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may-fanfic · 3 years

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When All Else Fails, Kiss Me

summary: the powers you have are quite similar to Wanda’s and an unbreakable bond is formed between the two of you. After months of pining, Tony’s hatches up a plan to make the two of you official.

warnings: none

word count: 2,150

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((feel free to send in any request you may have 💕))

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You moved through the warehouse, oblivious to the girl who silently moved behind you. It had been easy for wanda to get into people's heads, so she hadn't been concerned when she made herself known to you. You had been quick to spin around at the sound of her voice. wanda felt her breath get caught in the base of her throat. She had never seen someone so beautiful. Wanda almost forgot what she had been in the warehouse for, then it dawned on her, and that's when her eyes grew red.

She had tried a million times before to get into your head and manipulate your thoughts, but she had no way in for some reason. She had been so stunned that she gasped lightly, backing away from you, watching as your own eyes began to glow a soft blue. "don't worry, I won't hurt you." you had been there to catch the girl and turn her into the avengers, you knew they wouldn't hurt her, but you could see the fear in the girl's eyes.

It made you rethink your decision to turn the girl in. "wanda, I need you to trust me." your eyes had been a calming blue that made her feel secure. She wanted everything to trust you, but you had been one of them, and she knew better than ever to get involved with someone from stark industries.

"we're not bad people, wanda." she had rocked her jaw side to side, finally feeling the way everyone else felt when she would read their minds. She hadn't liked it. "I just want you to be safe." in all honesty, you hadn't been lying, but you also knew that you needed wanda in your team. she had been unstoppable, and if ultra got her, you'd be quickly compromised, and ultra would win.

your earpiece boomed with steve's voice, and you quickly replied. "I hadn't seen wanda." your eyes turned your standard shade before you met her gaze again. "think about what I said." and with that, you turned and left the young witch. She had been stunned and felt glued to her place before running off in the other direction.

-----

It hadn't taken long for Pietro and Wanda to join the Avengers, and while she had been relieved to finally be able to settle down after what felt like her whole life of fighting, she could never shake her first incident with you. You had been so kind, gentle with her, and she felt like it had been up to her to repay you somehow.

She always wished she could meet you under other circumstances. The longer wanda knew you, the more stable she felt. Your friendliness had not just been a façade to make the girl trust you, you had genuinely just been the most loving person she had ever met, and Wanda had been more than grateful that she had a friend despite her need for more.

It had been movie night which turned into some tradition with Wanda and Pietro. While getting to know them, they shared that movie night with their parents had become a ritual, and it had been their fondest memories right up until their last one. You had felt like it was your responsibility to make it up to them and continue it with the twins, still, as the time when on Pietro realized that those movie nights had turned into something else for you and wanda. As much as he enjoyed the time spent with his sister and best friend, he wanted to give his sister the space to make a move.

You were cuddling up to Wanda under the blanket. Your head resting softly against her shoulder as her favorite sitcom played on the big screen. She was grinning and giggling at every joke, and you found it endearing. She had always been the happiest during these moments. You didn't understand her attraction to these cheesy sitcoms. Still, whenever she suggested one, you happily obeyed. "this is my favorite part." she quietly spoke through her smile. You perked up, placing your full attention on the screen, chuckling along with her when the husband fell down the stairs but stood right back up.

You settled back onto her shoulder when the scene was over, and wanda found yourself smiling down at you.

It had been a while since wanda found herself truly happy; it was almost too good to be true. She wanted to understand you completely; she wanted to know you inside out. She wanted to know what you thought about her, exactly how you felt, and she knew the only way she could get a clear reading of that was if you let her in. Her hand came up to rest against your head, caressing your locks gently before her lips parted to asked the question.

"can I use my powers on you?" her cheeks had been a tint of pink as her hand moved from your head to your shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze. You adjust yourself to look at wanda thoroughly, your gaze gentle and your smile soft. The question itself had been intimate, she was asking for her way in, into somewhere sacred and only yours, and you knew once she had listened to everything for herself, things would change, but it had been a change you were willing to go through for her.

You let a soft giggle escape your lips as your cheeks grew a light pink to match her own, your smile erupted butterflies into that pit of her stomach, and she couldn't help but match your smile. "of course, maxi." you uttered out teasingly.

You sat up straight, facing the girl with a cheeky grin, and despite her nervousness, she still reached forward, her hand coming to rest softly against your cheek, stroking your skin tenderly.

"you can't hurt me," you whispered, noticing the hesitation in her eyes, reaching up to grab the hand placed on your cheek before guiding it to your forehead. she let out a gentle breath. You watched as her eyes turned the shade of red before you fluttered your eyes shut, taking in every way that the girl felt. It hadn't taken long before wanda finished, a gentle smile placed on her lips as she gazed at you. Everything she needed to know, she now knew. She had felt a sense of comfort and completion.

Wanda's gaze snapped from you to the tv, grinning lightly at the scene that played out, pointing at the screen, and eagerly telling you to watch it. You didn't need to use your magic to concur how wanda felt for you, so you had been content, moving back to your previous position leaning against her shoulder once again, watching the silly sitcom again.

------

Wanda came off as reversed to everyone else, but she seemed to be a different person with you. It made it clear for her teammates that she had liked you. It didn't sit right with them that the both of you had been denying your feelings for so long, so they took it upon themselves to hatch up a plan to get the both of you alone together, long enough to confess.

The Avengers assured you the nature of your getaway to the cabin in the woods was for nothing more than a mission. However, when you arrived at the set location, they never picked up your calls for the details.

Letting out a gentle sigh, you made your way into the living room, where you found Wanda sitting. Her head was down as she looked at something in her hands. "anything yet?" you questioned, causing her gaze to snap up to you. "I don't think we'll be hearing for them," she answered, extending her arm out to hand you a piece of paper.

Your eyebrows fluttered together as you took extensive steps to reach out for the paper. You couldn't help but roll your eyes at the written note in hand. 'Enjoy your private getaway, Sincerely, The Avengers.'

Of course, they would do something like this, especially Tony, who had an act for fixing people up. "This is absurd," you commented, setting the paper aside on the coffee table. Wanda shrugged as she took in the state of you. you had been wearing the nightclothes you packed, freshly out of the shower. "I don't know, it's kinda nice," she whispered, causing a gentle breath to fall past your lips, letting your shoulders drop in defeat.

"We should be back in the tower, prepping for the mission, maxi." Wanda stood up from her seat, a smile playing its way onto her lips. "What is it? You don't want to be alone with me?" she teased playfully, a fake pout tugging at her lips as she neared you.

"You know that's not it," you whispered, arms wrapping around your body to find some comfort. "Then, let's just relax." Wanda urged, smiling down at you. Wanda and yourself have been working your ass to the bone for the job, and you knew that some relaxation would do you good. Besides, there wasn't anyone else in the world you'd enjoy wining down with more.

Both you and wanda had some unresolved feelings towards each other, and even after the night she looked into your brain, you'd never talk about it with her.

----- You and Wanda had been full of giggles after cracking open a bottle of wine you found in the cabin. The two of you sat in the living room, just enjoying each other's company before you called it a night. You had never stood up so late, considering you had set training times with Nat.

You have never seen Wanda so drunk before, and it had been amusing, to say the less. You managed to drink more than Wanda, but yet the girl seemed more intoxicated than ever. The moment had been pleasant, and if you were honest, you never wanted it to end.

"You were right. This is nice," you confessed, smiling down at your wine glass. Wanda hummed in agreement, quickly growing serious for a moment causing your eyes to snap up to Wanda. "you know..." wanda whispered out, her eyes meeting yours. Your eyebrows rose in question, waiting for the girl to continue.

"Tony told me all about his plan to get us out of the compound," she confessed after some time. You watched as her fingers moved around the brim of her glass, and you noticed the way her cheeks turned a bright pink color. "Oh," you uttered out, surprised that Wanda had something to do with this poorly constructed plan.

"Tony knew you wouldn't have approved," she spoke shyly, a frown forming on her lips. "why didn't you tell me?" it wasn't that big of a deal; you didn't mind much in hindsight. She shrugged lightly, her eyes snapping away from yours with embarrassment. "I didn't want you to say no."

"Tony is Tony, Maxi... I would've said yes to you." you'd never say no to wanda, in all honesty. The word didn't exist in your vocabulary when it came to her. You'd do anything she'd ask of you. That's how you knew you were completely and utterly in love with Wanda.

Wanda just wanted you to herself for some time. That's why she even agreed to Tony's plan. You were always so occupied with training and other things that Wanda hardly got the time to relax with you. She set down her glass on the coffee table, giving you all her attention.

"I just wanted alone time." her words made a small smile form on the corners of your lips. "why?" you questioned softly, wanting to force it out of her that she was just as in love with you as you were her. She had never actually said it, and as patient as you tried to be, you could only take it for so much longer.

She let out a sigh, her eyes burning into yours. "You know why," she replied, your eyes narrowed at hers, a grin finding its way onto your lips.

"Say it." you urged, inching dangerously closer to her until you hardly had space left. You could feel her breath fan out over your face as she tried to find the right words to say to you. When she felt as words wouldn't have done her feelings justice, she leaned forward until her lips collapsed with yours. The kiss was short and sweet, but it still made up for all the times she hadn't said enough.

"Will you be my girlfriend?" the girl childishly uttered out after the initial shock of the kiss worn off. a soft giggle escaped your lips as you nodded, causing a goofy smile to form on wanda’s lips before she leaned in to grace you with another kiss.

You made a mental note to thank Tony for his genius plan.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wandavision #wanda #wanda marvel #wanda maximoff fanfiction #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x you #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch x y/n #scarlet witch marvel #marvel #avengers #the avengers

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mandoalorian · 4 years

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People Can See [Maxwell Lord x F! Reader] SMUT

Request by @luvzoria: hey sweetpea! i have a req! you obviously don't have to do this but it's my birthday today and it gave me the idea of surprise sex? with any pedro character (personal favs tho : max lord, pero tovar, frankie, marcus moreno, and javier peña)surprise birthday sex 👀 in a risky public place maybe? public teasing? if you're okay with that!! again thanks hun!!

Rating: 18+

Warnings: SMUT— unprotected p in v, public sex, exhibitionism, creampie, Max has a daddy kink, a lot of teasing, fingering, and also mention of food.

Word count: 2.6k words

Authors note: Happy birthday lovey! Michelle, I'm sorry this is a few days late but this is for you angel! I hope it's okay and I hope you had a fab day all things considered. I send you all my love. Xx

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"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you," the guests at your annual birthday gala hummed in unison as your favourite chef brought over your cake. Courtesy of your boyfriend Maxwell, it was a three tier chocolate cake with vanilla frosting and your name delicately placed on top in intricately detailed fondant.

"Maxie," you whispered, tears pooling in your eyes. You placed your hand on your boyfriend's thigh, rubbing it under the table. "This is too much. You shouldn't have."

"Anything for you, my princess," he whispered, his warm breath fanning over the shell of your ear. Leaning in further, he pressed a kiss into your lobe, before giving it a small and teasing kitten lick. You grabbed his thigh even harder, your fingernails digging into his skin and giggled at your gesture. When he pulled away, he quirked an inquisitive eyebrow, as if to ask why are you giggling? He knew fine well. "Make a wish." he mumbled as he interlocked his fingers with yours.

There was no way you could possibly wish for anything. Dating Maxwell Lord meant that you could never want for nothing. He provided you with a beautiful home, lavish and luxurious clothes and jewellery, but most importantly he provided you with his love and warmth. You closed your eyes and wished that this happiness would last forever. There was no place you'd rather be, surrounded by your family and friends on your birthday— but most importantly, with Maxwell, the love of your life.

"You kept teasing me at the table." you muttered with a joking roll of your eyes. You and Maxwell were walking along the table filled with little bites to eat. Picking at the finger food, you both filled up your plates.

"Now sweetheart, you know that wasn't teasing," he chastised with a smirk. You nodded, knowing that he could do much worse. "Teasing could be you rubbing my thigh all night, huh? Did you think about that?"

As a matter of fact you had. Maxwell looked so handsome in his three piece tuxedo. The black pants and matching Armani jacket with the white button down suited him so well, but it didn't change the fact you desperately wanted to peel off that bow tie and have him gag you with it. You supposed it could wait until you got back to your hotel suite. You didn't answer, picking up a small item of food and shoving it into his mouth. He took it willingly, but stopped to wrap his lips around your finger, sucking teasingly.

"Maxie," you groaned wantonly. "People might see." He pulled off you with a pop.

"Let them watch." he shrugged casually before picking up another piece of food to go onto his plate.

Your birthday gala was a massive success, but you had no doubt it would be. Maxwell was always the best at hosting events. Your favourite part of the night was when he held you in your arms and you slow-danced to Can't Help Falling In Love by Elvis, which was one of Max's all time favourites. You rested your head into your boyfriend's chest as his arms held your waist, swinging your hips in time with the music.

"You look absolutely stunning in that dress," Maxwell growled in your ear. You recognised that lilt in his voice immediately. Leaning back, you caught a glimpse of that primal look on his face, as well as a glint of lust in his already darkened eyes. "So glad to call you mine."

His hand maneuvered round to the curve of your ass and you felt your cheeks begin to heat up as you slowly looked around the ballroom, hoping nobody had noticed Maxwell's sudden onset affection. Thankfully, they hadn't. Other couples were too busy gazing into one another's eyes, or feasting upon the buffet on the other side of the room. In a crowded room, all Maxwell could focus on was you, his drop-dead gorgeous girlfriend.

"I love you." you confessed with a happy hum.

"I love you too darling."

The night was still young but it seemed most people had taken a break from dancing, filing back to their tables to chat some more. You were making your way around all the different tables, wanting to make sure to speak to everyone and thank them for coming and bringing gifts. You slid into an unoccupied seat at the Black Gold Cooperative table, a huge smile on your face as you began talking to your old colleagues, and Max's employees.

Max approached you, holding a tired Alistair in his arms. Alistair, his son, was hugging one of your balloons tight to his chest as he fell in and out of sleep. "I'm gonna take Alistair back to our hotel room, he's exhausted," Maxwell announced and you nodded in affirmation before gently pressing a kiss into Alistair's forehead. "I won't be long." he promised before walking away.

"Mr Lord is so sweet for doing all of this for you," Raquel, Maxwell's assistant gushed.

"You know you can call him Max when he's not here." you giggled and Raquel blushed.

"Well I remember when Mr Lor- I mean Max first met you. He changed almost instantaneously. Less miserable, more polite. We all think you made him into a better person." Raquel revealed.

"Really?" you questioned, your eyes going wide at her revelation. The rest of the table nodded their heads in unison, confirming your question.

When Maxwell returned, his bow tie was slightly wonky and his hair had fallen out of it's style. You tucked a loose strand back into place. "You okay?" you pouted, letting your fingers trace the buttons on his shirt. You pulled out a chair next to you so he could sit down at the table.

"Yeah, Alistair couldn't settle so I had to sing to him," he frowned. "You should've been there," he chastised you teasingly. "You're usually the one who sings him lullabies."

You giggled, resting your head on Maxwell's shoulder. "You're such a good daddy."

Daddy— it was the word that set a fire in Maxwell's stomach and you knew it. Everytime you said it, you said it deliberately. You said it to gain a reaction out of him. You felt his body stiffen up and you watched as his hand slowly glide over his crotch, covering his hardening cock. It was crazy how just one word spoken by you could get him going. The rest of the table cooed and awed in delight at how sweet you both were, but even Max knew that your intentions were far beyond sweet. He'd been teasing you all night at your own birthday party, but two can play at that game.

Maxwell stayed silent for the next few minutes as you laughed and joked with your friends, telling them about how brilliant your birthday had been. He fidgeted awkwardly, his dark eyes watching you intently as you took small sips of your champagne and fumbled with the gold rings adorning your fingers. You were truly the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He didn't know how he had gotten so lucky.

When you were deep enough into conversation with Raquel about the brand new 1984 Polaroid camera Maxwell had gotten you, he took his chance to slide his hand up the hem of your dress. He peeled back the thin glittering sheath and drew small circles into the inside of your thigh. His actions almost took your breath away but you kept your cool, acting unfazed, like it wasn't even bothering you.

It would be okay. His hand was under the table cloth and nobody could see anyway. If he just wanted to stroke the soft skin of your legs, that was fine too. As long as you acted normal, pretending like your boyfriend wasn't touching you in front of all these people. You were doing a good job of seeming unbothered, it actually irked Max. He was doing all of this to see your reaction. He maneuvered his large, ring clad hand to the apex of your thigh, rolling the pads of his middle finger and index finger along your slick wet folds. You were evil for not wearing panties tonight. He couldn't believe how soaked you already were from just the slightest of touches, but, to be fair, you two had been teasing each other all night. His finger inched up to your clit and he began to swirl it around in tight circles.

The gasp you let out was almost inhumane and you felt your cheeks heat up. Maxwell kept working at you, trying to hide the smirk that graced his lips.

"Are you okay?" Raquel asked inquisitively.

Before you could even reply, Maxwell slid one thick finger into your aching core, doubling down until you felt his knuckles against your skin. "Y-yes," you choked out, reaching for your glass of champagne. "Think I just need a drink."

Your boyfriend continued to pump his finger in and out of you whilst sitting at the same table as his own employees. You kept taking sips of your drink to try and hide the longing moans that escaped your lips as he stretched you out. You felt wonderful around him, and he couldn't help but slip a second finger in. You made a fist, bunching up the material of your dress in your hand. When you began to feel your walls flutter around him, you knew your orgasm was approaching and that you wouldn't be able to stay quiet for him. You grabbed his wrist and shot him a knowing look. Slowly, he removed his finger from your core and you groaned at the loss of his fullness.

"Want more?" he whispered into your ear. You nodded quickly and he took your hand, whisking you away from the table and into a dark corner.

You began to palm at him through his pants, already eagerly trying to tug off his tuxedo jacket and pull off his bow tie. "C-can we go to the hotel room?" you asked, giving him your best puppy dog eyes. You pushed your body against his as his hands stroked your bare arms, relishing the moment.

"Oh honey, but Alistair's up there sleeping," Max cooed, shaking his head. You furrowed your eyebrows together in disdain.

"Maxieee," you groaned, pressing your thighs together. "But I need you."

The three words made Maxwell's cock twitch. He needed you too. He could already feel his precum begin to leak out from the tip of his manhood, staining his underwear. He looked around the ballroom. Everyone was too busy dancing and talking to notice you and Max had even left the scene. "Do you think they can see us?" he asked quizzically, his voice low as he brought his hand to your breast. He began to massage it through the thin material of your dress, giving it the occasional squeeze.

You contemplated his words. You were under a canopy, in the shadows. They probably wouldn't be able to see you from where they were standing, but if anyone approached this area, you'd soon become visible. "Right now? No, I don't think so." you hummed, weighing the scenario out in your mind. Max nodded his head in agreement before bringing his hand to your face. Under the dim light, his fingers still shone with your arousal, from when he had fingered you under the table earlier.

He brought his index finger to your lips, tracing them gently before pushing it into your mouth. You whimpered, sucking on his finger (just like he'd done to you earlier), and lapping up all your juices. Your bodies were pressed together and you began to run your knee over his erection, earning a few strangled moans from Max. "Now now Maxie, what are we going to do about this?" you hummed around his finger before he eventually pulled it away from you.

He looked around the ballroom once more, astonished that it had been a few minutes and no one had yet to see you both. He placed his hands on your hips and pressed you against the wall, unzipping his pants and pulling them down to his knees, along with his black pair of boxers. Your eyes widened when you saw how hard he already was for you, how desperate his thick cock was for your pretty little cunt. You dropped your hands to the base of his manhood and gave it a small stroke.

"Ngh— no," Max shook his head as he choked out a groan. "Just need to be inside of you." he confessed.

He pulled up your dress so it was bunched around your waist and propped up one of your legs, wrapping it around him. He pressed the blunt head of his cock against your entrance and you gasped wantonly, spreading yourself as open as you could and running your fingers through his hair.

"People might see." you whispered, grinding your pussy along his cock in desperation. He kept nudging himself against you, teasing, as always.

"You're so fucking hot," Maxwell whispered, gently pushing himself into you. His hand snapped up to your mouth, trying to silence your moans of pleasure as his thickness stretched you open. "You're so tight for me, aren't you princess?"

You couldn't even reply, and instead just nodded as the lust clouded your every thought. He doubled back before pushing himself completely into you, enjoying the way felt around his manhood. He couldn't believe how lucky he was, having you all to himself, not having to share you with anyway. He couldn't believe was fucking you in front of hundreds of guests at your own birthday gala— and you were letting him. "You- fuck, you take me so well." he praised.

"Oh Max, I don't think I'm gonna last long." you admitted, digging your fingernails into his dress shirt as he increased his speed. He was hitting that sweet spot inside of you everytime.

"I'm gonna make you cum at your own birthday party," he announced with a low, gravely chuckle. "Gonna cum around daddy's cock, aren't you princess?"

"Mm, yes daddy. Please let me cum on your cock— ah!"

You bit down on his shoulder as his hips snapped into yours and you felt your climax undo, nothing but pure satisfaction washing over you. As Max felt you quiver around him, it spurred him over the edge and he spilt ropes of his seed inside of you, painting your pretty walls.

You stayed there for a few moments, against the wall, both heaving and panting, until Max's cock eventually softened and fell out of you. He sighed, carefully dropping you back to the ground and tucking himself back into his pants. You smoothed out his hair and he used his thumb to swipe away any of your smudged makeup.

"Happy birthday princess," he mumbled, pressing a sweet kiss into your lips. "Are you ready to go back to the party?"

You nodded happily, kissing him back. "I am. I love you so much."

Maxwell took your hand and held you close, the both of you heading back into the light and walking over to the dance floor. "I love you too." he revealed as he wrapped his hands around your waist and began to slow dance with you again.

Taglists - let me know if you wish to be added!

Permanent: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @cyarikamando @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja190 @maxiarapamaya @autumnleaves1991-blog @artsymaddie @harrys-stan

Max Lord: @mrschiltoncat

#maxwell lord #max lord #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #max lord x reader #maxwell lord x reader

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sartorialadventure · 4 years

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By Abha Bhattarai, June 15, 2020

--Sales of eye makeup are on the rise as Americans look for ways to express themselves behind face masks while staying six feet apart.

Leading the charge: False eyelashes, which averaged 15 percent increases in week-over-week sales in May as businesses in many parts of the country began to reopen, according to market research firm NPD Group. Mascara sales, meanwhile, grew 11 percent in the same period, while demand for eyebrow products jumped 5 percent.

Sales of lip products, meanwhile, fell 5 percent in May. After all, Jensen said, nobody wants lipstick smudges inside their masks.

Makeup sales picked up last month after about two months of declines, when much of the country was hunkered down at home. During that period, Jensen says, many Americans shifted away from cosmetics to skin care products such as face scrubs and body creams, which are still performing well. Sales of high-end soaps, home scents and hair color also have risen in recent months, she said.

--Sales of high heels, loafers and other dress shoes have been tumbling for years, and analysts say the pandemic has turbocharged their demise. Sales of men’s and women’s dress shoes plunged 70 percent in March and April, according to NPD.

“High heels are way down,” said Beth Goldstein, a footwear analyst for NPD. “The question now is whether they’ll ever rebound. Of course, some women out there are dying to put their heels back on. But I think most of them are saying, ‘I’m never going to wear those shoes again.’ ”

Lately, she says, it’s all about comfort: Slipper sales doubled in April, as Americans splurged on higher-priced options such as fur-lined Ugg products. Crocs, known for their homely but comfortable signature foam clog, also have been “super hot,” she said.

That trend is likely to continue even as Americans return to work. Shoe manufacturers, she said, are busy creating designs with wider and thicker heels, padded insoles and other athletic touches to add stability and comfort. Sales of stiletto-shaped heels, she said, dropped 11 percent last year.

“Retailers are recognizing that they’re going to have to rethink what they know about work and fashion,” Goldstein said. “There is going to be a long-term shift.”

-- “The biggest upcoming change is going to be the propensity toward value,” said Marshal Cohen, a retail analyst for NPD. “As we come off the stimulus check, the consumer is not going to feel so rich anymore, which means a lot fewer impulse purchases.” That has led many retailers to stock up on items such as plain T-shirts, classic-cut jeans, and beige and khaki pieces that won’t fall out of favor if they don’t sell right away.

“What we’re looking for today are core basics,” Morris Goldfarb, chief executive of G-III Apparel Group, which owns a number of brands including DKNY and Bass, said on an earnings call this month. “Fashion is not as important this year.”

-- According to common lore — and the century-old Hemline Index — skirts and dresses get longer as the economy worsens. But this time, analysts say, fashion is heading in the opposite direction, away from maxi dresses and floor-sweeping skirts.

“Hemlines were inching shorter anyway,” said Cohen of NPD. “Do I expect them to get even shorter? I do.”

The shift, he said, is less about fashion trends and more about retailers’ desperation. “When business gets bad, you need to make a bold statement to get people to buy something new,” he said. And if shoppers already have closets filled with ankle-length styles, that means enticing them with above-the-knee fashion.

--Corporate America has been retreating from blazers and ties for years, and analysts expect to see more athletic wear and casual attire at the office even after the pandemic is over. When Americans do head back to the office, they’re likely to trade in business casual for “Silicon Valley chic,” said Karen, the fashion psychologist. Think hoodies paired with blazers, and sweatpants with silky tops. “There will be much more mixing and matching between dressing up and dressing down,” she said. “And it’ll be okay to wear the same thing over and over again. The pressure is off.”

#fashion #fashion history #coronavirus #shoes #makeup #cosmetics

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astralaffairs · 4 years

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put a ring on it 05 | philip hamilton

title: put a ring on it 05

pairing: philip hamilton x reader

words: 9.5k

warnings: another stupid cliffhanger, death mentions?, not much tbh

desc: You’ve never liked Philip Hamilton, and have always assumed the feeling has been mutual. But when you’re roped into pretending to be his girlfriend for a family reunion, you feel all your truths beginning to melt away, and find them instead taking form in his smile.

tags: @beepbeepstop @stargazelaurens @ivory-haired-queens @exoticxchicken8 @assbuttstyles777 @superbarriobrothers @tf2germanvillain @ela-ena @abundant-stars @heytheredee-lilah @katierpblogg @thisshitfucks @celyndavies @quixoticallydelusional @sothisishappiness @ems-alexandra @yxseminx @sadhwstudent @aiifandomsunite @loonaynay @valleryhyde @lxncelot @checkurwindow @katierpblogg @alievans007@nyxie75 @ii-moonlight-ii @sothisishappiness @ems-alexandra @elegantbutedgy @maxi-ride @moose-on-the-l00se @itshaileyn @someinsanefangirl @theirishhufflepuff @golddiggs-x @drreamhugs @sillyteecup @notebookgirl30 @marvelouslyemily @checkurwindow @kmsmedine - lmk if u wanna b added

"Patsy, you've gotta help me. I'm freaking out."

You were slumped on the floor of the Hamiltons' bathroom by then, praying that no one would come and knock, ask to use it. To your relief, when you called, Patsy picked up the phone without hesitation - she'd been on alert, waiting for your SOS all weekend. However, the emergency call you were making didn't quite match the one she was expecting.

"Oh, god; what'd he do?" your roommate groaned from the other end of the line. "Am I gonna need to kick his ass the minute you two get back to town?"

"Shockingly, no," you mumbled, letting out a soft huff as your absent gaze fell to the green wall before you. "I... have a much different problem."

"What, did you fuck one of his cousins? Did the woman who offered to be your sugar mama a while back end up being his aunt?" Despite your state of panic, her words made you smile as you rolled your eyes. "Wait, holy shit, did you fuck him?"

You grimaced at her final question. While it didn't hit the mark, it was far too close to it for your comfort. "No, I absolutely did not."

"So what's the issue, then?"

"I... oh, god, you're definitely gonna make fun of me for this," you sighed, and Patsy didn't respond, instead waiting for you to continue. When you did, your voice was small, shaky. "I think I like him, Patsy. I really think I like him."

There was a skip.

"I'm sorry, is this some kind of a prank?"

"Patsy," you groaned, your head falling back against the bathroom wall, and she was quick to backtrack.

"No, no, I'm happy for you; don't get me wrong," she said quickly, pausing before she added, "I'm just surprised. What happened?"

"I don't even know. I just... he's really not the person I thought he was. So much of what I thought I knew about him was off base," you said, pinching the bridge of your nose. "How was I supposed to know he was secretly all caring and thoughtful? And he's so good with kids; god, it's adorable. Too much has changed this weekend; my head is spinning. I don't know what to do about it."

"Well, keep in mind that there's a reason he asked you to come home with him," she said matter-of-factly, and you furrowed your brow.

"What d'you mean?"

"Y/N," she sighed, "You two weren't friends. There was no world in which you would've agreed to be his cover story, but he still told his family he was dating you. You really don't think that was a little bit intentional?"

You scoffed. "Are you implying that he was projecting?"

"If the shoe fits."

"Patsy, it wasn't pointed; it was just convenient," you argued, pulling your knees into your chest, tucking the phone between your shoulder and your ear. "I'm his coworker. There are pictures of me and him together at work. I live far enough from the Hamiltons that it was easy to excuse the fact that I'd never met them."

"You're not his only coworker," Patsy replied, and you rolled your eyes at how certain she sounded.

"So who's to say I wasn't chosen at random?"

"Me. You spent years openly resenting him. You would've been the least convenient person in your office for him to pick," she pointed out, and you pursed your lips, playing absentmindedly with the edge of the shag carpet on the bathroom floor.

"I'm also the least insufferable," you replied. "Not to be anti-woman, or anything, but I don't have a single female coworker who I could spend a weekend with without going insane."

"Okay, so you can agree that he doesn't find you insufferable."

"That's a low, low bar."

"But don't you find it even a little bit weird?" You bit your lip at her words, and your brow was furrowed but your gaze empty. "Why would he need a fake girlfriend to begin with?"

That, however, made you wince. Even just hours before, you may not have known how to answer, but- "Actually, I have a hunch about that."

"Oh?"

"Unfortunately." You resented the sound of your own voice shaking as you remembered the scene you'd just fled, and apparently, any respite the phone call provided from the sinking feeling in your stomach was long gone. "His ex is here. She's crazy pretty, and she's totally sweet, and she's obviously still into him. She's even my dream girl. I think he asked me here to make her jealous."

There was a pause on her end of the line; all you received was static as she let out a sigh. "See, I don't buy that."

"Why not? It'd make perfect sense," you said irately. "He seemed to really want me to meet her, and, God, you shoud've seen how excited he looked to see her."

"If she's a family friend, you shouldn't be surprised that they're still on good terms. Haven't you ever stayed friends with any of your exes?"

"Not like that." You swallowed hard; Patsy couldn't see it, but your eyes were sullen, downcast as you recalled the interaction. Jesus, you'd been so stupid to get attached to him; it hadn't even been three days. You really, really should've seen something like this coming. You'd long known Philip to be self-interested, why should this be any different?

But he'd had no one to perform for when he'd spent the whole afternoon with you coddling his niece and nephew. He couldn't prove anything to anyone by the fact that you'd woken up in his arms two mornings in a row. He had nowhere to invoke how protective he'd been as his family dragged you this way and that, interrogating you all the while.

You realized you'd let your call go silent for several moments too long. "I dunno. It's just too complicated. I don't know what to think of any of it."

When she sighed, you recoiled at the loud rush of static that came from your phone. "I know you're not gonna like hearing this, but you need to talk to him."

"How the hell am I supposed to talk to him about this?"

"Be upfront. I'm serious, Y/N; your reservations about what you're feeling are all just you self-sabotaging, and you well know it." Though she wasn't wrong, her words left you on edge - if you were upfront with him, you hadn't a single clue how he'd react. "I know you haven't let yourself fall for anyone since John, but-"

"Please don't bring him into this," you said, the words weary. Patsy had known you for years; she could hear the grief building in the back of your throat before you could swallow it. She paused before speaking, and when she did, her voice was much softer.

"Sorry. I really didn't mean to, but..." You braced yourself for her to continue, your jaw tight. "It's the truth. It's been years. Don't you think it's time for you to stop holding yourself back from living?"

Your sigh was heavy; you would've even chalked it up as being born somewhat of your dramatics if not for the despair you couldn't stop from building in your voice when you responded. "Maybe it is. But I'm not ready to get hurt." The words were almost a whisper, as tearful as any cry. "I... I didn't even like Philip until two days ago; who's to say this won't just pass in another two?"

"I can't make that call for you, love," she replied, tone sympathetic. "But, please, don't self-sabotage out of fear. You deserve so much better than that."

"But I am afraid," you said, and you drew in a shaky breath. "How could I not be?"

"You've been working past all your fears for years, now. Years. It's time to stop being afraid."

"I..." you started, but you trailed off, knowing that putting up a fight wouldn't get you anywhere from there. "Thanks, Patsy. I think that, for now, I just need to clear my head. I don't want to do anything I'll regret."

"Okay. Let me know if you need anything else. Love you, Y/N."

At that, you gave a watery smile. "Love you, too."

You didn't move from your spot on the floor until the incessant drone of the dial tone into your ear became unbearable.

It was only minutes later that, after you'd exited the bathroom, flushed the toilet and washed your hands for good measure despite not having used it, ran almost directly back into Philip. He was in the dining room, chatting with Maria when you found him - or, really, when he found you.

You were hesitant to approach the pair, but when Philip noticed you, you could see him cut himself off mid-sentence, muttering something more to her before he made his way across the room to you.

"Hey, Hamilton." You offered him a weak smile, and he couldn't help but laugh.

"Since when are we back to 'Hamilton,' hm?"

"Sorry. Just what I'm used to," you mumbled, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Still?"

You shrugged. "Old habits die hard, I guess."

"Alright, princess." He shook his head lightly, amusement written into his smile. "Where have you been? When I came in to find you, you weren't around."

Again, you shrugged. You were on edge, suddenly seeming to be at a complete loss for words. "I just ran to the bathroom. I'm back now," you said lamely, and he grinned.

"I can see that. You wanna come with me to get something to eat?"

You took a deep breath, trying your best to settle your fresh batch of nerves, and you nodded. "Yeah."

"Alright, let's go." He tipped his head toward the kitchen, and when you started in his direction, he reached over, looped an arm around your waist as he began to walk with you, but the sudden contact made your skin jump. You tensed in his hold, and he glanced over to you with a furrowed brow, concern written deep in his expression. "You okay?"

You exhaled shakily. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm just fine."

He pursed his lips. "You're sure?"

"Of course. Don't worry about it."

"Okay." He didn't seem convinced, though, as he looked her over once more. "Can we talk later? In private?"

You could feel your heart rate begin to pick up with the hesitance in his voice; your mouth was suddenly too dry to speak. You managed a tight smile and nodded; his expression didn't change. "So, dinner?"

-------

The next hour was tense. You couldn't avoid Philip's skeptical, sidelong glances; you couldn't avoid how you shrunk away every time he came just inches too close for comfort.

The past few days had become comfortable, a difference you couldn't help but find pleasant, but it was a change so gradual you almost hadn't noticed — that is, until it came rushing toward you all at once. You were constantly on edge, and his concern only seemed to grow. You tried to relax, but your nerves wouldn't let you, not as you questioned every fleeting touch, every lopsided smile.

Within an hour, nearly all of the family had been herded back outside, something you didn't mind in the least — the overcrowded lawn gave you an easy excuse to ignore Philip, focusing your energy on his little cousins and siblings. (You and Eliza Jr. had established quite the rapport; she'd provided the imaginary tea and cookies and was now filling you in on all the real tea in her brunch circle, including the failed marriage between her Barbie and her stuffed crocodile. It'd been toxic for both of them, or so you were told.)

As hard as you tried to forget the unfortunate epiphany that afternoon had brought you to, it remained perpetually at the surface of your mind, coloring every one of your interactions with Philip. His concern appeared to be unavoidable, too.

"Hey, princess."

You jumped at the feeling of Philip's hand coming to rest on your shoulder, tearing you from your scintillating conversation with your new four-year-old (tea) drinking buddy. You glanced back at him with wide eyes, a hand on your chest as though to still the rapid thumping of your heart, and he stood there with an eyebrow raised.

"Jesus. You can't just scare me like that," you said, seemingly winded, and he only laughed.

"My sincerest apologies."

"Oh, I'm sure."

He swung a folding chair out from the table behind you, turning it so he could sit beside you, facing his little sister with a grin. "So, what have you and Y/N been talking about? Have you been spilling all the family secrets while I wasn't around to hear?"

She let out a huff, seemingly put-off by his appearing. "No, we've been talking about my drama."

You couldn't help but grin when she folded her arms, wearing a stubborn frown, and Philip turned to you with a brow raised. "And what drama might that be?"

"I've been persuaded to act as a divorce lawyer for a crocodile and a Barbie."

"Oh, really?"

You nodded your frank confirmation. "I'm responsible for dividing up the assets."

That coaxed a chuckle from him as he glanced to Eliza. "Seems like a big job. Why wasn't I offered the position?"

"'Cause you aren't as nice as Y/N," she said matter-of-factly, and your eyebrows shot up. "You can't be mean to them while they're going through a divorce."

"Seriously?"

"You heard her," you said, casting Philip a look of faux contempt. "You have to be gentle with their feelings."

"And I'm not good enough at that?" He raised an eyebrow, and although his smile was still light, your conversation still surface-level, the broader circumstances left a heavy undertone in his words that put you on edge. You forced a smile.

"I wouldn't know."

"No, he isn't good enough at it, Y/N," Eliza Jr. insisted, yanking you abruptly from beginning to overanalyze his words. "You can leave us alone, Pip. We've got it handled."

"You're just gonna send me away?" he asked incredulously. She shrugged, and he turned to you. "C'mon, back me up, here."

"Actually, you should stay," you agreed, but at the tension in your tone, he furrowed his brow. "I'm going to go inside for a little; I need something to drink." You turned to Eliza Jr. with a smile. "Is it alright if Philip holds down the fort for a while with the divorce? I give him my full endorsement."

She huffed, folding her arms. "Okay. But don't stay away too long; my Barbie needs you."

"Thanks, Eliza. He promises he won't let you down; don't you, Pip?"

Although you offered him a light smile, the skepticism in his gaze didn't dissipate. "Yeah, of course," he ultimately said, turning back to his sister. "So, fill me in. What tore their marriage apart?"

You couldn't help your soft smile at how serious he looked as Eliza handed him the plush crocodile, but when he shifted in his seat, you flinched, figured he was about to turn to see you standing there stating at him. When he didn't, you took a deep breath and continued back toward the house. You were struggling to keep your bearings. Keep it together, Y/N.

Unfortunately, you'd spent the weekend so focused on Philip (too focused on Philip) that you hadn't bothered to give the layout of the house a second glance. The minute you stepped inside, you were essentially wandering.

You greeted Philip's family (and non-family) members in passing on your way, struggling to connect names to faces and forgetting whether the man who asked where to find Philip was John Laurens or John Church. They asked you if you needed help finding something, but no, you assured them you were just making a run inside to retrieve something from your suitcase.

That was how you found yourself in a secluded little library off at the far end of the first floor. You sank into the cool leather couch with a sigh, glad to be able to finally catch your breath — you could still see the reunion just outside the window, though, and the thoughts that'd had your head spinning all day didn't care to subside.

You only realized you were looking for him after you found him, still seated with Eliza Jr., but it seemed Eliza Sr. had found a role in the divorce proceedings, and you laughed quietly to yourself.

"Enjoying yourself?"

You jumped at the gentle voice that came from the doorway off to your left. You'd thought you were alone, but when you turned, you found a woman walking in to join you who couldn't have been more than 45.

"Oh, I'm sorry," you said quickly, standing up with wide eyes. "I didn't mean to intrude; I just—"

"No, none of that," —she waved off your apology, the wine in her tall glass sloshing about— "Eliza and Alex don't care where you go in their house. Their kids are seven too many for them to give a damn what happens to their property. You could trash the place, and they'd blame William."

You weren't quite sure whether you should stay, though. You froze in the process of standing up, eyeing the woman warily. She laughed. "What I mean is, relax. Geez."

Her easy nonchalance was putting you more at ease, and when you sat back down, she joined you on the other side of the couch. A moment passed, and you were about to fill the silence, but she beat you to it.

"So, I don't recognize you, which must mean you're the girl Philip tricked into coming home with him for a weekend," she said matter-of-factly, taking a sip of her wine.

"I..." you started, trailing off as you processed her words, and when she raised her eyebrows, you said, "yeah, I guess that'd be me. I'm Y/N."

"Oh, I know who you are. Think I've seen you in a few photos, but after the first five niece-in-laws, they all started to look the same," she sighed, clearly expecting you to commiserate with her. You were still stuck on trying to figure her out before you said anything you shouldn't.

She bumped her elbow into yours. "Don't look so scared. I'm not saying I'm expecting you two to get married anytime soon," she assured you. "Philip's never been great with commitment, either. You're the only long-term relationship he's had since high school, y'know."

So her quip about Philip 'tricking you into coming home with him' really was just a joke. The tension in your shoulders eased.

"I mean, we're taking things slow. One day at a time," you said, plastering on a smile. You hesitated. "But I'm sorry, have we met?"

She laughed, took another sip of her drink, and as she shook her head, you weren't sure what to make of how entertaining she was finding your question.

"No, no, not yet," she said. "I'm Philip's Aunt Peggy, Eliza's sister. Probably should've covered that before ambushing you in the library, huh?"

"That's alright." Your smile was candid, then. "It's really nice to meet you; Philip's told me quite a bit about you."

She cocked a dubious eyebrow. "Should I be worried?"

"Not at all." She was still eyeing you skeptically as she swirled her wine glass. "He's told me all your travel stories — I hear you're the fun aunt. Can you confirm?"

She shrugged it off, but her smile was wide. "Ah, he's just saying that because I sent the Hamiltons desserts in bulk when I was abroad. I'm just funding his materialism."

"To be fair, if any of my aunts sent me that much candy, they'd be my favorites, too," you reasoned.

"Aw, I'm his favorite?"

"Don't tell the others."

She snickered. "No promises."

"Well, if you do, don't rat me out," you warned, but your smile was amused. "You didn't hear it here."

"Alright, alright, I'll give you a pass," she sighed, "but only 'cause you're my favorite of the girls he's dated. You didn't hear that here, either."

"Don't make that call just yet," you said skeptically. "You hardly know me."

"No, but I've heard about you," she said. "I can tell you're better for Philip than any of his exes were. Just take me at my word."

"Seriously?" She nodded, and you eyed her dubiously. "What about Henriette? As far as your family's concerned, she can do no wrong."

The sidelong glance Peggy gave you was amused, but you shifted in your seat as she took a sip of her wine. "You don't need to worry about Henriette." Your eyebrows shot up. "I mean, don't get me wrong, she's a sweet girl."

The thought didn't seem quite complete, though, and you waited for her to continue. "...but?"

"But, well... at the end of the day, she was bad for him, and that was that," Peggy said frankly. "I mean, he broke up with her for a reason."

"He broke up with her?" The disbelief was clear in your voice, but Peggy didn't pay it any mind. She just nodded.

"Philip was head over heels for that girl, once upon a time." She turned to you, and your unease must've been written more clearly across your face than you thought. She gave you a comforting smile, rested a hand on your knee. "Don't look so worried, please," she reiterated. "Their relationship was unhealthy. Philip gave her the world, but she always wanted more. It took a toll on him."

"And what makes you think I'm any better?" you asked skeptically.

"Because he doesn't think you're perfect."

You furrowed your brow. "What?"

"I promise, that's a good thing," she assured you, but you weren't so confident in her words. She looked entertained at how taken aback you clearly were. In what world was that 'good'? "The reason none of his other relationships lasted was because he saw the women with rose-colored glasses. And I don't blame him; it happens."

"So, he's thought everyone else he dated was perfect?"

She nodded sagely. "He realizes that there are drawbacks to your relationship, love. There are drawbacks to any relationship, of course."

"Well, yeah."

"But he can actually see them, with you. And he still wants you. Don't discount that." She sounded wholly confident in her argument, but you only pursed your lips.

After a moment, she added, "He has a bad record of putting girls on pedestals. But I think he sees you for what you are."

"Someone with a lot of drawbacks?" Your gaze was still disbelieving as you eyed her, but she laughed.

"Well, I suppose." She turned to you. "But someone that's still worth it."

"Oh. Well, that's good, I guess." Your voice was soft, and Peggy squeezed your shoulder affectionately.

"It's rare, too. He's lucky to have found you." You pursed your lips. "So he'd better treat you right, or I'll set him straight. Just call up old Aunt Peggy; I've got your back."

The severity in her tone made you laugh, and she cracked a smile at your reaction. "I'll keep it in mind," you quipped. She nodded approvingly, and your smile was soft as she drained the remainder of her wine from her glass. "Thanks, Peggy."

"My pleasure."

Your eyes had wandered back to the window as you spoke, finding Philip easily as he crossed the yard with Georges and his wife, Emilie. They were talking enthusiastically; what they were saying was beyond you, but he laughed as Georges gave him a playful shove, and Emilie rolled her eyes at whatever he said next.

You didn't quite realize how soft your gaze was as you watched him, but Peggy did.

Moments later, when Philip happened to glance in your direction, he looked surprised to see you sitting there, but he grinned when he met your eyes. He gave you a short, timid wave, and you nodded back in greeting, the corners of your lips upturned. However, the interaction just drew Georges's attention to where you'd hidden yourself away, and when he saw you, his greeting was far more dramatic, waving, gesturing for you to come back out, apparently shouting something at you from outside (without a care in the world about the fact that you couldn't hear him). You couldn't help but laugh outright, returning his wave, and Georges turned to Philip. Whatever he said when he nudged him just made Philip shake his head, apparently exasperated.

"Do you love him?"

"What?" You turned with a start; Peggy's voice snapped you out of your reverie, and you felt like a deer caught in headlights. "Oh, I, um– Well–" You cut yourself off as she raised a concerned eyebrow, and you blinked hard, forced a smile as you gathered your bearings. "I mean... yeah. Of course."

You swallowed hard; how nervous you were was clearly apparent, and Peggy rested a hand on your arm, wearing an apologetic smile. "Oh, lord, I'm so sorry; I didn't mean to put you on the spot like that," she said. "I just assumed, y'know, after two years together, you two would've said that by now." When you pursed your lips, she was quick to backtrack. "And not that you should've! It's perfectly alright that you haven't."

"No, no, I mean, we have, I just..." you trailed off, unsure exactly how to justify your reaction. Peggy's dark brow knit.

"Then what's got you so nervous to confirm it? You two aren't having problems, are you?"

"No," was all you said, but there wasn't much conviction in your tone. When you met Peggy's gaze, you were relieved to see that the look in her eye wasn't of skepticism but was instead of concern.

"That answer sounded like it came with stipulations, love."

"No, it didn't," you assured her, but she raised an eyebrow. A beat passed. You swallowed hard. "It's just... how do you know if you love someone?"

Peggy tilted her head to one side. "Have you never been in love before?"

"I mean, I have," you acquiesced, and when you didn't go on, she filled the silence.

"So don't you know what it feels like when you're in love, then?"

"It's just... been a while." Your gaze drifted down to the printed rug before the couch, focus suddenly on how the toes of your shoes sank into the plush fabric. Peggy rested a hand on your shoulder.

"Is everything alright?"

You swallowed hard, gave her a reassuring smile. "Yeah. Yeah, it is, really."

"You can talk to me, y'know. I won't go spilling your business to the family."

"Yeah?"

"Of course."

"Well," you started, turning away from Peggy, gaze unfocused, "I don't know how I feel about Philip, honestly."

"You're sure there's no issue between you two?"

"It's nothing he's done," you said softly, and after you swallowed hard, you finally admitted, "but... I'm a widow. I haven't been with anyone else since my late husband, and it's been years, now."

"You're a widow?" she repeated, and you nodded.

"We married young. But since he passed, I..." You shrugged, feeling tears welling in the corners of your eyes. As you wiped them away, you offered her a weak smile in an effort to ease how silly you were feeling. "I mean, that was my last serious relationship. It's been hard to figure out how to proceed from there."

"I'm so sorry," Peggy said softly, and the concerned look she wore was genuine. "Come here."

She wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into her side where you sat, and you gave her a grateful smile. "You're sweet, but I'm fine, honestly. It's been so long. But it might've left me with just a little fear of attachment."

"You poor thing; I can't imagine," she said, rubbing your upper back comfortingly. "But it's alright that you feel like this; you shouldn't feel guilty about being slower to open up."

"I didn't say I felt guilty."

"Do you?"

A long moment passed in silence, and eventually, you said softly, "...I mean, honestly? Yeah. It sucks to not be able to figure out what it is I'm feeling. I… I can’t help but think Philip deserves better."

"We've all been there at one time or another. Don't beat yourself up."

"How did you know you loved your husband?" you asked, and she pursed her lips, thought on it for a moment.

"Well, I'm certainly no relationship expert, so take this with a grain of salt," she said, "but I've told quite a number of people I loved them in all my life, and it took me quite a few failed romances to figure out which ones were real."

"Then how did you decide what love actually was?" you asked hesitantly, and Peggy's gaze was absent, faraway, but her smile was tender.

"I realized I was in love when being with them meant more to me than my freedom," she said. "That's why they never lasted. I spent my twenties traveling the world, jumping from job to job and partner to partner."

"'Partner to partner'?" you interjected, an eyebrow raised.

She shrugged. "Partner, significant other, whatever you kids are calling it these days."

"We say boyfriend, usually."

She gave you an amused smile with that, though, turning to again meet your gaze. "Oh, no, you misunderstand me," she replied frankly. "They were rarely men."

"Oh!" Your eyebrows shot up. "Oh, I'm sorry; I didn't mean to assume—"

"That's just fine. No need to apologize." She shrugged, but she looked entertained at how panicked you were, immediately trying to backtrack. "But anyway, I was only willing to settle down with my husband when keeping my lifestyle would've meant losing him."

Your smile was soft. "That's sweet."

"Oh, is it?" she asked, eyebrows raised. "Well, good. I half expected you to think I was talking nonsense."

Her candid surprise made you laugh. "No, I appreciate it. It's been nice to have someone to talk to about all this."

"I'm glad." She nudged your arm lightly, wearing a small smile. "And I know you'll be fine. Take as much time as you need to figure it out; I have a feeling Philip will be there waiting for you in the end."

-----

You didn't go back outside after that.

The weight of everything you'd just unloaded onto his aunt hit you like a freight train, and her words stuck with you. You were second-guessing everything that'd happened that weekend, replaying all the little things you took for granted: the enigmatic advice Georges had apparently given Philip when you first arrived at your office all those years ago; what his niece had heard him saying about you. His teasing comments, the stolen glances, the accidental, fleeting touches that lasted just a moment longer than they should've. It all added up to one larger picture that you weren't sure you wanted to see.

And your theory that you were there to make his ex jealous was blown wide open the minute you found out Philip had been the one to end things with Henriette. (No wonder she'd been trying to trudge up their old memories.)

You refused to think any further than that; you knew the conclusions you'd have to draw would make all this so much more real. And that thought scared you more than anything.

You were pacing the halls of the Hamiltons' first floor. The only reason you finally went upstairs was because one too many cousins had asked you where you were going — you’d been telling people you were headed up to get something from Philip’s room for nearly the past half hour.

That was how you found yourself seated on the end of Philip's bed, reeling from the afternoon's events.

You did retrieve something from your suitcase, ultimately. The deep-red, velveteen box was soft under your fingertips as you played with it anxiously, picking at the sides but never quite working up the nerve to open it. It wasn’t like it’d been that long since you opened it, either; it couldn’t have been more than a week, but this time, when you flicked it open, staring down at the gold band and its tiny diamond felt different.

What would John think if he could see you there?

Patsy was convinced he’d only want you to be happy, and that he wouldn’t mind who you were with. She’d tell you it was time to move on with your life. But did moving on have to mean leaving him behind?

And falling for someone else felt like abandonment of the worst kind. It felt like you were cheating on him, like you and he were falling out of love. As much as you still missed him, as much as you grieved for him, every day, the memory of what it felt like to be his slipped further away from your grasp.

You ran your fingers over the cold metal of the ring, and your hands shook as you slipped it onto your ring finger. For a fleeting moment, you could almost convince yourself that you were still somebody’s wife.

Light footsteps padded down the hall outside Philip’s room, and they were quiet enough that they didn’t snap you out of your reverie until the door’s hinges creaked. Your heart stopped.

And to your relief, the person who opened the door was just six-year-old William.

“Philip, are you…” He trailed off when he saw you on Philip’s bed, but he didn’t miss a beat. “Oh! Did you see Philip in here?”

“Hey, William,” you said, but your accompanying laugh held a hint of anxiety. “Philip isn’t up here; sorry. Last I saw him, he was out in the backyard.”

“Oh.” He blinked. “Can you help me find him? Daddy needs him, but I don’t wanna make him sad ‘cause I don’t know where Pip is. I think he’s hiding from us.”

“Yeah, sure; I’d love to help,” you answered, and your endeared smile was candid. His determination was almost making you forget about your ring entirely.

“Thank you.” He seemed more than ready to drag you out of Philip’s bedroom, watching you eagerly as you hesitated to stand and go with him. You’d hoped he’d go ahead and let you catch up with him momentarily, but he stood there and watched you expectantly where you sat on the bed, and you apparently had two options: take the ring off then and hope William didn’t realize it was a wedding ring, or wear it out and hope you can find a time to hide it discreetly. The only issue was that you had no pocket to leave it in.

“No problem; let’s go.” You ended up choosing the former. William’s eyes didn’t leave you as you popped the ring’s box back open, and when you heard him gasp, your miscalculation became obvious.

“Is that a wedding ring?” he asked, and your eyes widened.

“No! No, it… I mean yes, but—”

“When did you and Pip get married?” Oh, fuck. Your pulse was pushing into overdrive. “Why wasn’t I invited to the wedding? What about Mama and Pops?”

“We didn’t… we didn’t not invite you, but—”

“But I wasn’t there.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, stifling a groan when he wore a deep frown. “Did your parents come?”

“No, they—”

“Why didn’t you and Pip tell us?” he asked. “It was a special location.”

Special loca…? “Special occasion?”

“That’s what I said.” He wore a pout. “Well, now we’ve gotta go tell everyone, c’mon.”

He turned and started running, and you swallowed hard. Oh, shit.

“Wait, William, come back!” you called after him, and you scowled when he didn’t stop. You had to finish putting the ring away before you could start after him — going back out to his family with it would only spell disaster. “William?”

By the time you took the ring off, tucked its box back into your suitcase, it seemed he was out of earshot. When you reached the bottom of the stairs, he was nowhere to be found; he’d weaved between his family members’ legs until he was out of sight.

Well, you were certainly, thoroughly fucked.

You began to wade through the crowd in the kitchen, eyes darting around the floor for any sign of a retreating William, going through room after room to no avail, but your heart rate was steadily increasing with every moment you didn’t find him.

It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes until one of Philip’s family members approached you.

“Y/N?” Frances Laurens— no, Frances Henderson, who’d taken her husband’s name the previous summer, approached you from behind, and you spun around abruptly in surprise. “Hey, when were you going to tell us that you and Philip were engaged?”

Your throat tightened. “What?”

“William just told us.” She nudged you with a lopsided grin. “Congrats; welcome to the family.”

“Oh, no, there’s been a misunderstanding—”

“Wait, you’re getting married?” The William who interjected into your conversation was, unfortunately, not the one you were looking for. Instead, you followed the voice to find the younger Mulligan son standing with a beer.

“No, no, it’s not like… William just— well, not you William, William Hamilton—”

“Hey, William just told me you and Philip were finally getting married. What made you decide to tie the knot?” That was Georges, and your head jerked in his direction.

“Oh, thank god there’s going to be another woman at family dinners when he’s in town.” Angelica Hamilton approached from your left.

“Wait, what? Do you have a date for the wedding?” You hadn’t a clue which of the Lafayette sisters that was (well, you knew it wasn’t Henriette). “You better invite all of us. You might need a big venue to fit the whole family.”

Oh, god, you were in deep. It seemed William had managed to do quite a bit of damage without a whole lot of time.

“I need to talk to Philip,” you said, voice breathy. You knew you sounded winded, but his family all wore wide grins, patting you on the back or squeezing your shoulders — the Hamilton-Schuyler-Lafayette-Laurens-Mulligans were certainly a touchy-feely bunch.

“Yeah, where is your fiancé?” Georges asked, scanning the room.

“He’s not—”

“Hey, Philip!” It seemed he’d found him, yelling across the dining room, and Philip started toward you with his hands in his pockets, watching the crowd that’d formed around you curiously. “You ever planning on telling us you proposed? Or were you gonna wait till you had your firstborn, huh?”

Georges’s grin was wide as he shoved Philip affectionately, but Philip’s eyebrows shot up. “What?”

“William spilled everything. Congrats, you two,” Frances said, and when Philip met your eyes, you looked defeated.

“Oh, did he?”

“Relax, we’re all excited for you. No one’s mad that you hid it.” Apparently, you weren’t the only one who heard the tension in Philip’s voice as he glanced between you and Angelica warily, and she squeezed your upper arm with a smile. “It’s great news.”

“Yeah, no wonder you finally brought her home.” The Mulligan son— shit, his name was escaping you. Was it Wyatt? Winston? No, shit, what were you thinking? He was also William; how the hell did you forget—?

“I’m sorry, what exactly did Will tell you?” Philip asked hesitantly.

“He saw Y/N with the ring a little while ago. Not sure why you decided to hide such big news from us, but—”

“Right, can I have a word with my fiancée real quick?” He met your eyes with an urgent look, and you winced. “In private?”

“Oh, c’mon, it was an honest mistake; don’t be too hard on her,” Georges said. “Does it really matter? We were gonna find out anyway, so—”

“We’ll be back down in a bit.” Philip spoke through clenched teeth as he cut Georges off, walking toward you, and he grabbed you by the bicep, grip tight as he pulled you toward the doorway. Your breath caught when you stumbled forward. You were out of earshot before any of his family members could get another word in, and you struggled to keep pace with his long strides as he continued toward the staircase.

“Come on.” His voice was low when you reached the home’s entrance hall, and when he started upstairs to his room, you were quick to follow him. He locked the door behind you.

A moment passed in silence as he turned around to face you. The tension in the air was thicker than your ass.

He folded his arms.

“Care to explain why my entire family thinks we’re engaged?”

“It’s…” You rubbed your forehead as though it’d relieve your throbbing headache. “It was an accident. I swear it was; William just… he saw me with a ring, and he thought—”

“Why the hell did he think we were getting married? What’d you tell him?” Philip’s voice was rising as he spoke, and you had to swallow the lump building in your throat.

“I didn’t tell him we were engaged,” you defended. “I was just putting my ring back in its box, and he made an assumption. That’s it.”

“What ring?” he asked. “You aren’t wearing a ring. I haven’t seen you with a ring all fucking weekend. Are you fucking with me right now?”

“Of course not.” You huffed. “What, do you think I did this on purpose? That I wanted your family to think we were engaged?”

“I don’t know, did you?”

“No; why would I?”

“Oh, be honest, Y/N. You just agreed to come home with me this weekend so that you could fuck with me, didn’t you?”

“I’m sorry, do you really believe I’m just here to make your life harder? That I want to push you deeper into your stupid fucking lie?” you asked incredulously. “I came to cover for you. Because you told them we’d been together for two years.”

He scoffed. “Please, like you wouldn’t jump at the opportunity to mess with my personal life. Let’s face it; we both know you’ve never liked me.”

“We weren’t friends, but I’ve never had any sort of vendetta against you.” Your scowl deepened, and you shook your head in disbelief.

“You told me that you were the one person in our office who hated me. Word-for-word,” he retorted. “Did you do this to get back at me for using you as my fake girlfriend?”

“I don’t hate you.” He didn’t think that it was reasonable for your tone to be that defensive. “I've never hated you; I… I was just being dramatic. And even if I did have it out for you, I wouldn’t do this to your family.”

“Then why didn’t you tell William that we weren’t engaged?” he asked. “Hm? What the hell happened that my entire family managed to learn that you’d told him we were getting married in all of five minutes?”

“I tried to tell him we weren’t, but he was asking about the ring, and—”

“You should’ve told him it wasn’t an engagement ring!”

“I tried to! He asked if it was a wedding ring, though, and…” Your voice trailed off. The smallest shreds of a sob were building in your throat, and you were trying to speak through them, but your chest was tightening.

“And you didn’t set him straight?”

“It was a wedding ring, Philip. He stopped me before I could explain that we weren’t getting married, and by the time I could go after him, he was already downstairs. I lost him in the kitchen; I couldn’t stop him,” you said. “I swear, I tried to prevent this.”

A moment passed in silence. His gaze was absent, fixed on the floor, and he was shaking his head ever-so-slightly in disbelief.

“Why’d you have a wedding ring if you didn’t come here planning to fuck up my family life? If you didn’t wanna bury me further in this stupid lie I told to get my family off my back?” he asked. “Were you wearing the wedding ring?”

You nodded. “He came in, and I tried to hide it before coming downstairs, but—”

“Why the hell were you wearing a wedding ring?”

“I only put it on for a minute!”

“Why do you even have one? And why would you bring it home this weekend?”

“It’s…” Your jaw ached as you tried to keep yourself from crying. You blinked back the tears that stung the corners of your eyes and sat on the edge of his bed. You didn’t want him to see the old emotions that were breaking loose. “It’s old. I got it years ago.”

“What? Why?” The incredulity in his voice was making you cringe, and he threw his hands up in frustration. “What am I supposed to do with this, Y/N? You really expect me to believe that you wearing a wedding ring around my family was completely innocent? That you didn’t—?”

“I’m a widow, Philip.” You nearly had to shout to be loud enough to cut him off, and while he’d begun pacing in agitation, your words made him freeze.

He turned to you. “...You what?”

“I’m a widow,” you repeated softly, and his wide eyes met yours as he saw the tears building in them.

“I…” He started to reply, but his voice faltered. All the anger had been wiped from his expression, replaced quickly with surprise, apology, worry. “Shit, Y/N. I… fuck, I’m sorry, I had no idea.” His voice was quiet.

“Don’t be. You couldn’t have known.” You wiped at your left eye when the first tear rolled down your cheek. “It’s not like I ever talked about it.”

When he took a seat beside you on the bed, his hand came tentatively to cover yours. You drew in a shuddering breath. “Still. I’m sorry I… well, that I blew up like that. I didn’t mean to bring up your past like this; I—”

“It’s fine, Philip. Really.” You laced your fingers into his, squeezed his hand reassuringly. “No one expects a 26-year-old to be a widow. I don’t blame you.”

He nodded when you glanced up at him, and goosebumps ran up your arm when he swept his thumb over the back of your hand. “What was his name?” he asked quietly, and you pursed your lips.

“John.” You sniffled. “We met in high school, got married just after we graduated college.” Although you paused, he didn’t say anything, giving you room to pause, take a breath, and you knew that if you wanted to go on, he was there to listen. “We… god, we were so happy, for a while. I followed him to New York for college; I swore I’d never plan my life around a man, and I knew he wouldn’t ask me to, but I didn’t want to live without him. I was so sure that we wouldn’t break up, so I didn’t think we had anything to lose.”

Your voice was devolving into a croak as you went on, and you had to swallow your whimper when you came dangerously close to crying. He could hear your words breaking.

It caught you off guard when Philip wrapped an arm around your waist, pulled you into his side. The action was hesitant, and his grip on you was soft; he half expected you to recoil from his touch, but when you pulled closer, leaned against him, he held you close.

“He died almost two years after we graduated,” you murmured, cheek pressed against Philip’s shoulder. His shirt was damp from your slow, silent tears. “No one saw it coming. He was shot when someone broke into our house. It all happened in less than an hour, and then he was gone.”

Your voice broke altogether with your final few words. You could no longer keep down the sob in your throat, try as you might to keep speaking through it. You drew in a shuddering breath, but when you exhaled, you were crying audibly, tears flowing freely. “Shit, I… I didn’t mean to dump all of this onto you. You didn’t need to know all my…” —you hiccuped— “all my stupid fucking trauma, but—”

“Shh, relax. I’m not going anywhere,” he assured you, and the warmth rising in your chest wasn’t something you wanted to be able to explain when he turned toward you on the bed, wrapped his other arm around the back of your shoulders and pulled you into him. “C’mere. I’ve got you.”

As much as you were caught in your head, struggling to claw your way out of the memories you’d buried yourself in, you couldn’t have been more present in that moment. Philip smelled like the sun, like freshly-washed cotton, like lazy mornings after a long night of sleep; he smelled like something you couldn’t describe as anything other than warm.

And so you let yourself cry. You didn’t explain anything further; he wasn’t going to ask, didn’t need to know how you’d moved across the city within a week of John’s funeral to get away from everything that felt so painfully like him. He wasn’t going to pry. If you wanted to talk, wanted to tell him anything, needed someone who was just there to listen, that was your prerogative, and he wouldn’t try to force it. You were free to take your time, safe in his arms.

He rubbed your upper back, and your eyes fell shut.

“Thanks for being here,” you mumbled against the scratchy material of his button-down. “I… I’m sorry I made such a damn mess of your family life. I didn’t mean to; I swear, I—” You were cut off by a hiccup, a shuddering sob, and he held the side of your head against his chest, stroking your hair absentmindedly.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “You did nothing wrong. I’m gonna be just fine, alright? It’s you I’m worried about.”

You wore a watery smile at his words. “You’re too nice. I… I fucked up, and you don’t have to pretend you’re alright with it.”

“I’m fine. Honest.” Only when your breathing evened out did he lean back, lift your chin to look at him. He offered you a small, lopsided smile. “So, I guess we’re gonna have to go back down there and tell my parents we’re engaged, huh?”

“I guess so.”

“Don’t look so sad, princess; this is supposed to be a celebration.” The guilt weighing on your shoulders must’ve been written across your face, and as he nudged you lightly, his words made you laugh.

“Mmh, we’ve really hit a relationship milestone, haven’t we?”

“Looks like it,” he said. “So, what’s the story? How’d I propose? Was it oh-so-touching, or did I butcher it ‘cause I was an emotional mess?”

“Well, you had a whole speech prepared,” you informed him, and he raised an amused eyebrow.

“I did?”

“You did.” You nodded. “Only problem was that when you got down on one knee, you were crying too hard to be able to actually get through it. You were just so moved by how beautiful I looked that night, and you couldn’t keep your feelings in check when you thought about spending the rest of your life with me.”

“You sound like you’ve really thought this out,” he said. “Don’t tell me you’ve been fantasizing about it. I know how incredible and attractive I am, but I didn’t think we were on that level yet.”

“Of course not. Don’t worry.” You couldn’t contain your entertained grin. “This was all Theo’s fantasy that she told me while you were ignoring her. She’s still really convinced it’ll happen, so I guess now you have an instruction manual for your engagement with her.”

That made him laugh outright. “When Theo and I get engaged?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Now you’re really talking nonsense.” He shook his head, but as he eyed your expression, the tear tracks on your face, his brow furrowed with concern. “...Are you alright, Y/N?”

You nodded, swallowed the lump in your throat. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” The calloused pad of his thumb ran over your cheek, wiped your tears away, and you found yourself staring. The look in his dark eyes was heavy; god, you could’ve drowned in it, and his eyes were watering, too, no doubt from watching you cry, from seeing how much pain you were in, how deep your grief ran.

He wished he could take that all away from you. If he could shoulder the burden for you, no matter how heavy, he’d have done it in a split second — even if you didn’t want him, even if you’d never look at him in the same way that he looked at you, he knew you, and he knew you didn’t deserve to suffer like this. He cleaned the smeared mascara from under your eyes with the end of his sleeve as though somehow, some way, that could alleviate your suffering.

And you couldn’t see all of that. But you saw how he looked at you. That much was unmistakable.

He held you as though, if he let go, you might break, and in that moment, part of you felt like you might. He’d never thought he’d really be holding you like that.

But there was so much care in his gentle gaze, although you had no way to know all that was going on beneath it. You felt safe, safer than you’d felt in a long time as he rubbed circles into the small of your back, shifting you onto his lap, and he was so close, his face just inches from yours. If you leaned forward just a little, you could kiss him.

And when your gaze trailed down to his lips, downturned in a concerned frown, as consumed in you as every other part of him, you did. You finally took the opportunity presented to you, and you didn’t intend to let yourself continue to squander it.

Sitting on his lap at the end of his bed, you kissed him.

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thevoilinauttheory · 3 years

Text

First Day of My Life

[ FFxivWrite2021 Prompt 1: Foster ]

[ Content Warnings: Cheesy Romantic Shit lmao || Characters: Maximiloix Voilinaut, Caromont Allard ]

[ with musical accompaniment! it’s what drove this prompt, to be honest ]

[ its fuckin long, i’m not sorry lol ]

youtube

Caromont flipped through cards, time and time again. No matter how hard he tried, he could never perform a reading for himself. He tried - he truly did. Where was his future going to go, once he made it to Dravania? What shoes was he destined to fill? Perhaps greatness wasn’t meant for him - and instead, he would teach another greatness. He wanted more than the monotony he was given, something that could strike a match in his eyes. As he drew nearer to the Colonies, he flipped another card - not expecting it to do much at all, he wasn’t prepared for his head to fall forward and slam into the table in front of him.

“Master Allard!” Some stray students happened to be in the room with him, running over to check on the man. Perfectly fine, he was, they found him dead asleep against the table… but only for a solid five minutes before his head flung back up, an exaggerated gasp to follow. They startled at his sudden awakening, taking steps back away from him. He rubbed his forehead. “Ughh… ow.” There was something different about him, after that, the students noticed. There were still heavy bags under his eyes… and yet, they had never looked brighter. He had always been tired, weary, worn out from his responsibilities; and now he looked like he could crack an honest smile for once. “Master Allard? Are you alright?” “Hm?” He addressed the students in some sort of delirium, tilting his head in thought. “Oh! Yes, I am. I appreciate the concern - simply an unprepared reading. Nothing to worry about.” They left him to that.

What he saw was nothing short of a miracle - to him, of course. A reading of his own! Finally! Even better - while he was destined for no greatness, he was given a taste of what freedom felt like. The first adventurer to make their way in, that’s where it lied. What it was, he knew not. All he knew was that he wanted it. He wanted whatever this adventurer would grant him, wanted something *new*, and *different*.

Caromont sat with his head against the library window, far up so that the colony of Sharlayan was visible to his eyes… yet he stared at the sky, watching the clouds as he flipped idly through more cards. Bored, as if he’d get a new result the more he did so. He let out a heavy sigh, lids closing just for the briefest of moments - maybe he could pretend he was having a vision, maybe people would leave him alone for his inattentiveness. It wasn’t like he wanted any of this responsibility to begin with. When his shoulder was pat on to remind him to pay attention again, he opened his eyes and looked down at the ants of his kin. His eyes skimmed to the side, where several students seemed to be dragging along a worn down man. His eyes narrowed, trying to see better what was going on. No. That was not just any man - that was the first adventurer, since he arrived here; not a student, not a fellow academic; an honest-to-gods *adventurer*. He jumped from his seat, eyes lit up like Starlight; he scooped up his cards, snatched up his bag and *sprinted*. He skipped down stairs two at a time, perhaps even falling down a few. He skid around the corner of the entrance of the library, waving down the students that were about to carry the man away.

“Master Allard! Oh, thank heavens! This man needs healing before he’s sent on his way--” “Do not worry! I will take good care of him, do not fear. Be on your way, it will not do to be late for your classes.” “Of course. Thank you.” Then he was left alone with this almost near dying man against his shoulder. By their tone, one would have expected said man to be unconscious; no, he seemed only confused. “If you are okay to move more, I would like to go elsewhere for your healing.” “Yeah… ‘course. Thank ya’, friend.” His voice was soft, it commanded no respect… though it seemed to give none, as well.

As he had brought him to his own home, the adventurer only laughed. “Shouldn’t y’buy me dinner, first?” Still, he was thankful for a place to lay down… even if it *was* the floor. Caromont let out a loud snort, kneeling beside him with another laugh as he thought more on the words. “Mm - perhaps I could *make* you dinner, instead.” The adventurer blinked at the response, stunned for a moment - mostly from the stitching he could feel as his wounds were healed. Then, he laughed. He laughed so hard he had to place a hand over his stomach. “Ooch, gods, that hurts.” Caromont smiled. “It will be sore for a bit, so please, make yourself at home. I am not here often, to be honest. Ah- your name. I do not believe I got it.” “Maximiloix - you?” “Caromont.” He had to mouth the man’s name several times to get the pronunciation correct. “My, that is a mouthful.” “Ain’t it?” He laughed again.

Maximiloix had been here a week now - doing nothing more than waiting for Caromont to get done with work. He always sat patiently by the entrance of the library, offering stories to the students interested in hearing them. The bell struck twice - and it was just a matter of time for the usually composed scholar to come sliding around the corner. He always seemed a little too excited to leave… at the same time, it’s not like he could blame him. He, himself, would sit in the same spot for hours waiting for him without a care to the time that crawled by slowly. Caromont offered him books to pass the time, but he only laughed in response. Still, he took them, tried to make heads or tails of what he was reading - as it was from Caromont’s private collection, meaning it was nothing but technical jargon regarding magic… something he wasn’t all that good at to begin with. Unfortunately for him, Caromont’s eye for detail always caught him - or was it that knack for knowing the future? He could never say - never tell, either; nor did he feel a need to ask. Every man had their secrets and he wasn’t without his own. “Take it the books are a little much?” “Ah… that easy to tell, huh? I’m not mucha magic person, t’be honest. History, though.” “Is that right?” He could see those violet eyes light up, every word that was spoken to him was held onto as if his life depended on it. “I could have sworn…” His eyes turned to the ground, lifting a hand to his chin as he tried to sort out his thoughts. “Ah - I see. Not yet.” “Not yet?” “No, no! Do not mind me! I will see if I can find any books to your liking, and you must regale me of what you have learned! My time is spent too much on my readings, and not enough in other skills.” “Ever thought o’ takin’ a break?” “A… break?” “...Y’know. Relax? Not work? Do other things?” Caromont stared at him for an uncomfortably long amount of time - even more so, since they were walking. When no one around him was expecting it, he laughed. It was the best joke of his lifetime, even if it was meant to be serious. He scared some other passerbys, unfortunately. Caromont wasn’t known to laugh - let alone *that* loud.

“Oh, Maxie, I thought you were serious for a moment.” That earned him a raised eyebrow. He sighed. “Unfortunately, taking breaks is not as easy as it is said. My work is incredibly important to the Colonies--” “Let someone else do it.” “Huh?” “Yer not a god. No one’s meant t’work fer so long an’ *not* get tired. Yer exhausted. If no one else can see it, I sure as hells can.” The corner of Maximiloix’s mouth curled into a sly smile, followed by poking under Caromont’s eye. “Yer gettin’ wrinkles here.” “Maxie, I am sixty-seven… of course I have wrinkles!” “I dunno if y’ve seen me, but I’ve got picture perfect skin--” “Like hells! You have more wrinkles than I do and you are younger than me!” He laughed.

“Mm. What’cha makin’? Smells good.” “Does it?” Maximiloix wandered into the kitchen, staring over Caromont’s shoulder like a curious child. He had just pulled a loaf of bread out of the oven, letting it sit to cool; smacking his roommate’s hand away from it. “Ah-ah! Not yet! You are going to burn yourself like that. This is a snack until dinner, which you have to tell me what you want.” “I ain’t picky.” “You say that! I need to know what to grab from the markets.” “Hm… how ‘bout I gather ingredients? Shouldn’t take too long.” “Are you… sure?”

Maximiloix offered a mock salute. “It’ll be no skin off m’back. Then you can make whatever y’want from ‘em.” “If that is the case… well, you get yourself ready and I will have some bread ready for you.” That would have been a casual statement… if it didn’t look like Caromont was plotting something. There was a shine in them, like someone waiting for a prank to follow through. Maximiloix slowly backed away, watching him. He was all too familiar with that look, and he wasn’t liking it. Still, he left to pack and empty a few bags. When he returned, Caromont held a plate out to him… with no plate of his own. “Plannin’ on poisonin’ me?” “Oh, no, not at all. This is for me to take to work with me this week - but I had a feeling you might enjoy this one.” “...Okay, I don’t like that look yer given’ me. What’s up with it.” “Nothing! Nothing! I swear to you, nothing it *wrong* with it. It is made as intended.” Maximiloix twisted up his mouth and nose, but relented. Caromont likely wouldn’t have let him leave if he denied to eat it.

He took a bite of it - those bright lights in Caromont’s eyes shining. “Hm. Yer right. Not bad.” “...What.” “I mean. It ain’t the *best* tastin’ thing in the world, but I’m pretty sure I could live off this.” Caromont looked at him. Stunned. Absolutely, positively, *astounded*. “Do you even *have* taste buds? Thaliak, you must have an iron gut!” Maximiloix laughed. “I take it it was s’posed to be worse? Can’t really have *taste* livin’ in th’Brumes. Just gotta get what y’can get.” “I have *literally* tasted nothing worse than this recipe - and yet it is a staple here.” “Yeah? Might have t’get that from ya’. Could make it a staple while travelin’.”

They both read on the couch - comfortable silence between them as Caromont laid across Maximiloix’s lap. This was nice. The thought of this lasting forever made Caromont’s heart ache for it. He would do anything for it to. “Are you getting hungry?” Caromont spoke softly, afraid to ruin the silence. “Yeah, I could eat.” Maximiloix smiled down at him, watching as he stood up to stretch. “Mm. I have to go to the markets, it should be quick - so do not let me interrupt you.” Before he left, he leaned over to kiss his cheek - thinking nothing of the action. Not until he stood back up. He covered his mouth and nose, eyes widened in shock and embarrassment - so much so, that he could do nothing but turn on his heel and leave Maximiloix touching the cheek he was kissed on with a dumb smile on his face.

He thought that he would calm down by the time he returned, but those thoughts were thrown out the window when he stood in front of his door… hesitating on even going home. Deep breath in… deep breath out. He stepped in… nothing. Maximiloix must’ve been in the bedroom, passed out or something. He let out a sigh of relief, then turned to his kitchen to place everything on the counters. When he turned back around - what to find but the man he had been crushing on for moons now. What to find but that man rushing for him, grabbing onto his shoulders to return that chaste kiss a hundred fold; hands moving up to hold the sides of his head. Caromont could only stand startled, a deer in headlights, even when Maximiloix pulled away - another bright smile on his face. Though that expression turned to embarrassment when Caromont seemingly broke on the spot. “Ah.. too mu--” All he could think to do in response was to return the treatment, near tackling the poor man to the ground, laughing against his lips. So far, this was the best day of his life. “Gods, Caro, I love ya’.” Those words had him pressed tears against his neck, he had waited so long for someone to *mean it*. “I love you too, gods, do I.”

#ffxivwrite2021 #prompt 1 #foster #the fire in the stars #about: Maximiloix Voilinaut #the cold truth #about: Caromont Allard #reading the stars #i'm so glad this prompt came up tbh #even though it's a repeat #because i was just thinking of trying to write about this moment #and hoping i got a good prompt for it

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kaetastic · 4 years

Text

No Longer A Secret

pairing: Maxwell Lord x F!CEO!Reader

summary: The rivalry between Chimtech Consortium and Techlite Coterie was no joke. The electrifying glow around the two CEOs of the company had been more than prominent whenever the two are in the same room. People could just feel it. There’s just one rule, whatever happens in private- stays in private. They knew it would’ve been broken sooner or later.

word count: 2.6k

warning: smut, language, dirty talking, jealous!maxwell, friends (?) with benefits, rough sex ??, choking

note: my first maxwell lord AND (?) pedro pascal fanfiction! yay! i’m so excited, i’ve been enticed by his wonderful acting that made me love all of his characters 🥰- techlite is an actual company but that was the name that i could come up with at the top of my head lol. tagging @storiesofthefandomlovers because guess who had a doubt they couldn’t find answers from google? Me! (just a reminder that we still have yet to see Max’s true personality- so :))

Glowing of red rays splayed across the street of the boisterous city. Despite the growing intensity of the vibrant red, there were other territories who decided to claim part of the land as their own. Shades of grey sprinkled over the road as blocks of cars swirl in organized strings. Various signs were hung up, some larger than the other; however, even though the size difference was quite prominent, it seemed it had not done its specified job. The expectations of greater, flashier, eye-catching signs to power over the rest had been over the market’s roof. It did nothing as the pedestrians would graze their eyes over the block letters in yellow or barely readable cursive blue, before continuing their path.

There was such a gorgeous scene set up right outside the office window, a pro the male CEO had liked. It almost made him feel as if he had the whole view over a chunk of the city. Conquering. However, as time went by- it was nothing but just a passing routine of his day. Despite the great view the city offered, there was nothing else beautiful than the staggering moans inside the closed-off grand office.

“Fuck! Max...” The shrill escaped her throat in a quivering line as her legs tingled from the thrusting of his hips and the piercing of his fingers into her thigh. The combination that he always liked to mix-and-match would always get her to jump in shock. His eyes shot up, the sight of her head thrown back, hairs angled up in peculiar angles from the excessive rubbing against the wooden table had only caused him to double the filthy thought that had already tinted his mind.

Not to forget her fingers weaving through her locks as if to grip herself into reality when he had snapped his hips. She had already tried several objects that were available on the desk to hold her steady. Except, most of them had been thrown onto the ground, either from her pushing it off the surface, or it was during the commencement of the meeting. Y/N’s lips were gaped open, a relief sigh escaping her lips once his fingers cladded around her throat as if she wore a choker.

“Don’t fucking call me Max.” He growled out, sending shivering vibrations into the warmth between her legs. Despite the enticing sensation on his pelvis slapping into her, Y/N couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his infamous attitude. The attitude that claimed of his whiny, brat-like tone. There had been flying rumours behind his back, the words on a creaking wagon with every step he took. They claimed that behind the fake grinning facade of a mask he wore, he was only a smug man. And Y/N, well... she could confirm as their inconsistent, abrupt meetings had proven more evidence than she would need. It was never like that at the start.

In the beginning, the two could barely stand in each other’s peripheral, leading to a very immense, awkward distance between the two CEOs of the dominating companies of the market. Even for other business-related people in the same room as them could see the string that wrapped around their heads did not bend or fold, for it kept a constant distance between the two. As if something would’ve gone off if they had opposed the rules. Then, everything had flipped around. Y/N could barely remember how, but it was something on the lines of alcohols, and running into each other at midnight. Pushing their secret meetings down a hole, they had tried their absolute best to keep their relationship a secret. Although, that was a challenge for the two when they found a narrow spot in the janitor’s room during a gala. She didn’t know how she had managed to drag Maxwell into that one.

“Oh! Fuck,” Y/N moaned out when she felt his other hand crept up her thighs to draw circles on her clit, suddenly pressing the bundle of nerves without a warning. “Right there!” With her hand over his circling ones, she gazed deeply into his eyes, even though there had been a few droplets of tears blurring her sight that were ready to be set free in a blink. “I’m close.”

He nodded, chest heaving at the most strenuous activity he had done for the day. Maxwell watched her unoccupied hands run across his mess of a table, her grip only managing to grasp onto the edge of the freezing wooden table. He let out a chuckle, “Yeah? Fucking come for me. Yeah, just like that... fuck, on my dick, yeah.”

Glazing the sheet of protection was the glistening liquid that oozed out of the woman and onto the man. With eyes rolled to the back of her heads, her orbs settled onto the figure who beamed at his shaft in fascination, “Fuck, look at that,” Maxwell sniggered, his fingers wrapping around his still erected cock. A staggering sigh caressed into the air, his fingers cladded with her juices. Their eyes met, unseen yet shuddering shivers of electricity clambered down their spine, Maxwell quirked his eyebrows at her perched up elbows. “Lay down, baby, I’m not done yet.”

“Are you going to the gala?” Y/N inquired as she sauntered across the office for her clothing, skin still bare and exposed to the air that was now frigid. There was not even a second of coldness when she was thrown onto the table with Maxwell inside her. All the warmth the two had generated together had evaporated in thin air. The male CEO had already yanked up his pants, the trousers that had been coiled to rest around his ankles during the strenuous activity were now buttoned up once again. His eyes lingered on her naked figure, orbs taking in the glowing sight. The warm rays of the afternoon smeared along the canvas of her.

Maxwell sniggered, head shaking in amusement, “I just made you come three times, and the first thing you ask me is if I’m going to the gala?” His fingers slipped the leather belt that sat on the corner of his wooden table into the slits. Arms resting onto the cushion of his chair, he gazed upon the sinful sight. The thoughts that had sparked the meeting swerved into his head.

“Well? Are you?” Y/N quirked her eyebrows, finally clipping on her bra. The nearly shredded looking dress in her grasp, looking as helpless as it could be. The results of hasty hands.

“I’d rather stay at home, and get ruined there.” Y/N let out a chuckle, her arms slipping into the sleeves. While her body had now been covered by the previous dress that had been yanked off of her (nearly ripped into two fabrics by Maxwell’s force), Maxwell didn’t bother to button up his dress shirt. The male CEO had poured himself whiskey in the rock glass, tongue already coated by the day’s delicacies.

“I’m going, dragged once again to these stupid meetups. Always end up talking about what we’re going to eat for breakfast or shit.” Despite her mumbling the last sentence under her breath, Maxwell had heard it clearly. Amused, he chuckled.

“Who’re you going with?”

“Not sure yet. Heard that Michael might be asking me.” With that, Maxwell’s smile was wiped off clean from his face. The crescent frown he wore had not matched the slightly curling of Y/N’s lips.

“Michael? Michael from Kingsley Steel?” If his mood had not declined down enough, the nod from the woman had been the reason it passed the horizontal line of zero.

Creasing down her folding dress that seemed to find comfort in brushing against each other like an accordion, Y/N swiftly swept her foot inside her heels, “If you’re ever need of a gal, I’m sure I can hand a list of those who could tolerate you, Maxie. Not promising there would be a name!”

“Don’t call me that!” The male CEO shot up from his chair, the glass still in his hand.

Giggling while she sauntered towards the door, she threw a glance over her shoulder, waving at the man, “Thank you for the delighting meeting, once again, Maxie.”

Maxwell huffed, planting himself back into the warm seat, his palm running to rub his face. This was the situation he got stuck in. How does he flee from it?

Gold engulfed the room. Well, that was all he could see with his limited peripheral. Obnoxious sparkle and twinkles of the warm glow from the light bulbs were angled to bounce off the draping gems. Maxwell sneered, although his expression was covered when he took a sip of the champagne. If he had to breathe one more second in the room, he would throw himself out of the window. Or, if he had been slightly daring with alcohol in his system, he would just throw himself onto the tall tower of gingerly arranged champagne glasses. There had been too many- countless parties thrown at the same party hall, it was starting to get onto his nerves. Maxwell was about to lose it. There had been good memories and without a doubt, bad, but all the man wanted to do was just ram a wrecking ball.

It was quite rare to see the owner of the Chimtech Consortium alone, lingering in a pack of one. Especially without a date. No one to accompany him. Maxwell sometimes liked it that way. Sure, it could’ve started some burning rumours, but the man has had enough of the business people who went on and on about this and that. The recent pair he had chatted with had gone on and on about their branch they were opening down south. Maxwell was so close to smashing his cup against their heads.

In the midst of judging people with scurrying, hawk-eyes, Maxwell was pulled to a screeching halt. A sight that caused his blood vessels to pump in a furious speed. The pace sent rapid electric currents to zap around the muscles of his fingers. When he realized that he had been suffocating the neck of the glass, he let out an exasperated huff. He didn’t bother the inconvenient place he had kept the glass, knowing someone who was paid to do the job would clean so.

A large grin was plastered on Y/N’s lips, almost as if it was wipe-less. Maxwell sniggered, eyes nearly rolling at the sight of the fake facade she was performing. There had never been a moment a single muscle on her lips faltered. Her cheeks must fucking hurt. He couldn’t help but find narrating her thoughts to be amusing. Although he liked jabbing at the mask she paraded around under the grand chandelier, there had been something more infuriating. The arm that subtly rested behind her back. Oh, how bad he wanted to smash his fists on that brunet- Michael. There had been so many things parallel between the two male. Michael was young. Maxwell couldn’t deny that he was ageing, more prominently.

There had been other points he could consider, but that would only make Michael look less than what he was. Indeed, Maxwell had just snipped his train of thought before the list could even continue. The CEO knew he had everything over Michael. Like the success of the passed-down company was a starter, although, the passed-down part had sounded a bit less... threatening. Even the name ‘Michael’ sounded so bitter, like an overcooked line of meat on a steak. Maxwell reminded himself to make sure there were no Michaels running around his office. It would only bring up memories he didn’t want to remember.

Maxwell pondered if she could feel his eyes on her. Usually, she would’ve noticed. Their discreet eyes meeting across the whole room could never be hindered. The only reason being whatever they participated behind the walls could not just be dusted over with a layer of padded dirt. Unfortunately for him, Y/N hadn’t bothered to pull away from the conversation.

Maxwell barely had time to process the breeze swerving beside his body. Maybe it had been the disconnection between his brain and the muscles of his legs because he was already midway approaching the woman. He didn’t bother to stop, “Mr Harris! It’s so great to see you here, Michael, Y/N.”

The smile he had claimed to be wipe-less vanished from her face. Just a stoic expression remained. Even though the coverage, Maxwell knew there were a lot more going on behind the mask she yanked up. It could be endless- breaking the one rule (the only Maxwell had decided to prioritize and bothered to remember) they had or to why he had interrupted a well-flowing conversation, “Maxwell, I did not expect you to be here, with you know, your new launch and all.”

Feigning a burst of humoured laughter, Maxwell swatted his hands, “There’s always time for partying.” The eldest man of the four cackled, lungs nearly squeezed out of his ancient chest. The only reaction from the group aside Michael’s pathetic, much more, died-down laugh.

“There always is, you must enjoy your youth, or else you’ll end up like an old clump, like me.” Michael shook his head, a genuine smile plastered on his face.

“You’re not old, Mr Harris.”

“Anybody who is called with a ‘Mr’ behind their name is considered old, Michael.” Y/N chuckled.

A second of silence seeped through the bodies, slithering up their spines as they soon lost themselves in the body of water they call thoughts. Something that shouldn’t ever happen. While Michael ran his fingers on the rim of his glass, Maxwell could practically hear the train of thoughts in his mind. The imagination of the boy’s fingers running on the bare body of the woman who remained at the peculiar shape of figures played in his tainted head. Maxwell had seen and he had drum his fingers on every inch of Y/N’s skin. Michael would not be able to do that... or see it. Michael was just a boy. Maxwell was a man.

The off-toned moaning in his head echoed of Michael’s name. It would never happen. Plus, it wasn’t how she would moan. Maxwell could feel his eyes roll at the teenager’s thoughts (Michael was in his mid-twenties, something Maxwell did not care to acknowledge). Y/N’s and Maxwell’s eyes met, her furrowed eyebrows jabbed at him. They had never been this close in the public, always keeping a safe distance. Now, it felt as if it was only her who had remembered the ground rules. What was he trying to do?

“Uhm, I’ve got to go.” Neck zapping in a fluid movement, almost as if possessed, Michael’s body swiftly turned away from the group. The warmth of his arm around her waist leaving a spot of a cold kiss.

Y/N pulled away from her cup, “Where are you going?” She had been too late. Michael had already swum through the crowds of known figures who had hefty-weighed price tags. Red crept up her neck. Y/N wasn’t sure if it was from anger or embarrassment. Even though she could not see those who were ogling their eyes for the next upcoming rumours of the woman who had been left by her date, she knew something would be the talk of the next day. And that frustrated her.

“Well, that leaves you with me, baby girl.” With a nod at the astounded Mr Harris, Maxwell’s fingers clasped around Y/N’s wrist. Mouth gaped open, she could see the blurred out walls of shocked guests. Her leg was moving, feet shuffling against the red carpet, but it felt as if the scenery around her was the one to shift. The only thing her eyes had focused on was the back of Maxwell’s creaseless suit and his sleeked back hair. Soon, she was met with the dark canvas of twinkling stars, overlapped by flashing of cameras. It was no longer ‘whatever happens in private- stays in private.’

#maxwell lord #maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord oneshot #maxwell lord imagine #maxwell lord oneshots #maxwell lord imagines #maxwell lord fanfic #maxwell lord fanfiction #maxwell lord ff #wonder woman 1984 #wonder woman 1984 oneshot #pedro pascal #maxwell lord smut

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hockeylvr59 · 4 years

Text

Life Changes Part 11 || Paul Bissonnette

Summary: It’s crazy how quickly your life can change...one minute you’re a struggling personal injury lawyer and the next you’re working for one of the hottest sports podcasts to supplement your income. A new job and the end of a long-term relationship was just the beginning for Leigh Thompson when it comes to life changes. Thankfully she has the one and only Paul Bissonnette at her side to help her handle them all.

Author's Note: Sappiness, sappiness, and more sappiness. I’m not sure what else you expected from a 31-week pregnant woman and a man who is secretly head over heels.

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no Warnings: cursing

Word Count: 2,900 (Series Total: 30,199)

~~~~

In my mind, there was absolutely zero reason why I needed to be dragged to the Jersey shore when it was 80 degrees outside and I was 31 weeks pregnant. The guys had all disagreed though and refused to let me skip out on the Pink Whitney Launch Party. Still, I was the last to arrive having chosen to drive while everyone else flew in earlier in the day. Dropping my weekend bag in the bedroom where Paul’s bag was, I plopped down onto the bed, already ready to sleep even though it wasn’t even dinner time yet. I was now at the stage of pregnancy where I was hardly sleeping because I couldn’t get comfortable and because my daughter was shifting onto my bladder every time I did manage to get comfortable. I was exhausted and cranky and everyone else would just have to deal with it because they weren’t the ones who had grown to the size of a whale.

Just as I had laid down though, my phone buzzed, Paul’s message reading that I should come up to the rooftop deck when I arrived because that was where all of them were. As much as I didn’t want to, I knew that I would never hear the end of it if I didn’t so after struggling to hoist myself off of the bed, I waddled up the stairs hoping to say hi and then return back inside where at least there was air conditioning. Upon reaching the roof, my eyes went wide from shock. Pink balloons were tied around the railings and a stack of presents was on the picnic table.

“What in the world?” I found myself mumbling as a cheer took over the group at the sight of me.

“It’s a baby shower.” Grinnell voiced. “Well sorta.” Immediately my eyes filled with tears at the fact that they had even thought to put anything together for me.

“Don’t cry.” Paul murmured, appearing beside me, his hand falling to my lower back as he leaned down to kiss the top of my head. “It’s just a little something. No big deal.” He insisted. He guided me to sit in one of the more comfortable chairs, quickly handing me a bottle of water. As the stack of presents was moved to the ground beside me, I could feel Paul’s eyes on my body. The weight of his gaze made me uncomfortable because the last thing I needed was more people taking note of how large I was.

My focus was shifted when a present was set on top of my bump by Whit and everyone settled back into chairs to watch me open them. By the end of my work baby shower, it was clear that my little girl was going to be decked out in spittin chiclets merchandise. The guys had gifted me everything from onesies to hats to matching pink denim jackets for the pink whitney girls. Additionally, there was a stack of children’s books and a plush hockey stick along with a few other toys. It was all so incredibly sweet and I felt so loved, even if I was still annoyed at them as sweat gathered along every crease of my skin. Just when I thought we were done, Paul handed me one more present and I opened it to find the softest stuffed rabbit.

“A bunny for dust bunny.” I breathed, tearing up once more. “Thank you,” I added, directing the comment at all of the guys though my eyes stayed locked on Paul’s. Leaning down, he moved to pull me into a hug and as he stood back up his hand rested against the side of my bump for just a moment. Almost immediately though, a sharp kick resounded from inside me, directed right at Paul’s hand and his eyes went wide. His hand didn’t move right away and a second and then third kick quickly followed the first.

“That’s…” Paul said, his voice suddenly tight.

“Okay, little one that’s enough,” I replied, my hand falling to my stomach right beside Paul’s. “I know you just wanted to say hi but that’s mama you’re beating up in there.” Though Paul pulled his hand back, a look of shock remained on his face.

“Is that the first time you’ve felt a baby kick?” I asked him, reaching my hand out for him to pull me to my feet because I had been sitting too long and needed to stretch. He nodded, still at a loss for words, and I smiled drawing his hand back to my stomach to see if it would make dust bunny kick again. It was clear she sensed the new touch because she once again responded immediately, her tiny feet shifting inside of me.

“Fuck.” Paul cursed, his eyes wet by the time he finally pulled his hand away. Seeing his reaction to her movements was a moment I doubted I’d forget any time soon but those emotions were quickly quashed by the feeling of the sun beating down on me.

“Alright...it’s time for me to go back inside. It’s too darn hot out here.” I explained. “And I don’t want to hear a word about it. When you guys are heavily pregnant during the summer, then you can throw around chirps.

______

Propped up in bed later that night, I watched as Paul lay with his head on my thigh, talking to and pressing the occasional kiss to my bump. It was so obvious that he was going to be completely wrapped around her finger once she was born if he wasn’t already and for the first time in weeks I felt an unknown tension slip out of my body.

“You’re incredible you know…” Paul whispered, lifting his head just a bit to look up at me. When my eyebrow quirked in response, Paul leaned up a little more. “I mean you’re growing another person inside of you right now. You’re providing her protection and food and oxygen and soon she’ll become her own little entity. It’s incredible.”

“Women do this all of the time,” I replied, sure it was cool and pretty incredible but it was how nature worked so it wasn’t like I was doing anything that was any more special than any other mother.

“That may be true but it’s still incredible.” Paul insisted. “Only a bit longer until she’s here.” He mused, his fingers tracing over the area where my little girl had just kicked, having watched the way my belly flexed because of her tiny feet.

“Don’t remind me.” I sighed, biting gently at my lower lip.

“What’s wrong Leigh? I thought you’d be so ready for her to be here?” He asked, his hand sliding to lace his fingers with mine.

“I am ready for her to be here.” I insisted. “I’m just not ready for the whole labor thing.”

Paul’s face went pensive, his fingers just tracing patterns against my own.

“I mean you’re going to have your mom there right?” He questioned causing me to let out an even bigger sigh.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “My mother is the queen of all worriers and I don’t know if having her there would help or just cause me more stress.” This wasn’t the first time I’d thought about this and time and time again I’d come to the same conclusion. “I guess I’m just going to be on my own.” Paul was silent for a minute, multiple emotions shifting across his face.

“Is there someone you’d want to have there?” He eventually inquired, his voice barely audible. Hints of a frown appeared on my face as what seemed impossible crossed my mind once more. It wasn’t something I’d ever ask, not after everything. “Leigh…” Paul trailed off. “Do you want me there when she’s born?” Weakly I nodded and Paul immediately sat up, pulling me against his chest as best he could.

“You make me feel calm,” I mumbled into his shoulder. “You make me feel like I can do anything.” My voice dropped significantly as I started crying into his shoulder, all of the overwhelming thoughts bubbling over the edge. “I can’t imagine doing it without you.” With his lips pressed against my temple and his hand rubbing up and down my back, eventually, I regained control of my emotions.

“I’ll make some calls in the morning okay.” He promised. “I’ll do everything in my power to be there.” With what felt like an elephant-sized weight lifted off of my shoulders I let Paul shift the two of us into our usual sleeping position, one of his knees pressed between mine as his hand rested against my stomach and his body spooned behind me providing a welcome support to my aching back.

______

When I woke, the sun was peeking through the bedroom curtains. Reaching for my phone I discovered that it was nearly 8am. Needing to pee, I slipped out from under Paul’s arm and moved to the bathroom. This was the first time in over a month I had slept through the night and it didn’t take a genius to figure out just why that was.

Slowly making my way downstairs, I found Whit sitting at the counter with a mug full of coffee in front of him.

“Want some breakfast?” I whispered planning on making up a few eggs for myself because I hadn’t had my multiple middle of the night snacks and I was starving. With the launch party scheduled from 12-4pm, I knew everyone would need to get moving sooner rather than later. A large breakfast for everyone was soon made up, and after eating, I made my way back upstairs to shower and get ready while the guys cleaned up the kitchen.

I’d slipped into my swimsuit before throwing on a maxi dress. Not long after my hair was straightened and I’d put on just some light makeup, certain that anything more would just melt off my face from the sun. However, there was still one task I needed to take care of and it happened to be the most difficult.

Twenty minutes later, I was precariously perched on the edge of the tub which contained an inch or so of water when Paul knocked on the door.

“The guys are ready to go.” He called out through the wood.

“I need a few more minutes.” I declared, my voice exasperated as I attempted to lean forward to drag the razor along the skin of my legs. After a moment the door gave way and Paul stepped into the small bathroom.

“What are you…?” He trailed off before quickly shaking his head.

“Don’t look at me like that okay,” I grumbled. “This is not easy with little miss in the way,” I complained. Another slow pass of the razor up my leg almost sent me tumbling into the tub.

“Give it here,” Paul demanded.

“I am quite capable.” I insisted, my stubbornness showing.

“Leigh just give me the damn razor before you hurt yourself,” Paul repeated, his large frame moving to sit on the lid of the toilet seat.

“You don’t even know what you’re doing.” I continued, struggling once more to reach my ankles. “I’d rather not have cuts everywhere.”

Paul ultimately won this battle, and soon I was sitting on the toilet seat while Paul balanced on the edge of the tub, his hands gently holding each of my legs in turn as he slowly and carefully pulled the razor blades along my skin. It was such an intimate action that I struggled not to shiver under his touch. When he was done, he dried my legs off before pulling me to my feet, and after a moment, my sandals were dropped in front of me so all I had to do was slide into them.

“Now are you ready?” He murmured softly, his gaze soft but teasing.

“I mean I guess so.” I sighed although today was even hotter than yesterday had been and I was not looking forward to melting under the sun. The guys complained about how long I had taken as I walked into the living room and after flipping them off I grabbed the beach bag I had packed before waddling my way out to the van New Amsterdam had sent.

____

The Jersey shore was pumping and alcohol was flowing by the time we finally arrived at the beach. Representatives from New Amsterdam met us in a staff tent and it was explained that the guys and drink would be introduced and then they would just have to mingle, chat and take pictures with fans who were trying the drink for the first time. While they did the official things, I sat in a shaded tent trying to keep my water intake up. Soon though, the guys returned and urged me to come out and socialize with people because apparently, people wanted to talk to me too. I wasn’t sure how much of that I was buying but complaining hadn’t seemed to be doing me much good so I went along with things, walking around the beach to talk to people.

Soon, the guys were pulled into a beach volleyball game. With Paul having tossed his shirt off into the sand at some point, I was met with an eyeful that sent my body temperature spiking even higher. Needing to cool down, I dumped my things somewhere safe and made my way down into the ocean, letting the cool water lap at my skin as it helped make the heat a little less unbearable.

The heat was back full force though as soon as I climbed out of the ocean and slipped back into my dress and shoes. Running back into Paul I was pulled into the conversation he was having with a group around him and soon I found myself leaning against his chest, his arms wrapped lightly around my waist. As the conversation continued, I closed my eyes and just tried to relax, feeling fatigued and overwhelmingly hot.

“Leigh?” Paul’s voice filtered through to my ears and I hummed in response. “I called your name multiple times and you didn’t respond...are you okay?” He questioned.

“Tired. Headache. Hot.” I mumbled and immediately Paul excused us from the group of fans surrounding us. I was led into a tent and Paul disappeared but when he returned I found myself being helped back into the same van as earlier. “Hmm?” I questioned, full thoughts not really forming in my brain right now.

“Taking you back to the house before you pass out from heat exhaustion,” Paul explained and it wasn’t much longer before he was leading me into the beach house, his hands providing additional balance support as I moved into our bedroom. Already the air conditioning felt wonderful and the feeling of softness along my entire body took the edge off of the achiness that lingered everywhere.

I must have fallen asleep because the sun was no longer pouring through the window when I next opened my eyes. A bottle of water and some strawberries were sitting on the bedside table. I was finishing off the bowl when Paul appeared in the doorway, concern etched into his expression.

“Feeling better?” He asked.

“Yeah. Thanks.” I replied, rubbing my hand gently over my bump and smiling when I felt my little girl shift in response.

“Why didn’t you speak up sooner?” He wondered as he moved to sit beside me.

“I told you guys for weeks that it wasn’t a good idea and no one listened to me,” I mumbled. Immediately concern shifted to guilt and Paul sighed, scraping his nails over the back of his neck.

“I should have listened.” He admitted. “I’m sorry. I let my desire to see you in person drown out your wants and needs.” Shrugging, I sent him a soft smile to let him know that all was forgiven. “So I have some good news for you.” He declared, shifting topics. “The coyotes agreed to give me two weeks off. So I was thinking I’d come out a week before your due date and stay the full two weeks so hopefully, I can help you out for at least a few days once she arrives.”

The knowledge that he was willing to fly across the country to be there to support me and this little girl through labor and the first little bit after her arrival meant the world and I couldn’t control the tears pouring down my cheeks. As quickly as they fell, Paul’s thumbs were wiping them away. “I take it that works for you…” He surmised. “At least I’m hoping these are happy tears. Sometimes I can’t tell anymore with the way you start crying at the drop of a hat.” He teased.

Though he teased about my emotions going haywire, he never complained and took whatever I threw at him, letting anything negative roll right off of his back. I owed him more thank yous than I could ever say and shifting my body, I wrapped my arms around him, hugging him tightly as my little girl squirmed inside of me.

Knowing that he would be by my side made the prospect of labor a little less scary and now I was even more ready to have my little girl in my arms.

#paul bissonnette #paul bissonnette imagine #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #arizona coyotes #arizona coyotes imagine #former player #former player imagine #014.1

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angelicarreaga · 6 years

Note

a concept!you're pregnant with no baby daddy but that doesnt stop zion form having a big ass crush on you. it gets worse for him when you throw a baby shower at the pm house cuz they have the most space and he sees you literally glowing in your maxi dress with a lil flower crown on omg

“Dude, I really fucking like her,” Zion said, covering his eyes with his hands as his head fell back against the back of the couch, Nick laughing beside him, poking fun at how whipped he was for you.

“You don’t care that she’s about to be a mom?” Nick asked, wanting his best friend to realize that a lot of responsibility came with that.

“Not at all,” he shrugged, “I’ve been into her for what feels like forever, and the thought of a small version of her is adorable honestly.”

“Yeah her kid is gonna be damn cute,” Nick agreed, remembering how he was honestly excited when you confessed to him that you were pregnant. You had been scared, but the boys got you through the initial fear, and were still there for you every step of the way.

As if on cue, Zion’s phone began ringing and your contact appeared, bringing an instant smile onto his face as he answered, hoping his cheesy grin wasn’t audible on the other end.

“Hey Z, I have a question,” you proposed.

“Anything,” he replied.

“I really want to throw a baby shower but my apartment is way too small,” you sighed, “I was wondering if you guys would do me a huge one and let me throw it at your place?”

Nick nodded enthusiastically, and Zion laughed before telling you he would be honored to throw your baby shower there.

You squealed excitedly and soon hung up, Zion letting out a sigh as he looked over at his best friend, who was almost smiling.

“You’ve got it bad bro,” Nick laughed, shaking his head as he stood up from the couch, “let’s get this place clean if we’re throwing a party.”

The boys didn’t let you do any of the work for the party. Despite your constant offering to plan the whole thing, buy the food, decorate, and whatever else needed to be done, they refused.

They took pride in planning it all and making it the best baby shower for you. Since you knew it was no use, you sat back and let them do their thing, kind of excited for the surprise. You knew it was happening, but you had no idea what it would consist of other than the people you invited.

Boys usually didn’t attend baby showers, but you couldn’t imagine not having your best friends there for something so huge in your life, considering they were there for you more than anyone else was, including your family.

You stood in front of the mirror as you got ready to meet the boys at their place, turning your body sideways as you ran your hands over your bump that was emphasized in the pink maxi dress you had put on.

“You’re gonna be the cutest,” you muttered to your stomach, smiling as you admired the bump in the mirror for a bit longer.

You secured the flower crown on your head that you got for this occasion, thinking it matched the outfit well. You had put on light makeup and got ready to go, not knowing what to expect.

When you rang the doorbell, the door immediately was flung open, Zion standing it front of you with the other boys piling in behind him.

“Happy baby shower!” they called out, moving away so you could walk in, and your eyes lit up as you scanned the room.

There were balloons, streamers, gifts, snacks, a huge cake, every baby shower decoration you could think of. There was a playlist quietly playing in the background, and you covered your mouth in surprise as you walked in, keeping your sandals on as you went through the house.

“Guys!” you shrieked, “you didn’t have to do this for me.”

“We wanted to,” Edwin smiled, pulling you into a hug, rocking back and forth.

“Look at this cake!” you exclaimed, pointing at it. It was huge, and decorated beautifully, you knew they must have paid someone a lot to make that for you.

“Go look in the watermelon,” Brandon told you, pointing to a watermelon that was on the table, part of the arrangement of snacks they had placed there.

“That sounds strange,” you chuckled, but obliged as you walked over to it, realizing the watermelon was hollow, and inside was a baby shaped carved cantaloupe, with grapes for eyes. The rest of the watermelon shell was filled with fruit.

“You put a melon baby in a watermelon carriage?” you asked, raising your eyebrow as you looked at your best friend, unable to contain your smile.

“We did, isn’t it cool?” Brandon asked.

“It’s amazing,” you agreed, “thank you guys.”

“We also planned a bunch of games!” Zion told you, clapping his hands together, “so get ready for that.”

“You guys really went all out,” you smiled.

“Our best friend and her baby deserve the best,” Nick shrugged.

“I love you guys,” you smiled, pulling them all into a hug.

The other guests slowly began arriving, greeting you with huge grins and excited squeals as they touched your belly, handing you gifts as they walked in which you placed with the ones the boys already had.

After you guys had played the first game of everyone attempting to guess how big your belly was with a piece of ribbon, you were standing by the snacks, talking to some of your girl friends.

Zion was across the room, watching you as you threw your head back laughing, looking down at your bump with a sparkle in your eyes he had never seen before. The way your dress hugged your figure and your bump perfectly made his heart soar, knowing that baby was going to have the best mother ever.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, he used to think “pregnancy glow” was a myth, but looking at you now, he knew it was real.

He didn’t even realize that you caught his eye, walking over to him after the conversation was over, pulling a dread lightly to catch his attention.

“Why were you staring?” you asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“What?” he asked.

“I saw you looking at me,” you laughed, pushing his shoulder lightly, “need something?”

“No, no,” he said, “I was just looking. You look really gorgeous.”

“Thanks, Z,” you blushed, looking down, feeling embarrassed to look him in the eyes.

“Look at these lil flowers,” he said, reaching for your flower crown and fiddling with the flowers that were secured on your head, telling you he loved them.

The party continued, and soon it was gift time. You felt sort of awkward sitting there opening a bunch of gifts that people had given you, but you made sure to tell each person how thankful and grateful you were for what they got you.

Edwin had of course given you way too many clothes, telling you that your baby was gonna be the most fashionable one out there.

Brandon had gotten cute stuffed animals, bath toys and towels and even a little bathtub.

Nick had gotten you the crib that you said you wanted but weren’t sure if you could afford.

Austin gave you a mobile for over the crib, some books and a “Diaper Genie”, which of course made you cackle at the name

The last one to open was Zion’s, and he had a huge arrangement of things for the baby. From toys, to onesies, to a photo album, he had gone all out. There was one box left from Zion, and you opened it to reveal a pair of tiny shoes.

The shoes were the same ones that you and Zion had bought matching pairs of together. You looked up at him, smiling widely as tears sprung to your eyes. Damn hormones.

Once you thanked everyone you went around to give hugs, and you stood with the boys, making sure to tell them how grateful you were for everything they do for you.

“I love the shoes, Z,” you smiled, “I mean I love the rest of the gift too, but the matching shoes are pretty damn cute.”

“I thought so too,” he grinned, tilting his head to the side slightly.

“You really didn’t have to do all this,” you said again, “I don’t deserve someone as amazing as you.”

“I would do anything for you, mama,” he smiled, feeling as though his heart was growing 5 sizes at the sight of you. He knew he was in love with you, and he promised himself he would confess it soon.

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furbyq · 5 years

Note

I got back into the sims 4 because you did, you're very influential. Do you have any cc recs? (you also make me wanna talk about my ocs but i'm not sure i'll do that)

asasjfsk anon that makes me so happy to hear! i love the sims 4 for what it is, a very goofy simulation with super clean graphics. it's nice to have a change of pace from ts2 occasionally. :D

this cc rec list got out of control so it’s going behind a cut. also i’m not going to pressure you or anything, but if you ever want to message me off anon i’d love to hear about your ocs in secret. :3

defaults:

are we electric skin by pyxis

kijiko's eyebrow overhaul

aveira 15 (the set i use. i also made a personal black recolor since the original didn’t have one,

sliders/presets:

luumia's height and hip slidersluumia's ear presets and various slidersobscurus's lip sliders

skins (non defaults):

simmandy's pao skin. i use this A LOT.

nature boy by pyxis

summer skeletons by pyxis

all of heihu's skins. they’re very subtle and nice and pair good with are we electric as a default.

skin tones/colors:

heartlines by pyxis

20 skintones by pyxis. includes some fun ones too, like purple.

peacemaker's the other side. some FANTASTIC dark skintones.

random skin details and masks:

various teeth by pyxis

fang teeth by pyxis

vampire teeth by pyxis

nosemasks, shadows, eyebags, etc by pyxis

more nosemasks by pyxis

even more nosemasks by pyxis

face scars by pyxis. much more subtle than ea's scars.

colorful sclera masks by pyxis

more sclera masks by pyxis

bluemoonsim's widows peak and simple hairlines (maxis match colors)

bluemoonsim's wispy hairline

kijiko's eyelashes AS skin details. you can’t use them with rings, but honestly fffffuck rings MORE EYELASHES *clapclap*

m body hair

f body hair

niche nonsense:

android skin overlay by pyxis

ts2 zombie skin overlay by pyxis

a small hidden secret i thought i'd include for anyone into horror or tasteful gore (dead dove do not eat)https://pralinesims.tumblr.com/palesecret

makeup:

sadderdaze lipstick by pyxis

screamingmustard (TSR)

grimcookies

imf's lucy eyeliner. i use this one damn eyeliner set A LOT.

eyebrows:

ht0

all of faaeish's eyebrows

hair:

tekri. i can’t recommend tekri more, they have so many hairs that are just. a very good midpoint between clay and alpha hairs.

simmandy vevesims. great hair for sim dudes, apparently they also exist

stephanine

grimcookies again, same link from makeup

kiarazurk. not going to link her site because it is the shadiest shit i've seen. here's a handful of direct, safe links to good hairs:https://simfileshare.net/download/1049078/https://simfileshare.net/download/1044873/https://simfileshare.net/download/1021973/https://simfileshare.net/download/1001774/https://simfileshare.net/download/961586/https://simfileshare.net/download/813021/https://simfileshare.net/download/573483/https://simfileshare.net/download/508363/https://simfileshare.net/download/273232/

clothing:

stephanine again, same link just recommending the clothes too

renorasims

shoes:

a good general shoe tag on TSR

accessories: bat wings by pyxis. may the sims community never outgrow these damn bat wings.

a good general glasses/sunglasses tag on TSR. ngl i hoard cc sunglasses.

general cc tags from create-a-sim cc creators:

aveira (good lipsticks and eyes). i couldn’t decide where to put them, so they go here in their own category apparently.

mods (must haves, in my opinion):

AllCheats, AlwaysTesting, AlwaysFullEditMode, BuildCam by TwistedMexi (free to download despite the patreon link)

i know it’s not a ton of shit but hopefully it’s a good starter pack! my game is actually not very cc heavy, the majority of my cc is currently hair. i also have almost no non-cas cc, so i have no real recs for that yet.

#replies #the sims 4 #Anonymous

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lunaschild2016 · 6 years

Text

Close To You - Part 1[Eric/Devi]

Rated: M

Title and inspiration from Close To You by Maxi Priest

Summary: Devi and Eric’s story continues, but this time we see things from Eric’s eyes. It was her belief in him that sparked them finally coming together, but where did it really start for Eric? The life of a childhood sweetheart, conspiracies, and the fate of the city all hung over his head. He didn’t need to be wondering how to get close to the tiny amity with fire in her eyes and a mouth to match. He didn’t need to worry and wonder about how he could find a way to just be close to her.

@kenzieam @pathybo @jaihardy @every-jai @ericdauntless @beautifulramblingbrains @bookgirlthings @jojuarez26 @oddsnendsfanfics @offroadinjandals @singingpeople @iammarylastar @irasancti @captstefanbrandt @clublulu333 @fuckthatfeeling @tigpooh67 @ex-bookjunky @jughead-wuz-here wuz-here @badassbaker @beanzjellly @beltz2016 @meganbee15 @affabletimelady @scorpio2009 @gylisaa @geekybeyondallreason @violetsonthelam @kyloswarstars @emmysrandomthoughts @kgurew @beltzboys2015-blog @slytherin-princess-25273 @whatwouldbuffydo666 @jaiboomer11 @holamor @wealwayskeepfighting @original46 @blakefc @xtheserpentx @artisthedgehog

She had an attitude I can't explain

You never know if you’re in flame

Tying me up with elastic words

I'm on a countdown till I get hurt

Her blood was hot she burned so bright

A neon sign there in the night

It's hard to say if I went too far

My heart still bares the scar

I just want to be close to you

And do all the things you want me to

I just want to be close to you (I just want to be close to you, baby)

And show you the way I feel

[Close To You; Maxi Priest]

Part 1

“What’s wrong with her?” I ask for what feels like the hundredth time since I stepped foot into the shit hole that Dauntless calls a clinic.

Once again I watch the nurses flutter around the girl on the bed, clucking like hens and completely ignoring me.

I run a hand through my hair and restrain myself from punching something or someone in frustration but I can’t completely restrain my impatience at being ignored.

That’s not something I’m willing to stand for, initiate status or not.

“Will someone tell me what the fuck is wrong with her!” I move up to stand right in front of one of the nurses that have stepped away from the bed and loom over her.

She’s wearing blue scrubs, meaning she’s from Erudite and most likely the one person in this place that’s actually fully qualified to have the title I see on her little badge clipped to her uniform.

“Eric Coulter, right?” She eyes me like a hawk and I feel irritation coursing through me. For a second, I also wonder if she’s one of Jeanine’s plants in Dauntless. That’s dismissed when she gives a strained smile. “You look a bit like your brother. I work with him from time to time. He mentioned your coming here.”

I narrow my eyes, not returning her smile and look past her to the girl still laying on the bed, motioning with my hand in her direction. “What’s her status?”

Candice, the name indicated on her badge, bristles at being ignored but answers me through thinned lips. “I have to call someone in to evaluate her, but we are drawing blood for tests and monitoring her until then.”

I look back at her and hesitate, wondering why the hell I’m getting involved and why I didn’t just leave the Amity girl in her dorm bed for someone else to deal with.

“You said you work with, Dr. Coulter?” I asked with appraising eyes, watching her closely.

“I do.”

“Then you won’t mind working with him again now, will you?”

I have no real power here in Dauntless. Not yet anyway. If I was making this same order to someone wearing black, I’m sure I would be sent away with a sharp reprimand no matter how intimidating I know I can be.

But Candice is Erudite and I have power there. My name is known. If Candice is a plant of Jeanine’s she’ll do as I say but report it back to her. If she isn’t, she’ll still do as I say.

Because, as much as I might despise it and have wanted to leave all that shit behind, I rank higher than her in their hierarchy. No matter if I wear black now, to them, I will always have true ‘blue blood’ running through my veins.

As expected she gives me a curt nod before moving off hurriedly. The other nurse wearing black gives me a look before following, and then it’s just me and the girl on the bed.

My fists clench to the sides of my body as I scowl down at her.

I hate that she’s made me care enough to step in and use my name for something when I promised I would get leadership on my own, no matter how much Jeanine tried to throw her weight around.

I hate that I’m thinking about anything or anyone else besides what I came here to do and who I’m doing it for.

Jules.

The thought of her has tightness in my chest that’s growing tighter the longer I look at this stupid tiny girl laying in the bed.

She’s not Jules. There’s no doubt about that.

Jules is tall and graceful with a smile that can infect even the snootiest of Erudite.

Jules who prefers dresses and ridiculous hats. I never have been able to figure out how she gets them all, and most of them are so ridiculous in order to get a rise out of me.

Jules who has always been able to make me laugh even when I’m in the worst fucking mood and even my brother can’t stand to be around me.

Jules who can sweetly cut a person to pieces and still leave them wondering if she was complimenting them or telling them to fuck off.

Jules, the best person I have ever known and the one I really want to save.

When I look at the amity girl, that’s who I see.

Jules is who I should be with. I should be there helping her and holding her hand or trying to make her laugh, but I’m not and it pisses me off.

Because coming to Dauntless was more important than the girl I love.

“You better not die,” I mutter angrily while glaring at the girl on the bed.

The whispered angry words won’t reach the real target, who I’m really saying them to. But I realize with some surprise that I also do mean them for the girl laying on the bed in front of me.

I turn on my heel and rush out of the clinic as fast as I will allow myself to be seen rushing anywhere. I make it to the training room corridor where control bursts away from me and I sprint into the room looking for something, anything, to make the tightness in my chest go away.

*****************************************************************************************

My brother is not who I expected to see standing behind the door of the office I was summoned to just before dinner but I can’t say the dread I had been feeling gets any better when I do see him.

If anything, it actually gets worse.

He’s standing at the end of a long conference table, hunched over papers and a tablet as I close the door quietly behind me. His presence makes me nervous as hell and I feel slightly sick to my stomach.

All I can think is something’s happened with Jules.

Elijah looks up at the sound of the door clicking shut and his eyes narrow as they take me in. I know he’s doing a snap evaluation, trying to determine a million things in the space of seconds so I won’t get upset about him fussing over me.

Even with all the recent strain on our relationship, Elijah remains the person I know I can count on most to truly care about me and how I’m doing. Even when I do my damndest to drive him and his affection away.

“Jules?” I ask, stepping forward and forgoing all greetings.

Elijah straightens and comes forward as well. I watch him carefully.

I never fuss over him the way he always did over me, like a parent rather than a brother, but I have always tried to watch out for him too. I see the tiredness etched into the way he holds himself and his face. Eyes so similar to mine that have never been able to mask his emotions from showing the way I do.

He smiles tiredly at me and motions with his hands as he speaks. “Jules is doing fine. She told me to tell you that you better be ‘kicking ass and taking names’.” He chuckles and runs a hand through his hair. “She also says hello and that we miss you.”

I sag a little in relief and nod while clearing my throat that has become thick with emotion. “Tell her I say, same and you bet your ass I am.” He gives me a smile and nod at my response and motions to a chair to sit. I do while throwing out my next question. “So, why am I here?”

“Well, given that you broke protocol and summoned me here, I thought you might want to know what’s going on with the girl, Devanna, I believe is her name,”

“Devi,” I correct him gruffly then frown at myself for caring enough to make the correction. Eli doesn’t say anything, just lifts an eyebrow and looks at his paper before correcting his notes.

“Devi.” He says with a nod.

“So what’s wrong with her? It’s been a day since I took her to the clinic, so it isn’t her just having a cold or something simple like that.”

The first day she had been smiling with enerving energy that just seemed to radiate from her. I almost thought she was going to explode from it there on the train. Even when she was panting and huffing from the climb and run to get on.

As the day wore on the smile faded and she withdrew. Some of the other initiates seemed to thrive on putting her down for anything and everything. Her old faction, her height, her accent...anything really.

Mostly this was other girls. The guys just dismissed or ignored her. Like I have been trying to do.

It was clear after the first night that something was going on with her but no one knew what. I wrote her off by the time we were going to sleep that first night. I just didn’t see her making it. Here we are at the end of the week and I don’t see that changing. I’m pretty sure that’s what my brother is going to tell me, that she’s done.

Once again, I’m cursing myself for not just letting it go and risking myself as I did. Especially now that I know it had been for nothing, because she’s gone anyways.

Then I remember why I ignored all logic and reason. I remember how I felt that night and what prompted me to take her. How small she was in my arms as I carried her through halls, trying not to race along them but feeling a sense of urgency I didn’t really understand.

She was moaning, almost deliriously, but not responding to anyone that was yelling at her to shut up in the dorm that night.

I laid there not saying anything to the others. though I wanted to so badly. To tell them all to leave her the hell alone. Then she went silent and I waited for something, some other sign from her that she was going to be okay.

The others around us were going to sleep, no problem, but I couldn’t. Her silence was deafening to me. I could have left her there and had tried to talk myself into doing just that. Until something made me go check on her and before I even got close I could feel the heat coming off her.

She was whispering something, so faint I could barely hear her until I crouched down beside her. Her eyes opened and they were glazed, she winced away from me and whimpered pitifully but she kept muttering. I leaned in even further and she reached out to grip my arm, and I could finally hear the broken pleading in Spanish.

“Por favor, no ... por favor ... Tuve que irme, abuela. Tuve que ... por favor no me odies.”

I don’t know what it was about her words. Her pleading for her grandmother to not hate her. To understand she had to leave. They weren’t some big revelation, I’m sure all of us felt that to some degree. Worried we are leaving someone behind that will be hurt or hate us for the choice.

It wasn’t so much the words themselves but the way she said them. How strong two of them were, how firm and how much fire was in them as she whispered them out over and over again.

Had to.

As if her life was in jeopardy if she didn’t go. If she didn’t follow her heart.

That was something Jules would do. She followed her heart and come hell or high water she would see it through. No matter the risk.

Did Devi know how much she was putting her life at risk just by choosing Dauntless? Did she even think about how she was nothing like a Dauntless should be in all the physical ways that matter?

But I was thinking like an Erudite with those questions. A Dauntless, a true Dauntless, wouldn’t care about any of that. They would just know there was no other choice. Just like Devi did.

Something inside me broke open for her right then and she wedged herself into a spot that I have hardened to all but two people in my life. Now I don’t know how to make that go away. Tightness starts to creep up on me again, my chest itches and I reach up to rub the spot but jerk my hand back down and look at Eli.

“Some of the others are saying she has the plague or something.”

Asinine.

I know better, and from his look at me, he knows I know better. His lips quirk in amusement and he shakes his head.

“We both know better than that. She is sick but it isn’t terminal…” He pauses and winces before his eyes filled with pain and he lets out a shaky breath then continues while I eye him and carefully mask my own pain “...but it won’t be pleasant for her in the least.”

I nod slowly. “So what is it?”

“Her body is expelling poison and it’s anything but painless.”

“Poison?” I almost shout the question and interrupt him.

Eli holds a hand up to me, a calming motion. “Peace Serum, Eric. You’re aware that Amity regularly imbibes in it, but it seems that her case is extreme. We are talking about a lifetime of daily exposure at high levels. Her body doesn’t know how to function without it anymore.”

I scowl in disbelief wondering how that’s possible and who in their right minds would purposely do this to themselves. But he said a lifetime, so does that mean even when she was really young?

I wave that away mentally and with my hand as well. “So what does that mean? She can’t continue can she?”

Eli shrugs and sighs before dropping his pen and leaning back in his chair casually.

“That will be up to her ultimately, but she’s already waved away the normal method of treatment. I can’t say I blame her. That would have meant removal from training for at least a week if not more depending on how extreme the treatment needed to be. Leadership has already said if that was the case then she was out with no other options available. I was near when the nurse gave her the options and she automatically turned the treatment down, already guessing that it meant she wouldn’t be continuing treatment. She’s staying and will let it purge from her system as naturally as possible.”

“So she’s going to go through initiation while going in withdrawal?” I mutter and look at the table while trying to deny how much that disturbs me especially knowing what I do about how withdrawal patients are treated.

There aren’t many cases where someone gets addicted to substances like I know there was pre-war and the drugs that were common are all but nonexistent for us now. But there are cases where someone gets addicted on the ones we do have and there are even cases where someone synthesizes a substance and then gets hooked on it themselves.

When this happens, the person is isolated and then their system is purged with a cleansing drug. Tests are run to determine how their body is handling the purge and if anything is still off then they are treated appropriately. It can take weeks if not months to treat some of the severe cases my brother has told me about and that’s just from a biological standpoint. Even after he gets done with them they still have much more to look forward to psychologically.

I don’t know if I can spend another night watching her suffer like she has been the last few nights. Now knowing what I do, it’s just bound to get worse and I can’t fucking handle that. “Why give her the choice at all? Why not just send her back to Amity!”

I look up at him when he makes a grunt and I realize that I spoke that out loud. My frustration is coming through loud and clear.

He leans forward with a frown of disapproval on his face. “You know very well they’re going to send her straight to the factionless, not back to Amity. I know you might not care for…”

“I don’t!” I’m breathing hard and rubbing my chest while looking around wildly. “I can’t!”

Elijah’s beside me suddenly and I didn’t even realize he moved until I feel his hands guiding me until my head is between my legs and he is coaching me through my breathing.

When I feel like I’ve gotten ahold of myself, I take the glass of water he hands me and avoid looking at him as I drink it.

I feel like a fucking kid again. Like when I used to have these same kinds of episodes after repressing feelings for so long until they boiled out and over. Elijah always tells me that trying to go through life so emotionally cut off isn’t healthy and I know he’s headed towards another lecture of that kind.

“Are you going to gloat now and say I told you so?” I ask him sourly when I look at him again.

“Have I ever done that?” I can hear the hurt in his tone but don’t respond. If I do I’m just going to end up saying something else hurtful.

I always do.

For being a so-called fucking genius, according to my old faction, I’m useless when it comes to anything resembling social graces. I learned early on that honesty is not the best policy for me. Silence is.

“Eric,” He says softly and leans forward, his arms on his knees and head bowed, “It’s okay to care about people. To open yourself to caring for someone.”

I sneer at him as I scoff, unable to remain silent, hard as I might have tried. “Sure it is. ‘Cause that’s worked out so well for me in the past, hasn’t it, brother?”

He looks up and I see the pain radiating in his eyes. I know my anger and words are opening up a wound we’re still trying to heal between us. That’s kinda hard to do when I’ve refused to talk any more about it.

“I can’t apologize for the way we both feel, Eric and I won’t. You two love each deeply other and that’s never going to change. What you two have is still there and it will always be there. It’s also different then what she and I have, and that has always been the case too, but it doesn’t make what you two share any less powerful.”

I nod and look away, gripping the glass tightly between my hands as my jaw clenches together. “But that wasn’t enough for me to stay, was it? I love her so much I left her when she needed me most. It just proves what I’ve always thought.”

I shrug and look back at him, knowing his next question but also needing him to ask it. Needing to expel it from me just like the little amity is doing right now with her own poison. He’s right I need to talk about this shit. I haven’t been able to until now.

I need to get this all out of my system so I can go back to not feeling at all. Then maybe I can get rid of this new sensation for a girl that has no chance of sticking around.

“What’s that?” Eli prods me softly.

“That I’m not capable of loving anyone but myself. I don’t care who it hurts in the end, as long as I get what I want.”

Elijah rolls his chair closer to me, his blue eyes that are normally filled with warmth are burning with intensity.

“I want to listen to me and listen well. You are not our parents and you have never even come close to them. You could never allow yourself to be like them.”

I listen but I can’t believe the words. I’ve never been able to believe the words. No matter how many times my brother has tried to reassure me of this over the years since our parents all but abandoned us.

His features soften and he smiles at me. “Yeah, you have the habit of pushing all your feelings aside and acting like they don’t exist, but you can never get rid of them. Which is why things like earlier happen. Because, it’s never been that you don’t and can’t care or love, Eric. It’s that when you do, it’s all or nothing for you. Bone deep love is what Jules has always called it. You left, not because you don’t love Jules but because you know that nothing will ever take that love away from you. Not even being in another faction. You said those same words to me when you came to me that night and gave us your blessing. It was something I already knew, but it was also something you had to realize for yourself and one day you’re going to find someone that you love just as deeply but in the it’s meant to be.”

I jerk my head in a semblance of a nod, not bothering to reply how I’m feeling.

I’ve forgiven Eli for taking Jules from me, well, mostly forgiven him anyway. What he says is true, I did come to see that how I love her and how Eli does, they aren’t the same. It’s just that in my mind that doesn’t really matter.

It still hurt and that wasn’t something I cared to open myself to again. I loved her but it hadn’t been enough. End of story.

He pulls back and I breathe a little easier when I realize he’s dropping the subject. Eli leans back in his chair and clears his throat.

“How’s training going?”

“Fairly good, although there was a surprise when it came to finding out how many fears we all have.”

Eli frowns at me. “Did your amount change?”

I shake my head with a scowl and look off. “No, it’s still nine. Which should have been the lowest fucking number among the group.”

“I take it someone is lower?.”

“Yeah. Four of them. The asshole even changed his name to the number of his fears.” My scowl gets deeper when I think of the scrawny Abnegation that’s causing me more uncertainty than he should be. “He’s a concern. I’ve heard some leaders and trainers saying they’re impressed by him. Rankings haven’t been posted since training just got in full swing, but I think we’re neck and neck for first. I’m pretty sure I got him beat in physical, and I don’t foresee fights being a problem, but the scoring percentage for the other stages is a serious concern with his number of fears.”

Eli taps his chin thoughtfully. “That’s an extremely low number. What faction is he from?”

I know where my brother’s train of thought has gone and I can’t say I didn’t immediately think the same when I found out Tobias Eaton’s number of fears. In fact, I’ve been giving a lot of thought to it and what I can do to remove the threat it poses to me.

“Abnegation,” I remark dryly and see him wince.

“It’s the Eaton kid?”

“Yes.”

“Shit.” Eli curses with a grimace then looks at me worriedly. “I know what you’re thinking, Eric, but don’t do anything you’re going to have to live with the rest of your life. You know what they will do to him.”

I shoot up out of my chair and pace around the room. “It’s not like I have a choice here, Elijah. You know what’s expected of me. At some point, I’m going to be expected to have results for them.”

“That’s what they expect. But when have you ever done what those pricks in our faction expect of you?” Eli demands from me fiercely.

“You know why I even bothered to give their offer a second chance. Jules needs this, Elijah. This is how I save her. What does it matter if I turn over some fucking stiff that means nothing to me? Especially if it gets them off my back and me first?”

“Is that really how you want to get your position here? By taking out someone that might be stronger than you?”

I grit my teeth as out the cursed denial, and glare icily at him, giving him exactly the reaction he wants even though I know exactly what the hell he’s doing by throwing that out there.

I call it manipulation and he would say he’s being my own Jiminy fucking Cricket

“How do you think this is making Jules feel, knowing what they want in exchange for her life? Jules knows you as well as I do and I know in your mind you’re already justifying it, telling yourself that any exchange for her would be worth it but how far do you go down that road, Eric?”

The tightness starts again and I let out a growl, spinning away from him and towards a wall. I feel like punching someone and Eli is the only one in sight. “Don’t bring her name into this like some kind of weapon against me.”

I want to punch walls but know we’re already shouting and that will draw attention we can’t afford. We are risking so much already. I stop in the middle of carrying out my need to hit something in anger and just lean my hands against the wall and hang my head.

“I don’t have a lot of options here,” I whisper tiredly.

“No, not a lot, but you do have a few. Eric, we know they’re afraid of you taking the power they covet so much. There was a reason for this and maybe what we need to do is to show them why they were right in fearing you.”

I slowly turn towards him, my mind working double time as my eyes narrow. He waits patiently as I process this, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I’ll need help. Contacts that I know we can trust or that we can get leverage on to make sure they stay in line.”

“I’ve already started working on that. Jules too.”

I want to protest that, not wanting her involved but I know it would be pointless. They made me promise there would be no secrets and that I had to let them help in any way they could if I made this deal.

I gave a stiff nod and then looked at my watch. “I need to get going if I am going to get some dinner before lights out.”

He gives me a strained smile and nods but I see the hesitation. His internal debate and wondering if I will reject his show of affection or not. I step forward and put out a hand which he takes and grips tightly, his hand around my forearm while mine is around his. This is the form of a hug he came up with when I stopped wanting them years ago.

He smiles at me while we still hold firmly. Eli promises to make it for visiting day and that he should have contacts for me soon. We also share words of parting, mostly jokes that have been thrown around between the three of us of what I planned to do once I finally made it to Dauntless. They aren’t as carefree as they once were before our recent falling out, but it does hint that we can get there again given time.

When I go to leave he calls my name one last time and stands there looking serious and worried. “About the girl,”

“What about her?” I ask with a frown.

“I know it goes against what I was saying earlier about opening up and all,” He runs a hand through his hair with one hand and shoves the other in his pocket with the other. “But you need to stay away from her, for now.”

I let all expression fall away from my face and tilt my head. “Not that I see it being a problem for me at all, especially considering she isn’t going to last the week, but why? Does Jeanine know I called you in?”

He shakes his head while I can tell he is warring with wanting to admonish me about my callousness and wanting me to heed his warning for whatever reason. “No. Candice isn’t in Jeanine’s circle and wouldn’t want to be anyways. Something about a friend of hers that went missing or something. So Jeanine doesn’t know I was called in from her, but that doesn’t mean she might not find out from some other source. This girl, she might not actually mean anything to you, but Jeanine is crazy enough to grasp for anything that she can use to sink her claws in you even deeper.”

I feel bile rising up my throat at that but maintain my dead tone and a blank expression. “Like I said, it won’t be an issue.”

He responds with a resigned nod and I’m out of the door quickly after that making for the mess hall. Most of the other initiates had already grabbed food and headed for the dorm which was a relief since I didn’t want to have to deal with them. I ate quickly even though I wasn’t in a rush to get back to the dorm myself. Something about the activity around me and watching everyone go about their lives helped calm me.

Gave me the headspace to think and plan.

Elijah was right about handing the stiff over, it wasn’t something I wanted to do. I didn’t want to win my place here that way just like I didn’t want to have a bit of influence from Jeanine on the leaders to sway them either. In fact, I bluntly told her that was one of the conditions of my acceptance to work with her.

I also know without a shadow of a doubt that if turning number boy over saved Jules, even by way of securing my position, then I would do it and not even blink. If I had to carry that stain on me for the rest of my life I would for her.

The decisions, resolutions really, make me feel lighter. It eases some of the anxiousness I was feeling that I have a solid plan and course of action.

I even find myself talking to a few of the members at the table of the mess hall. I pick at the slice of cake one of the guys shoved at me and listen to them all bullshit with each other, but mostly I just observe things.

I see the stiff slipping from the mess hall, pulling in on himself to try and go unseen like he’s done from the first.

I watch the leaders as they look down at their noses from up on the balcony. Talking among themselves and hardly ever interacting with anyone else. But they’re watching, always watching, to make sure their bidding is being done even if it will lead the faction straight into war.

Max seems to be the one that I’ll have to be the most careful about. I can feel his eyes on zeroed in on me, watching and judging me. Even here when I’m eating dinner like everyone else.

I shift my focus and try to casually look to see if my suspicions are right when I see something out of the corner of my eye.

A small figure hunched over her plate at an empty table far in the back and cast in shadows it’s so out of the way. The tightness in my chest starts to creep back in and I jerk my eyes away, remembering my conversation with my brother.

I know I shouldn’t feel anything but seeing her is a relief. ‘Cause at least I know she’s alright.

So I’ll keep away, but I already know I won’t be able to stop myself from watching.

#fanfiction #divergent fanfiction #divergent au #eric coulter fanfiction #romance #smut #fluff #eric coulter #eric x oc #oc #jai courtney #diane guerrero #eric and devi are back #let's see how crazy eric is

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sebvrnes · 6 years

Text

The Bay Window - Part 2

Masterlist || Part 1

SUMMARY: Your bay window was never meant to seat just one.

PAIRING: Bucky Barnes x reader (Modern AU)

WARNINGS: tension, angst (still not 100% sure if it is, but I’ll warn you guys about it anyway)

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

A/N: Here’s part two! Thank you guys for a the love, it was better than I ever expected. I legit cried a little. :’) I think this is probably gonna be like three or four parter or sumthin like that. I also discovered while writing this I’m hell lot more angsty than I ever thought I was. LOL sorry Hope you enjoy!

The cold autumn night halted to a stop. Brooklyn hushed itself into a quiet slumber while the whistle of the wind softened to low hum, barely heard over the pounding of your heart. The trumpet of Glenn Miller’s ballad slowly faded and a veil of silence draped itself over the room.

He stood timidly at the door, the ocean of his eyes inviting you in for a swim. Your eyes followed his hand as it rubbed against the back of his neck, head slightly bowed to glance at the floor before gazing back up through his lashes. The ghost of a smile caressed his lips, before his hand dropped and an awkward chuckle made its way to you.

Frozen in place, your eyes journeyed over his body, studying the new plains of his skin. The hills of his biceps had grown, the expanse of his shoulders made wider by the muscles that laid beneath his jacket. His stance was stronger, most likely due to the tree trunks that were now his legs. To anyone else he would have appeared beastly, but to you there was always a softness in his features.

Small lines laid next to his eyes, the cracks that used to run across his palms had smoothed over leaving only small callouses at the base of his fingers. He cut his hair, no longer the long tresses wrapped in a man bun, but a wispy pompadour with a few loose strands dangling above his eyebrows. His lips were paler than usual, slightly parted as if he was holding his breath.

Noticing more than a second had passed, you looked at him once over before he began to speak. It’s missing.

“H-hi…” A small cough escaped his lips as he attempted to clear his throat. He stood taller and released the breath he was holding. “Hi, Y/N.”

You crossed your arms over your chest as you shifted your weight. “Hey, Buck… What’re you doing here?”

Your eyes searched his as he shifted his stance, debating whether or not he was welcomed to step through your door. “I, uh, was going over to Steve and Peggy’s to surprise them since I’m in town and all… And well, I found out they weren’t home and,” he lifted a small bag that you hadn’t noticed he was carrying, “I heard you were living here now, so I thought h-hey, why not… Share?”

His other hand returned to the back of his neck as his eyes sheepishly pleaded with you to be invited in. You breathed deeply to calm yourself down with no avail. The air got caught in your throat as you glanced at the floor considering your options. Gazing up at him again, you offered him a small smile and shifted towards your kitchen, strolling slowly allowing him to follow you.

Relieved, he stepped through the threshold and closed the door as delicately as possible. Once it was locked, he paused to take in your home.

Brick walls were lightly painted with white throughout the living room, the original clay red occasionally peeping through. In the middle of room sat a grey couch littered with pillows as a glass coffee table stood hopelessly by. Coffee mugs and endless papers spilled over its top and scattered restlessly onto the floor next to the photographs spread on the rug. Behind the couch, one wall held floating shelves showcasing your favorite books mixed with a few trinkets. Another wall was home to a map created by polaroids you’d taken on your travels accompanied by a few of you smiling with friends and strangers. Below sat a low shelf housing your record player and its albums and a small television. Opposite the front door sat two wooden shelves. More books, magazines, and photos rested along the surfaces, accenting the yellow peonies and green succulents that completed its look. Cradled in between the shelves sat the bay window. He smiled.

He finally sauntered into the kitchen where you stood, arms rested on the counter as you stared off into space. As he stood opposite you, he placed the bag down onto the counter, causing you to face him with the same small smile he was grateful to see.

Quietly you asked, “So… What’d you bring?”

You tilted your head in confusion as you watched his smile mischievously grow. He reached into the bag and placed a box in front of you. Maxi’s was scribbled on its top. He then reached in again and placed a bottle of wine next to it before glancing at you expectantly. You met his eyes with a puzzled face. Steve and Peggy only drink whiskey.

Before he could read your thoughts, you reached out and opened the box revealing your favorite cannolis. You raised an eyebrow as your lips turned into a smirk. “How’d you get these at this hour?”

He returned the smirk. “Well, unfortunately they’re a little cold. I got them before closing.”

“There couldn’t have been this many cannolis before closing.”

He chuckled, “I may or may not know the owner’s son.” Uh, huh.

“So is that how you found out where I lived?” You busied yourself with reading the label of the wine bottle to avoid his eyes. “That’s a little scary. I need to talk Pietro about giving my address to strangers.” Your smirk teased your lips as you turned the bottle in your hands.

Preoccupied with wine, you missed the way his jaw clenched. He cleared his throat before he continued. “Actually, Steve mentioned that Peggy helped you decorate.”

“Oh, yeah…” Stupid. “I couldn’t really figure out how to hang shelves off the brick. And you know Peggy, crafty as ever,” you laughed.

He joined in. “Well, it looks great… Even better than-” he coughed realizing his mistake. “Uh, ‘scuse me… So uh, how’ve you been?”

You offered a humorless laugh as you settled the wine back onto the counter. “I’ve been… okay. It’s a long story…”

He watched as you started to wring your fingers. He scrunched his eyebrows together as his head stooped down to meet your eyes. “Well, I’ve got time…” A small smile pleaded with you.

You searched the swells of blue in his eyes.

“O-okay, well… I suggest you get yourself situated on the couch. I’ll pour us a glass of this wine.”

He nodded and wandered off into your living room, his steps slowing as he passed by the bay window. When he heard you waddling into the space, he plopped himself onto the couch. You gently sat down on the opposite end before passing him his glass. He analyzed the distance between you two. His jaw clenched again.

You took a sip of the wine and began to fiddle with the rim. In attempt to ease the atmosphere, he took a sip from his glass as well, then searched in vain for a place to set it down on the coffee table. Seeing the papers overflow from the top, he assumed it was your work and didn’t want to chance ruining it. As he was about to give up in his search, he read a title on one of the pages. The Shifting Tide Between Titanium and Vibranium. Curious, he faced the table and picked up the paper and read the title of the article beneath it. Espionage and Diplomacy: The Hidden Tales of S.H.I.E.L.D. Lost in his amazement, he scanned the titles of paper after paper.

“These were you?”

The pang in your chest went unnoticed as you offered a smile. “Yeah. They’re mine.”

Finally deciding to settle his glass on the floor, he shuffled through more of the pages, lips parting in awe of your work. You could have sworn a gasp escaped his lips as he read the titles of the pages clutched in his hands. The Age of Prodigies: New York Youth Taking Technology Into A New Era. A Little [Ant] Told Me… The Truth Behind the Arms War In the Middle East.

A wave of cerulean splashed you, the tides wild and swirling in their color. “Y/N… These, this… this is some of the best journalism work of the century…”

A heat of pink flushed your cheeks as you looked away. Your chest swelled with pride as you allowed yourself to accept the compliment. After years of writing without appraisal, you finally struck gold. It was comforting to know someone else thought so, too.

Not knowing how to respond, your eyes drifted over to your record player spinning in a soundless loop. You walked over and fingered through your albums. Shivers raced down your spine as his gaze followed your hands, placing a new vinyl on the turn table. The soprano of Skitch Henderson’s piano soon fluttered into the room and Brooklyn joined in with the low whistle of the wind.

A quiet hum slipped through your lips, your eyes falling closed as Skitch serenaded you into ease. Bucky couldn’t help but smile as he watched, the gleam never reaching his eyes. Walking back, you picked up your wine and slipped back onto the cushions. Bringing the glass to your lips, you smirked in amusement as Bucky’s eyes raced over you.

“What?”

“Y/N, these are… incredible.” He shook his head as he scanned the papers scattered on the floor. “The guys in the lab they kept going on and on about how we should’ve already been making prosthetics with vibranium and, wow…” He slumped against the couch, shaking his head to get his thoughts in order. “I had no idea these articles were yours…”

He stared at you and you nearly gasped at the intensity. He was looking for something, but what?

“These must’ve taken you months… I can’t believe you made so many breakthroughs all in a… How?”

Your lips curled into a smile. “I said it was a long story,” you taunted.

Bucky picked up his wine glass and took a long sip, his gaze still locked with yours. As he dropped his glass, his shoulders eased onto couch releasing the tension you hadn’t noticed he was holding. His lips curled to match yours, his waves of blue rolling into a low tide before he softly spoke.

“Tell me.”

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spacedorksandlions · 7 years

Text

some things never change

A Kidge fluffy summer au because why not!

Also on AO3

She loves him, she supposes. It is simple enough. One of her brother’s friends, a few years older than she is. It would have been a love story for the ages, right? High school sweethearts, friends. Two people who manage to click into place early-on and no matter who gets between them, they easily fit back into a routine.

It’s a shame the world doesn’t work that simply, doesn’t it?

They’re both in college when memories resurface that make her blush. And the conversation isn’t even about him. Nobody knows that they were friends for years. Not a single soul knows that they were there for each other during the darkest times in their lives.

She’s texting Keith furiously, a furrow in her brow as she rants about the day. She doesn’t even notice as one of her friends snatches her phone from her hand.

“What have we here?” Lance declares, and she’s ready to punch him in the gut and take back her phone. “Katie has a boyfriend.”

“Gimme back my phone.” She stands up, a hand on her waist and the other outstretched. “He’s not my boyfriend.” She’s mildly relieved that his name on her phone is Red, an inside joke from their childhood.

Her upperclassman friend begins scrolling upwards through the messages. “You’re like an old married couple. Seriously.”

She jumps up, retaking her phone. “We are not,” she huffs. “And how many times have I told you and Hunk? Don’t. Touch. My. Stuff.”

Her phone vibrates in her hand, and she scowls at the message.

She picks up her backpack, slinging it over her shoulder. “See you in class.”

She manages to make it to a quiet hall in one of the academic buildings when she lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She closes her eyes for a second, memories from their childhood resurfacing, one of a group project back in high school where they’d tease each other and get into stupid arguments.

She had wanted to date him.

She had wanted to go to prom with him.

But neither of those things happened, because everyone teased them about it. And he seemed so offended when their families and friends had made those comments that she wouldn’t say anything.

She takes out her phone, shooting a message to him with a smiley emoji, a thanks for listening to her complaining even though he has an exam the next day.

They’ve been just friends for years.

Her heart still flutters as she hits send.

They meet up again that summer, a huge beach trip that she’s managed to finagle together and they’re holding at the beach house of one of her sorority sisters. Allura is the daughter of a CEO and amazingly rich. In fact, the beach week was her idea. She’s bringing her friends from home and school at Allura’s request of “the more the merrier”.

She’s the one who is driving, her green pickup filled to the brim with suitcases and beach stuff. Keith’s next to her, shoes up on the dash. She’s given up telling him to put his feet down; he’s done this ever since she got her license—she and Matt drove him to college. Matt’s asleep in the backseat, thankfully not snoring, but she’ll be mad if he leaves drool stains on the seats. Shiro’s already there, having offered to bring food ahead of time.

“Pidge,” Keith says, as the music changes from summer beachy pop to Katie’s next playlist of songs.

She hums in acknowledgement.

“Who’s going to be here?” He’s not the most outgoing, especially around people she doesn’t know.

She gives him a quick overview of her friends, explaining how Lance will flirt with anyone, how Hunk is super sweet, and how Allura is a little bit overbearing but a genuinely beautiful soul. It seems like she’s the connecting factor, and that’s somewhat worrying.

She’s about to mention as much when Keith stops scrolling through her phone.

“Wait, you have the entire Hamilton soundtrack and the Hamilton Mixtape on your phone? Why are we listening to anything else?”

She laughs at that, a bubbling laughter that has tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. She’s not even able to catch her breath as the music starts up. “You’re such a dork.”

“You’re one to talk,” he quips back.

They arrive as the sun is high in the sky, to a house that’s more like a mansion than anything. It’s white with blue accents, and Allura waves from the second-floor balcony, dressed in a lilac sundress and her platinum-colored hair blowing in the wind. Katie honks her horn in response.

Keith folds his arms, leaning over to whisper, “You didn’t say that she’s freaking rich.”

She parks the car, jolting her brother from his sleep. “Wake up, Matt.”

They spend most of their time at the beach, as Katie watches from the safety of the shaded indoors. She does not want a sunburn within the first two days of their time. She finds herself watching the others, and chilling in Allura’s hot tub, because of course she’s got a hot tub. She’s wearing a one-piece swimsuit, the only one she’s got.

Allura’s appalled at that, and drags Katie to a nearby surf shop to buy new bathing suits, and Katie settles on two different ones that meet the older girl’s requirements: bikini and flattering. She likes the first one the best, the top’s green with white polka dots and paired with a high-waisted bottom. Allura insists on the other, a strapless push-up top with frills and equally frilled bottoms. It’s a red that is surprisingly flattering on her, but that she’d never buy if Allura hadn’t encouraged her.

She makes her way to the beach that day, wide-brimmed hat on her head and wearing the highest SPF sunscreen she’d found. Everyone else seems to have bonded well, even if Keith and Lance seem to be at each other’s throats. It’s amusing: two of her closest friends who are surprisingly similar can’t stand the sight of each other.

She turns as she hears Hunk call out, “Katie! You’re outside!” He’s floating out in the ocean on a yellow tube. He waves, causing himself to tumble out and into the waves. He resurfaces a few seconds later, “I’m okay!”

Managing a wave, she grins. “I’m gonna end up burnt. Like Matt.” She inclines her head at her brother, whose back is already pink and peeling.

“Gross,” Lance says, already walking towards her, Keith hot on his heels. Apparently, their one-on-one volleyball match wasn’t working out.

“Not all of us can have a ton of melanin,” Keith replies drily, “What’s with the sundress, Pidge?”

“Didn’t want to get burnt, that’s all.” She puts down her towel underneath the umbrella, silently grateful that this isn’t a public beach with lots of people. It’s nice. She’s not about to admit that she feels strange wearing a bikini for the first time in years.

“Can’t get burnt if you’re underwater,” Lance declares. “Now toss that dress and let’s go!”

“I, uh-” she gulps. “Okay.” She drops her hat on the towel, before tugging at the bottom of her dress. What does it matter, it’s just a bikini. Still, she covers her body, as much as her arms will allow.

Lance whistles. “Damn, girl, trying to kill us? Polka dots and everything.”

“Really?” Keith bristles, “Uncalled for, man.”

Katie waves it off. “Allura took me out shopping.” She loops her arms through both of theirs and starts dragging them towards the water. As she does, she adds, “Tease me about this suit again and you’ll wake up floating on a mattress in the ocean.”

Keith lets out a hesitant laugh, while Lance snorts. “Sure, sure.”

“She’s not joking,” Keith says, deadpan.

“Sorry.”

She just smiles in response, and Lance rushes towards the water.

“You’re devious, you know that?”

“Please, you’re the one who taught me most of my pranks.” She elbows Keith in the ribs. “Plus he’s a serial flirt. He’s never gonna end up really dating if he keeps it up.”

“You know, you do look nice like that,” he says, not looking at her.

“Liar.”

“I’m not going to toss you in the water.”

She stares at him in confusion for a second before he scoops her up by her waist. She struggles, limbs flailing, as he gets to knee-deep water. “Don’t you-” He winds up as the next rolling wave comes forward and launches her, “-dare!”

Katie tumbles underneath the water, her hair falling in front of her face. She gasps as she submerges, and gets bowled over by another, larger wave. Her feet are swept out from underneath her and she can’t tell which way is up when she feels an arm around her waist again, this time pulling her out of the water.

“I hate you, what was that for?”

“Well, now calling me a liar is true.”

“Seriously, to prove a point?”

“Yup.”

“I hate you.”

He laughs, beaming at her as he lets her down slowly. “Nah, you love me.”

She whacks him on the head but doesn’t deny it.

Allura pulls her to the side right before their vacation is almost over, in a secluded hallway. The older girl’s all awkward and nervous, clenching and relaxing her hands.

“You okay, Allura?”

“Not really. I’m tense. This is a tense situation.”

Katie arches an eyebrow. “Why?”

Her face turns pink, not quite matching the tattoos on her cheekbones. “I may….” She mumbles the last bit hastily and quiet.

“What?”

“I may have kissed Shiro.”

“And?”

“I haven’t talked to him since.”

Katie rolls her eyes at that. “Go. Talk to him.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” She rolls her eyes again. “Go!”

Allura leaves, her maxi dress catching the wind and making her look more eloquent than ever. She turns around at the end of the hall. “You should talk to Keith.”

“What?”

“I’m not blind.” And with that, she leaves the hall.

She’s not crushing on the guy she got over five years ago. Or flirting.

Right?

Katie decides to seclude herself in her room for the rest of the afternoon, only emerging for meals and other necessities. Everything feels heavy, as she’s realizing just what it is that she feels about Keith. And yeah, she likes him. She’s liked him since she was a silly freshman in high school and he was two years older and actually valued her as a person. Or maybe it was before that, when he’d find her skipping class in middle school, when she was in sixth grade and he was in eighth, making sure that she was actually okay and fighting her bullies to make sure that they don’t tease her again. Or maybe it was when Matt dragged his new friends home when she was still in preschool and the grumpy black-haired one smiled at her and said she was pretty.

She flops down onto her bed and screams into her pillow.

There’s a knock at her door.

“One second.”

“Kitty, open up.”

She makes her way over to the door, opening it just a crack. “Hey, Matt.”

“Can I come in?”

She opens the door, and her brother moves past her, taking a seat on her bed. “You okay, Kitty?”

“Actually, yeah.” She presses her lips into a thin line before smiling. “I’ve just been thinking.”

“About?”

“Something Allura asked me.”

“She’s been nagging me all week about Shiro and also about your relationship with Keith.” He folds his arms. “Guessing it’s the second one?”

“Both, actually. But you’re right.”

“Are you finally going to ask my idiot friend out?”

She stares at her brother exasperatedly. “I was just going to talk to him.”

“You should ask him out.”

Katie punches her brother in the arm. “Why would I do that?”

“Because he’s oblivious.”

“Oh.” She’s about to punch him again, when she halts mid-swing. “OH!”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

Matt smirks at her. “Maybe get your vocabulary back up from monosyllables before doing that.”

“You suck.”

“Still monosyllabic.”

They’re all leaving the next morning, and Katie’s by herself. Everyone else is out lounging on the beach, but Katie finds herself in the hot tub once again. Her other bathing suit’s out to dry, so she’s stuck wearing the very revealing one and doesn’t want to deal with more sunburn than she’s already got.

She still hasn’t talked to Keith. She’s not sure what to say. How do you tell one of your closest friends that you’re in love with them without freaking them out and either sending them running for the hills or causing yourself heartbreak?

“Hey, Pidge.” His voice breaks her out of her ponderings.

“Keith? What are you doing here?” She sinks herself even lower into the water, so that it covers her chest as well. “I thought you were on the beach with everyone else.”

“Mind if I join you?”

“Not like I could stop you if I tried,” she shoots back, a grin crossing her face.

He strips off his black shirt and she doesn’t stare at his abs or chest at all. Nope. Not a chance. Sliding into the hot tub right next to her, blanching. There are bubbles from the jets, obscuring her body, but all that’s visible is her head and shoulders.

“Please tell me you’re wearing a top.”

She deadpans, face expressionless, “No. Got a problem with that?”

He starts stammering, his face going from ghostly pale to as red as her bikini. “I—uh…”

She manages to keep a straight face for a solid fifteen seconds before the corners of her lips start to twitch and she bursts out into laughter. “Oh, gosh, your face!”

“That was not funny, Pidge!!”

“Really?” She raises an eyebrow. He does look mortified though.

“I hate you.”

“Nah, you love me,” she responds.

“Can’t deny that,” he mutters, resting his head back on the side of the hot tub, staring intently at the ceiling.

She shifts so she’s resting her head against his chest. “Sorry I’ve been distant the past few days.”

“Allura said you were worrying about something. I figured you’d talk to me if you wanted to. Besides, I still do have my phone and you didn’t send me any messages.”

“Still sorry.”

“Want to talk about it?” he runs a hand through her hair, fiddling with the ends.

“Not sure how to talk about it,” she mumbles into his chest.

“Please, you rant to me about the stupidest little things that happen to you. I know you can ramble.”

Katie sighs. “True.”

“I won’t force you to talk.”

She pulls herself up to sitting, forcing to look him in the eyes. She knows she’s vulnerable in this moment, but that doesn’t matter. They’ve already nearly crossed the line a few times this vacation, borderline breaking their friendship in the hope for more. She only vainly hopes that he feels the same.

“You’re one of the people who’s closest to me, you know that, right?” She begins, and she sees his face fall at that. Immediately she starts backtracking, inwardly cursing herself for starting like that. That sounds like she’s got a secret, like some huge dark secret like being an addict or something. She doesn’t realize that her brain-to-mouth filter is already gone. She reminds him of how they’d always been teased about being a couple in their younger years, and how even now she’s being teased by Lance about it.

She’s rambling now, her words circling back and going on tangents, yet he seems enthralled by her words, watching her as she gestures with her hands and bites her lower lip between sentences. Keith catches one of her hands in his own.

“Pidge,” he says softly, despite her continuing to ramble. “Hey.”

“It’s stupid that I like you okay? I know you don’t feel the same so—”

He cuts her off, “Wait, why do you say that?”

“Because you’ve acted the same around me for years.”

“You’ve acted the same for years.”

“I’ve liked you for years,” she snaps.

“Same.”

“Guess they’re telling the truth of us bickering like a couple.”

He leans forward. “We’d have to be a couple first.”

She tilts her head up. “Clearly I’m not opposed to that.” She’s drawn to his lips, and it’s taking all of her self control not to lean forward and close the mere inches between them.

“Good.” He licks his lips, “Can I kiss you?”

“I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

To everyone else, it seems as though little has changed. The only indication is that Katie now lets him rub circles into her shoulders when it appears that no one is looking, and that Keith doesn’t feel awkward when she interlaces her fingers with his.

It’s a subtle change, but honestly, that’s just how she likes it. She pecks him on the cheek while they sit by the bonfire that night, eliciting a wolf-whistle from Lance and a shout of “took you guys long enough!” from her brother.

She settles herself into Keith’s side, watching the crackling firewood. It’s surprising, that it’s taken them years to settle and realize how they feel. But honestly, she doubts they would have been ready for it beforehand. Breathing deeply, she inhales the scent of smoke and saltwater mingled with something she has no word for other than Keith.

He wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close.

The following semester, Lance steals her phone again, holding it out of her reach. “Who’re you texting? Your boyfriend?”

“Yes. Now, Lance, give me my phone back.”

“Nuh-uh.” He fiddles with her phone for a minute before clicking send, and Katie groans. “What did you send him?”

“Just a picture of you from the summer.”

Katie snatches back her phone. “How many times have I told you not to touch my things?”

He shrugs.

She smiles at the picture. Some things never change, do they?

#mine #kidge #summer au #longtime crush #I LOVE THESE DORKS OK #keith #pidge #kidge fanfic #totally ended up different from what I was planning but whatever

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lusilly · 7 years

Text

out of the woods

I realized I’ve never actually written Damian and Iris’s first kiss, so :)

this is all in canon with Earth-28

“What travels all around the world, but always stays in the corner?”

“A stamp.”

“The poor have me. The rich need me. What am I?”

“Nothing.”

“What, if you put it in a barrel, will make the barrel lighter?”

Damian hesitated, then frowned. “A – lower caliber bullet?” His father cocked an eyebrow, and the penny dropped. “Oh,” he said. “Not that kind of barrel. A hole.”

“Forward,” began Bruce, “I am heavy. Backwards, I am not. What am I?”

“A ton,” said Damian.

“What kind of flowers grow on your face?”

“Tulips,” Damian said, “but that one’s dumb.”

“You have one match,” Bruce instructed him, tone very serious. “You enter a room in which there is a kerosene lamp, an oil burner, and a wood burning stove. Which do you light first?”

“The match,” answered Damian.

At this, Bruce finally gave an approving nod. He typed something in the computer, apparently distracted, as Damian finished tugging on his gloves. “A man is found dead on the beach next to a rock,” said Bruce; Damian turned to watch his father, listening. “The rock was the cause of death, but never physically touched him. How did he die?”

“He’s Superman,” said Damian, without skipping a beat. “The rock is Kryptonite. Which is actually carcinogenic to any creature, but I suppose for the sake of the riddle it has to be someone who’d die of Kryptonite exposure relatively quickly.”

“Good,” Bruce said, without turning from the screen. “How far can you run into the woods?”

There was a moment’s pause. Damian blinked at his father. “Is that it?” he asked.

“That’s it,” Bruce replied. “How far can you run into the woods?”

Damian took a long breath, considering this. His brow was knit in concentration. “The entire way through?”

“No.”

“As far as you can?”

“No.”

“As far as I can?”

“No.”

There was another short silence as Damian wracked his brain. “Is this one of those, when are the woods not the woods? sort of riddles?

“No,” answered Bruce. “It’s very straightforward.”

“How far can you run into the woods?”

Bruce nodded. “How far can you run into the woods.”

Damian made a noise. “Hm. Can I think on it?”

Resuming his usual work on the computer, Bruce said, “Though that isn’t usually protocol in the field, I know you’re running late, so I’ll excuse you just this once.”

Pressing his domino mask across his face, Damian headed down the steps from the computer hub down to the garage below. “Thanks,” he called. “I’ll have it figured out by the time I get back on Monday.”

Raising his voice to be heard as Damian headed away from him, Bruce called, “I thought we agreed Sunday night?”

“Alfred said Monday was fine if I checked in.”

Begrudgingly, Bruce stopped himself from protesting this. He’d have a conversation with Alfred later. “Be careful,” he called, as a small light on his computer screen informed him Damian was getting into the personal jet. “Have fun.”

The comm inside the jet’s cockpit picked up Damian’s reply, playing it directly out of the computer speakers. “How far can you run into the woods?” he repeated, apparently ignoring his father’s farewell. “Suppose I’ll have to find out, hm?”

The engine roared. A few minutes later, Damian was gone. Bruce sat alone in the empty cave. It was good that Damian was gone more often, spending more time with the Titans, but it also had the odd effect of making the Cave and the Manor itself feel bigger, emptier. Lonelier.

On the flight to Titans Tower, Damian checked in with the rest of his team.

“What do you mean you’re not coming?” he demanded.

Lian Harper let out a frustrated sigh. “I mean I’m not coming, I have a family thing.”

“Is it a mission?”

“No, it’s not a mission, it’s a family thing.”

“What kind of-?”

“Oh, right,” said Lian, cutting him off, “I’m sorry Robin, I forgot all of your meaningful familial engagements are missions, my bad.”

This was true enough that Damian didn’t feel particularly cut by it, so he just began cautiously, “Arsenal, I thought we were doing training this weekend.”

“It’s not like I’m stopping you. You know you can actually train without me, right?” Then she added, “And without Sin either, she happens to be in my family so she’s also gotta go to the family thing.”

“You and Sin are our best hand-to-hand combatants. What am I supposed to do without either of you to spar against?”

“Go toe-to-toe with a Kryptonian? Wait, take a video, I want to see Superboy beating the hell out of you.”

Chris wasn’t coming this weekend either, which Damian knew because Superman had reached out to his father to let him know that he would be taking some time off for what Damian’s father had called medical leave, but that didn’t sound right to Damian. He knew that Chris had been having some trouble adapting to working in a group, and suspected that maybe he needed some time to decompress, or something. There was something a little off about Chris which Damian couldn’t quite figure out yet, but Chris was surprisingly bad at leadership for being the son of Superman, and awfully quiet in a crowd, and even had difficulty maintaining eye contact for too long. Though Damian didn’t want to pry – he hated the idea of the others noticing his own problems and trying to piece together the illness that haunted him –he was also terribly curious.

Either way, Damian didn’t mention anything about Chris to Lian. Instead he just ended the call, then hesitated, then opened another line on his commlink.

“GL,” he said. There was nothing. “Green Lantern, come in.”

A couple minutes later, he received a text on his encrypted personal phone. Cant pick up Im in civvies.

He texted her back. Are you coming this weekend?

No I cant, read her reply, not much later. Its my quince

Damian didn’t know what quince meant other than fifteen in Spanish, so he didn’t reply. Instead he thought briefly of trying to get a hold of Maxy, but her parents didn’t allow her to spend the night on her own yet anyway, so that seemed kind of pointless.

Jai West also rarely spend the night at Titans Tower, but he was the only other person left that Damian could think of, and he was starting to feel a little desperate.

“Jai,” he said at once, when the line picked up. “How are you?”

On the other end, Jai sounded confused. “Robin? Why are you calling me?”

Tactful as ever. “I thought we were meeting at the Tower this weekend, but it seems things will be awfully quiet. I was wondering if you planned on coming?”

“Um, no. I have to do homework.”

“And you couldn’t do it at the Tower?”

“Not really, because usually you guys all have to rush out at once to do a mission or something, and I’m not a big fan of the way the giant T-shaped tower is basically a supervillain magnet.”

This was more or less fair. “Well, I’ll be there if you do decide to stop by.”

“OK,” said Jai. “I think Irey’s already there anyway, so I don’t really have a ride.”

Something dropped into the pit of Damian’s stomach. “I see,” he said. “Well, let me know if you’d like to come. I can always pick you up.”

“Okey-doke. Hey, maybe next weekend.”

“Maybe next weekend,” Damian agreed. “Goodnight, then.”

“’Bye, Robin.”

The jet continued to race through the sky, chasing the setting sun. Below him, he could see a great rolling forest splayed across the landscape. How far can you run into the woods? As far as you could walk, just faster?

He slowed his pace as he reached Titans Tower, circling three times, then landing beneath the Bay. Maybe he wouldn’t stay the entire weekend; but then again, the earlier he left, the sooner he’d have to come up with the answer to his father’s riddle. It seemed frustratingly impossible at the moment, but perhaps the frustration was mostly just a redirection from something else.

So he exited the jet and headed up into the Tower itself with a heavy, roiling feeling in his stomach, nervous and unwell.

Recently, for what was the fifth time since he’d started taking medication, he’d had a change in dosage; after a month or so on his previous meds, his anxiety had gotten so bad he’d barely been able to spend time with the Titans at all, even though he had categorically refused to admit this to his father. But biweekly appointments with a therapist meant that these things were caught earlier rather than later, and now here he was, trying a different cocktail of medication to see if the side effects would be more tolerable this time.

Damian felt like a living economics experiment, an exercise in pareto efficiency: what was the optimal combination to make the symptoms of his OCD better off without making at least one other side effect worse off? At least in economics one could always solve dilemmas like these with a charts and tables and numbers. Nothing was that uncomplex for Damian.

But at least the anxiety in the pit of his stomach wasn’t paralyzing as he headed up to the main level of the Tower. The big television, which took up nearly an entire wall, was on when Damian stepped out of the elevator.

A girl popped her head over the couch. “Robin!” she said, sounding a little surprised. “I didn’t know if you were coming!” She laughed, leaning over the back of the couch. “I kind of thought I’d have the Tower to myself tonight. But this is cool, that’d be boring anyway.”

Damian stood awkwardly by the elevator. “Impulse,” he said. She was not wearing her uniform, and her curly hair was big and surrounded her head like a halo, instead of in her usual braids. He suddenly felt very stupid, standing there in his full uniform and mask. “I…didn’t realize you were here already.”

This was a lie, but his mouth was suddenly dry and he had to come up with something to say to avoid sounding stupid. Iris just grinned at him.

She pointed back at the TV screen. “You want to watch?” she asked. “It’s kind of boring, but Lian got me addicted.”

“I have some training to do,” Damian blurted out.

“Oh,” she said. “OK. Well, I’ll be here.”

There was a momentary pause. Iris didn’t turn away, just watched him expectantly. “I…suppose I could put it off a little,” he said, finally. She beamed at him, her face lighting up. “Watching television doesn’t appear to require the uniform, though,” he added. “I’ll go change.”

“It’s OK,” said Iris quickly. “I like the costume! It’s nice.”

If she, too, blushed, Damian didn’t catch it. While he tried furiously not to look her in the eye, she let out a little laugh. In the blink of an eye, she appeared before him, running so fast it could’ve been teleportation.

Without hesitating, she reached out and gently peeled at the corner of his domino mask, tugging it off his skin. Despite himself, he let her.

“You’re good,” she told him, crossing her arms as if appraising him like a piece of art. “It’s weird when you leave the mask on, but I don’t mind everything else if you don’t mind it.”

She was very close to him. He reached out and snatched his mask back from her, then rubbed at his left eye, then caught himself and stopped. “Maybe I do mind.”

“Maybe you don’t,” she countered.

She flickered again, then reappeared at the couch. “Come watch with me?” she asked, glancing back at him from over the couch’s back.

He hesitated another moment, then he let out a long breath and set aside his mask. He took off his cape, then his gloves, then his boots, and then he joined Iris on the couch. He sat at the opposite side, transparently as far away from her as possible.

“What is this?” he asked, watching the screen.

“Kay-you-double-you-tee-kay,” Iris replied. When he glanced at her, she grinned at him and then clarified, “Keeping Up With the Kardashians. Do you know the Kardashians? I feel like your dad’s famous enough that odds are good you’ve run into them at some point.”

Damian looked back towards the screen. “I don’t know the Kardashians,” he said, watching whatever reality TV drama was going down. “I don’t even know who they are.”

“Consider yourself lucky,” Iris told him, throwing a nice embroidered pillow at him. “They’re really annoying.”

“Why do you watch the show, then?”

She shrugged. “Guilty pleasure.”

They sat in silence for a while, watching TV. Iris was also on her phone, scrolling through something, playing a game; she could never focus on one thing for too long. Damian, on the other hand, found the show somewhat riveting, but couldn’t really get into it because he was acutely aware of the fact that Iris was sitting a mere few feet away from him.

An episode and a half passed. Damian glanced at Iris. She was typing something into her phone, probably texting someone. There was a smile on her face.

He rubbed at his eye, then stopped it. “I talked to your brother,” he said, all of the sudden. “He said he had homework to finish, or something?”

Iris glanced up. “Oh, yeah,” she said. “My mom’s been sort of training him on xenophysics lately. It’s cool.”

“Just him? Not you?”

With a smile that was almost apologetic, Iris explained, “I kind of got bored after she explained it the first time. He’s learning all the numbers and stuff, I don’t really need that.”

“Why not?”

She looked back to her phone. “’Cause I get it already,” she said mildly. “Most people need math and stuff to understand things like that, so they can kind of work it out step by step. When you’re as fast as I am it’s like explanations like that are moving in slow motion. I get it. I don’t need to go backwards.”

Damian found this fascinating. He watched her, a gentle frown on his face. “So you don’t need to understand the equation,” he began, thoughtfully, “if you already understand the answer.”

At this, she looked up, and actually lowered her phone to her lap. “Yeah,” she said. “Basically.”

He nodded. “I can relate. My friend Colin, he’s our age,” he remembered Iris’s weird rapid-aging phenomenon and corrected, “my age – I’ve been tutoring him in chemistry. It’s basic stuff but sometimes it gets very difficult to explain, because it’s like,” he paused, searching for the right way to express this, “it’s like – there, that is the answer, obviously, but then he asks how I got there and I can’t really tell him.”

Iris’s eyes lit up. “Yeah!” she said, nodding. “Exactly! Like, I don’t know how I know that but I just know it.”

There was an awkward sort of silence. On the TV, Kim gave a tearful confession. Damian asked, casually, “So you don’t have any homework to take care of while you’re here?”

“No,” answered Iris, shaking her head. “I have a couple assignments but I can do them on Sunday. How ‘bout you?”

“I have an assignment too,” Damian said, thinking of the riddle. “But I don’t need to get it done right away.”

Iris cocked an eyebrow at him. “Do you go to school?”

“No,” he said. “Homeschooled. You?”

She shook her head. “Same. I was in middle school with Jai for a little bit but I couldn’t make it through classes. Too boring.”

Damian, who had never been in a traditional classroom and therefore couldn’t relate, just sort of nodded at this. The TV show droned on before them, but it was quickly growing old, so Damian offered, “Would you like to…go over some case files? Maybe we can identify our next mission before it falls into our lap.”

Iris looked at him brightly. “That could be fun,” he said. “Everyone else might want a say, though.”

Damian shrugged. “They’re not here,” he said simply.

For a second, she just watched him with something almost like suspicion in her eyes. Then a smile stole across her lips. “I guess so,” she said. “C’mon.” She was instantly on her feet, across the room, at the door. “Let’s go.”

When she began heading down towards the computer hub, Damian instead took her by the hand and pulled her in another direction. As soon as he realized what he was doing, heat rose suddenly to his face and he let go of her; embarrassed, he did not glance around to see her face. If he had, he might’ve seen she was smiling.

“My, uh,” he cleared his throat, “database on the computer downstairs is better. It’s got all of Batman’s files, so it’s more detailed.”

“All of Batman’s files?” asked Iris. If she was faking impressed, Damian couldn’t tell. “Wow.”

They went downstairs, to where Damian had an entire floor of the Tower to himself. Milagro liked to make fun of him for it, but he needed the room for his own tech and uniform and computer and also for his personal space.

There was only one seat before his massive computer downstairs, itself a smaller version of the Batcomputer in the Cave. He insisted that Iris take it, then giggled at him. “What a gentleman,” she said, amused. “You can always sit on my lap if you get tired of standing.”

He fought the blush rising to his cheeks.

Together they scrolled through the list of active cases, focusing in their particular area. “Looks like Green Arrow and the rest of his team take care of the worst missions up here,” said Damian, gesturing to a swath of dots on the map which represented completed missions. “That must be what they’re doing this weekend.”

“This weekend?” echoed Iris doubtfully. “I don’t think GA’s taking any missions this weekend.”

Damian raised an eyebrow at her. “I heard otherwise from Arsenal.”

Iris blinked at him, then she took her phone out of her pocket, scrolling through her texts. “Hold on,” she said. “I swore Lian said she was doing that marathon thing tomorrow.”

“Marathon?” echoed Damian, leaning over Iris’s shoulder, looking at her phone. There were an awful lot of heart emojis in her texts to Lian. “What marathon?”

“The AIDS one,” she said, then, triumphantly, she turned her phone around to show him the screen. “Yeah, the Star City AIDS Walk. Her family does it every year.”

Frowning at the phone, Damian reached out instinctually to take it – Iris pulled it away sharply, grinning at him. “AIDS Walk?” he asked, confused. “Why would they do that?”

“Um,” began Iris, “because it’s a charity and the Queen family are like the biggest philanthropists this side of Gotham City, obviously.” She poked him in the side then added, “You’re telling me your dad doesn’t do marathons for charity?”

“No,” answered Damian honestly. “No marathons or triathlons.”

The light of the computer screen lit up Iris’s face harshly as she gave him a confused look. “That’s…really specific?”

“In my family,” Damian explained, “we’re not supposed to do anything which might publicly draw attention to our…” he paused, searching for the right words, “atypical level of physical fitness.”

“What?” asked Iris, scandalized. “The public isn’t even allowed to know you’re hot?”

Despite himself, a smile tugged its way onto Damian’s lips. He leaned against the computer panel. “I’m afraid not,” he told her, almost ruefully. “So, if you could keep that between us…”

She laughed at him. Something glinted in her eyes and though Damian could not quite identify what it was, he liked it. A lot.

“Between us,” she echoed, watching him. “Sounds like a nice place.”

There was a short, loaded silence.

Then, before Damian could blink, she disappeared. A moment later she was back, this time sitting before the couch, laying a deck of cards down on a low coffee table before it. Without glancing up at him, she called, “You wanna play a game?”

He went around to the other side of the coffee table, then lowered himself to the ground. “Poker?”

“I was thinking Go Fish,” she replied, shuffling the deck.

“Go what?”

Iris stopped short and looked up at him. For a second she said nothing, then she narrowed her eyes and leaned forward across the table. Disbelievingly, she asked, “You don’t know what Go Fish is?”

“No,” he answered, truthfully. “Should I?”

A look of concern on her face, she watched him for a second. Then she asked, “How about War?”

“About what?”

“Rummy?”

He shook his head. “I know Solitaire,” he offered.

“What about Bullshit?” she asked him, with narrowed eyes. “Have you ever heard of that?”

This made him hesitate. “I mean – the term generally? Because if so then yes.”

“It’s a game,” she said, then she started the split the cards between them. “I’ll teach you.”

She did teach him; it was a fun game, if only because Damian appeared to be so calm and cool all the time that Iris started calling bullshit on every set of cards he laid down, so it didn’t take long for him to win. They played again. This time Iris called every one of his hands correctly, while he was only right about half of hers. She won.

Once the game was over, he asked her admiringly, “How did you do that? You can’t possibly have decoded my mannerisms that quickly.”

She grinned at him. So fast she seemed not to move at all, she collected every one of the cards – including those in his hand – and stacked them in a neat pile on the table.

“I cheated,” she said.

They got bored of card games quickly, and after poking through some potential missions they got bored of that too. Iris asked him if he wanted to watch a movie, and he said yes even though he didn’t really want to. She made some popcorn as he scrolled through Netflix. “We should get a pizza,” she called, standing at the microwave waiting for the popcorn. “No! Some Chinese food. I can just run out and get it, they don’t need to deliver it all the way here. Actually,” she said thoughtfully, tapping her chin, “I could go run out and get any food. What do you feel like, Robin?” she asked him. “Chicken nuggets?”

“You can call me Damian,” he called in reply.

She stopped, looking at him.

He glanced back at her, then he gestured around them. “There’s nobody here,” he said. “You don’t need to call me Robin. We’re not in uniform.”

“You are,” she pointed out.

He pointed to his face, the missing mask. “Not in full uniform, anyway.”

There was a beat of silence. Then she asked, “No on the chicken nuggets?”

As he took a seat on the couch, he told her, “I don’t eat meat. But you should get some if you want some.”

“No meat?” The microwave beeped. She took it out of the microwave and dumped it into a bowl, then went over to the couch. Without hesitation, she sat right next to Damian, close enough that the side of their legs touched. “Maybe pizza then,” she said, matter-of-factly. “But maybe later.”

She offered him the bowl of popcorn. He was extremely uncomfortable, and his stomach kind of hurt, so he declined.

When Damian started to play the movie he’d chosen, Iris let out a whine. “Really?” she asked. “A black-and-white movie? How old is this?”

Indignantly, Damian replied, “It’s a classic!” which he only knew because he’d found it under the Classics section on Netflix.

“It’s boring.” Iris threw a handful of popcorn into her mouth. “I’m gonna fall asleep.”

Something was screaming inside Damian’s head, but he tried to ignore it. He summoned up all the courage in his little fifteen-year-old body, the kind of courage that allowed him to jump off buildings and bridges and face goons with automatic weapons without blinking – and he moved his arm up, and he slid it around Iris’s shoulders.

Without looking away from the TV screen, he murmured, “That’d be OK.”

There was a tense second, and then Iris sort of settled against his arm. She held the bowl of popcorn in her lap and tried to lean her head against his shoulder but she was a little too tall; so she scooted down in her seat a little, and tried again. This time it worked.

The whole movie Damian’s pulse was elevated, which he wondered if she could feel. It was a weird feeling, a sort of buzzing in his head and a simultaneous sort of quiet, a focus, something that he really really liked despite the fact that it made him feel really uncomfortable.

She finished the popcorn, then put the bowl aside. “Damian,” she said, for the very first time, tasting the name in her mouth. It didn’t feel right, didn’t suit him the way Robin did.

He glanced at her. She lifted her hand and with two fingers turned his face towards her so she could see him better. Her eyes roved across his face, searching through his gaze and his sharp brow and down to the gentle curve of his nose and the width of his mouth. She liked him better without the mask, she decided. She liked seeing his eyes, as dark a brown as her own.

While she looked at him, he clenched his jaw. His brain felt like it was short-circuiting a little bit: he couldn’t think of anything to say.

Something popped up spontaneously, something he’d been turning over and over in his mind again and again, repetitively, obsessively, since leaving home earlier that evening. It spilled from his mouth before he could think about it, before he could consider if it made any sense or if it didn’t fit the moment or if it was going to interrupt whatever was happening right now.

It came out just as Iris leaned in, like a physical block between their faces, because if what Damian thought was happening was actually happening he wasn’t sure if he could do it without something bad happening, though he didn’t know what. The nebulousness of the thought scared him, the uncertainty principle, the potential chaotic motion of the double rod pendulum of himself.

“Iris,” he said, arresting the moment; in surprise and a little bit of shock at hearing him use her name for the first time, she stopped. He let out a silent but shaky breath. “How far,” he asked, “can you run into the woods?”

She stared at him.

Unhelpfully, he clarified, “It’s – a riddle.”

She didn’t say, “Oh,” or make any other indication of confusion. She just looked at him thoughtfully, then away from him for a moment. Then she met his gaze once more, and she smiled

“Halfway,” she answered. He stared at her, his brow knit. “You can only run halfway in,” she explained, “then you start running out.”

She grinned. Before them, the black-and-white movie continued to play, a rush of music rising to crescendo as the characters onscreen shared their first kiss.

#damian wayne #iris west #irey west #earth 28 #this is a decent start and it's kind of changing the way i'd always assumed their first kiss went #cuz when i was a young'un i was like Ya Confidence Sexy Theyre So Sure Of Themselves Ha Ha Ha #but as a semi-grown person im like.......they were 15 they knew Nothing

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braxarchives · 4 years

Text

Just Friends ― CANON. (current verse)

Max finally says something about his growing feelings for Brady. The conversation doesn’t go as he hoped. Some NSFW in the beginning.

Laying in his bed with Brady after they had sex was definitely not an unusual occurrence for them now. Max was stretched out beside him, arm slung over Brady’s waist as he pressed his forehead against his chest while he came down. Neither of them were even close to asleep, Max knew, because he could feel Brady’s heart still thumping hard in his chest. And God knows Max was wide-ass awake right now. Without thinking, he pressed a few absentminded kisses over the expanse of his skin, arm sliding up to rest on torso in a small caress. “That was hot.” He lifted his head up to smile at him lazily. “Think you’re trying to kill me here, Bradford.”

The amount of times Brady found himself lying back against the pillows, his heart pounding, one arm behind his head and the other sliding around Max’s shoulders were immeasurable. It was pure bliss, basking in the afterglow and being left to think about how good it had been. And good it was; it always was. At first, Brady could only manage a hum in response to Max’s comment and the feeling of his lips dragging over Brady’s skin, which still felt sensitive all over. He matched the weak smile and lifted the arm around Max’s shoulders to slide his fingers through his hair. “Can’t kill you. Then I wouldn’t have sex this good anymore. Or like, a job I guess. Whatever.” While Max had his head up, Brady took the opportunity to lean in and kiss him, before dropping his head back against his arm and looking up at the ceiling. He was vaguely aware that they both needed to clean themselves up, but that could wait a second while he gathered himself. “Christ. You’re always surprisin’ me.” Just when Brady thought he had figured out all of Max’s tricks, he’d do something new, usually minor, and it blew Brady’s mind every time. And as much as he didn’t want Max to get a big head about it, he knew how a good ego boost felt, especially when it was true. “You’re kinda the best I’ve ever had, y’know,” he said without thinking too much more about it. It was true. And honesty was the best policy, after all.

His eyes closed for a moment as Brady’s hand carded through his hair, and a low laugh left his lips. “Wish this was the job.” He said, dumbly, then paused at himself. “Not in a gross way.” His brain was kind of mush, like the rest of his body, so he wasn’t too hard on himself for saying dumb things right now. Max responded to the kiss automatically, kissing him slowly, a change from their earlier exchanges. It was nice, and it made his whole body warm all over again. “Am I?” A slow smile spread over his face, and he raised his eyebrows at him, half-lazy, half-playful. Max reluctantly make work of removing his condom, tying it up and leaning over Brady to throw it in the waste basket beside the bed. Grabbing a few tissues from the side table, he wiped himself and Brady off as casually as possible and honestly didn’t think twice about it. It wasn’t awkward anymore, or weird. It was just… a thing they did now. “I’m full of surprises, Brady.” He teased, and disposed of the tissues before settling beside him. It was then that Brady decided to drop an absolute bombshell and Max looked at him - completely startled. “I’m sorry, what was that?” The pride and…weird sense of accomplishment immediately exploded in his damn chest. And he couldn’t keep the dumb grin off his face if he tried. Brady just said he was the best he’d ever fucking had. Whether he meant it or not… that was…what. He was in shock, and it finally registered in his brain Brady wasn’t laughing. And just like that, Max was rolling on top of him, and he didn’t give a fuck if he was still naked. His knees were supported by the bed, and he let his palms rest on the mattress by Brady’s head. He leaned in to kiss him, the gesture playful; so much different than their usual kisses. It was light, but Max was living in the moment here. “I’m gonna need to hear that one more time so I can never let you live it down for as long as y’live, thank you.” He paused, and he couldn’t stop freaking smiling. “Wanna know a secret, though? You’re my best ever too.”

“Yup.” Brady watched Max lean over him to throw away the tissues and immediately pulled him back in. “You are,” Brady agreed. That was what he had just said, after all. Max looked at him wildly and immediately started going on about what Brady had said, and he held back another grin, rolling his eyes instead. He knew he was gonna give Max a big head about it. “I didn’t say shit,” Brady protested, but he very quickly lost the ability to hold back his smile. Max fucking did that to him. Dumb contagious grin. The way he rolled on top of him had Brady laughing a little breathlessly. Max was such a weirdo. Brady didn’t mind the kiss, but then he wasn’t really sure what to do with his hands, so he settled for pushing Max’s chest and rolling him back onto the bed beside him. “You take what you can get.” Brady was almost matching Max’s playful tone, in the way he could only manage to. He certainly wasn’t going to say it again now. But he sure liked hearing Max say it. “Obviously,” Brady said, dragging out the word and making it clear he was just being an ass. He turned to his side and propped himself up on his elbow, his other hand coming to rest on Max’s waist as Brady leaned over and pressed his lips to his neck. “Otherwise you wouldn’t keep coming back for more.” He trailed kisses along his jaw and brushed their lips together, but no more than that before once again falling back against the bed. “So are you gonna shut up now?” he asked. “And come… do what you were doing before.” Brady vaguely gestured toward his own chest, where Max had been lying before he moved to clean up and be annoying and all that. “That was soft as fuck.” And he wasn’t typically a fan of soft, but all bets were off when it came to Max. After sex, of course. That was when things were different. “C’mon, Maxy.”

All he could do was laugh as Brady pushed him off to the side, and he immediately was wounding an arm around the back of Brady’s neck, fingers toying with the ends of his hair as Brady pressed kisses over his neck. The playfulness of it all was so nice and he didn’t bother to try to stop smiling as their lips brushed together. Max didn’t try to deepen it or anything else, just enjoying it even if Brady was being full of himself. But it was honestly just Brady at this point, and it made him smile. “Pretty sure I’d still come back for more. Have you seen yourself? Damn. You being decent is just an added bonus.” That literally wasn’t going to lessen Brady’s ego at all, but he didn’t care. He raised his eyebrows at him as Brady motioned to his chest. “Soft, huh? Didn’t know you liked that.” But Max could do soft. It’s one of the things he knew he was good at. And a glimmer of hope that had been simmering under the surface lately began to really shine through. “You’re the worst. Literally call me anything else but that and I’ll lay on you all damn day.” A little hypocritical, perhaps, with all of Max’s Bradford’s he tended to drop so casually. Nonetheless, he was pretty instantly rolling over to Brady, sliding his arm over his waist in order to bring himself closer. His hand pressed against Brady’s side; then slowly, though not necessarily cautiously, Max was resting his head on his chest. “Put your hand in my hair again, dude.” He mumbled and smiled to himself, planting a few more kisses on Brady’s chest much like earlier. But this time he didn’t pull away; he had no reason to now. “I like it when you do that.” He said, simply. And before he could fight it or think about it, he was resting his chin on his chest rolling his eyes up to meet his, the simple grin still in place. And he wasn’t thinking; didn’t think he needed to in that moment. “I kinda like this too, you know.”

“Wow. Already trying to get me in the mood for round two?” Brady teased. It wasn’t like he’d be opposed, but still. Max seemed surprised by Brady wanting him to come back, but he figured he should know by now Brady was all about the post-sex snuggling. So he just rolled his eyes, as he usually did, while Max complained about the name and moved back over to him. “What? It’s close to your actual name. At least I didn’t just make up some dumb shit like Bradford,” he said, the mocking tone evident as he said the word. He usually tried not to draw attention to the name at all, since he was lying through his teeth about it, but Max was never going to find out. “Don’t tell me what to do,” he teased, but still immediately raised his hand to thread through Max’s hair again. He was content all over again, just lying there in a position they were both familiar with, and he would have been fine if they just stayed there in silence. But Max looked up at him from where he was and said he liked this. Brady held his gaze for just a moment before averting his eyes and looking up at the ceiling. He wasn’t entirely sure what’s Max meant, but he could assume he was referring to the obvious. “Well, I’d hope so. Otherwise you’re a really fuckin’ good actor, man.” He turned back to look at him again. “I mean, I like it too. Thought we established this.”

“Maybe I am. Is it working?” He settled into the embrace easily; and they’d done it so many times before. The only difference was that Max was starting to realize that this was maybe a little more than just the usual friends with benefits deal. Especially when Brady was straight up asking him to lay with him. “Bold of you to assume you know my real name. Could really be Maximilliano for all you know.” He spoke quietly; teasingly. “How dare you diss Bradford. It’s sexy as hell.” Max thought so, anyway. “Hm, sure you don’t want me to tell you what to do? I feel like you’d be into that.” Max tilted his head into the touch; muscles instantly relaxing at the gesture. It wasn’t startling to him anymore how content he was just laying there with him. He accepted it at this point, and right now he wasn’t trying to hide how much he liked it. He laughed at that softly and shook his head, chin still planted on Brady as he did so. “I mean, I can be. Just not about this.” Max shrugged to the best of his ability, given his current position. “But no, not just that. I mean… I like this.” He repeated as he slid his arm up to slide over his torso again, and he wasn’t even trying to feel up his abs this time. He just wanted to be touching him. And he let himself get brave; let himself push all the negative thoughts out of his mind in favor of just going for it. Max always did have trouble keeping his thoughts inside his head. “Us. Like this.” Max wasn’t being clear enough, he knew, so he took a small pause to man the hell up. His heart was kind of beating heavily in his chest and his stomach felt all queasy, but he didn’t look away from Brady’s face while he spoke. He didn’t think about the repercussions, or how this might be weird, or any of that. He rarely did. “I know this isn’t…wasn’t supposed to be anything. Or whatever.” He lifted his head up as he spoke. “But I dunno.” A small, genuine smile spread across his face. And he was hopeful. “I just like you, man.”

Brady wanted to make a comment about how he was usually the one calling the shots, but he decided to keep it to himself this time around. Besides, he was allowing himself to be less and less of an uptight control freak with Max as time went on. That is… until Max kept talking. And Brady listened, watching his face, trying to understand everything he was saying. Brady’s brow furrowed as he tried to figure it out. Because right now it sounded like Max was trying to…take this a step further. And Brady had known that things were a little different lately, but Jesus. He hadn’t expected this. His heart rate picked up a bit as realization set in. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He had fucked up. “Max,” was all he was able to say at first. Brady shifted, feeling fifty fucking shades of uncomfortable because what the fuck was he supposed to say? Max was kind and genuine and had that fucking smile on his face and all Brady wanted to do was run away instead of accepting that that was all for a fucking reason. Brady sat up, effectively separating them in the process. He wasn’t about to have this conversation with their limbs all tangled together. “Why… We were just…” He didn’t even know what to say. How to begin. Brady shook his head, looking down at the bed below him. “That’s. Not what this is.” He forced himself to pick up his head and look at Max. He deserved at least that. “It was…just sex. You know that.” Saying it out loud, right to Max’s face made that pit settle in his stomach. But he had to say it. He couldn’t let this go any further, even if he didn’t even fucking know where he own head was. He just knew that wasn’t a good idea. “That’s all there is to ‘us’.”

It was hard for Max to pinpoint the exact moment he realized he messed up, but it was like a steady progression of realization. As soon as he saw the look on Brady’s face and the tone of his voice, reality began to crash down on him. And as he disentangled from Max and continued on, it was like someone just tossed a bucket of ice water on him. He sat up straight, immediately on guard, immediately knowing he’d gone too far. But more than anything, he was confused. And…really fucking hurt. “What?” Was all he could say at first, his chest constricting so tight he couldn’t think for a second. Max didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this. Now he just felt so fucking stupid. “Yeah, I did know that.” Max shook his head, frustration and embarrassment settling deep in his bones. “It was that, at first. But just sex wasn’t supposed to end up like this, Brady. I don’t cuddle with my friends after sex. Or just because.” The words tumbled out in the worst case of word vomit he’d ever experienced, and once they were out, Max knew he couldn’t take them back. “Look, man. You don’t have to like me back.” He felt nauseous saying that, but fuck, now it was obvious. He still couldn’t help how stung he felt, though, so his dumb ass continued on. “But don’t act like I’m just… making things up, either.” He reached out a hand towards him, before retracting it, and his voice got smaller. “I can’t help that I feel shit for you. But don’t act like I’m crazy for it. Just… you’ve got to admit it’s confusing. ‘Least give me that.”

Brady couldn’t blame Max. He didn’t want to. He hadn’t done anything wrong. But Brady was immediately on the defense and he felt like he needed to blame someone, because otherwise he would have to fully accept that Max was right. Brady had been feeling these things and was too scared to come to terms with it. Everything inside of him screamed not to do just that. Brady shook his head, suddenly feeling very exposed in every sense of the word. He leaned over the edge of the bed to grab his previously discarded clothes. “That’s… that’s not fair.” Brady stood to quickly pull on his boxers and then turned to face Max. “If you weren’t okay with that then you should have fucking said something. We’ve been doing that shit since the first fuckin’ time.” Brady brought a hand up to run through his hair. “Don’t do that. You know it didn’t mean shit. I woke up and thought we slept together because you stayed, okay? That had nothing to do with me. And the other time I was drunk and high as fuck, that’s nothing.” He knew that was a lie. Deep down, he fucking knew it. But it was easier to point fingers. To defend. “You’re not— god, I’m not saying you’re fuckin’ crazy, dude, but. Fuck. That’s not what this is and you knew it.” Brady paused, looking away at nothing in particular. “Or you should’ve.” He was frustrated. It wasn’t fair, he knew, but how else was he supposed to feel when he had tried to avoid exactly this? He knew he had done a shitty job, but still. “Fuck. Just… What do you want me to say here, man?” Brady asked, arms outstretched. “I… we can’t, okay?”

It was escalating, fast, and Max couldn’t do anything to stop it. Brady was up in a panic, gathering his clothes and looking so caught off guard that Max would feel fucking guilty any other time. But right now? He was hurt; he was humiliated. And he hated feeling like he just made things up in his head. Had he? “Yeah, and the first fuckin’ time is what made it different.” He swallowed, feeling entirely too vulnerable saying that out loud. “And I liked it, okay? But I wasn’t going to make a deal out of it. But this?” He motioned between the two of them. “You might not want it; want me – whatever, but news flash Brady, just friends don’t just lay all over each other for the hell of it. Even after sex. And they don’t just kiss each other outta the blue either.” He felt sick; he shouldn’t be calling him out like this. But God, he felt insane. Clingy. Like someone who just didn’t get the hint. And he hadn’t felt this stupid in a long ass time. He shook his head to himself and stood up, grabbing his own clothes and tugging them on haphazard. He got his own boxers and shirt on, coming to stand in front of Brady. He didn’t understand why he was reacting like this. It was one thing to not feel the same about him. Max could handle that. But it was the way he was doing it; like he was disturbed by just the thought of it. And that’s what hurt the most, because they were best friends before anything else. “I’m not asking for a goddamn marriage proposal here, Brady. I just want —” He struggled, not sure what he wanted. Because here Brady was, telling him it wasn’t anything. “I just wanna know why it’s so bad. You’re sayin’ you can’t.” His voice softened, and he wasn’t hiding the fact that he was hurt now. “What are you so afraid of?”

Brady yanked his shirt over his head as Max spoke. By the time Brady could look at him again, Max had said something about the first time, and Brady’s heart raced as the defensiveness took over. “The first time,” he repeated, essentially spitting the words right back at him. “You mean when we got drunk off our asses and stumbled into your fuckin’ room to suck each other off. You’re right, how could I forget how romantic that was?” Brady knew what he meant, of course he did. But he wasn’t going to admit it. “If that made you think I wanted more than sex then I’m sorry you misunderstood.” Brady shook his head, searching around the floor for his pants while Max continued to speak, mostly just to give himself something to do. He was panicking. He knew he needed to reign it in, or just to walk away, but he couldn’t bring himself to without fighting back. “I didn’t say we were just fucking friends,” Brady countered, straightening up again to look at him. “I don’t fuck all of my friends. But that’s it, Max. We’re friends who sleep together and that’s the only ‘more’ there is to it.” He didn’t have an argument for the kiss. Mostly because he didn’t even know what the fuck that was and he wanted to forget it. Max came toward him and got all soft, but it just made Brady even more stressed, and he instinctively took a step back. Max asking what he was afraid of made something in him snap. He was afraid. There were too many layers to it for him to pinpoint exactly what it was. His own trouble with emotions in general. The way his parents would look at him. The fact that Max fucking deserved what Brady couldn’t even begin to know how to give him. He was so afraid of making it all come crashing down accidentally that he did what Brady did best: he took control, and did it himself. “I’m not afraid,” he lied, his voice low. “I’m telling you how it is. Don’t act like you’re gonna…discover all my dark secrets or some shit and hold my hand through it. I don’t need you to fuckin’ fix me.”

He tried really hard not to let Brady’s words get to him, but they stung nonetheless. He was right. God, he was right. Brady never promised him anything, right from the beginning, and Max knew that. It’s why he never said anything to begin with. At the time, though, it’d just been a harmless thing. A small infatuation he didn’t think would go anywhere. At least until they started hooking up regularly, and that harmless thing started becoming real to Max. “Don’t… do that.” His hurt was bubbling into frustration, and he felt the need to defend himself even if he knew shouldn’t. Should just let this go. But it was Brady, and he couldn’t just ignore this. “I never pressured you, or asked you for shit. And I’m still not. I just want to be honest.” He couldn’t help it all from pouring out now, because they’d already gone this far. May as well just put it all out there. “That night you blame me for? The one where I stayed? You’re the one who pulled me in, Brady. You fucking held me and I didn’t move because I couldn’t. Because I goddamn like you and didn’t want to wake you up. Which, yeah, my bad.” He stood his ground, and he wasn’t going to just apologize and leave. This felt too intense to just leave alone; like Brady was genuinely upset. And Max just didn’t understand why. “You wanna act like we were just passin’ the time? Okay. That’s cool. It could have been an accident, but that doesn’t explain the other times. It wasn’t just me going too far with us. Whether you meant for it or not, dude, it happened. And I’m saying something about it, so it doesn’t get any worse.” So he could just move on from it now. “You don’t owe me anything. But you don’t need to treat me like an asshole over it.” He tensed at Brady’s words, and they stuck with him. What was he even talking about? “I’m not trying to fix you, Brady.” His heart pounded in his chest; he honestly felt sick to his stomach. This was all wrong. “I’m just trying to understand. You’re my best friend. The other stuff doesn’t matter.” Even if it kind of really did. But Brady was his friend first, and he meant that. “But this? This weird defensive shit? I just don’t get it.” Max shook his head, and he looked at him imploringly, silently pleading for him to just freaking talk to him. “Why can’t you just talk to me? It’s me.”

It was weird, Max telling Brady that he had been the one to pull him in. His first reaction was to freeze because he truly hadn’t known. But the more he thought about it, he couldn’t exactly say it was surprising. He knew he had a habit of getting a little overly touchy after they had sex because it was his only excuse to, so it made sense he’d have gone for it. But he had already known how unfair it was for him to lay into Max about it the way he did the following day, so for Max to confirm that it had been Brady himself keeping him there… God, he really needed to get his fucking shit together. But he was also still overwhelmed, and they had already talked about that, and Brady had even apologized. So he didn’t know what else he could say. Maybe he lucked out that Max wasn’t done speaking. “I’m not—” Brady stopped. He closed his eyes, taking a pause to gather his thoughts. “I’m not treating you like anything, okay? I’m telling you the truth.” He wasn’t, not totally. And that wasn’t fair. But fuck, he wasn’t prepared for this.

Once again, Brady was reminded that Max was too fucking good of a person. All he seemed to want to do was understand, but Brady wasn’t ready to share that with him. “It’s not weird defensive shit,” he said, ironically, in defense. “You don’t have to get anything.” Max wasn’t stupid, and of course Brady knew that. He knew that Max could see there was something Brady was pushing down or keeping away from him or whatever it was he thought Brady was dealing with. But he also knew Max probably thought they could talk through it, and maybe they could because Max was good at dealing with problems. But this was…different. So, so different. Probably due to the fact that Brady had never fucking dealt with this before and didn’t even know how he would begin to explain it himself. “It was just sex to me. Is that what you want to hear?” Guilt racked his entire body and Brady knew he was likely being unnecessarily harsh, but he wanted Max to stop wondering and prying about things Brady didn’t fucking want to tell him right now, frankly. “I held you after all the times we fucked so you’d know it didn’t just mean nothing to me. But only because you’re my best friend. It didn’t mean I wanted to be your fucking boyfriend.” The words felt foreign to him, giving him an entirely new and strange sensation the moment they left his lips, but he stuck to his guns and kept his eyes right on Max’s face. “You wanted me to talk to you. So is that what you wanted me to say?”

Maybe Max was being overly defensive. He might have been being unfair, too, pointing all of that out to Brady like he did. It wasn’t just Brady who had a part in things; Max knew fully well that whatever inch Brady gave him he took a mile on. Brady probably didn’t owe him any explanations, but Max kept pushing until they’d gone too far. The whole thing just felt weird. This was tense and bad and not what he’d expected at all. Brady’s words cut through to him like a knife, and it felt like the breath was suddenly knocked out of him. Brady was looking him right in the damn face, and while he’d essentially already told him that, this hurt worse somehow. Max felt nauseous, shaking his head, but not being able to tear his gaze away from Brady’s face. “Okay. I hear you.” His voice sounded all too low to his own ears. It just really stung, and he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it right now. The bitterness crept into his words as he spoke. “It’s fine that it was nothing to you, dude.” Damn, though, it was something to him. It had started to be an undeniable something. “But we’re not doing this shit anymore. I’m not gonna pretend it meant nothing to me just so you feel better.” Not anymore at least, but maybe that was him just being petty. It was hard to think when it all happened so quick; too quick. He finally tore his eyes away to grab his pants off the floor. “We’re still friends. I’ll get over it. But we’re not fucking anymore.”

Brady knew, realistically, that he didn’t have to say what he said. He didn’t have to throw it back in his face like that. He was just panicking, trying to keep it all together however the hell he could. And that meant not opening up that fucked up can of worms right now. So he would just have to settle for being rude to fully get his point across. “Didn’t ask you to,” Brady shot back, mirroring Max’s action of leaning over to pick up the last of his clothes on the floor. He didn’t want Max to do anything for him. It was far too late for that. He thought they had been on the same page of just…accepting that this was what it was. Brady knew Max, though. He should have known better, been more careful. It shouldn’t have mattered that much to hear Max confirm they weren’t going to do this anymore. It was pretty much what he had expected, to be fair. But it still hit him pretty hard. “Whatever,” he mumbled, in true Brady fashion. “Fun while it lasted, I guess.” He thought maybe he should say something else. The problem was he didn’t know what, and he was so frustrated that this had officially come to an end and annoyed at himself for a whole mess of things that he thought everything would just come out wrong. So instead, Brady breezed past him and out the door of Max’s room, headed toward his own. That was that, he supposed. And it felt pretty fucking shitty.

#CANON #just friends #current verse #009

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