me to death with your tabloid of a blog, some band I now wish I’d never heard of, and the oh-so glorious color choice of a dress that isn’t even finished yet! I mean, I don’t know about you, but I have a very important and busy life! So, if you’ll excuse me?”

He straightened his jacket and turned towards Chloé’s limousine.

“I have interesting people to spend my day with.”

All four watched him get into the car, mouths agape, before a sharp “Chloé!” Let the blonde remember she was supposed to follow him.

“Uh, Yeah!”, she stammered towards the other three. “So long, you... uh... uninteresting people!”

“Are you alright?”, Chloé asked him for the third time since they had arrived at her room. “I mean, not to say I don’t approve of you realizing how stupid they are, but that was kind of... sudden.”

“I told you, Chloé.”, he faked patience. “I just want to spend some time with you! My best and oldest friend!”

“Oh”, she perked up. “Well, then! We didn’t hang out in ages, Adrikins!”

She threw herself into a red-cushioned armchair, sighing.

“It’s been so long, I don’t even remember what we used to do all the time.”

A shrill, uncomfortable laugh escaped her, slowly dying down when she realized he wasn’t laughing along.

“So... uh, what do you want to do? We could play Ladybug and Chat Noir! I have these wicked expensive cosplays in my closet you have to see, maybe I’ll let you borrow the Chat Noir one! Sabrina usually plays him, but she’s got a cold and I definitely won’t let her contaminate it with some sort of poor people disease! So-“

“Why don’t we talk a little, for now?”, he cut her off, inspecting the numerous wardrobes in the room. Any sign that Ladybug frequented this place would be enough to raise his mood.

“About you being Queen Bee, for example! You and Ladybug must be... close.”

He turned around to her and she laughed.

“Close? We are BFFs! I mean, sure, she hasn’t given me a Miraculous in a while, but she still adores me. Everybody does, right?”

She laughed again.

“Right?”

Not bothering to answer, he rolled his eyes.

“Surely you must have a way to contact her.”, he hinted at his end goal of this conversation. “As close as you are, you must be talking all the time.”

“W-well...”, Chloé started, something unreadable in her expression, before she shook her head. “Of course! The bee signal, it’s on my balcony.”

She led him outside, proudly turning on what looked like a giant spotlight with bee motive.

“Cool, huh?”

Felix’ carefully cheerful face crumbled. This... was it? His chance at meeting Ladybug was nothing more than a glorified pocket torch on some rich girls‘ roof?!

“Cool?”, he laughed in disbelief. “Tell me, Chloé... has she ever actually answered your signal?”

The girl faltered.

“What?”

“Did Ladybug”, he hissed, anger pooling in his chest, “ever react to this thing?”

“I mean...”, she shrugged, “One or two times, I guess? But you can’t measure our friendship in how often she visited me, right? I mean, you didn’t visit a lot either!”

She laughed, but it sounded insecure now.

“Wow, that came of accusing! You know I adore you though, right, Adrikins?”

Sighing she leaned on the balcony railing.

“I bet you missed hanging out with me! It’s just that so much is changing for you right now, adjusting to school life and all, and you’re so crowded by these losers all the time. Sometimes I think you forget that we’re friends entirely, ha ha! That is, until I... until people are upset with me for some stupid reason.”

She talked on and on and on. Why was everybody talking so much today? Why did no one see how important this day was? How long he had pined for this moment to arrive, only to have it kept just out of reach.

“Hey, do you think you have time on Friday?”, Chloé finally ended her monologue. “Daddy is officially opening up our new spa area, and we’ve deserved a little break! Being popular is so exhausting.”

Felix let out a dry, bitter laugh and finally turned to his cousin’s childhood friend.

“Popular?”, he wanted to snarl, but it came out tired. “You’re not popular, Chloé. Get real.”

“Um, excuse-“

“No. I have had a thoroughly disappointing day, and I can’t stand to see more uselessness today.”

He sighed, ignoring how Chloé was backing away from him.

“Nobody likes you.”, he said matter-of-fact. “Who are you kidding? Ladybug won’t show up, and neither will anyone else. Any day. And I guess you should come to accept that, because the longer you entertain yourself with your little illusion, the more it will hurt when you realize you are hopeless.”

“Adrien, what’s gotten into you?”, she shook her head, trembling hands balled to fists. “You can’t speak to me like that!”

“Yeah?”, he mocked her, desperate to let off some steam. “Why not? Is your Daddy going to throw money at me? Is your Mommy going to call me by the wrong name and pretend to fire me? Or is it just you she does that with?”

Now she actually flinched, eyes as wide as dinner plates. He can only muster up a halfhearted chuckle.

“Do me a favor, Chloé, now that you couldn’t even get Ladybug here. Go away. You bore me so, so much.”

He expected a fight - hoped for one, actually. So when she retreated, carefully, before turning and running away, he was almost disappointed. Because now he was alone on the roof, with no Akuma in sight, and the glorious Ladybug spending her day somewhere else entirely. Or maybe she was with Adrien. Maybe she had arrived the minute he had left, because that was just how lucky he was.

He sank to his knees, exhaustion pulling him down.

It had always been like this. Adrien was the lucky one, and he was just his little cousin.

Adrien, the prodigy son. The heir to a fashion empire, with parents who actually cared about where he was. The junior fencing champion, and multilingual genius, and the flawless face that was plastered all over Paris. Everybody loved Adrien, that was just how it was.

Even... Even Ladybug. For some reason his birdbrained, pampered cousin had the attention of the one person Felix wanted for himself.

No matter how unlikely, or unlogical, or unfair it was: Adrien always won, without even trying.

Meanwhile Felix schemed and planned and worked, but it never amounted to anything. Even though he was so much smarter. Even though he looked almost the same as his cousin. Even though he deserved it! God, with his luck, Adrien probably had a Miraculous too and spend all his freetime wooing Ladybug!

While he was stuck here, with children unworthy of his time, wasting his precious day in Paris.

He should have just-

“Chloé?”, a voice interrupted his laments. He looked up. That voice...

“Chloé!”, she repeated, landing skillfully next to the pool. “Are you alright? You turned on the signal, is there an Ak... A-Adrien?!”

Felix rose to his feet, staring at the apparition before him with awe. Black hair, tied into playful pigtails on the back, framed a face that “beautiful” didn’t even begin to describe. Clear blue eyes looked at him from underneath her red mask, the look in them so open and happy he felt his heart swell.

“Ladybug”, he whispered.

For once in his life, he was lucky.

- - -

Our spoiled brat is throwing a pity party, but now we‘re getting to the fun part!

#miramu writes #miraculous ladybug #mlb #ml felix #chloe bourgeois #alya cesaire #rose lavillant #juleka couffaine #felix agreste #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng

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birdycurtains · 4 years

Note

What about Tony being an old school horror director who feels like he’s about to be upstaged by Peter, a new horror director - think Blumhouse - and Tony, never having met him, both hates and fears him, until he bumps into him at a movie theater and hit it off until Peter introduces himself -des

this inspired me beyond belief, i have no idea why. i don’t think this was the direction you intended, but once i started i couldn’t stop haha. - birdy

He Calls Him Anthony

wordcount: 2,357

Friday nights were sacred. They were nights centered around going to see old movies at the IFC, and there was never to be a schedule conflict. Because that was one of the three nights he was awarded for seeing his daughter a week.

And he would die before he didn’t take Morgan to see a truly good movie every Friday night.

This night was Sunset Boulevard, he did always enjoy a good Wilder film, as did Morgan. Her twelve year-old self had mastered the art of the Norma Desmond gaze.

But here was Peter Fucking Parker, waltzing out of a showing down the hall.

Morgan blearily leant into her dad's side as he attempted to speedily walk out of Parker’s field of vision.

It wasn’t that he hated Peter Parker, well maybe he did just a little.

He was once that fresh face on the scene, basking in the limelight, being the true face of modern horror.

But now his takes weren’t exactly fresh, and what the younger audiences were looking for. They wanted a twisted gore, with just this side of odd comic relief, that Parker had perfected while Pepper was serving Tony divorce papers.

So maybe he was envious, maybe he was just tired of everytime he attended a premier, or so much as breathed in the direction of the media, he was hounded with questions of what exactly did he think about Peter Parker?

In the beginning, he didn’t care or think much. But as trailer after trailer was put out, the movies being produced at a rapid rate while maintaining or increasing their following, even Morgan was asking her father if they could rent this, or if they could go to the cinema to see that.

And maybe he caved once, and with a hoodie, and sunglasses, a hat. For good measure of course. He went and saw one. With Morgan, because she insisted, and who was he to deprive her.

It was good. And he resented Peter Parker for the same craft he held a torch for.

So here was Peter Parker, coming out of Casablanca. And making a bee-line towards him.

“Mr Stark! Mr. Stark! Mr. Stark?”

God damn it.

Tony willed his body to face the younger man. Morgan follows in suit, her eyes widening in realization, and proceeding to prod her elbow directly into her father’s side.

“Mr. Parker, well, nice to see you.”

Tony could play nice, put on his ‘customer service’ voice, and act chummy with Peter Parker.

Although, the in-person Parker didn’t exactly match what he imagined.

This one wore thread-bare jeans, and converse that had seen better days, three years ago.

He didn’t match the one he had seen plastered over last month's vanity fair, the pictures that had circulated his time-line a little more than his liking.

They ran in the same circles, it wasn’t like he was actively looking for him.

“Gosh, Mr. Stark, it’s an honor to meet you really. Please, call me Peter.”

He was like a chihuahua that took a five-hour-energy-shot.

His handshake was firm, and he slipped his glasses back up his nose as he collected himself.

“I’m sorry for bothering you, but I thought I had seen you here before, I come here all the time y’know, every time they have a Rocky Horror showing, I’ve got tickets.”

It was easy to catch that he was a New York native, unlike Tony himself. His Queens drawl interweaving between vowels and catching on to his r’s. It was rather cute, and personable.

Did he just- Tony called him cute. Christ.

“My daughter and I like the classics.” He put simply smoothing down Morgan’s unruly strands.

“Yeah, me too. I’m usually knee deep in everything going on right now, that to just enjoy the good ol’ stuff-”

He gave a dramatic sigh of pleasure, Tony felt his ears turn red.

“That’s everything man. You would know of course. God, of course you know- I mean”

The younger man cut himself short as he realized he was gripping Tony’s shoulder, his face and neck flushing red.

“I’m sorry- I’m probably taking up your family time. But, we should totally get together. Like talk shop or whatever?”

Peter flashed him the brightest smile, he swore the dim hallway was a little brighter.

“Yeah.”

The man was gone with a friendly wave as he jogged back to a small group of people, probably his friends, towards the exit.

Tony looked down at the ground and focused on his hand that hung limply by his side. On it was a chicken scratch phone number.

Peter had written down his phone number. On Tony’s hand.

And he hadn’t even noticed.

A few days later, Tony decides to grow a pair. He types the number into his phone, makes an individual contact for a Mr. Peter Parker.

He never thought this day would come. And he’s not sure the exact connotation behind that thought.

Does he call? Does he text?

In all honesty it has been a minute since he attempted friendship, or even communication outside of his usual social circle.

Things had never been like this when he and Rhodey had initially become friends. Even the rest of his band of misfits had just happened naturally, never really taking this much preamble communication.

He texts.

They decide to meet at a small cafe around the NYU campus. Peter had said the place was quiet and usually uncrowded, one of his favorites.

Going against his gut, he trusts Peter and agrees.

Now here he is, looking presentable for the public eye, it’s a Monday. He’s just dropped off Morgan at school, and here he is. At another school.

“Anthony!”

He winces just the slightest, and is met with the vision that is Peter Parker at eight a.m. on a Monday morning. For someone so heavily criticized and praised in the public-eye, appearances must be everything on some level for the man. He doesn’t exactly aim to disappoint.

He looks so effortlessly cozy, dolled up in his black turtleneck and rust orange suede jacket, and those same glasses from the week prior perched against his brow bone. His hair looks soft, and his eyes are warm.

“Mr. Parker.”

That’s good. Set some boundaries, before you directly tell him he looks soft.

“I told you.” Peter sighs wistfully, wrapping his hands around a deep mug of hot chocolate?

He looks up again with the same kindness and warmth.

“Call me Peter.”

He invited him to dinner.

He doesn’t exactly know how it happened. It was somewhere between talking about how Peter had wound up picking up where his uncle left off, and how working as a barista in the cafe they were sitting in was Peter’s favorite job during college.

He could imagine a littler Peter, running around behind the counter making drinks and warming up scones. His open textbook to the left of the register, just like he described.

It made a fluttering in his chest somewhere, to know a personal and small detail of the Peter Parker.

Not in a, I’m a huge fan of the Peter Parker.

But, in a, this kind young man, I am having the privilege of getting to know, kind of way.

The point is he invited him to dinner, at this high-end steak house he’s familiar with. A reservation for eight.

It’s eight forty-five, and he’s on his second glass of red wine, Peter’s on his third.

Things are comfortably warm, they’re talking about Tony’s first movie, and how much of a shitshow it was, but the critics loved it.

The steak is amazing, they order dessert.

And he doesn’t budge or comment when Peter hooks his foot around his own. He only smiles softly, and watches Peter’s curious eyes watch as he brings a piece of poached pear to his mouth.

He hails Peter a cab at the end of the night, and Peter thanks him for dinner.

He calls him Anthony, once again.

Peter calls him this time.

It’s in the late hours of the night, and Tony, never really one for sleeping through the night anyway, has a lapful of script he’s reviewing, making sure it fits his artistic vision and what-not.

His voice is rough around the edges, a haze of sleep almost.

Tony wonders what it sounds like in person. If he were in bed next to him, or with him. Maybe with a lapful of Peter Parker, and not dialogue bleeding into his iris’.

He invites Tony over for Thursday night.

Peter knows the custodial schedule. That should mean something right?

He texts him an address later in the day. It’s in the Upper East Side, not too far from him, it’s in a cozy neighborhood of brownstones.

Very Peter Parker.

Tony, will never understand Rocky Horror.

Peter had invited him when he arrived a little late, just five minutes, but he could see the worry drip off his shoulders as he greeted him at the door.

His home was a beautiful thing, filled to the brim with the most eclectic vintage interior, but it somehow matched.

He had learned from their meeting at the cafe, that Peter’s aunt owned a store that specialized in all things vintage and antique. It hadn’t surprised him to see it rubbed off on him.

In the downstairs parlor, it was decorated with dozens of Peter’s movie posters. Some were beta’s that Peter and an artist had worked on together. Peter flushed when he caught him staring.

Tony would never get used to the fact that this Peter Parker was shy and not open about his work in his personal life, he liked to keep things very separate.

He watched him put together a heaping bowl of kettle corn and followed him up a winding staircase, Peter remarked it was his favorite thing about the house.

He told him they were watching Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Tony had never seen it in his entire life, he knew the cult following it had, but he couldn’t piece together that this is something Peter loved so much, but was so different from the direction he took with his work.

He only smiled and agreed and saddled up with Peter on the pink floral couch.

They’d never done this before, but it felt so familiar, like they had been through this scenario a dozen times, and it was just natural to lean into each other and fumble for the sugary popcorn between them.

It was around the scene when Frank N Furter was doing the backstroke with the rest of the cast in the swimming pool, that Tony realized their closeness.

How he had his arm wrapped around Peter, and Peter had just melted into his side.

The younger man must’ve felt the pressure of Tony’s gaze burning into the side of his face, since he turned his head to face him.

It was all very cliche in this sense.

A romantic scene directed and scripted and cast.

Except the love interests were him and Peter.

Peter kissed him first. That’s all he can clearly recall, the seconds prior being a blur of ‘is this actually happening’ to ‘it’s actually happening, do something’.

Finally the cognitive gears in his brain rekindle their function, and his lips are moving against Peter’s. He’s so warm and soft, he tastes like cinnamon sugar.

Peter’s hands are grounding against his chest, holding him to reality, in any other case he would’ve drifted off somewhere because he has to be dreaming.

But this is real. And Peter’s real.

And, oh no.

Tony gently pulls away from Peter’s grasp, and takes a breath. And Peter’s got this smile on his face like he won the grand prize at a carnival game.

“Peter- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. This is not going to happen.”

The smile falls faster on Peter’s face than the pit in his stomach.

There’s something hurt and cold in his eyes. The warmth is gone, and the guilt gnaws at Tony as he flees the Parker residence.

It’s been two weeks since the Rocky Horror incident.

Peter’s texted, and called. He believes he’s got Anthony all figured out.

To be truthful he does.

He had called Anthony out on his behavior six days ago, and hasn’t sent another message since.

Peter left a voicemail stating that Anthony wasn’t going to let himself enjoy something without finding an excuse for why he can’t. Peter wants this, and Anthony wants this, then that is all that matters. He is going to be filming at this location for the next two weeks, he can make his peace by showing up or not.

Tony stared at the message for ten minutes before Morgan told him to go get Peter.

She knew.

She always knows.

When Tony saw Peter again he was rushing past people ushering him to stop.

But Tony was on a mission, he felt like one of his main characters in the final leg of the movie, finally making it out alive, and this was the final call, where he would live to the credits, or the antagonist would leave no survivors.

Peter was beautiful.

Even if he did look like Prom Queen Carrie at the moment.

His hands and clothes were covered in fake blood, helping arrange the set to a T.

When Peter looked up at him, he knew he would make it to the credits.

His boy ran at him and swallowed him in his warmth.

It was a pining, longing, and apologetic kiss, with bloody hands cradling Tony’s face.

“You’re dumb, and you hurt my feelings Anthony.” Peter whispered as he pulled away.

“I’m sorry.” He replies, his eyes watery, insecurity wrung out like a rag, he wanted Peter and Peter wanted him. He chanted it a million times into the crook of Peter’s neck, just holding him.

Peter pulled away and held him by his shoulders “It’s okay Anthony.”

He smiled that big beautiful warm smile of his, and pushed him away.

“Now. Get off my set. I’ll see you at nine, bring Morgan, they’re playing Psycho tonight.”

#birdycurtainswrites #starker #tony stark x peter parker #tony x peter #prompt me #directors au

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softforcal · 5 years

Text

Bro Code : Prince!Cal

Summary: When Prince Ashton’s younger sister comes back to the kingdom for the summer after being at uni for years, Calum realizes maybe the ‘bro code’ isn’t so great after all

Warnings: lil smut

Prince Cal Moodboard

OC Moodboard

Word Count: 11k

------------------

Calum had known that Ostara would be coming back to the kingdom for the whole summer, and he’d thought he’d be prepared to see her. He’d never not been prepared before, but, when his eyes landed on the blonde standing in the kitchen, he realized he had not been ready for the sight in front of him.

They hadn’t seen each other in years. She’d gone off to boarding school and straight to university after. Calum had always figured that she’d stayed away on purpose, after all, the younger Irwin had never been a fan of being a Princess.

When Ashton had told his friends that she’d be coming home for the kingdoms centennial celebration, the boys had been surprised. However, when Ashton mentioned that, in part, it was due to his parents deciding it was finally time for Ostara to begin courting all the princes who would be in the city for the celebration, it made a bit more sense.

Calum had scrolled through her insta and had been shocked to see how much she’d grown, how much she’d changed. He’d had to admit to himself that she got hot. Long blonde hair, pretty green eyes, honey coloured skin and an adorable splatter of freckles across her little, upturned nose, she was still the girl he’d grown up with, but she’d glowed up in a big way.

Seeing her in person was entirely different.

Somehow, she was even prettier when not contained by the four sided walls of an instagram post. Which didn’t quite make sense to the young prince. But as his eyes scanned up her body, taking in the cute floral yellow skirt and the little white crop top, he couldn’t breathe.

She turned and seemed to notice him for the first time, an easy, dimpled smile appearing on her face, “Calum!” she exclaimed, setting down the bag of chips she’d managed to steal from the palace pantry. She moved around the island table quickly, throwing her arms around the tall prince who immediately embraced her, breathing in the scent that he’d all but forgotten, and not realized how much he’d missed.

As he set her down, he opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by a loud “there she is!” as his friends walked into the kitchen behind him.

“Leave it to Cal to find the only girl in the house.” Michael teased, pulling Ostara into a hug and away from Calum, whose body mourned her of its own accord.

“How’ve you been?” Luke asked, getting his turn next.

“Busy.” Ostara answered, which was so classic that it made Calum smile.

“Busy bee.” Ashton said, finally getting a turn to hug his little sister.

She grinned against his shoulder and the other princes in the room watched the happy reunion, “when did you get in?” Ashton asked when he set Ostara down.

“A little while ago, I would have messaged but… well, thought you’d enjoy the surprise.” she shrugged, hands settling on her hips to look at everyone, “shit, you guys got tall.”

“It wouldn’t be such a shock if you actually came home for Christmas.” Ashton said, jabbing at her ribcage as Ostara swatted his hand away.

“You know why I haven't.” Ostara tutted, “besides, I face time you like every day.”

Ashton opened his mouth to say something when a servant entered the kitchen, “Princess Ostara you’re needed in your parents office.”

Ostara groaned and Ashton chuckled, “good luck.”

She brushed past him and grabbed her bag of chips, glaring at her brother, “ha ha.”

They watched her leave, Calum’s gaze drawn down, and once she was gone everyone turned to look at Ashton who held up his hands, pointing at the hot blooded males around him, “if any of you say it-”

“Your sister got hot.” Luke stated.

Ashton shoved at Luke who chuckled and moved away.

“What’s the deal with Ostara and your parents anyways?” Michael asked, opening the fridge to grab a beer.

“They have this whole thing about her finding a suitor, it’s very old fairy tale of them if you ask me.” Ashton said, pushing past Michael to find something to eat. He settled on an apple, taking a bite.

“Shit, I heard about that.” Luke said, “my mom mentioned it to me a few days ago.”

“How did that come up?” Calum laughed.

“I think they’re hoping if they force us to date she’ll calm me down or something.” Luke said. Calum could feel his blood go cold.

Ashton froze, turning to look at his friend, “force you to date? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I thought I mentioned that.” Luke shrugged, “doesn’t mean much to me. She’s your little sister man, I’m not that much of a dick.”

-----

“Aren’t you supposed to be on a date with Luke?” Calum asked as soon as the blonde entered the kitchen.

Ostara rolled her eyes, walking past Calum who was all but guarding the fridge, a beer in his hand, “can you even really call it a date? It’s a parentaly forced hang out.”

“Did they teach you words like ‘parentaly’ at your fancy university?” Calum grinned.

“Yes.” Ostara snapped but she was grinning, “what are you drinking?”

Before Calum could answer, she grabbed the bottle from his hand, taking a swig and making Calum chuckle, “and now you drink too?” he mused.

“A lot has changed.” Ostara pointed out, looking at the beer, “this is good.”

“Yeah, which is why it’s mine.” Calum said, trying to grab the bottle back but the smaller girl danced away.

“Pretty sure this is my palace Hood, which makes this my beer.” she took another drink, “when did this place become such a frat house?”

“Ash invited us for the summer, besides, you have the whole extra palace anyways.” Calum pointed out.

“Yeah, my extra palace.” Ostara pointed out, “which I usually get all to myself and Ashton, except now it’s run rampant princes.”

“You say that like its a bad thing.” Calum smirked, going to the fridge again to find another beer to replace the one Ostara had taken.

“It is when princes are the thing I’ve been avoiding for years.” Ostara said, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Why is that?” Calum asked, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he studied the younger Irwin.

“It just feels weird, the expectation, and all you princes are the same-”

“Ouch.” Calum laughed, “I assume you mean like Luke.”

“Well he has been the one in the tabloids recently.” Ostara pointed out.

“We’re not all like him, you know that.” Calum said, “was the date that bad?”

“Don’t call it a date, and yes.” Ostara said, lifting herself up to sit on the kitchen counter, she kicked her legs absentmindedly, “did you know that he has this compulsion to check out every ass that walks past him?”

“Yeah he does that.” Calum chuckled.

“And you don’t?”

He grinned, “no.”

“So you weren’t checking out my ass when I left the kitchen yesterday?”

Calum’s heart thumped, had she caught him?

“I’m kidding.” Ostara laughed, “god, lighten up, I’m still me Cal.”

He took a deep breath, studying the little mischievous glint in her green eyes that had been there since they were kids, “sure you are.”

-----

“Two days in a row, starting to think you’re stalking me Hood.” Ostara said when the prince entered the kitchen.

“We both just like the kitchen, that’s not a crime.” Calum shrugged, “you’re dressed up.”

“Had another ‘date’.” Ostara said, grabbing ice cream from the fridge. She sat up on the kitchen counter, the place that Calum was already viewing as her spot.

“Was it as bad as Luke’s?” Calum snuck a glance at her from over his shoulder as he reached into the fridge.

“Hmm, comparable.” Ostara said, sticking a spoon into the frozen dessert which she proceeded to lick clean.

“What was wrong with this guy?”

“Prince Shawn is nice-”

“He’s a softie.” Calum rolled his eyes, “definitely not your type.”

Ostara scoffed, “oh yeah? And what’s my type Hood? If you’re such an expert.”

He shrugged, “just… not prince Shawn.”

------

“So this is what? Five days in a row of dates?” Calum chuckled when Ostara entered the kitchen, setting her purse on the counter before finding a banana to eat as she lifted herself onto the table.

“Like I said, you’re a stalker.” Ostara groaned, kicking off her high heels which Calum dodged, grabbing a beer that he passed to her.

“I’m starting to think you’re just picky.”

“And what about it?” Ostara shrugged, “so what if a girl’s got taste?”

Calum smirked, “nothing wrong with that.”

“Hey aren’t you getting pimped out too?” Ostara asked, biting into her banana, “when are you ever going to tell me about your shitty dates?”

“I don’t have shitty dates.”

“Yeah, cuz I never see you going on any.” Ostara teased.

“I’m just… I don’t know,” Calum sighed, “not a fan of the whole PR dating thing.”

“Right, and I am?” Ostara rolled her eyes.

They both knew why Calum could get away with no pr relationships, the same way Ashton could. They were the eldest sons. The only reason Luke got wrangled into it was because he was the third child, just as Ostara was the second. They would never have a crown, unless they married into it, and they were good candidates for royal courtship. Royals married royals. That was known.

“Do you really want to hear about my bad dates?” Calum asked, running a hand through his hair.

“Yes!” Ostara exclaimed.

“I have one later tonight-”

“You have to tell me all about it when you get back.” Ostara stated.

“Hmm, not sure when it will be over-”

“Then give me your number, text me.” Ostara suggested, pulling out her phone.

Calum shrugged, taking her phone and punching in his contact info, “there.” he said, handing back her phone. He watched as she corrected his name from ‘Cal’ to ‘his highness’ and he couldn't help but smile.

Ostara put her phone away, “I can’t be the only one with a shit love life around here.”

Calum chuckled, “at least you’re not Luke.”

“Yeah, you’re right, that would be worse.”

---------

Calum’s knee bobbed up and down, his eyes fixed on the brunette who was going on about all the parties she’d been to in the past month. Gnawing at his lip, Calum tried to remain focused, but for some reason, his eyes kept straying away from the puffed up lips, protruding fillers and bodacious bust that every princess seemed to have. He wondered if they all went to the same surgeon.

The small buzz of his phone captured Calum’s attention and the girl followed his eyes, sighing, “do you need to look at that?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah, one sec.” Calum mumbled, picking up his phone to scan the screen. It was his friend group chat, the one with Luke, Ash and Michael.

Someone had sent a picture of Prince Liam and it looked like the other boys were tearing the guy to shreds. Calum quickly tried to get caught up in the convo, realizing that Ashton had originally sent the picture with the caption ‘future brother in law? I think the FUCK not.’

As if he hadn’t already been distracted by Ostara this entire date and now his friends were discussing her possible suitors? And Liam was not the kind of guy Calum wanted Ostara to be going out with. Sure, out of his gang of friends, Liam was… suitable, definitely better than others, but it just didn’t sit right with Calum.

“Is something wrong?” the brunette asked.

“What?” Calum looked up.

“You’re frowning.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah.”

Calum took one last look at the phone, eyes scanning a text from Michael that read ‘fuck that guy’ and then Calum turned off his phone, “sorry.”

“You seem distracted.” the brunette mused.

Calum sighed, “yeah, sorry-”

“I’ll get the cheque.”

Calum opened his mouth to argue but then stopped. It was true. It he didn’t want to be at that table with that princess. He wanted to be back at the palace, preferably in the kitchen, preferably with a blonde, preferably last named Irwin, preferably female-

His thoughts were cut off by the waiter who had returned with the bill, Calum pulled out his wallet, throwing some bills on the table. He stood up, mumbling a quick ‘sorry’ before he all but ran from the restaurant.

Calum made it back to the palace in record time, going to the kitchen immediately.

It was empty. Calum’s heart sank in his chest.

He pulled out his phone, looking at Ostara’s contact for a few moments before he began to type: ‘Back from my date.’

The little messaging bubble popped up almost immediately and Calum’s heart lurched in his chest while he waited.

‘We’re at the firepit, come join.’

Calum sighed. He’d been hoping to catch her alone. It was almost a ritual by now, one on one talks in the kitchen about bad dates. He didn’t really feel like disclosing the information about the bad dates with the guys. He didn’t want to have to share his attention. To hide the fact that his eyes would want to be on Ostara and no one else. It was something he’d already began to notice, the way he felt he had to act differently, to control himself, whenever Ostara and the boys were in the same place.

He couldn’t be open about how much he enjoyed the younger Irwin.

He knew Ashton would not be happy about it.

Hell, if Luke thought dating Ostara would be a shitty bro move, that meant something.

Calum sighed, grabbing two beers from the fridge absentmindedly, then he walked outside towards the firepit.

The sound of voices greeted him as he came around the corner, eyes landing on the group of people all lounging in lawn chairs around the firepit. Ashton noticed him first “where’s your date?” he called with a grin.

Calum rolled his eyes, going to sit by Luke who had pulled up a chair for him. “This for me?” Luke asked, taking the second beer from Calum before he could respond. The beer had been for Ostara Calum realized, but he wasn’t about to fight it, especially not in front of Ashton.

“So spill.” Ostara said, making Calum’s attention flicker to her for the first time. He’d been avoiding looking at her, but he figured he was allowed to address her after she’d asked him a direct question.

But now he had to figure out how to explain why the brunette had not been a good date. He had to come up with a reason that wasn't the truth: that she wasn’t Ostara.

“Uh, she was just really-” he thought about it, was trash talking another princess in front of Ostara a good idea? “We just didn’t vibe.”

“Isn’t this the girl who gave you a handy at the last banquet?” Michael asked, popping some chips into his mouth.

“That chick!” Luke said, snapping his fingers, “she’s a fox.”

Calum could feel his skin heating up, hot against the cool night air, and not because of the close proximity of the fire. “Yeah, that’s her.” he admitted, throat feeling thick as he swallowed and avoided looking at Ostara. He’d only half forgotten about that, he’d been very high.

“You guys vibed okay that night.” Ashton pointed out.

“Did her technique get worse?” Michael asked in confusion.

“She didn’t- we were in a restaurant.” Calum stated, taking a deep breath.

“So?” Luke grinned.

“Yeah, wouldn’t be the craziest place you’ve ever-” Michael began and Calum groaned loudly.

“Shut up Michael.” Calum commanded.

“You guys are so mean to him.” Ostara tutted and Calum offered her a half smile. She could feel how uncomfortable he was and Ostara had been raised to navigate awkwardness like a professional, so she easily changed the topic and Calum thanked god for her, “what are you guys wearing to the ball on Friday?”

“Velvet.” Luke answered immediately.

“Oooh!” Ostara leaned in, “what colour?”

“Red.”

“Wow, you really like to stand out don’t you?” Ostara teased.

“He’s six foot four, he always stands out.” Michael stated.

“I’m six’ two at best.” Luke insisted.

“Liar.” Ashton laughed.

“What are you wearing?” Calum asked before he could help himself, curiosity getting the better of him.

Ostara’s green eyes met his, “a lady never tells.”

“Fucking tease.” Luke muttered, earning a shove from Ashton.

Calum tried not to look at Ostara but she looked so cute, bundled up in an oversized red flannel. She looked so relaxed, so comfortable, so happy. He realized he had been staring a moment too long and tore his eyes away, looking instead at Ashton who was chatting with Michael about whether or not Michael would ditch the ball all together.

Calum’s heart was thumping in his chest and although he appeared to be listening in on the conversation, his brain was occupied with other thoughts.

He’d told Ostara that not all princes were like Luke, and yet it had just been made painfully clear that in some ways, they were. He regretted letting the brunette princess give him a handy under the table at that banquet. But, as much as he hated to think it, above all, he regretted the fact that it hadn’t been Ostara who had been the one to do it.

------

The days leading up to the ball were tense for Calum. He’d pretty much accepted the fact that he was a terrible friend and a terrible person.

He’d accepted the fact that he was lusting after his best friends sister.

He’d tried to avoid her at first but that had proved to be impossible, they both just loved the kitchen too much.

And then there was the fact that all any of them wanted to do was lounge by the pool. Calum couldn’t just stay in his room all day, that would have been boring and suspicious. So he found himself sitting in the shade with Michael, trying not to look at Ostara as she did her morning laps or tanned on a floaty.

It was very uncomfortable for him, fighting the ever incessant urge to sneak a peak even though he knew what negative effects it would have on him, in certain places in particular.

It didn’t help that Ostara was a happy, chatty girl who was always ready to ask him how his day was going any time they bumped into each other somewhere on the grounds. Calum didn’t want to be cold, but he didn’t want to be too warm either.

So he’d made an impulsive decision. Something that would keep him out of the palace for a while. He’d decided to go dye his hair.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time, and it was a good reason to avoid Ostara after. When she’d caught wind of what he was doing she’d messaged him ‘send me pics!’ and he’d replied with ‘hair reveal at the ball’ a text that he had stared at and hated himself for hours afterwards. But, he had justified not seeing her for three days and of course Ostara had respected his want to ‘drop a big reveal’ and had purposefully been avoiding him to not ruin the surprise. Which only seemed to make him adore her even more.

Getting ready for the ball was a chore. The four princes all had custom suits and they dicked around, drank, and chatted while getting ready in Ashton’s room. Try as he might to get involved in the conversation, all Calum could think about was what Ostara would be wearing.

Calum downed a shot, feeling the pleasant buzz wash over him. He was not about to go to a ball sober and he knew he was playing with fire. He knew that with lowered inhibitions, he could end up in high water fast, but he just couldn’t find it within himself to go to the event without being at least slightly tipsy.

He’d been mentally preparing to see Ostara dance with other princes.

He hoped that this time, he’d be ready for the view.

----

Again, Calum was wrong. Seeing Ostara jump from prince to prince hurt his soul. Watching hands that were not his caress her waist, covered in a soft looking, baby pastel yellow silk dress, made Calum’s fists clench at his sides. The way she smiled, looking so graceful and so princess-like… it was making Calum’s head spin, or perhaps that was the glass of whiskey in his hand?

Calum noticed prince Liam noticing Ostara and somehow his blood got even hotter. Especially as Liam began walking over when the song ended. Liam was upon Ostara within moments and although Liam may have missed the small micro expression that crossed her face as she turned to look at him, Calum didn’t.

He drank the rest of his drink, clenching his jaw as he set down the glass. By the time he looked up again, a new song had started and Liam had Ostara pressed to his chest.

“Look at that douchebag.” Michael stated from next to him.

Calum said nothing.

“One of us should go save her.” Michael continued, “Ashton looks pissed.”

Calum looked over at Ashton who was busy dancing, but his eyes were on his sister and Liam. “i’ll do it.” Calum stated, moving forward immediately.

He maneuvered through the crowd, eyes on his prize. His tattooed hand reached out on it’s own accord, tapping the prince on the shoulder, “wait your turn mate.” Liam said.

“Nah.” Calum responded, “think I’ll cut in now.”

Ostara’s hands were already moving from Liam to Calum’s broad shoulders and Liam didn’t try to fight it, sighing loudly before removing himself completely. Calum watched him leave and then turned to finally meet Ostara’s gaze.

“Your hair looks amazing.” she stated, “and thanks for saving me.”

“Was wondering if you were gonna come and say hi earlier.” Calum admitted.

“I wanted to! But my parents said I had to dance the first six dances for appearances or something.” Ostara frowned.

“So this is your last dance then you’re done.”

“Have you been stalking me again Hood?” Ostara laughed.

Shit. He had to stop just saying what was on his mind.

“Your dress is nice.” he said, changing the topic. It was just as silky under his touch as he’d imagined it would be. Ostara’s hand gave his a little squeeze, her fingers dancing over his shoulder and sending electricity running through his body.

“Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

She could feel his breath against her face and with their chests all but pressed together, she could also just imagine that his heart was racing as fast as hers was. His eyes were a deep, beautiful brown and she was finding herself lost in them.

And the hair? Yeah, she was feeling it.

They both just looked at each other for a few moments in silence, Calum’s gaze flickered down and Ostara’s heart lurched in her chest. They were so close, it would be so easy to-

The song ended and Ostara caught movement of her brother walking over from behind Calum, so she pulled herself away, feeling her skin flush as she looked down.

“That Liam guy is a fuck.” Ashton stated, “thanks for stepping in Cal.” Ashton said, patting his friend on the back.

“Don’t mention it.” Calum said stiffly.

“Gotta talk to my sister about her choice in men, give us a sec.” Ashton said.

Calum didn’t question it, turning and leaving without so much as another word. He made his way to the bar where Michael caught up to him, “what the fuck was that?”

“Vodka.” Calum said to the bartender, leaning against the table top instead of looking at his friend, “what was what?”

“You and Ostara were dancing pretty fucking close don’t you think?”

“Lower your voice.” Calum hissed.

“I fucking knew it!” Michael said, voice low but still full of the arrogant ‘i told you so’ tone.

“Knew what?” Calum continued to play dumb, handing a bill to the bartender in return for his quick drink.

“You’ve been weird since Ostara showed up.” Michael said, “I thought maybe it was just because there’s a girl or whatever, but it’s because you like her, isn’t it?”

“Yes Michael. I have a big, fat crush on Ash’s little sister.” Calum said sarcastically, shooting his drink.

Michael laughed, “fuck man, you’re in so deep.”

He was. Calum knew it. And if Michael noticed, then it was only a matter of time until Luke or Ashton noticed, and the former had a big mouth so as soon as the cat was out of the bag with one, it would be game over with the other.

Calum turned around, leaning his back against the bar. His eyes searched before his brain registered what he was doing, finding the gorgeous blonde just as she slipped from the ballroom.

“Don’t even think about-” Michael began but once again, Calum was already moving, chasing after the Princess like a lost puppy.

His pace quickened, eager to catch the girl before she disappeared into one of the many rooms in the palace, never to be found again. Calum remembered playing hide and seek as children, Ostara had always managed to disappear, not that the boys had ever actually looked. Hide and seek had been more of an excuse to get her to piss off at the time, but not anymore.

He heard her heels clicking against the marble floor and followed the sound, turning a corner just as she slipped from view. Calum groaned, running down the hallway to follow, “Ostara!”

She turned and looked at him, “Calum?”

He caught up to her finally, not sure what to even say. All he knew was that his heart was racing, from the running or the booze or maybe the beautiful girl standing in front of him giving him her full attention.

Calum realized in that moment that his fears of losing inhibitions while tipsy were well merited. His hands reached out and cupped Ostara’s face, eyes searching hers momentarily for a reaction in case he was going bat shit crazy and she didn’t want him to kiss her.

But when her eyes went to his lips, he knew that he had the green light.

He moved forward, pressing his lips against hers. Ostara’s hands found his chest as she moved closer, kissing back immediately. Calum’s tongue swiped across her bottom lip and Ostara’s mouth opened eagerly, tasting the liquor on his tongue. His teeth teased her, nipping into the lipstick stained kiss.

Ostara’s hand moved from his chest to his shoulders and then to his neck, locking him close to her as if she never wanted to let go. One of Calum’s hands left her face, going down to the small of her back, teasing just above the cute bum he wanted to grab so badly.

His grip tightened and Ostara smiled against his lips, happiness contagious as Calum laughed slightly, eyes opening to look at the beautiful girl in his arms. Her fingers played with his hair, tugging slightly as he brought his lips down on hers again.

His hand slipped lower, finally grabbing her ass as she moaned into his mouth. The noise made Calum groan too as he felt his pants getting tighter, the front of their bodies rubbing against each other in an effort to do the impossible and get somehow even closer.

“Ostara!” Ashton’s voice rang out in the hall and the couple jumped away from each other. Ostara’s eyes widened as she looked at Calum immediately wiping at his mouth to get rid of the lipstick covering his face. Likewise, Calum brushed at her mouth which was also smudged with red.

“Shit.” Calum muttered as the sound of footsteps got louder.

“You need to go.” Ostara whispered.

“What?”

Ostara’s small hands grabbed at the front of Calum’s suit, dragging him to a door to a side room, she shoved him inside before he could argue.

Calum stared at the closed door, heart racing in his chest.

“There you are!” he heard Ashton’s voice, “what the fuck happened to your mouth?”

“I wiped my lipstick by accident cuz I’m dumb.” came a quick and easy answer.

No argument from Ashton on that subject.

“What’s up? Im going to go fix this-” Ostara continued.

“Mom and dad said if you want to leave you have to say goodnight to a few people first.”

“They said six dances and I’m done-”

“Yeah but they still want you to say bye.”

“Okay, I’ll be right there, just gotta head to my room first-”

“I’ll come with, need to talk to you about that Liam guy.” Ashton stated.

Calum’s heart sunk as he heard retreating footsteps. He was so screwed.

----

He’d gone back to his room immediately after to take a cold shower.

He’d paced, eyes flickering to his phone obsessively, waiting for a text that never came.

He’d considered going to her room, sneaking out in the dead of night to go profess his adoration like some prince from the fairy tales, the type of guy she deserved.

Sleep had been difficult to come by, and every time he closed his eyes, images of her danced across his vision like a bewitching goddess demanding his devotion.

At six AM Calum rolled out of bed, pulling on sweats and a plain white t shirt. He set off to the kitchen, hoping for some coffee to get his day started.

Calum was rubbing at his eyes when he entered the room, groaning then removing his hands, he stopped in his tracks. Of course Ostara was in the kitchen.

Standing over a pan with an egg in it, dressed in the tiniest little matching white and yellow starred sleeping shorts and crop top Calum had ever seen, her blonde hair pulled into a messy bun, she took his breath away.

Her green eyes moved up to meet his and her skin immediately flushed all pretty and pink.

“Hey.” Calum croaked, voice low and sleepy.

“Hey.” she retorted. Silence settled over the kitchen and then: “coffee?” she pushed forward a french press that was half full.

“Yeah.” Calum shuffled forward, grabbing a mug then pouring himself the drink. Ostara tried not to watch the beautiful way his tattooed hand wrapped around the white ceramic, all large and perfect-

“How did you sleep?” he asked.

“Uh…” Ostara laughed, blush returning, “not great, you?”

“Not great.” Calum smiled, leaning against the counter next to her while she cooked, “cute outfit.”

He was enjoying making her blush.

“Oh my god.” Ostara groaned, setting down the spatula she had in her hand so she could cover her face.

Calum smirked, “what?”

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

She peaked at him through her fingers, “that! Being cute.”

“If you don’t want to see me looking like this, maybe you should close your eyes.” Calum suggested.

“What?”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“No.” Ostara laughed.

“Your loss.” Calum shrugged, sipping at his coffee.

Ostara groaned in exasperation, turning the stove off before she looked at Calum one last time, closing her eyes. Calum set down his coffee and Ostara said “now what?”

“God, be patient.” Calum tutted, squaring his shoulders as he turned to her fully.

He studied her for a moment. Taking in her pretty pink lips, the dimples already showing as she smiled with excitement, her long lashes, the way strands of blonde hair had escaped her bun to frame her face.

His hand came up to brush one of the strands behind her ear and Ostara flinched slightly, one eye peeking open at him, Calum laughed, “eyes closed.” he whispered, caressing her cheekbone with his thumb as his hand came to cup her face.

Ostara let out a shaky breath, following his command. Once Calum was sure her eyes were closed, his thumb that had been on her cheekbone moved down to her lips, brushing the bottom one, pulling it down slightly, “so pretty.” he whispered.

Ostara’s heart was racing in her chest, body anticipating the warmth that Calum’s mouth would bring, the electricity that she knew would erupt over her skin like wildfire.

Being completely at his mercy was torturous, her hands fidgeted at her sides, not knowing what to do with themselves while she waited.

The first kiss was soft, a mere brushing, a tease. Ostara moved in for more immediately and Calum pulled away, she could hear his smile, “eyes closed.” he reminded her as if he could read her mind, knowing that she was dying to look at him.

His thumb stroked her cheek as he kissed her again, lips moulding against hers as he finally allowed her to melt into the kiss, her fingers going down to the waistband of his grey sweats to pull him closer.

He enjoyed cupping her face. It felt right. It felt intimate. It showed everything he was feeling but unable to verbalize. It proved how much she meant to him. How much he cared. His need for her to feel safe and protected-

Music flooded through the kitchen and for the second time in a day the pair pulled away. Luke always walked around blaring music from his phone like an obnoxious prick, and he entered the kitchen moments later, stopping to look at Calum and Ostara who acted innocent, standing a few feet away from each other, Calum sipping on his coffee while Ostara grabbed a plate to put her egg on.

“You two look suspicious.” Luke stated.

“Says you, why are you even awake, its early.” Calum fired back.

“Touche.” Luke sighed, “have another PR date thing.”

“You mean you’re cheating on me?” Ostara said in mock shock.

“No baby, I would never.” Luke stated, sounding offended.

Calum’s jaw clenched at the pet name.

“I’m going back to my room.” Ostara announced, “you two have fun.”

Calum tried not to look at her bum as she left the room but it was so cute and perfect in her little star shorts, besides, Luke was looking too which pissed him off… but, Calum knew he wouldn’t get caught.

Luke turned back to look at Calum, “at this point Ashton should be thanking god that I’m a good friend, because she’s cute as fuck.”

-----

The noon sun was hot and piercing, the royals only leaving the air conditioned comfort of the palace to hang by the pool. Luke was still not back from whatever errand his family had sent him on, which left Calum, Michael, Ashton and Ostara to their own devices.

Laying in the sun, Ostara was reading, while the other three tossed a ball around in the pool.

“So bored.” Michael groaned.

“This used to be so much fun when we were kids, what changed?” Ashton agreed.

“When we were kids we’d play chicken which I fucking bet you is still fun.” Michael pointed out, “fucking wish Luke was here.”

Ashton’s gaze shifted to his sister, “Ostara get in the water.”

“Hmm?” she asked, having not been paying attention.

“We’re playing chicken, come get on my shoulders.” Ashton commanded.

Michael and Calum looked between the siblings, “I’m not going to shove your sister-” Michael began.

“It will be fine.” Ashton assured him, waving his hand, “Ostara get in here or I will drag you in.”

Ostara sighed, closing her book, she knew Ashton would follow through with the threat.

When she stood up, Calum got the nicest view of her cute little pineapple print bikini. The girl had a thing for prints, but she always made it work, and Calum’s heart was soft as fuck.

She waded into the pool and Ashton approached, bending down so his sister could get onto his shoulders, “I hate you.” she stated.

“You better fucking win or I’m disowning you.” he warned her.

Meanwhile, Michael had gotten on Calum’s shoulders and everyone had gone to the deep end of the pool to make it easier.

“Michael-” Ashton began.

“If I touch her chest I’m dead, I know.” Michael said, “it’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair is the fact that you have like forty pounds on her.” Ashton pointed out, “okay, three, two, one.”

The chicken fight started and everyone began to laugh as Michael and Ostara hesitantly pushed at each other. It was obvious that the two most dominant, competitive guys where Calum and Ashton, both of whom egged on their partners to “fucking push him already!”

Calum felt kind of bad, just kind of, when Michael managed to shove Ostara into the water. She came up sputtering, slicking her hair back as beads of water rolled off her glistening, sun kissed skin, a massive smile on her face as she laughed.

In that moment Calum knew he had to calm the fuck down, or he wouldn’t be able to get out of the pool. Calum’s heart was racing and Ostara stated “again!”

Before Calum could object, she was scrambling onto her brothers shoulders to fight Michael once more.

Calum tried not to look at her, tried not to notice the glistening water droplets adorning her body like jewels, jewels that he would buy her, jewels he would bathe her in if it meant he could even so much as hold her hand.

Calum let Ostara push Michael into the water and when Michael surfaced a flurry of curses left his mouth as he shoved at Calum, “fuck off! You let her win you asshole!”

They gave up after that, Ostara once more leaving the pool to continue tanning. Once Calum knew he had calmed down enough, he joined her, laying next to her on the large beach towel. He didn’t say anything, staring up at the cloudless sky, just enjoying the feeling of being close to her.

A few minutes later Ashton sat between them and guilt panged through Calum’s chest.

“Don’t you have another date soon?” Ashton asked.

“Fuck what time is it?” Ostara shut her book quickly.

“Two thirty.”

“Fuck.” Ostara jumped up quickly and ran to the house, Calum frowned.

----

Calum paced outside the restaurant.

He’d taken one look at the outfit Ostara was wearing as she ran from the palace and he’d been blinded. The short, red silk dress had practically knocked him off of his feet, and he’d be damned if he let her slip through his fingers to whoever she had a date with that day.

Calum knew he was about to be the biggest dick in the entire universe.

He knew he was overstepping… probably.

But as seemed to always be the case with Ostara, he couldn’t fucking help himself.

Calum took a deep breath and entered the restaurant, stopping as the hostess immediately looked at him in shock, “I’m here to meet people, Ostara Irwin?”

The girl nodded, “follow me.”

The restaurant was high class and the hostess led Calum to a booth in the back where Ostara was sitting with a Prince that Calum recognized immediately.

“Calum!” Harry grinned as Ostara said “Calum?!” in shock.

Harry even stood up to give the younger prince a hug, “been a while mate, how’ve you been?”

“Good.” Calum said, “You?”

“Been great.” Harry smirked, sitting down, “you joining us?”

“I’m sure he’s not-” Ostara began but Calum had already sat into the booth next to her.

“Suppose you’re here to chaperone for Ashton? Knew that guy didn’t like me.” Harry chuckled.

“He’s got high standards for his sister.” Calum stated.

“I get that.” Harry nodded, “what’s your poison mate?”

A waiter was waved over and Calum and Harry both ordered shots to lighten the mood, even though Calum knew that not even the light of god himself would persuade Calum to be even remotely inviting.

After about ten minutes of Calum being cold, Ostara stated “Harry, I’m just going to talk to Calum for a second, need to call my brother and tell him not to be such an ass.”

“Take your time pet, I don’t mind.” Harry said warmly, confidence oozing off of him.

Ostara turned to look at Calum who stood up and let her lead him to the hall that led to the private bathrooms. “Okay, listen here-” Ostara began but Calum grabbed her hand and pulled her into one of the private bathrooms, not wanting anyone to witness the altercation.

He locked the door behind them and finally turned to the fuming blonde, “you can’t just crash my dates! You are not my big brother and you’re sure as fuck not my boyfriend either.”

“Let’s change that.” Calum stated.

“What?!” she looked taken aback for a moment.

“I said,” he grabbed her face, looking into her eyes, “let’s change that.”

She wanted to be angry. She did. But damn it if she didn’t understand where he was coming from.

Her heart was racing as he looked into her eyes, waiting for a reaction, waiting for acceptance or rejection.

Ostara’s fingers tangled in his dyed blonde hair, dragging his mouth down on hers.

Their teeth clashed but neither cared, too enraptured in the intense passion that had surrounded their hearts, burning hot through their veins as they grabbed at each other, desperate for contact. Calum pivoted, shoving Ostara against the door as his hands pushed up at the red silk dress, fingers dancing over every new milimeter of exposed skin.

His thigh pressed up between her legs and Ostara moaned into his mouth, setting Calum’s heart racing impossibly faster.

His digits made contact with something lacey and he groaned into her mouth, beginning to drag down the flimsy material of her thong but Ostara grabbed at his wrist, tearing it away as she pushed at his chest.

Calum removed himself, breathing heavily as he looked at her, taking in the red smeared lipstick that covered the area surrounding her mouth yet again.

She was flushed, back pressed against the door, eyes slightly hooded as she stared at him, chest heaving, dress still shoved up to her waist. Calum snuck a glance down, satisfied that the lacy thong was black, but it just made him want to grab her again. She pulled down her dress, tearing her eyes from him as she looked at herself in the mirror. “Fuck.” she cussed, wiping furiously at her face.

“Here, let me-” Calum stepped forward.

“I’m on a date Calum.” Ostara stated, shoulders falling in defeat, “and you’re my brothers best friend-”

Calum stopped moving, looking at Ostara.

He watched her remove all the lipstick from her face, not saying another word as she left, shutting the bathroom door behind her to leave Calum to his thoughts.

It was obvious to Harry as soon as Ostara returned that something had happened, after all, a girl doesn’t just spontaneously remove her pretty red lipstick that matched her dress perfectly.

“So you and Cal huh?” Harry grinned.

“Fuck I’m so sorry-”

“No, it’s fine love, don’t worry about me, but I am a little surprised that you’re going on dates when you two are obviously-”

“We’re not together.” Ostara stated.

“Hmm.” Harry looked her over, “could have fooled me pet.”

“He’s my brothers best friend-”

“So he should be well suited, doubt your brothers gonna be mates with assholes.” Harry mused, leaning back in his seat as he studied the obviously conflicted girl in front of him, “and if he doesn’t like it then fuck him.”

“It doesn’t work that way-”

“You’re a princess, he’s a prince, this is the only way this sort of thing works love and we both know it.”

----

“Okay, so do you live in this kitchen or what?!” Ostara practically screamed as her eyes landed on the familiar strong shoulders hunched over while Calum grabbed a beer from the fridge.

“I was here first this time.” Calum stated, still looking in the fridge, “how was the rest of your date?”

“I-” Ostara began but stopped when Ashton and Luke entered the room, “okay there are so many fucking rooms in this palace, why is everyone always in the goddamned kitchen?!”

“What’s got your panties in a knot?” Luke said, moving away from Ashton who tried to shove him.

Calum’s heart clenched and Ostara laughed at the irony that was lost on everyone but her and Calum. He had her panties in a knot. Or at least he had the hour before. “You know what, I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

“Its like five.” Ashton stated.

Ostara left the room, “I don’t care!”

----

Before Ostara even opened her door she knew who it would be. She’d been expecting Calum to turn up, they obviously had unfinished business and Calum had been on edge all day.

As the large door swung open to reveal Ostara standing there in a black, long sleeved, sleeping button up with with cartoon pumpkins on it, Calum hated himself for still thinking she was the prettiest girl in the entire world. It brushed her mid thigh and Calum couldn’t tell if she was wearing shorts underneath, his hands twitching as they itched to reach out and discover the answer.

Ostara didn’t say anything, simply moved to the side to let him in and close the door.

“We need to talk about Ashton.” Calum stated.

“Do we though?” Ostara groaned.

Calum looked her up and down, “you don’t want to talk about this?”

“Close your eyes.”

“Are you serious.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

Calum sighed, hearing his own words back at him, he realized how suave he had been that morning. Crossing his arms over his chest, Calum made a big show of closing his eyes.

“I still think we should talk about this.” Calum said.

He waited for an answer that never came.

Instead, Ostara grabbed his hands, pulling slightly to make Cal give in and uncross the arms that had been protecting him from what was to come.

Holding his hands at his sides delicately, Ostara swung them a little, looking up at the beautiful Prince whose eyes were still closed. He looked composed, the only thing betraying his inner anxieties was the rapid beat of his heart, the artery in his neck fluttering as he breathed in and out.

Ostara studied his pretty throat for a moment, stepping closer to allow his smokey smell to wash over her. She was a lot shorter than him, and she could just reach his neck with her lips, so that’s what she did.

She pressed a kiss to the skin just above his racing artery and Calum sucked in a breath, hands tensing in hers.

“Eyes closed.” she breathed against his neck, causing a shiver to run through his body. He swallowed thickly, adam’s apple bobbing in the most endearing way. Ostara kissed his throat again, parting her lips to allow her tongue to taste his skin, again, his heart beat faster.

Her teeth grazed the artery and Calum’s body jolted, hands tearing from Ostara’s so they could land on her ass, lifting her up before she could so much as scream in surprise. Her legs wrapped around Calum’s waist as she clung to his shoulders, about to object when his lips met hers and every word in her brain disappeared.

His kisses were hungry and desperate, tongue immediately sliding over her bottom lip before his teeth came down to gnaw at it teasingly. Suddenly she was falling, landing on the plush fur duvet that covered her king sized bed. Calum was on top of her, grinding down against her panty covered core as one hand slipped up her thigh, once more greated with lacy material.

He groaned into her mouth, excited to discover that she had, in fact, not been wearing shorts. For a brief moment he wondered if she’d planned this whole thing but he didn't dwell too long on the idea, too enraptured by the princess writhing underneath him.

His hips rocked, creating friction and pressure that made them both moaning messes in each others hands. Calum’s lips moved to Ostara’s neck and her fingers tangled in his hair, urging him on as he found the spot that made her toes curl, legs wrapping tighter around his waist.

Pushing himself up with one hand he looked at her shirt, admiring the fact that she was wearing a Halloween themed sleeping shirt in the summer. His fingers were almost shaking as he popped open the first button, then the second, then the third. With each newly exposed piece of skin it became more and more evident that she was first, not wearing a bra, and second, totally prepared for this. She was in control. This had been planned. Calum had fallen into her trap. And he didn’t mind one bit.

Once every button was undone, he teased the stripe of bare skin with a finger, paying extra attention to the area between her breasts as she watched, heart thundering with patient anticipation.

“Take this off for me princess.” he said, voice soft.

Pushing herself up slightly, Ostara wasted no time wiggling from the shirt. She already had goosebumps from his touch and she shivered as the fabric fell from her shoulders, exposing her to him for the first time as she lay back down.

One finger traced up from her belly button to her left breast, circling closer and closer until he brushed his knuckles over her nupple, “so pretty.” he mused as she pushed up towards his hand, eager for more.

“Please Cal.” she begged, the neediness in her voice was the sexiest thing Calum had ever heard in his entire life.

He kissed her mouth, then began his venture downwards, pressing soft kisses on her neck, then her collar bones. When his lips wrapped around her nipple, teeth teasing, his right hand fully massaged her other breast. Her fingers tangled in his hair as breathy moans rang through the room, Ostara’s back arching slightly in an effort to get him to do something, anything, more.

Calum’s lips continued downwards as he slipped from the bed, getting onto his knees as he pulled her to the edge, fingers hooking in the panties that he gingerly slid down her legs. Once they were discarded on the floor, Calum placed Ostara’s thighs on his shoulders, hands going to her hips to hold her down as he briefly enjoyed the view.

“Close your eyes.” he stated, “want you to feel all of this.”

Ostara’s breathing was ragged as Calum took a teasing lick, her right leg jerking slightly on his shoulder which made Calum smirk, fully putting his mouth onto her. His tongue flicked at her clit before sucking gently, earning breathy moans that egged him to go harder.

Her nails scratched against Calum’s scalp and he enjoyed the sensation, groaning a little, the vibrations made Ostara jolt again, her grip tightening in her hair. “Calum!” she whined loudly. As a reward for how pretty she sounded, Calum brought up a finger, sliding it inside of her easily and curling.

Her body reacted immediately and Calum knew from her whimpers, and the small tremors with each harsh suck, that she was close. He chased her high, having always felt entitled to a woman's orgasm. He knew he was good with his mouth and Calum refused to feel bad about that.

Adding another finger, he began to thrust his digits in and out even faster, curling each time to hit the spot that had Ostara’s back arching, hands pulling at Calum’s hair as the orgasm rippled through her body, lasting longer due to Calum’s continued motions as she whined and moaned, putty in his hands.

When her back touched against the mattress again to signify the complete end of her high, Calum pulled away, sucking his fingers into his mouth as he stood and pulled off his shirt.

Eyes closed, chest heaving, Ostara made Calum dizzy.

Calum was about to reach for a condom when four small words were spoken that nearly shattered Calum’s very existence: “I’m on the pill.”

‘I’m going to marry this girl.’

Calum pushed the thought away, kicking off his pants and boxers. Ostara’s legs opened for him, inviting the prince to get back on top of her as he pressed a kiss to her lips, “you alright?” he asked, her fingers immediately finding their place in his platinum hair again.

“Uh huh.” she breathed, one hand snaking between the two of them to grab the base of his cock, lining it up with her, all that was left to be done was for Calum to close the distance.

As he entered her they both moaned, lips attacking again with the same passion that always seemed to be present when they kissed.

The muscles in Calum’s shoulders tensed as he remained still for a moment to be sure she was ready for him to move, Ostara’s fingers dancing along the broad expanse of skin.

Her legs tightening around his waist was Calum’s cue to move as he pulled almost all the way out before snapping his hips forward again, entering fully. Her warmth cocooned him and he let out a throaty groan, “you’re so fucking tight.”

“You’re just big.” Ostara breathed against his lips, eager for more kisses as the prince began a quick pace.

Her nails dug into his scalp and shoulder, a reminder, on top of the sinful sounds leaving her lips, that he was making her feel good.

That’s when Calum remembered that, like most Princesses, Ostara had been forced into rhythmic gymnastics at a young age. He grabbed onto her thigh, moving it up slowly in case she had lost some flexibility. He was delighted when her leg went all the way up and over his shoulder, allowing him a new angle that had him going impossibly deep. They moaned louder and Calum moved back a little, lips mourning her loss but eyes adoring the new view.

His hand moved up on its own accord, sliding across her collarbones and up to her awaiting neck that she craned for him, welcoming him, giving him access.

The ring clad fingers of his left hand wrapped around her throat, giving a testing squeeze that only further excited them both, Ostara letting out the most sinful, whiney noise yet.

Calum’s stomach lurched and he knew that if she kept it up with those sounds, he would be cumming fast.

In an effort to slow the process, Calum began to remove his grip but suddenly Ostara was grabbing his forearm with both hands, forcing Calum’s chokehold to remain on her throat as her eyes opened, staring at him, more moans left her lips and Calum could feel her fluttering around him.

She was just as close as he was and it was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

All he could do was stare at the beautiful girl as his thrusts quickened and his grip tightened, chasing both of their highs with the determination of a king.

Cold rings bit into Ostara’s flesh and after a particularly deep thrust, another orgasm washed over her, taking Calum with it as they both moaned loudly, bodies awash with euphoria.

After the last aftershocks, Calum removed his hand from her throat and took her leg from his shoulder, letting it fall onto the bed as he pulled out of her and rolled onto his back next to her. Ostara immediately snuggled into his side, hand over his beating heart.

They stayed that way for a while, trying to catch their breaths.

Calum finally sighed, “do you want me to go?”

“You’re silly.” Ostara stated, voice breathy and happy. Her finger traced circles on Calum’s chest, “stay the night.”

-------

She was warm. Skin soft and beautiful under his delicate touch as Calum explored the curve of her shoulder and arm, bring goosebumps to her skin from the contact and the soft caress of his breath on her bare back.

There was a soft sigh of content and Calum smiled, “did I wake you?” he asked.

“Yeah, but it’s okay.” came a delicate response as Ostara snuggled back against Calum.

“Will you go to the ball with me next week?”

“Of course.” he could practically hear her sleepy smile.

“And I want to take you on a real date.” Calum stated.

“Hmm?”

“I want to do this right.”

Another happy sigh, “okay.”

-----

��As soon as the limo door closed Calum looked at Ostara with wide eyes. They’d been papped leaving the restaurant and they both knew that this could be bad. Neither knew how Ashton would react when the pictures dropped, which they both knew they would.

Calum’s hand went to Ostara’s thigh, giving it a reassuring squeeze, “if he gets mad-”

“We can pretend we’re just friends-” Ostara began.

They both stopped.

They both knew that neither were good enough actors to get around this.

They’d known each other their whole lives.

They’d been flirting a few weeks.

They’d fucked and gone on an honest to god date.

Hell, Calum had pretty much asked Ostara to be his girlfriend in a fit of jealousy. They both knew they were in deep, and because of this, neither of them were particularly scared of Ashton anymore which was odd.

Ostara laced her fingers with Calum’s, “it’s going to be okay.”

Calum felt it too. Somehow, they knew they could make it work.

They both felt naive and stupid. They both knew they were being very narrow minded, but there was just something about the way that they fit that told them they belonged together.

They’d arrived at the palace when their phones began dinging, signalling the likelihood that the pictures were somehow already posted.

With a deep breath and a reassuring glance, the young couple entered the palace where they were almost immediately sabotaged by Ostara’s giggling older brother, “guys have you seen twitter?” he asked, “apparently people think you two are dating.”

His gaze lifted from his phone and that’s when he noticed how close the two were standing. The smile left his face, “is… is there a PR contract you two haven’t told me about-”

“Would it be that bad if we are dating?” Ostara asked.

Ashton’s gaze hardened, turning to his friend, “you have got to be fucking kidding me-”

“Ashton-” Ostara began, moving in front of her older brother who had taken a step towards them.

But Calum spoke, “didn’t mean for it to happen-”

“She’s my fucking sister!” Ashton bellowed, finally exploding.

“And he’s your best friend!” Ostara screamed, matching her older brothers temper, “so you know he’ll treat me right!”

Ashton stopped moving forward, considering for a moment what had just been said, “there’s a code.” he spat.

“I never agreed to a code!” Ostara insisted.

“It’s a bro code, you don’t need to agree-”

“Well when it affects me, I most definitely should get a say you sexist-” Ostara began to fume.

“What is going on?” came a new voice as Michael and Luke showed up, both looking worried as the Irwin’s squared off against each other.

“Calum and I are going to the ball next week together, because we’re dating, and you’re going to accept it!” Ostara told Ashton.

“I will not!” Ashton glared.

Ostara let out a loud groan of exasperation, grabbing Calum’s hand, she turned and dragged the platinum prince out of the room.

“Can’t believe Cal backstabbed you like that.” Luke breathed.

“Hey, it’s not that bad-” Michael began.

“That’s my fucking sister!” Ashton screamed.

Michael sighed, “okay, it is a little bit bad.”

-----

Calum and Ostara spent almost the entire week outside of the palace out on cute dates that were incessantly papped. Ashton tried to avoid the pictures at first but he felt himself getting softer as each day passed and new shots of his sister laughing and looking genuinely alight with happiness were uploaded.

And fuck it, Calum looked happy too.

Michael pointed out on day four that Calum and Ostara seemed to really like each other, and Ashton couldn’t argue with it, which annoyed him terribly.

Michael and Luke were trying to support Ashton in his endeavour to remain upset, but it was obvious that everyone else supported the new, happy couple. Especially Ashton’s parents who had known Calum his whole life and were more than thrilled that he had began to date their daughter.

Ashton knew that Michael was still hanging out with Cal, and the two drank beer by the pool late at night when they thought Ashton wouldn’t notice. He couldn’t find it in his heart to be mad about it, especially when he’d almost stumbled across them and heard Calum saying “she’s really special man, I can’t explain it.”

Plus, Ashton preferred having Calum where he could see him as opposed to in Ostara’s room, which is where Calum was practically living since Ashton had made a fuss about kicking him out of one of the guest rooms the day he’d found out they were dating.

He was getting used to the idea.

He missed his best friend.

He missed his sister.

The night of the ball arrived and Ashton was at the bar with Michael and Luke when the happy couple arrived. Entering the ballroom, the two walked hand in hand, looking at each other and giggling as if nothing else mattered in the whole world.

Ashton was surprised when prince Harry approached the two of them, from what he could see it looked like he was congratulating them? Ashton had a weird hate on for Liam and that included his friends, Harry being one of them, so seeing the fact that Harry seemed to be excited and supportive made Ashton’s blood boil.

Had he really stooped lower than the notorious British playboy?

Ashton groaned. He was making the whole thing about him. He knew he was being selfish and he couldn’t shake the fact that Calum had broken the bro code, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t toyed the idea of chasing after Calum’s sister at one point in time…

Ashton sighed. He was definitely in the wrong.

He spent a solid half an hour watching his sister and her new boyfriend.

The soft touches, the lingering stares, the never ending smiles and giggles… it was sickeningly sweet. Ashton loved it. He hated that he loved it.

His sister did deserve to be happy and Ashton knew that. He just wished it was with someone else.

Ashton looked for a good moment to approach but never found one. The ball ended and Calum and Ostara disappeared. Ashton knew he should wait until morning to find them, but the guilt was already eating at him, and soon he found himself outside of his sisters room.

He knocked and waited.

A minute later the door opened to reveal his sister in sweats and a hoodie that looked somewhat haphazard and Ashton couldn't help the fire that burned through him momentarily, eyes shifting past her to Calum who was pulling on a shirt.

“I came to apologize, but I don’t know if I can do that anymore.” Ashton stated.

“Calum go to the bathroom.” Ostara said.

“What?”

“You’re bruising my brothers ego, go away real quick.” Ostara explained.

Calum sighed and trudged to the bathroom, out of sight. It helped a little, Ashton had to admit.

“You know, maybe I shouldn’t give you my blessing.” Ashton stated.

“No take backs.” Ostara insisted.

Ashton sighed, “but why Calum?”

“Why is he your best friend?” his sister countered, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Hate it when you’re logical.” Ashton groaned, “fuck, fine, you two look good together. I should go talk to Cal-”

“Talk to him in the morning.” Ostara said, stepping in front of her brother to block his way.

Ashton narrowed his eyes at his sister, “you two disgust me.”

“You’re the one who showed up here at like midnight-”

“You’re the one who chose to date my best friend-”

“Well you’re the one who made the stupid bro code-”

“I didn’t ‘make the bro code’ you silly, and besides, you’re the one who made Cal break the bro code-”

“Oh I ‘made’ him break it?” Ostara scoffed.

Calum listened to the siblings bicker, smiling to himself as he waited for the sound of Ostara’s bedroom door to close. When it did, he peeked his head out of the bathroom to make sure Ashton was gone.

“Thought he’d never leave.” Calum mused.

“Are you questioning my ability to fight my brother?” Ostara asked, opening her arms for Calum whose hands settled on her waist.

“I think I used to.” Calum admitted, “but not anymore.”

Ostara grinned, “so I’ve proven myself?”

“Uh huh.” Calum chuckled.

“Good, because if I was a wimp we’d still be in big trouble.” Ostara pointed out.

God, he adored her.

Part of him always had, and he knew that now.

He was exactly where he was supposed to be, and for the first time, Calum was prepared for whatever the future with Ostara might bring.

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