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waitimcomingtoo · 2 months

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And I’ve Been Meaning To Tell You

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: you overhear Peter denying that he likes you so you go out with another guy, leaving him to crash your date and tell you how he feels

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“At what point does the staring because you’re pining for your friend become staring because you’re a stalker and planing on wearing her hair as a wig?” Ned asked after following Peter’s gaze and seeing he was once again staring at you from across the cafeteria.

“I don’t know. I think when I start wearing baseball caps and standing outside her window with binoculars.” Peter sighed happily and rested his chin in his hand as he continued to stare.

“But, it’s not gonna get to that point though, right?” Ned laughed nervously.

“I don’t know.” Peter shrugged. “She lives on a pretty high floor.”

“That’s not the answer I wanted.” Ned said quietly.

“I had a dream last night that I asked her out and she said “I’ll see you at 8” without ever telling me where we were meeting just like in the movies.” Peter said proudly.

“You should not be proud of that. Why don’t you just ask her out with your out loud words for once?” Ned asked him.

“Because the dynamic of our friendship will be-“

“-forever altered past the point of repair and things will eventually return to normal but never feel the same.” Ned groaned as ge finished Peter’s sentence. “Yes, I know. Thats always your excuse. But I really don’t think she’ll say no.”

“You don’t know that.” Peter insisted. “I can’t risk it.”

“Peter, it’s so obvious you guys like each other. She always laughs at your jokes and nobody, and I mean nobody, finds you funny. And I know you like her back because you stare at her all the time and got goosebumps that one time her ponytail hit you in the face.”

“It smelled like freedom and prosperity.” Peter whispered.

“So ask her out and smell her ponytail all the time.” Ned whispered back.

“I just can’t, okay? And I don’t even like her like that. So stop bringing it up.” Peter said and looked over at you again. He watched you leave a group of friends and walk over to him and Ned.

“But you guys obviously want to be together so why don’t you just be together?” Ned asked him.

“Because I don’t like her and she doesn’t like me, okay? That’s that.” Peter whispered harshly just as you sat down at their table.

“Hey guys. I’m pretty sure I just got a veinte out of one hundred on my Spanish quiz so.” You sighed and dropped your backpack on the table.

“Hi.” Peter’s blushed and smiled at you. Your bad mood quickly eviscerated and you smiled back.

“Hi Peter.”

“If you want, I can help you study for your next Spanish quiz. I took it last semester and did fairly bien.” Peter offered.

“Really?” You lit up. “Thanks, Pete. That would be so bien of you.”

“No problemo.” Peter said back.

“This feels…racist.” Ned mumbled as he watched the interaction.

“I, uh, I watched that movie you were talking about the other day.“ You told Peter with a nervous smile.

“You watched Alien? Did you like it?” Peter asked excitedly.

“I did but it made me kinda paranoid about, you know, aliens. But I liked the part when the alien came out of the guys chest. I never realized that scene was from that movie. I felt like I was finally in on the film bros inside jokes.”

“Yeah. I like that part too. I also like the part when he swam up the filters motor and stuck that pebble in there so the tank would get dirty and have to be cleaned, giving all the other fish a chance to escape.” Peter replied. It took you a minute to get it but when you did, you burst out laughing. Peter blushed at how hard you were laughing at his joke while Ned watched the interaction in disgust.

“That was not funny.” Ned shook his head. “Not even a little bit. It was a little criminal actually.”

“What? Yes it was. Peters always funny.” You insisted.

“Isn’t he though?” Ned faked a smile before rolling his eyes.

“Hey, back off. I liked the joke.” You defended Peter, making his blush deepen.

“Thank you. I like your jokes too.” Peter told you.

“Ugh.” Ned groaned. “This is revolting to watch. Why don’t you guys just get married already?”

“That’s not a bad idea.” You said. “We’d get a tax break, right? Whatever that means.”

“It’s when they break your taxes in half.” Peter answered.

“Oh, is that it?” You laughed. “Sounds about right.”

“I know because I took that accounting class freshman year. You weren’t in that class so you wouldn’t know.” He teased you.

“Hm. Is that the class they cancelled because not enough people signed up?” You teased back.

“Yep. That one.” He nodded. “Wow. The memory on you. You’d be an excellent gatherer if this was Hunter gatherer times.”

“Aw, Peter. That’s the nicest thing a guys ever said to me.” You smiled and touched your heart.

“If you liked that compliment I have like eight more in the chamber ready to go.” Peter told you.

“Oh my God. Just make out already. But not in front of my clementine.” Ned grumbled and peeled his clementine. You and Peter fell silent at his exclamation. Peter’s face burned with embarrassment while you avoided eye contact with either of them.

“I’m gonna go refill my water bottle. I’ll be right back.” You smiled awkwardly and quickly left the table.

“Nice job, Ned.” Peter hugged. “You just made her so uncomfortable she went to fill up a full water bottle.”

“I told you, dude. She obviously likes you. I was just pointing out the obvious.” Ned defended himself.

“She doesn’t like me.” Peter insisted.

“Are you kidding me? You just made a Finding Nemo joke and she actually laughed. Not even fake laugh. That was a genuine belly laugh at the worst joke I have ever had the misfortune of hearing. She’s down horrendous for you.”

“No, she’s not. She just sees me as a friend. And I don’t even like her like that so it doesn’t matter.” Peter lied in an effort to change the subject.

“You can’t hide the truth from your best friend. I see right through your lies. You like her. I know it and you know it. Why can’t she know it?” Ned asked.

“I told you to stop bringing it up.” Peter grumbled, growing frustrated now. It wasn’t uncommon for Ned to bring this up but it was happening more than usual lately and all it did was remind Peter that you’d never be together.

“But-“

“I don’t like her, okay? I never did. I don’t think she’s pretty, I don’t find her funny, and I don’t want to be her boyfriend. I don’t know why you don’t believe me. I swear, I do not like her like that. I never have, and I never will. Okay?” Peter snapped. Little did he know, you had come back to the table and heard his whole outburst. You blinked a few times as your stomach sank but put on a brave face and sat down.

“I’m back.” You forced a smiled but didn’t meet Peter’s eyes. Peter’s eyes widened when you sat down and he looked at Ned.

“How much of that did you hear?” Peter asked you.

“How much of what?” You played dumb. You had to pretend you weren’t crushed that the boy you’d been pining after for years just very aggressively confirmed he didn’t like you.

“Nothing.” Peter lied and exchanged another look with Ned. Ned shrugged before changing the subject to move away from the moment entirely. You pretended to listen as you tried your best not to look as disappointed as you felt.

Once your break was over, you left the cafeteria and went for a walk around campus to clear your head. You ended up on a bench and sat down before taking a big sigh. You hadn’t noticed the guy that was sitting on the other end of the bench, but he certainly noticed you.

“Hey.” He said. You looked around for who he was talking to but found no one.

“Me, hey?” You asked and pointed to yourself.

“Yeah. You, hey.” He smiled and nodded his head.

“Oh. Hey.” You smiled back.

“I’m Drew.” He said.

“Y/n.” You said back.

“What’s the matter, Y/n? You look forlorn.”

“Oh, it’s stupid.” You waved your hand.

“Not to me. Tell me about it.” He insisted and scooted closer to you. You looked down at the lessened space between the two of you and laughed shyly.

“It’s nothing. I just overheard my friends talking about me.” You told him.

“Oh shit. Was it bad?”

“Not necessarily. But it didn’t make me feel good.”

“Damn. That sucks.” Drew said. You nodded in agreement and an awkward silence fell between you.

“I like that shirt.” He said suddenly and nodded towards your shirt.

“Oh, thanks. I borrowed it from a girl I didn’t even talk to anymore.” You replied as you pulled on the shirt.

“Finders keepers.” He shrugged. “You should wear it when I take you out.”

“Why would I wear a shirt you’ve already seen when we go out?” You laughed.

“So we’re going out?” Drew smiled.

“I guess we are.” You shrugged and realized you had just agreed to a date.

“Cool. I’ll pick you up Friday.” Drew winked at you before getting off the bench. You smiled at the unexpected interaction before realizing you had not gotten a single detail.

“Wait, pick me up where?” You called after him, but he was already gone. You slumped back in your seat on the bench and felt an equal mix of confusion and excitement. Maybe this new guy was exactly what you needed to forget about Peter.

The next day, you sat with Peter and Ned at your usual spot in the lunch room but barely paid attention to their conversation. Drew had found you on Instagram and you’d been talking to him all day. Peter had noticed your thumbs flying around your keyboard and the smile on your face and felt curious and ever so slightly jealous about who was making you smile like that.

“Is that good with you Y/n?” Ned asked you.

“Sorry, what?” You asked and put your phone down.

“We were saying we were gonna get chicken wings and watch the Trixi Mattel documentary.” Peter informed you.

“Again? And I can’t Friday.” You told them.

“Why not?” Peter asked.

“I have a date.”

Ned and Peter exchanged a looked before started to speak at the same time. They both stumbled over their words and spoke over each other as they gave you all their thoughts and opinions on why you should not go on this date. You tried to cut in but Ned kept listing Criminal Minds plot lines where women were murdered while Peter asked question after question about the guy.

“Slow down. One at a time.” You shouted over them and they both went silent. You pointed to Ned to signal that it was his turn to talk.

“You have a date? With a human boy?” Ned asked in disgust.

“Yeah. Is that surprising?” You asked, sounding a little hurt that they were so shocked.

“No.” Peter replied and looked at Ned to signal for him to say the same so that you wouldn’t be offended.

“Yes.” Ned said immediately. “Who the hell is this guy?”

“Ned.” Peter said warningly.

“His name is Drew.” You shrugged.

“Drew? What’s his brothers name, draw? Stupid fucking past tense ass bullshit name.” Ned grumbled.

“Jesus Ned.” You laughed. “It’s a normal name. It’s short for Andrew.”

“Andrew?” Peter scoffed. “What is he, an apostle?”

“I don’t think there was an apostle named. Andrew.” You stated. “I think they were all named Mark. And like, John or something.”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t there.” Peter waved his hand. “Why are you going on a date with this potential psychopath?”

“Because asked me on a date.” You said simply.

“And you said yes? When we don’t even know this guy. What if he’s into hardcore drugs and wants to use you as a drug mule for his next big drug operation?“

“He seemed fine.” You shrugged.

“So you’re gonna risk your life going on a date with this lunatic because he “seemed” fine? What if he’s a cannibal?” Ned asked.

“I don’t think he’s a cannibal. He was just sitting on a bench on his phone.”

“Oh my God. He sounds completely insane. Check the sex offender registry for his name right now.” Ned instructed Peter. Peter started typing his name into his laptop so you shut Peter’s laptop with a roll of your eyes.

“Why are you guys being insane? I thought you’d be happy for me.”

“I’m about to end my life over this.” Peter mumbled.

“Me too.” Ned added. “What even spurred this reckless decision?”

“I don’t know. A guy hasn’t shown interest in me in a while. This guy did so I took a chance. Is it really that crazy?”

“Yes.” Ned said immediately. “You’re ludicrous for this. You are absolutely Pitbull featuring Ludacris for this. Saying yes to a date with a stranger. This girl has lost her damn mind.”

“How else do you meet people?” You asked them.

“You don’t.” Peter said a sarcastic laugh. you threw your hands up in exasperation and Peter and Ned exchanged a look.

“What he means is, you should try asking a friend out. That way, you already know them and know you won’t get diced and quartered into a bunch of little pieces.” Ned said kindly.

“Why would he dice me and quarter me? Wouldn’t one or the either be enough?” You asked.

“Probably not for this lunatic.” Ned laughed like it was ridiculous to suggest.

“I think you guys are over reacting. What if he’s just a nice guy wants to take me on a date?”

“No guy wants that.” Ned groaned.

“Wow. Thanks Ned.” You said sarcastically.

“What I meant was, Peter has something to say.” Ned said and pointed to Peter. Peter turned bright red and gave Ned an angry look.

“You do?” You asked Peter.

“No?” Peter replied.

“Right.” You smiled tightly and looked away from him, making Peter know he blew it.

“Where is the date?” Ned asked.

“I don’t know. Some frat house. He said his friend is having a party and he wants to take me.”

“A party? At a frat house? With underage drinking? Oh great. So this guy is a law breaker. He probably has an extensive criminal record already. And I bet it’s for the drug mule thing.” Ned insisted.

“We’re all 21. You literally turned 22 last week.” You reminded him.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant to this conversation.” Ned brushed you off.

“What kind of first date is a party anyway? A girl like you deserves to be taken on a nice, well thought out date that doesn’t involve getting drunk around strangers. If I was the one taking you on a date, I’d make a picnic of your favorite snacks and we’d eat it on the rooftop of my apartment while the sun sets.” Peter stated.

“But you’re not the one taking me on a date. He is. He likes me, you don’t.” You said sharply, making everyone fall silent. You hadn’t meant to snap at Peter like that but it bothered you that he was aggressively putting down your date after rejecting you.

“What? Am I wrong?” You asked the table.

“Peter.” Ned whispered but it was loud enough for everyone to hear. You looked at Peter again but he just couldn’t do it.

“No. You’re not wrong.” He said quietly. You nodded your head like you expected that before getting up from the table.

“I just wanted my friends to tell me they were happy for me. Instead, we just had one of the weirdest and least encouraging conversations I’ve ever been an apart of. I’ll see you guys later.” You grumbled and walked away.

“That went well.” Ned said once you were gone.

“She definitely overheard me. I totally hurt her feelings and drove her right into the arms of that cannibal drug mule. Why did I say those things?” Peter asked and rubbed his face in frustration.

“I don’t know man. I would have stopped at “I don’t like her” but you really went off.” Ned agreed.

“Because you were annoying me with how much you were asking.” Peter whined. “Oh God. What am I gonna do now? Shes gonna go to that party and fall in love with draw and forget all about me.”

“I’ll tell you what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna find draw’s party and crash it. And you’re gonna woman up and tell her how you feel.”

“How are we gonna find his party? We’re not exactly good at attending parties.”

“I have my sources.” Ned smiled deviously.

“You’re just track her location on snap maps, aren’t you?” Peter sighed.

“Yeah, I’m just gonna track her on snap maps.” Ned admitted.

When Friday came around, Peter and Ned were glued to their phones as the tried to find out where you were. Luckily for them, you had been posting a plethora of pictures of the party to your Snapchat so they easily found where you were. Unlucky for Peter, Drew was featured in all of the pictures and you looked like you were having the time of your life. Peter swallowed down his jealousy and got dressed to go to the party. He rehearsed his speech for you in his head as he made his way through the crowd. He finally found you in the kitchen in the arms of a girl he didn’t recognize. Your eyes lit up when you saw him and you tried to go towards him but immediately tripped over your over feet.

“Peter!” You cheered and threw your arms around him. The girl who had been holding you let go of your waist while Peter looked at her in confusion. You stumbled into Peter and had a hard time keeping yourself up straight

“You know her?” The girl asked Peter.

“Yeah. She’s my best friend. What’s going on? Who are you? And where’s draw?”

“I’m Serita. I found her all by herself. She seemed pretty upset.”

“Well if it isn’t Peter Peter pumpkin eater. He actually doesn’t even like pumpkin flavored things. He doesn’t like me either. He made that very clear.” You laughed and clapped Serita on the back. Serita looked at Peter in amusement but he was too focused on how drunk you were.

“Are you drunk?” Peter asked in shock.

“What? No.” You scoffed and nearly fell over.

“She’s wasted.” Serita told him. “I got her to drink some water by telling her it was a big shot of vodka.”

“I’m just here to feel the heat with somebody.” You said and held your hands up in defense.

“I’ve never seen you drink this much. What happened?” Peter asked you.

“Psh. I’m not as think as you drunk I am.” You denied the obvious with a wave of your hand. The action caused you to stumble again and you had to grip Peter’s shirt to keep from going down.

“You can’t even stand up straight. Where’s draw?” Peter asked again and looked around the room for your date.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “I’m pretty sure he left with that pretty red headed girl from our statistics class sophmore year. With that teacher who had that cat with a silly name. Remember him? What was the cats name?”

“Kitty puss.” Peter reluctantly admitted.

“Kitty puss!” You cheered again and nearly dropped to the floor.

“I got you.” Peter said and tightened his grip on you. “But if he’s on on a date with you then why did he leave with another girl?”

“Because he didn’t get what he wanted from this girl?” You shrugged with a sad smile. Peter’s eyes darkened and he looked at Serita with a clenched jaw.

“What did he want?” He asked her.

“To get her drunk enough to lower her standards.” Serita stated. “That’s what he does to all the undergrad girls on this campus. Or at least, he tries to. Girls his age know better and stay away from him. But unfortunately for your best friend here, she didn’t know about his reputation.”

“Sterling Knight should have had a bigger career after Starstruck. He was funny and could sing. I never found him all that handsome but he had star power. He deserved more from Disney and I’ll die on that hill.” You interrupted their conversation to say.

“That’s nice, sweetie.” Peter smiled kindly at you before looking at Serita again. “I’m gonna take her to the bathroom and try to sober her up. Thanks for taking care of her. I’m glad she had a friend here.”

“Oh, I don’t know this girl. I just noticed she needed someone and stayed with her.” Serita explained. Peter raised his eyebrows in surprise before giving her a grateful smile.

“Oh. Well thanks for noticing. I got it from here.” He said before picking you up bridal style. You laughed gleefully and wrapped your arms around his neck, making Peter turn red again. Serita noticed this and stopped him.

“Hold on. How do I know I can trust you with her?” Serita asked. “What if you don’t even know her and you’re just trying to do what Drew was trying to do?”

“I promise I know her. Look. She’s my lock screen.” Peter said and showed Serita his lock screen which was a photo of the two of you.

“Best friend, huh?” Serita smirked.

“Please.” Peter whined. “I can’t hear it from you too. I’m an idiot and I know that. That’s the whole reason I’m here.”

“Well good luck. She’s been talking about “my Peter” all night.” Serita patted his back before walking away. Peter smiled at that before carrying you to the bathroom.

“Is this how Lady Gaga felt at the 2011 Grammys when they carried her in in that giant egg?” You asked as you rested your head on Peter’s shoulder.

“We will never know how Lady Gaga felt while being carried in a giant egg at the 2011 Grammys. You’re just being carried by your idiot friend to a disgusting frat bathroom that probably has salmonella and syphilis all over it.”

“Romantic.” You chuckled and held Peter tighter. He shut the bathroom door behind the two of you before gently putting you down on the countertop. He started rummaging through the medicine cabinet while you swung your legs.

“My tummy hurts.” You whined.

“I know. Take this.” Peter instructed and handed you Tylenol.

“Magic beans?”

“Tylenol. Drink this.” He chuckled and handed you back the cup of water from Serita. You chugged the water with the pills and wiped your mouth before giving Peter a sad smile.

“How do you feel? Do you need to puke?”

“No.” You shook your head. That action made you nauseous and you hopped off the counter to throw up into the toilet.

“I had a feeling that was gonna happen.” Peter mumbled.

“Don’t tell Kitty Puss about what a wreck I am.” You pleaded and threw up again.

“I won’t.” Peter laughed and held your hair back.

“I’m gonna die.” You whined and slumped against the bathtub. Peter sat down beside you and got the hair out of your face.

“You’re not gonna die.” He assured you. “You’re just gonna have really bad breath and carpet burn on your knees.”

“I hate carpet burn.” You said and started to cry. Peter had a feeling the tears weren’t just from the carpet burn so he wrapped his arms around you.

“It’s okay. Let it all out.” He said softly as he rubbed his hand on your back. You wrapped your arms around his neck and cried into his shoulder for a minute before pulling away. He grabbed a tissue from the counter and wiped your tears for you.

“I’m sorry.” You said quietly as you stared down at your lap.

“What are you sorry for?”

“For going on this date.”

“No. I don’t want to hear that. You don’t have anything to apologize for.” Peter shook his head as he continued to dry your eyes. You pushed your hand away and held it so he would look at you.

“I do. I only went because I was mad at you. And I posted all those things because I wanted you to think I was having fun with another guy. But I wasn’t having fun. I was thinking about you the entire night.”

“Well you fooled me.” Peter chucked. “I thought you were halfway in love with this guy already. But why were you mad at me?”

“I heard you the other day. I heard you tell Ned you didn’t like me.” You admitted and gave him a sad smile.

“Oh, that’s not-“

“And it’s fine.” You cut him off. “I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you over that. It’s not your fault you don’t like me. We can’t help what we don’t feel.”

Peter stared into your eyes and saw a sadness he’d never seen you show before. You had sobered up a little but still weren’t completely there. He wanted to tell you how he felt, but he wanted you to be sober enough to remember it.

“So what happened to your date?” He changed the subject. You gave Peter a sad smile and shrugged your shoulders.

“He wasn’t much of a gentleman.” You admitted. Peters jaw clenched but he tried to remain calm for you same.

“Why do you say that?”

“I kept trying to talk to him and get to know him but all he wanted to do was get drunk. So I kept drinking whatever he handed me because I thought that would make me a more “fun” date.” You told him. You looked down at your dress and nervously fiddled with the hem of it. Peter stayed silent as he watched your eyes fill up with tears.

“I got all dressed up. I did my hair and my makeup. I tried to look pretty for him.” You said sadly. “But he didn’t even compliment me when he saw me. And he didn’t laugh at any of my jokes. I kept feeling like I was annoying him any time I asked him a question. But I was just trying to get to know him.“

“Well he’s crazy for not complimenting you. Because you look very pretty tonight.”

“Oh, please. My makeup’s running down my face and I probably have puke on my dress.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re still the prettiest girl in this room.” Peter told you.

“I’m the only girl in this room.” You reminded him and pointed to the bathroom wall.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re the prettiest girl in any room you’re in.” Peter stated. That brought a smile out of you and you slipped your hand into his.

“You’re sweet.” You smiled in appreciation and gave his hand a squeeze. Peter squeezed you back before getting the hair off your forehead. You leaned into his hand and looked into his eyes.

“What happened tonight?“ He asked quietly.

“Well, once I was drunk enough for Drew’s liking, he asked me to go up to one of the bedrooms with him. I went because I thought it was because he wanted a more private place to talk. I thought he wanted to hear what I had to say. Imagine that? Imagine your date being interesting in something you had to say? But he didn’t care about that. He didn’t want to talk.” You laughed sadly before looking down at the floor with a heavy sadness.

“What did he want?” Peter asked and braced himself. You looked up and met Peter’s eyes with a sad smile.

“You know what he wanted.” You said softly. Peter gulped and nodded his head so you wouldn’t have to relive it. You let out a sigh and wiped your tears on the back of your hand.

“He didn’t even kiss me.” You laughed sadly. “He just shut the door and tried to unzip my dress. I pushed him away and yelled at him, and then he got upset that I was upset so he left me in there. I was too drunk to go after him so I just sat there for a while in the dark. By the time I came back down to the party, he was already making out with another girl.”

“What’s this guys problem? He got to take the most incredible girl in this city on a date and he blows it in every way possible? He’d be lucky to talk to you, let alone go out on a date with you. How could he not see what a privilege he had just to be near you?” Peter said with genuine anger.

“Thanks, Pete.” You chuckled and felt slightly better about the night. Peter was about to go off more until he saw the look on your face. You didn’t need to hear Peter’s gripe right now. You needed comfort.

“Should we kill him?” Peter asked after a beat of silence.

“I think so. Serita told me he’s got a bit of a reputation for this kind of thing. I had no idea.”

“I can’t believe Ned was right and this guy really was insane.” Peter said, making you laugh.

“I know. I guess this means we should listen to him more.” You laughed. Peter smiled at you before scooping you up again and kicking the door open.

“Woah. Where are we going?” You asked as he carried you straight out of the party.

“On a real date.” He replied and you fell silent. He carried you all the way to his apartment building and swung up to the roof.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back.” Peter said and he slipped out of his button down. He draped it over your shoulders to keep you warm before racing downstairs.

When he returned, he had a picnic blanket, his portable Death Star night light, a lunchables pizza, and two bottles of water. You smiled as he laid the picnic blanket down before patted the space beside him. You sat down and he wrapped a blanket from his bed around the both of you. You cracked open your water bottle and downed it while he put together the lunchables. He handed you one of the pizzas and you did cheers before silently eating them as the sun began to rise.

“Are you enjoying your meal, madam?” Peter looked away from the sunrise to ask you.

“Why, yes I am. This is one of the finer lunchables I’ve ever eaten. Compliments to the chef.” You played along.

“The chef thanks you kindly.” Peter replied and you both laughed.

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you for a minute as you watched the sky become pink. Peter looked over at you and felt his heart ache over the way the sun was lighting up your face with a warm glow. You were holding your blanket tightly around your body to shield yourself from the morning air and had your eyes shut to let the night wash away from you. Peter knew in that moment he was in love and it could not be unspoken any longer.

“So, uh, remember when we were in the bathroom before and you said we should listen to Ned more?” Peter began.

“That doesn’t sound like something I would say. But I guess so. Why?” You wondered and looked over at him. Peter looked you in the eyes and gulped.

“Ned was actually right about a second thing.”

“Two things? Is he going for a personal record?” You laughed. When you saw that Peter wasn’t laughing, you stopped smiling.

“What is it, Pete? Something bad?”

“No. Not bad. Just, um, just a little clarification, I guess.” Peter began.

“Clarification about what?”

“I know you heard me telling Ned that I didn’t like you. And I know that it hurt your feelings. Which I totally understand why it would. It was overkill. But what you overheard the was my frustrated attempt to get Ned to stop insisting that I liked you.”

“Oh. Okay.” You said slowly and never took your eyes off him. Peter stared into your eyes for the last time before everything changed.

“And the only reason he keeps insisting that is because it’s true. He was trying to get me to tell you how I felt and I snapped at him because I was scared that if I ever did tell you how I felt, you wouldn’t feel the same.” Peter finished. You stared at him for a long time but Peter couldn’t read your expression. You were definitely pensive but he didn’t know if you were upset with him or relieved to know the truth. You turned your face back towards the sunrise and stared out at it.

“Hm.” You hummed.

“Hm? That’s all you have to say?” Peter asked nervously.

“Sorry. I was just thinking about that part in the movie Alien when the two main characters get directions from that school of fish and all the fish take the shape of an arrow to show them which way to go.” You said very seriously. Peter shook his head before cracking up laughing.

“Wow. Ned must be on a roll because hearing my own joke repeated back to me makes me realize how unfunny it was.” He admitted, making you laughing.

“I still laughed.” You shrugged. “Even if it wasn’t funny.”

“You did.” He realized with a smile.

“Probably because I like you so much.” You shrugged again and stopped looking at the sunrise to look at him. Peters smile grew and he reached over to hand your hand in his. All that pining and anticipation had led to that moment of you finally admitted how you felt about each other.

“Yeah.” He smiled. “Thats probably why.”

Tag list 🏷️

@thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling

@tom-hollands-wifey

@whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings

@imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101

@peterparkoure

@justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr

@emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland

@sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @eridanuswave

@solarxmoonchild @canyouevencauseicant

@quaksonhehe @lovelessdagger

@thesuitelifeofafangirl @marshxx @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie

@maybemona

@alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom

@pandaxnienke

@officialsimppage @peterbenjiparker @itsemohours

@freakofmusic25 @tomholland85

@olixerwxxd @leilanixx

@whereismytelephone @so-very-asleep @white-wolf1940

@spideyspeaches @hihiweezing

@mathletemadison

@dhtomholland @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @prancerrparkerr

@hallecarey1 @adayasgeorgia @blackwidowisthebest @imawhoreforu

@ciarahollands

@nellabellaa @pinklxmonade @boogywoogywoogy

#peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #peter parker friends to lovers #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #Peter Parker best friends to lovers #peter parker x best friend!reader

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norrizzandpia · 6 months

Note

can you write just lando being a cute bf and like he comes on in the middle of a stream just to ask if youve eaten and took medication and drank enough

YESSSS I FUCKING LOVE BOYFRIEND LANDO

Boyfriend Lando (LN4)

Summary: Where the chat goes wild for Boyfriend Lando.

Warnings: Lando being everyone’s fav bf, language, sexual references lol

Lando’s scream rocked the room as he erupted in laughter after having been killed in Halo. He slunk back in his chair, arms falling over the sides, and groaned loudly at the defeat.

Max, on the other hand, was yelling at the top of his lungs victoriously.

“I FUCKING BEAT YOU, BITCH! HAHA! I DID IT!” The chat, surely, was crying of laughter from the other side of their screens with the overflowing messages in all caps.

Lando stared at the ceilings, huffing and puffing, before he heard the small creak of his door. Tilting his head back further, a smile broke out on his face at the upside down view of his girlfriend.

“Y/n!” He exclaimed as she walked closer to him, leaning down and kissing his forehead lightly.

He blushed, something the chat and Max made fun of him for, before sitting up and turning around fully. He grabbed her waist, pulling her down onto his lap, and kissed her lips sweetly.

“How are you?” He said, ignoring the way Max laughed at him.

She nodded, “I’m good.”

“Eaten today?” He inquired again, eyebrows wiggling at her playfully.

She nodded, “Drank today?”

Again, she nodded.

“Took your medication?”

She almost nodded, but slyly smiled at him, “No, Lan, it’s not time yet.”

He shook his head immediately, “Yes, it is.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“N-”

“Baby-” He interrupted, “It’s 12:04 pm. You take your medication at 12:00 pm.”

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, smile peaking through, “Oh my god, okay, mom.”

She got up from his lap, but not before he called up, “It’s daddy, remember?!”

“Ew, what the actual fuck?” Max countered, voice displaying his disgust.

Lando squinted to read the rapid comments, “None of your business, bitch.”

“You made it everyone’s business when you screamed it?!” Max exclaimed, aggravated.

“Do you want it to be your business?” Lando challenged, licking his lips when he caught Max.

“Fuck no.”

“There you go.”

Lando resorted his attention back to the chats, reading some out.

“Wow! What an interesting thing to say? ‘Lando knowing Y/n was late to take her medication is something I will fall asleep to tonight’”

Max joined him, “‘Y/n not being fazed by Lando’s questions has my heart’ Aww, how cute. Lando cares about his girlfriend.” He deadpanned.

Lando laughed, reading another, “Oh, this one’s in all caps. Should I scream it? Guess I should. ‘I HATE MY LIFE I WANT LANDO AND I WANT Y/N I WANT THEM BOTH.’”

There was a comical silence that ensued, bringing loud laughter to the two best friends before Y/n was walking back in the room with a proud smile.

“Medicated!” She exclaimed, Max choking on his water with the chuckle that emitted from him.

Lando whooped and hollered, spinning around in his chair before stopping as she came to sit back down on his lap. When she was settled, he let one hand rest on the side of her waist, the other squeezing lightly the skin of her thigh. Her hands curled in his hair as the two looked at the chat’s comments.

ln4andop81

God, it’s me again.

mclarensgirly

SO WHY TF DO I GET LOOKED AT WEIRDLY WHEN I SAY IM ON MEDICATION BUT LANDO CELEBRATES WHEN Y/N TAKES THE PILL??????

f1fan2023

Can we plz go back to that daddy comment? Like Lando is daddy, but he shouldn’t know that?

mclarennnnnnfan

WHAT KIND OF VOODOO SHIT DID THEY PULL TO GET THAT KIND OF LOVE??? SPILL IT RIGHT THE FUCK NOW I NEED TO KNOW HOW TO GET A MAN TO LOOK AT ME THE WAY LANDO LOOKS AT Y/N

Lando chuckled at all the words, arms pulling Y/n closer to him. To add fuel to the fire, he kissed her shoulder and whispered, only for her to hear, how much he loved her. From her blushing and the toothy grin on her face, the chat went wild for the ambiguous moment.

Truthfully, they didn’t need to be told anything to know it was Lando expressing how he felt for her.

He was always doing that.

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priniya · 8 months

Text

🔮 OPPOSITES ATTRACT

synopsis. a quiet slytherin and a loud gryffindor find themselves on a chilly evening, which results in something unexpected — at least for people around them. the oldest weasley’s daughter finds herself infatuated with nott’s only child and vice versa, even if their worlds seem so different, being apart just doesn’t feel right.

notes. theodore nott x weasley!reader. slightly sunshine x grumpy (pretend you’re a ginger if ur not). part 2 containing the date, thoughts?

theodore nott never thought he would be given a chance to love and be loved, upon all the terrible mistakes he has made. and maybe it seemed silly for a sixteen years old to say, but with an upcoming war, he wasn’t so sure if he could live through it.

theodore nott never thought he would have someone to call his own, someone to help him, when times get tough or someone who would understand him wordlessly. to be fair, theodore nott never thought he deserved anything like that, so the surprise on his face, when he found someone who was involuntarily willing to be his person was enormous.

he was walking around the crowded streets of the city, the dim lighting allowing him to see muggles running around with different expression on every other face he has passed — some of them were happy, cheering the slowly creeping holiday on them, some of them were exhausted and/or angry, probably from trying to find a perfect gift for someone and failing. just watching them gave him some sort of comfort, he had never had to look for gifts too much, his father wasn’t keen on being all festive and christmas was just any other day. the exception itself was looking for presents for his friends, which never had troubled him so much he looked exhausted.

he was in his thoughts, when he felt like he collided with someone. his eyebrows were squinted as he looked down on the red-haired girl, whose face was all red, either from cold or embarrassment. though, there was something so familiar about the girl that made him study her face for a brief second, the tea stain on his unzipped jacket didn’t seem to bother him at all, not as much as the familiarity of the girl.

“oh my god, i am so sorry, sir.” she let out ashamed that she didn’t look where she was going and that she probably ruined someone’s evening with her no sugar, lemon tea. it was then, when the familiar girl finally gave up and looked at the person she rudely bumped into.

“nott?” her words weren’t coated with layers of disgust and regret that out of all the people in london that night, she bumped into theodore nott. her words had surprised and confused undertones, almost as if she didn’t mind seeing him there. now, he obviously recognized his attacker — y/n weasley, a girl he sits behind in history of magic, a twin sister of potter’s best friend, someone who should hate him with burning passion.

“are you alright?” redhead’s question took him off guard.

theo was expecting something else, like a mockery of the fact that he was walking amongst muggles without hexing them all. though to be honest, theodore never hated muggles, well, yeah, he said some stupid shit, when he was younger and he was far from proud, but it was the need to appease his father. he definitely didn’t expect to see the worried manner in her, her brows scrunched as she tried to read his emotions, while standing in front of him in silence.

“theo…?” repeated y/n. he wasn’t alright and he didn’t know if he should show it. for merlin’s sake, he really wanted to get so much things out of his system, but venting to a weasley? he knew better than that — she would probably go around, and spread out the word about everything she heard from him.

nott was about to mumble something in response, when her eyes flickered with concern, demolishing all his justification why shouldn’t he talk to her for longer than needed. she was genuine, not caring that ron and harry weren’t on a good terms with him, she wanted to know, and help if possible.

so, theo simply gave up the act. “uh, no. not really.” he confessed, confirming all the suspicions she got to gather from observing him for a few minutes, when he thought of an answer. her expression changed from concerned to slightly sad, even.

before the boy could realize, he was sat in one of the small coffee shops beside her, a half empty, steamy cup of hot chocolate in his hands as they talked. something was so incredibly off about the way they conversed, first time in a while, he never wanted to conversation to end, just like when he was talking to his friends. his body itched at the thought that soon both of them would have to come to their respective houses and the talk would be just a memory that never happened again.

he had to admit that y/n’s presence was soothing. it was like the smell of a freshly printed new book, a cigarette on a foggy morning, a sensation of someone’s nails gently scratching the inside of his palm. the last one was a habit his mom developed to calm him down before she died, leaving him with an aching need for someone to find out about his perk and do it when he needs.

her muffled laughter filled his ears as he watched the girl cover her lips with a palm, he couldn’t help but smile. the gloomy atmosphere that he brought with his tiny vent was long gone, since she declared it her mission to make him feel better. so, since he wasn’t a big talker himself, she let him listen to all the stories from when she was growing up. even though he never experienced a family like hers, a family that cared for each other, it was comforting.

his eyes darted to the clock hung up on a wall, followed by hers and a long sigh that left his lips. his fingers ran through his curls as he parted his lips to bid goodbyes, though y/n was faster. “we could meet up here some other time, if you want.” she gave him a shy smile, the one he never thought he would see on her face.

y/n weasley wasn’t the shy type of girl, she was a big talker, a smart-ass with witty comebacks and a obnoxiously loud aura coating her small frame, though right now, upon his gaze that wandered around her face for quite some time now, she grew shyer.

“uh.” stuttered theo. “yeah, i guess it’s a good idea.” his reply made her smile go bigger, and in the back of his head, it felt like a reward for the decision he just made, some kind of reassurance that he did something good.

“perfect.” she grinned, taking the two of their cups and taking them to the shop’s kitchen, revealing that either she works there, or she’s just insanely crazy for barging into someone’s workplace as an unwanted stranger. “there’s a fireplace in the back.” weasley added, taking his hand in hers before he could even refuse (he wouldn’t though).

the tips of her long nails gently grazed his palm, when she led him the back, greeting a few of her coworkers. her touch on his skin ached, almost burnt, although if that’s what the insides of a normal, fireplace without floo powder felt like, he could grow to like it, only if a part of her body was pressed against his. few minutes later theo’s hand felt empty as he watched her disappear in green flames, having bid their goodbyes.

***

theo hated that feeling. this warm, strange feeling that coated his heart whenever he thought about the obnoxious gryffindor, who he met at those muggle streets. nevertheless, he found himself unable to think about someone else. he was replying to a letter pansy has sent him, and the only thing he had on his mind was y/n, he wondered if ginny told her about her little getaways with theo’s best friend, if all her brothers got back to their house, and — if she thought about him.

his hands throbbed. his fingers wrapped tightly around the quill, before putting it down on his deck. why on earth would he text her? it was one accidental meeting at some crowded street, one conversation that shouldn’t mean anything to them.

nott squeezed his eyes, the muscles on his face tensed as he focused on the paper in front of him, scribbling down a few words in his neat handwriting. a long sigh has left his lips, his eyes tracing the sentence he wrote for her. shit, why would he even do that? if any of his friends knew, he’d have been doomed — one weasley hanging around their friend group was enough, but he didn’t want to push draco nor blaise’s limits.

on a christmas’ eve, he went out for another walk, slightly hoping in the back of his mind that he’d accidentally bump into her again. this time, theodore would make sure to hear her laugh more often, to see her teeth, when she smiles or to watch as she gets shyer upon his gaze on her face.

his feet got him into a familiar looking café, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion — he couldn’t pinpoint from where he knew the place — and looked around. then, he heard it.

“theo!” a female voice rang in his ears. the boy turned his face, a smile slipping onto his lips as he realized where he was. the god damned café y/n was working at. “what can i get you?” a grin spread across her face, visibly delighted to see him there, almost as if she hoped for it.

her forearms laid on the counter as her body leaned a little closer, her hair pinned up in a ponytail that probably got ruined during her shift from running around the place, having a chat with each customer every now and then, a pinkish tint on her cheeks, maybe from the heat in the back or maybe, because he was there.

it took him a second to realize that he was staring with his mouth slightly parted. “uh—” he stuttered, getting a small, barely audiable giggle in response. “i just came to see you.” he blurted out. thank god his ears were covered by the beanie, because just by saying those six words got him all flustered.

“theo.” his name sounded so well coming from her. theodore wanted to hear it again, again, and again. it was melodic, like most beautiful song he’s ever heared. how could he get so whipped after one hangout?

“i hoped you’d come by.” she confessed shyly. “i have something for you in the back, could you give me five minutes? i gotta tell the manager i’m taking a break.” she beamed at him sweetly, rushing off to the back, taking off the green apron that hung on her waist in the meantime.

when she came back, she was still wearing the café’s shirt with a small, green logo, black jeans, and was carefully walking towards his table with a neatly wrapped package and on a top of that a plate with a big piece of some sort of chocolate cake, two drinks (the same as last time), and a cookie. her hair wasn’t in a ponytail anymore, ginger strands falling into her shoulders as she gave him the sweetest smile he’d ever seen.

“you– you got me something?” a question left theo’s mouth, leaving him all surprised — the strange feeling warming him up from the inside. he took a big sip of the hot chocolate in front of him, hardly minding that he burnt his tongue, he didn’t want to say anything stupid. “y/n, we talked once and you… got me something?” he asked once again, not believing his own eyes.

the girl just smiled wider, passing the box towards him. “uh. yeah.” she answered, shrugging. “last time, you said that you never really celebrated christmas the right way, so… please open it.” she tried explaing herself, but gave up at the end, pushing the box further with her fingertips. “please?”

shit.

if she didn’t ask, if she didn’t give him those eyes and that smile. maybe he would be able to refuse, think of some lame excuse that wouldn’t hurt her feelings and give her the box back. but y/n was so sweet, and thought of him hard enough to prepare him a gift.

for half a second, theodore could see something flicker in her eyes, when his lean fingers gently pulled the green ribbon, ripping the gift paper afterwards. the gift turned out to be a sweater, a hand-made one that made the feeling come back to him.

the sweater was dark green, in the similar shade of his tie or the snake symbol on his robes, it had a large, dark blue letter T with a silver outline. his eyes scanned the piece of clothing, the corner of his lips going slightly upwards. “you got me your mom’s iconic sweater?” asked theo.

his mind was filled with different thoughts and emotions right now. he could never call y/n weasley a sweet girl, not because it wasn’t true, but because it would be an understatement — she was the sweetest, or at least somewhere in that range. his cheeks almost hurt from smiling at her, and never in his life nott had felt it.

“actually…” her cheeks started getting a little more pinkish than usual. “it’s based on my mom’s sweaters, i did it on my own. it might not be perfect—" y/n started rambling in nervousness, afraid that the boy won’t be happy about getting a meaningless piece of fabric from her.

“y/n, i love it.” theodore’s words were like honey to y/n’s ears, she gave him a small smile, not really expecting him to gently grab her hand out of sudden. the reason behind it? even theo didn’t know (probably to ease her nerves).

when he realized what he did, he wanted to take his hand back and mutter a quiet apology, the crime scene awkward as much as only possible. although, from the corner of his eye, he noticed that the pink on her face intensified, few more minutes of skin-to-skin contact, and she would turn into a tomato, so his hand stayed on hers, taking the chance and intertwining their fingers together.

“would you– uh,” the redhead started, stumbling over her own words, easily losing focus, each time his thumb stroked her hand, a tiny smirk hovering over his lips. “like to, uh, come here once in a while, you know… until the break’s over? keep me company, maybe?”

and he did. how couldn’t he? this girl was constantly on his mind ever since she bumped into him on the streets and spent literal hours at the café.

although, beside just keeping her company during the winter break — but also at school. he grew so fond of her (and believe me, it worked both ways) that cutting their fresh friendship short was something he couldn’t let happen. so… even though her younger sister was already swaying her way into theodore’s friend group, y/n seemed like a different topic.

theodore nott liked sharing. as unbelievable as it sounds, he really did. whenever he had something he enjoyed, he was willing to share, he was the type of person to give away his last cigarette to one of his friends, but the thought of sharing y/n weasley never crossed his mind. he wanted her all to himself, so… their hangouts always contained just the two of them.

small study dates in the library, late night walks around the courtyard, meet-ups in the room of requirement, picnics in the astronomy tower, while smoking some pot and cigarettes together.

back then, it felt strictly platonic. even if they called it their little dates, nott had a feeling they weren’t moving past the friendship line, while his emotions towards the girl were getting more and more serious. nevertheless, theodore was confident, but not confident enough to ask her out — to confess his silly crush without the fear creeping up on him that y/n would reject him and turn his dreams into nightmares.

***

the weather outside was getting better with each day until spending time inside the castle was unbearable. it was around the time, theo decided to finally push his luck and ask the girl of his dream out. ever since he woke up, he was nervously fidgeting with everything that got to his hands and when then classes were to start, it only got worse.

“you alright, theo?” a whisper left y/n’s mouth as she stood next to him in potions, her elbow nudging him lightly, trying to catch his attention.

merlin. the way his name sounded so wonderful on her tongue. if it wasn’t for the small attention-grabber, he would definitely accidentally ignore the question to daydream about how sweetly her voice is.

“no, i mean– yes, yes i am.” he stuttered. “i just– can i ask you a question?” she nodded, making his stomach turn around. “would you, uh– like to go out to hogsmeade with me? like on a date?” the question left his lips.

his throat went dry as he waited years for an answer (which was actually just about two seconds, theo’s brain just got really dramatic from stress), legs giving up, so he had to lean his palms on the table.

“f’course.” weasley grinned, not minding the blush that spread all over her face, just from the ask. “i thought you’d never ask, really.” she giggled, turning her eyes away for a second, before flashing him another beam of hers.

nott’s face was now bright pink. “i– what?” he was struggling to form a logical sentence. “you wanted me to–?” the boy was supposed to finish his thought, though it didn’t really sit well with snape who interrupted their little talk, postponing it until the evening.

the two of them were walking somewhere outside, laughing about something so insignificant, when the situation from classes popped into his mind. “so… about that date. you really want to?” asked nott.

he expected any kind of answer — yes, no, maybe, you should guess, nah — whatever was only possible. however, the feeling of her lips on his wouldn’t cross his mind. she kissed him. y/n has kissed him, leaving him breathless, when she pulled away.

“does that answer your question?” redhead chuckled, her fingers still curled up against the collar of his white shirt. he shook his head, still mind-blown. “yes, theodore faustus nott, i was dying to hear you ask me out on a date. whatever we have between us, i wanted it to move forward and go on a date with you.”

she laughed. “you really think i’d spend hours crotcheting a sweater for a guy i met few days earlier if i didn’t feel something? theo, i almost passed out when you touched my hand months ago.” another laugh left her lips that were now so close to his, clouding his mind with one certain thing.

upon hearing all those words, the boy couldn’t stop himself anymore, he pressed his mouth against hers, savouring the moment. cherishing the fact that she wanted him like he wanted her.

“the date is still a thing, yeah?” y/n smiled as her nose brushed his.

“you’re gonna love it.” he answered, grinning.

#theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #pansy parkinson x ginny weasley #harry potter fic #harry potter fanfiction #theodore nott fic #theo nott x you #theo nott fic #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys fic #theo nott rec

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mypoisonedvine · 8 months

Text

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 (part two) | neil lewis x reader

read part 1 first!!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you've been best friends with neil basically your entire life, and secretly in love with him almost as long. now, you have to wonder if it's time to move on... or if that's even possible.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 10k

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | smut, angst, pining/unrequited love - 18+ only

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | hangovers, jealousy/mega angst, smut (finally; unprotected sex, bondage mention, crying during sex/slight dacryphilia) and fluff/emotions

You were draped over the couch limply, groaning as you held a frozen bag of peas to your head— and used it to cover your eyes, because everything was just too fucking bright.

“You look like one of those weed commercials,” Jonathan informed you with a frown. “Like, the one with the deflated girl.”

“Those aren’t commercials for weed, dumbass,” Lucien snarked. “They’re PSAs.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Jonathan shrugged, “I only watch TV when I’m stoned.”

“How are you even alive right now?” you asked Jonathan with a whine. “Like, how are you doing anything more than this? ‘Cause I’m just doing this and I think I’m dying.”

“The secret is not being a lightweight,” Jonathan explained.

“Don’t listen to him,” Neil warned, “his liver’s like a rotten egg. You should be proud to be a lightweight— actually, I’m still not sure why you got so wrecked last night.”

“You’re just jealous you weren’t invited,” Jonathan quipped, and you were too busy keeping your eyes shut to see if Neil actually reacted to that.

“Are you actually planning to do any work today?” Lucien wondered. “Or are you getting paid to lay around complaining?”

“Are you getting paid to be so bitchy?” you shot back. “Just make it my paid sick leave.”

“Sick, yes; paid, yes,” Jonathan noticed, “but you didn’t actually leave.”

“If she wants to spend her sick day here, she can,” Neil decided, “it’s not like she’s contagious.”

“She might be, if she talks you all into coming out again tonight,” Jonathan laughed, but you barely let him finish.

“No fucking way,” you interjected instantly, “I’m never drinking again.”

“But the best cure for a hangover is liquor!” Jonathan insisted.

“That’s the most alcoholic advice I’ve ever heard you give,” Lucien scolded. “Next you’ll say you should drink in the mornings to perk up.”

“Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” Neil decided.

“See!” Jonathan yelped triumphantly.

“No, not booze— kid, you want me to get you a coffee or something?” Neil offered instead. You could tell he’d stepped a little closer from the sound of his voice— and he was speaking a little softer, too. You hesitantly peeled the bag off your head— just partially, that is— and squinted one eye open; thankfully, his head was blocking most of the overhead light as he looked down at you. “There’s that place on the corner, I could just run and get it real quick—”

“I’m okay,” you smiled back, “but thanks.”

“Not even a hot chocolate?”

You already felt warm inside from him saying that, no hot beverage required. You shook your head and he shrugged as he walked away. “Just let me know, okay?”

“Okay,” you hummed. You liked this, actually— him taking care of you. It wasn’t the first time of course, you’d gotten sick your fair share of times while knowing him and he’d usually come over and help how he could (which was mostly in the form of takeout soup and entertainment). But now you imagined it a little… cozier: him wrapping you up in a blanket and then in his arms, checking your temperature by putting his hand to your forehead, letting you drift to sleep on him while he read to you or something.

You probably could’ve dozed off as you imagined that little fantasy world, if it weren’t for Neil breaking the silence a minute later. “You know, I was thinking about changing things up a bit,” he said suddenly.

“Please, please, do not try to grow a goatee again,” Lucien begged. As you and Jonathan erupted in a chorus of disgusted agreement, Neil spoke over you all.

“I meant the store!” he promised. “The shelves— and maybe some of the posters, I don’t know.”

“Or you can finally take my idea and start renting porn,” Jonathan offered.

“First of all,” Neil explained, “technically, some of our inventory is considered erotic—”

“No no, not your weirdo French experimental softcore— the good stuff: college babes, horny stepmoms…” Jonathan began to list.

“And second of all,” Neil continued, but Jonathan was still going.

“Norwegian twins coming to America for a foreign exchange program—”

“Norwegian twins?” you repeated with a confused grimace.

“And second of all,” Neil began again, louder and with a scowl on his face, “we don’t have any good way to disinfect the tapes after people return them.”

“That’s a very good point,” Lucien noticed.

Much later in the day— after a few customers had come and gone, and Jonathan had left for the day, and the UPS guy had come by with a delivery of some new (old) movies to add to the store’s inventory— it ended up with you and Neil in his office.

You hadn’t tried to be in the same office at the same time, really… if anything, you were kind of avoiding him at the moment. Not that you could actually avoid your boss while at work in such a small place— even if he wasn’t your best friend— but you’d been dodging the elephant in the room this whole time.

He sat at his desk and leaned back in the chair, putting one foot up against the desk to tilt back even further as he looked through the stack of mail. For a minute, there was just silence, aside from you both just working. Of course, it couldn’t last forever.

“You, uh, told me you were going back to yours last night,” Neil noticed as he sorted through the envelopes— you figured it was a matter of time before he mentioned it, unless he had a serious lapse of memory, but you still winced.

“Yeah, um, sorry, I just—”

“No, it’s fine,” he shrugged, not looking up from the mail, “you didn’t have to take me out with you— I was pretty beat anyways, I just… I’m just not sure why you didn’t tell me?”

“I— I was going home, really,” you explained, “I got there and I couldn’t sleep, and wine always makes me tired but I didn’t have any so—”

“So you did whiskey shots with Jonathan?”

God, you almost thought about saying it, even if it wasn’t true, just to piss him off. Yeah— and we went back to his place and did the horizontal tango. Would you like me to bring you the register?

Instead, you cleared your throat and set down the tapes. “I don’t have to explain myself to you,” you told him; he looked up at you with a sort of deer-in-the-headlights look.

“I-I know,” he stammered out, “sorry, I was just… I’m curious, that’s all.”

“Well, maybe what Jonathan and I do is none of your business,” you replied, looking back down at the tapes as you fought down a smirk; you could feel his stare piercing through you, but you didn’t give him the satisfaction of meeting your gaze. Is that cryptic enough for you? Maybe I should say something about how I don’t kiss and tell.

You almost hoped he’d go in for the kill— make some shitty comment about how you were a slut or how Jonathan was probably thinking about Norwegian twins the whole time— cause if he did, you could yell at him and you’d both get all worked up and maybe at least one of you would finally get out of control enough to say what you were really thinking. Instead, he got sweet again; and that was even worse, because you couldn’t resist it. “Wanna make cookies tonight?” he asked, randomly, softly.

“Yeah,” you smiled, “can we put potato chips in them?”

“You know, kid, I think you’re sort of an evil mastermind,” he grinned.

“Just a creative glutton,” you shrugged.

With the Jonathan thing behind you— if that was even really a thing— things felt back to normal with Neil. Honestly, they might have been even better than they’d been in a while, since he wasn’t with Denise anymore. Denise had never been jealous of you— she was just as confident as you were that you weren’t any kind of threat whatsoever— but she did whine about Neil spending more time with you than her… that is, when she actually wanted to be around Neil, which wasn’t always. Sometimes, she seemed to appreciate you taking him off her hands, giving him an outlet for all the interests she found irritating.

But, anyways, she was gone, and you were giving up on dating (again), and Neil wasn’t being weird and you guys made cookies and it was great. It was easy to remember how you'd survived in this cycle for so long. Because as much as you were probably not the world's best person, you absolutely were not pretending to be Neil's friend because you had a crush— no, he really was the most important person to you, you just also wanted to touch him in all those ways that friends weren't supposed to.

You were almost giddy, high on how good it was to be back to your usual; the night before had been just perfect, like the old times, like high school— in all the best ways.

You'd probably seen him every day for the past two weeks— either at work, at his place or yours— and you had no plans to stop. That was pretty normal for you two anyways. You had the day off from work so you hadn't seen him yet; yes, you had considered stopping by the store anyways since Jonathan came in when he wasn't working, but you'd been too busy with your own errands and catching up on tasks at home.

Figuring it was a matter of time before Neil called you and asked to come over— or just showed up— you gave him a call around nine (knowing the store had just closed) and felt yourself get even just a little more energized when he answered.

"Hey, kid," his voice came from the other end, low and dreamy. He was speaking softly, like it was a secret conversation, and that just made your heart beat a little faster.

“I think I’ve found the perfect movie to go with the last of the leftover cookies,” you grinned. “I was going through my old tapes and— do you remember that weird Italian movie we watched in high school? I think it must’ve been senior year because I remember we watched it while everyone was doing skip day— and we thought it was the funniest thing we’d ever seen— and I found it again! Maybe it’s not as good as I remember, but I’ll bring it over and we can cover up the subtitles and see if we can guess what the hell they’re talking about.”

“Yeah, actually—”

“Oh! Also, is it cool if I crash at yours after? I’ll bring my own pajamas this time— and toothbrush, sorry about having to borrow yours, but—”

“Listen, um,” he coughed, lowering his voice even more, “that sounds great— but I, uh… I sort of have company for the night."

“Oh?” you blurted out, like you’d been punched in the gut— it sure felt like it. “Oh, that’s… anybody I know?”

“No, um, we met today,” he explained. “She, uh, came by the video store and we got to talking.”

Whore. “Let me guess, showing her something from the private collection?” you asked— and you really did mean to refer to his literal DVD shelf, but he let out a sort of salacious chuckle.

“If all goes well,” he replied with a purr.

“R-right, well, sorry for calling—”

“No no, it’s fine,” he promised, “we’ll talk tomorrow?”

Tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow, because I always come back, no matter how bad it hurts. “Yeah,” you breathed. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” he returned, and you kept holding the phone to your ear long after the click and dial tone.

You knew you had absolutely no right to be jealous. Honestly, you weren’t— well, you definitely were, but that wasn’t why you ran to your bed and sobbed into it. You did that because of the hate you felt— some for Neil, some for little miss I go back to video store owner’s apartments, but plenty leftover for yourself. You had only been through as much as you put yourself through; as much as you allowed to happen. You stayed by his side all these years and let your heart get battered around… it wasn’t always this hard, and you used to be sure that it would be harder to stop being his sidekick. But you couldn’t do this anymore— it was just humiliating, and useless.

You thought about calling Jonathan, but you felt guilty dumping any more weepy girl problems on him. And, you know, that wouldn’t actually fix anything. There was only one way to fix this, but you didn’t think you were strong enough— you knew you weren’t, actually.

It was hard to say why this one hurt so much— it’s not like you thought Neil was a virgin or something, or genuinely expected him to stay chaste after breaking up with Denise— but you suspected it was because you yourself were recognizing how long you’d been stuck in this cycle with him. You remembered crying in your bed just like this when he got his first girlfriend junior year; you realized how little you’d changed since then. How little you’d grown up.

So, no, you weren’t just crying because you were that jealous he was going to have sex with some random woman. But you had to admit that was definitely part of it.

"Hey boss," Jonathan greeted as Neil walked in; you looked down at the tapes on the shelf in front of you, suddenly making yourself look very busy. "How's the walk of shame?"

"I prefer 'stride of pride'," Neil replied.

“So that girl really came over after close?” Lucien realized.

“Yeah, she, uh, wanted to see The Seventh Seal,” Neil explained.

“I’m suuuuure she did,” Jonathan purred, raising his eyebrows repeatedly.

“Girls never wanna watch that,” Lucien assured.

“Hey, that’s not fair,” Neil scoffed, turning to you. “You like it, right, kid?”

“I, um… yeah,” you mumbled— whatever you had to say to end this conversation.

“Well, did she like it?” Lucien wondered.

“Uh, we… we didn’t actually finish it,” Neil admitted, and Lucien laughed as he shoved him on the shoulder.

You glanced at Jonathan, but he was already looking at you— and you hated the pity in his eyes, so you looked away again.

They kept talking, but you couldn’t hear it over the sound of… whatever sound it makes inside your head when you’re trying not to cry at work.

You didn’t do it that same day: it would be too suspicious, and you didn’t want to make a rash decision while you were still so upset. Part of you was still hoping to get through this phase and go back to the ignorant bliss you’d had so recently. But you didn’t, and you could tell that Neil sensed something was wrong— you had been sort of avoiding him for a few days while you tried to decide what to do.

But now, you’d decided. You reached up to knock on his office door— Neil Lewis, P.I. embossed on the frosted glass— but you sighed and dropped your fist, just opening the door instead.

He was so focused on what he was working on that he didn’t look up— and he didn’t even seem to fully process that you had come in, or that you were standing there right in front of him. Obviously he knew you were standing there, but he let you stand there for an awkwardly long time without asking what you wanted.

You appreciated it, though, ‘cause it gave you a while to watch him uninterrupted, wondering if you might never see him so relaxed again.

“Hey, Neil…” you mumbled, and he didn’t look up from his desk. “Um…”

Not sure what else to say, you just handed him the paper. He finally gave you a sliver of his attention to take it, smiling in slight confusion as he looked up at you. “What is this?”

“It’s my two weeks.”

His smile fell. “What?”

Oh, you hated doing this— it broke your heart, seeing that look on his face. “I, uh, I just think it’s better if I—”

“No, wait,” he breathed, standing up, “you— come on, you can’t. It’s— what’s going on?!”

“Nothing,” you insisted as you shook your head, “I just need, uh— nothing’s going on.”

I just need some space, you were gonna say, but you knew that would just open up more questions. “Well, are you gonna work somewhere else?” he asked. “Are you still gonna come by, or will I just see you on movie nights?”

“I— well, I wasn’t sure about movie nights either, actually,” you admitted, and he laughed— but it wasn’t a happy laugh, it was a confused, breathless, almost angry sort of laugh.

“What the fuck are you talking about?!” he snapped. “I— you’re my best friend! Did I do something? ‘Cause listen, I wasn’t serious about you offering to date guys who come into the store— I swear I was joking— god, I’m an asshole—”

“No, Neil, it’s not that, that was weeks ago,” you sighed, crossing your arms. “I just… think maybe we’ve been friends so long, you know, and it’s like— why?”

“Why?” he repeated.

“Like, maybe we just think we have to be friends because we’ve always been friends,” you continued, “but maybe we should be like normal people and— and grow apart over time. We were really close in high school because we were the losers that everyone ignored and now… now I think we should just… grow up.”

He looked bewildered— he looked devastated, actually. He shook his head, breathing out a quick sigh, and you weren’t sure if he was even really listening to you but you kept going.

“Sometimes I think I can’t get a boyfriend because guys are weirded out by you— I mean, not like that,” you backtracked slightly. “Well, kind of… but I meant, like, they don’t get that we’re just friends, and they think that you’re just trying to sleep with me—”

“Well, fuck them!” he shouted, a little louder than you would’ve preferred since everyone else was on the other side of that door. “I mean, if they don’t get us, then who fucking cares? They’re idiots, then!”

“Yeah, but—”

“I mean, you think I’d date a girl who didn’t want me to be around you?” he returned. “You shouldn’t be with somebody who thinks like that.”

“Well, that’s easy for you to say, but—”

“But what?”

“But I’m lonely, Neil!” you shouted, immediately reaching to cover your mouth after you said it— mostly to hide your quivering lip. “God,” you choked, lowering your head down to cover your watering eyes instead, “I’m just fucking… tired of being alone, okay?”

“So, what, you’re gonna leave all your friends?” he said, softer. “Because you want a boyfriend? That’s kinda… shallow.”

“What do you expect me to do? Wait around forever?"

"Wait?” he repeated, giving you a confused look. “Wait on what?"

You bit your lip. You couldn't answer that— you couldn't admit that you'd been waiting for him all this time. It's not like he'd asked you to, or expected you to, so you really couldn't be mad at him. You wanted to be, of course, but you couldn't. "I just need to leave, Neil," you whispered, knowing you'd sob harder if you spoke any louder. "I'm sorry. I just need to leave."

You turned, reaching for the door, and his hand suddenly came to your shoulder. His voice was needy and quiet: "You can't go, kid—"

"Don't fucking call me kid!" you spat, shoving him away as you cried harder. "I hate when you call me that!"

I love when you call me that. I hate that I love when you call me that.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I didn't know, okay? Whatever I did wrong, I'm sorry. I guess I should let you go, right? Or I'm just making it worse…”

You weren’t sure what you wanted, really. You wanted just as much for him to finally give you the dignity you’d been craving and let you leave, as you did for him to grab you and hold you tight and tell you that you had to stay, that he needed you to stay.

“If you wanna quit, you can quit— no two weeks needed, we’ll be fine,” he promised. “But… are you still gonna come back tomorrow?”

He wasn’t asking about tomorrow— he was asking about every day. Tomorrow, the next day, the next, the next after that: he was asking you to rot your life away on that couch watching weird old movies with him. And in a way, that was all you wanted. That part you really could do forever. But watching him get new girlfriends, get dumped, get over it— that cycle was just going to get worse and, god forbid, you’d have to see him really truly happy with someone else. It just wasn’t fair to anyone anymore.

You didn’t answer his question, you just looked at him again. He looked back at you in disbelief— you hadn’t meant to blindside him like this, but it was the only way to get a semi-clean break. You hadn’t meant to cry either, though, but that was pretty much unavoidable. “You’re really leaving?” he said quietly in sober realization, and you bit your shaking lip as you nodded. He looked around for a moment, as if he’d find answers somewhere in this office, and raised his hands before dropping them defeatedly. “Why?”

You thought about how to answer that for a while— longer than was natural in a conversation. There were a thousand things to say, but only one came out, as quiet as a whisper. “I don’t want to hurt anymore.”

"I never wanted to hurt you," he promised.

"I know," you breathed, finally turning the knob and stepping out.

You tried to act natural, but that was impossible with tears streaming down your face. "What's up?" Jonathan asked, more neutrally than you expected, and you broke: you hid your face and ran towards the door, bolting out of the store and down the street. Just before you stepped out you heard Jonathan ask Neil, "Dude, what did you say to her?!"

"I didn't say anything!" Neil insisted, but you didn't care to stay to hear the rest, you just wanted to be as far away from Gumshoe Video as possible.

When you heard a knock at the door, you paused Casablanca and brushed the used tissues off your coffee table. “Who is it?” you called out, sitting up slightly on the couch.

“Um,” you heard Neil’s voice from the other side, and you groaned as you curled up in a ball, “I was just checking in—”

“Go. Away.” you warned sternly.

“Can’t you just let me in?” he whined, but that’s when he tried the knob, and realized the door was unlocked. You heard the door open and shrunk up tighter into your fetal position as he entered.

“Hey, I, uh,” he began nervously, raising his hands in a wave but then slapping them down on his legs when he didn’t get a response, “I just… wanted to talk to you…”

You didn’t respond, and in the tense silence, he must have glanced at the TV.

“Good choice,” he noticed.

“Did Jonathan tell you?” you asked right away— because that was the worst thing that could happen. Him coming here just because he felt bad, because he found out you loved him, not because he really loved you. The last thing you needed was Neil talking himself into liking you just to keep you from leaving him.

“Tell me what?” Neil said earnestly. You peeked your head out and looked at him, assessing with narrow eyes. “Seriously, what does Jonathan know that I don’t?”

“Nothing, sorry,” you shook your head. “You can, uh… you can say whatever it is you came here to say.”

“Oh, well, I… I kinda didn’t plan that part,” he admitted with an awkward chuckle, scratching the back of his neck.

“You said you wanted to talk to me,” you remembered.

“Yeah, but I didn’t really have any steps after that,” he sighed, and you groaned as you hid your face again.

“God, Neil, that is just like you!” you whined.

“Well, sorry! You haven’t been talking to me, I wasn’t sure you’d let me in!” he defended. “What am I supposed to think!”

“You’re supposed to have some kind of… speech, or something!” you explained.

“I can’t believe I’m finally the one saying this,” he said, smirking a bit, “but life isn’t like the movies, kid.”

You showed your face again, and you looked at his, and you couldn’t think of a better word for his expression than just sad. Not a beautiful word, not a very interesting one, but the best way to describe him right then. He looked just as miserable as you felt— and that, weirdly, comforted you a little. You’d wondered if he was just fine without you (not that you really thought he was, with how dramatic he could be). “Why can’t it be?” you asked quietly.

He sighed and sat down on the couch beside you; you moved your feet closer to make room for him. “I don’t know,” he admitted, “I kinda thought our life was a movie— best friends, running a small business, getting into shenanigans…”

“Shenanigans?” you repeated incredulously.

“Well, you know, something like that,” he replied.

“It was like a movie, kind of, for a while,” you agreed. A sad movie about a stupid lonely girl.

“I just always thought—” he began, but you tightened your jaw and interrupted him.

“What was the plan, huh? What did you really expect to happen?” you snapped. “That we could just… do this, forever?”

“Yeah, basically!” he shouted back. “Why not?”

“Why not?!” you repeated. “Neil, didn’t you think I’d ever find somebody? Did you think I could fall asleep on your fucking couch with a husband and baby at home?”

“I— I don’t know,” he admitted, losing some of his nerve as he seemed to watch his own logic fall apart. “I just figured you wouldn’t be with anybody who didn’t, you know, understand us!”

“I don’t understand us anymore!” you whined, setting your legs back down on the floor so you could face him better. “It’s like— it’s just like it was in high school! You know, I could’ve been popular if it wasn’t for you!”

“Yeah, if it wasn’t for me, and that pesky ‘who you really are’ thing!” he scoffed. “Is that what you wanted, to be fake like everyone else?”

“No,” you admitted, “but I’m saying it’s the same thing— I could have a real life, you know, if you weren’t always around!”

“Well, Jesus, I’m sorry for ruining your boring, normal life with my weirdness,” he offered sarcastically. “See, this whole time, I thought you were cool, but I guess you’re just a poser!”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, hiding your face in your hands, “that’s your dig? Poser? Are you fucking fourteen?!”

“I’d rather be a little immature than be fake,” he decided, crossing his arms proudly.

“Okay, well I’d rather be fake than be alone,” you replied, anger melting away into sadness once again; you bit your shaking lip and looked away.

“You shouldn’t have to choose,” he sighed, leaning in a bit closer to you. “Of course I figured you’d find somebody, someday— somebody who really appreciates you, you know? Somebody cool. And he and I could be friends, too— I always figured he’d have a really cool name like… I don’t know, like Augustus or Rutherford or something.”

“Rutherford?” you repeated with a small grimace.

“That’s not the point— I just mean that he’d be kinda pretentious but, like, fun. And rich. And you could invite me over to swim in your pool and play croquet and stuff.”

You laughed a little, then sniffled. Of course that’s what he thought rich people did.

“And you’d have kids, and they’d call me Uncle Neil,” he continued, “and I’d get them on the really cool stuff, you know— none of that Disney Channel crap, they’d be watching indie flicks and German expressionism before they even hit high school; gotta start ‘em early.”

“But what about you?” you asked. “Where do you end up?”

“I… I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I guess I just figured I’d always be here.”

You found yourself moving in a little closer— close enough that you had to look up at him slightly even while just sitting on the couch. “So you really never thought about it?” you pressed, biting your lip, and you clarified even though it kind of seemed like he knew what you meant. “Us, together?”

“God, are you kidding?” he snorted. “Of course I thought about it, I mean… yeah, I thought about it…”

His voice changed a little the second time he said it, and your heartbeat sped up just a bit.

“But every time I thought about it, I just got so— I don’t know— scared, I guess,” he said quietly.

“Scared?” you repeated.

“‘Cause, you know… it’s me and you,” he explained, smiling a little. “It’s us. And I figured that if you and I got together… that would be, you know… that would be it.”

As you looked at him, you wondered if he could see everything in your eyes right then.

“And what if I wasn’t good enough for you, right? What if I fucked this up, like I fuck up everything, and then we’re not even friends?” he sighed, shaking his head. “And then— and then what am I supposed to do? Just, like, not have you in my life?”

You opened your mouth to promise him that he’d always be in your life, that you could never really go on without him— even if you’d just threatened that and stormed out of the video store— but instead, only a wistful sigh came out.

“C’mon— I don’t even know who I am without you, kid,” he laughed, and your heart jumped.

“Okay,” you agreed quietly, “but what if you don’t fuck it up? What if we’re perfect together, and happy, and it just makes sense?”

“Then that’s even worse!” he announced with a grin, and you laughed.

“What?” you giggled, letting him pull you a little closer.

“Then we get together, and you move in, and we get married and have a bunch of babies— and then that’s it! Me and you, heading towards oblivion,” he described, pointing forward with his hand like it was a straight path to the end, “being, you know… grown-ups.”

You dropped your forehead onto his shoulder, laughing in exasperation.

“I know it’s stupid,” he admitted, “but that’s… that’s what scared me, I think. And I guess I just liked how things were so much— well, that’s not totally true. There were days where I thought I really couldn’t take it anymore, that I just had to be with you, but…”

“But you’re kind of a pussy?” you finished for him, and he laughed as his arm wrapped around you.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “very much so, actually.”

You looked up at him, and the way he looked back at you was painfully perfect. And now that you saw it, you realized it wasn’t new— he’d looked at you like this before, when he woke you up on the store couch in the morning or when you made fun of him in front of everybody or when you helped him pick what to wear for a party. How come you hadn’t seen it before?

It seemed like you’d been scared, too. You could’ve just told him then, you could’ve just kissed him— but maybe you were both a little too afraid to rock the boat. “I mean, your little future plan sounds nice, but…” you hummed, “I don’t want Rutherford.”

“Don’t rule out Augustus,” he warned, tilting his head and pointing his finger at you, and you laughed softly.

“I want you, Neil,” you breathed, feeling so many emotions at once as you finally said what you’d been terrified to admit for the better part of a decade.

He took a deep breath, too— like he’d been waiting a long time to hear that. “I want you too, kid,” he admitted. You could’ve asked him to stop calling you that now, but since it made your knees a little weak (thank god you were sitting down already), you let it slide for now.

“Okay, well,” you decided, scooting closer to him on the couch again, “let’s agree on something.”

“Okay,” he whispered.

“Let’s get together,” you said, trying to keep your nerve, “and I’ll move in, and we’ll get married and have a bunch of babies— but we’ll never grow up.”

He laughed a little, finally seeming a bit nervous, and reached up to touch your face: his knuckles rested on your cheek while his thumb pet your temple gently. “Okay,” he said again.

Your heart raced as he moved in a little closer, turning himself towards you on the couch, and your eyes moved back and forth from his eyes to his lips to his eyes to his lips— he’s gonna kiss me.

Just when you were about to shut your eyes and let it happen, he pulled back slightly. “Sorry,” he laughed nervously, “I— sorry. Been thinking about this since I was seven, it’s a lot of pressure.”

Your heart warmed to hear him admit that. “All these years and you never thought to just man up and kiss me?”

“I did kiss you!” he defended.

“New Year’s doesn’t count,” you scoffed.

“Good,” he sighed, “because then there’s still a chance for our first kiss to be perfect.”

“Like the movies?” you asked hopefully.

“Yeah,” he agreed softly, holding your chin and tilting it back gently. “Like the movies.”

It did feel like a movie; you could’ve sworn you heard dramatic background music alongside the pounding in your ears. You took a deep breath in through your nose as you kissed him back, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him closer. There was no point in acting coy now, he knew the truth— and you were totally helpless, this was all you’d been imagining for years and it was real: in that way, it was so much better than a movie.

His hands found your back and pulled you into him, until you hopped up and straddled his lap— holding his face, running your fingers through his hair, kissing him as desperately as you could get away with.

He certainly didn’t seem to mind, in fact he just held you tighter and kissed you harder and even pulled your hips down into his lap where you gasped at the feeling of a firm bulge in his jeans. “You’re already hard?” you noticed, pulling back just enough to speak, and he laughed breathlessly.

“Jesus, you’re already making fun of me,” he coughed.

“I’m not! Sorry,” you laughed, “I just— we only started kissing a minute ago—”

“Yeah, but— come on, kid, you’re gorgeous,” he sighed, “and you can’t pull me towards you with my shirt like that without expecting a reaction…”

“I really wasn’t trying to get you worked up,” you cooed, “I just need you that bad.”

“Fuck,” he laughed, running his hands up your back, “you can’t say stuff like that either…”

“I can’t?” you pressed with a smirk as you ran your hands over his chest through the t-shirt. “Or what?”

“Orrr I’m not gonna have very much patience,” he explained with a grin, “and I’ll just have to make love to you on this couch right now.”

“Oh, make love,” you repeated, shimmying your shoulders a bit, “you don’t have to be so formal, Neil. You can just fuck me.”

He growled and grabbed you tight, throwing you down on the couch as you beamed and he descended upon you.

You tugged at each other’s clothes hungrily: you had on some baggy old shirt that he tossed aside quickly, he was wearing band merch that he barely stopped kissing you long enough to let you get over his head. You’d seen him shirtless all the time when you went to the beach together or he just changed shirts in front of you (‘cause guys can just do that, your sanity be damned), you’d even felt him shirtless before due to playful wrestling in the pool, but wow it felt different to have his bare torso pressed against you, and you loved it already.

You know what else felt different? Neil staring down, mouth slightly open as he panted, at your tits. You almost felt self-conscious until he grabbed your waist and latching his mouth onto one needily.

“Fuck,” you groaned, gasping as the tip of his tongue flicked over the bud of your nipple. His hand squeezed the other one with just the right amount of roughness— his hands were big, and hot, and you’d put quite a lot of consideration into how they’d feel running over your skin. They were lovely, as were his fingers pinching lightly at your nipple until you squirmed. “Neil, c’mon—” you started to beg.

“Hold on,” he groaned against your skin, hot breaths tickling where his spit wet your breast, “been waiting a while to do this. Wanna savor it.”

Well, he could savor all he wanted, but you had been waiting too long to have any patience left; you reached down and got his belt open with a little finagling, pushing his jeans down his legs with your feet. His boxers, annoyingly, stayed up, but he smiled at you and started to pull your shorts down, too.

So there you were, laying together on your sofa— him on top of you, you staring up at him in amazement— both in just your underwear. And socks, technically, but you weren’t really worrying about those at the moment.

“Are we gonna do this like they do in the movies, too?” you asked with a breathless laugh.

“They don’t show this part in the movies,” he replied quickly.

“Not those movies…”

He got your drift and grinned a little, but shook his head. “No, not like that. I want this to be, you know, special…”

“Neil, I’ve been in love with you since I was twelve. It’s gonna be special no matter what,” you promised, holding his face for emphasis. “Doesn’t mean it can’t be, you know, kinky.”

He raised an eyebrow in intrigue. “Kinky?” he repeated. “Would you mind clarifying that for me?”

You bit your lip and looked away shyly. “Well, you know, I’ve thought about, like… like maybe how it would be if you tied me to the bed…”

He grinned. “Alright,” he replied expectantly, waiting for the list to go on.

“Or if you bent me over your desk at the store,” you added, heart racing with nervousness to admit that fantasy, “and had to cover my mouth to keep me quiet…”

“Fuck,” he groaned in agreement. “What else?”

“O-or, you know, that thing where you just keep someone inside you for hours,” you breathed, “and don’t even move, just keep it, you know, warm— we could watch a movie like that—”

“Jesus, kid,” he sighed, “you, um, you really thought this through…”

“Yeah…” you admitted, moaning softly and holding tighter onto his back as he leaned down and kissed your neck.

“I had no idea you were so dirty,” he laughed against your skin. “Whatever movie we watch like that, it better be shit ‘cause I have no chance of paying any attention.”

“W-well, you said you thought about it too,” you remembered. “What did you think this would be like?”

“I didn’t think about that, I’m too romantic,” he denied proudly as he hovered above you again, “I just thought about, you know, taking you on dates and buying you flowers and stuff.”

“O-oh,” you choked, embarrassed.

“Just kidding,” he winked, “I’m not a saint. I thought about how you’d look riding me.”

You giggled slightly, glancing away as you were forced to imagine that, too.

“And how these lips would look,” he continued, softening his voice and running his thumb over your slack bottom lip, “wrapped around my cock—”

“Fuck,” you whispered, nearly overwhelmed by the look in his eyes. “I thought about that too…”

He growled and kissed you hard, reaching down to roughly tug your panties lower. “God, I wish I had the patience for that now,” he mumbled, “but I just need to be inside you—”

“Okay,” you agreed happily, pressing yourself against him as you hugged him closer.

Sliding your hands down his back, you pushed his boxers down his hips and gasped when his cock sprung out and brushed over your inner thigh.

You reached down and grabbed a hold of him— mostly so you’d have a chance to get some idea of what he was about to put in you— and you both gasped for different reasons. You couldn’t speak for him, really, but for you it was a sound of disbelief at how big he was. Not, you know, concerningly massive or anything— you were thankful for that, in fact— but thick and long and curved and oh look you were already guiding that fat tip to your opening because you couldn’t wait anymore.

Clearly he was struggling with a similar impatience because as soon as he felt your entrance he shoved his hips forward and pushed inside— finding some resistance, just from his size, but then you went limp under him and just let it happen.

You were both breathing heavy like you’d run a mile, when you’d barely moved at all; he was only halfway in, and you already felt so full…

“Fuck,” he moaned at the feeling, “you’re so wet, fuck—”

But then he pushed in the rest of the way and you winced just from the intensity of it— it didn’t hurt, really, but it was… a lot. In every sense of the word. "Oh my god," you gasped, holding on tightly to his arms.

He moaned louder, dropping his head into the crook of your neck; he put a hand on the top of your head to keep you steady (and close) as he pumped into you a bit faster already. “You’re so fucking wet,” he said again— it would’ve made you self-conscious that he focused on that so much if it wasn’t obvious that it was driving him wild. But you couldn’t really justify pointing out his sudden boner before when you were soaked like this, could you?

Fortunately, it seemed like he had long since forgotten about that…

It seemed like he never looked away from you, hardly ever even shut his eyes— he just watched your face, with a few detours to look at the way your breasts bounced with each thrust.

The pace was steady and simple, there were no fancy moves or dirty fantasies: he just kissed you sometimes, and watched you the rest of the time. You didn’t say much until you started to feel the pressure building in your gut— up until that point, nothing needed to be said— but the way he was making you feel suddenly compelled you to start running your mouth.

“So good,” you blurted out, and he groaned a little in agreement. “You feel so good, Neil…”

“Yeah?” he confirmed. “Feels like we were made for each other.”

That was not only the most perfect thing you’d ever heard, but undeniably true: the curve of his cock seemed to fit right inside you; he was just big enough to push to the end of you without making your stomach hurt; every movement stretched your walls exactly how you’d craved for longer than you wanted to remember; and you were soaking him, and probably yourself, it was like you just couldn’t stop. Every movement made you feel more insatiable and yet more perfectly satisfied— it was impossible, but it was happening. That’s how it felt: impossibly good.

“Doesn’t it?” he asked, like he was worried you didn’t agree, but you only hadn’t said anything because you knew how loud you would be if you opened your mouth.

“Yes!” you cried out, dropping your head back— see, that’s exactly what you were worried would happen, but he just growled and fucked you deeper. “Yes, fuck yes, Neil—”

“Uh huh?” he encouraged you gruffly, holding you a little tighter, watching you with darker eyes.

“Yes, oh my god,” you choked out, whining and digging your nails into his back sort of unintentionally. “S-so deep…”

“Yeah,” he agreed, “and you take it so good— you feel so fuckin’ perfect, kid…”

Wow, yeah, you really should’ve hated being called that in a moment like this, but you enjoyed it a little too much. "Fuck, m'gonna—" you began your warning.

"Come," he finished for you— no, it was a demand. "I want you to. I wanna see it."

"O-okay," you breathed, "just don't… don't stop…"

He shook his head, fucking you a little faster as he panted. "Not gonna stop," he promised, "not until you're so fucking full—"

"God, Neil," you whined, the pressure in your gut building more and more, making your legs tighten around his hips.

"Until I've given you every drop of come," he continued with a grunt, "and it's fucking dripping out of you—"

"Fuck."

"For days—"

"Fuck—"

"Tomorrow at work—" he mentioned specifically, and your back arched as it hit you; jolts of energy crawled up and down your back, your walls clenching rhythmically around him.

You definitely said something but you were too fucked out to keep track of it. How was it your job to know what you said?! It was something with oh my god and Neil somewhere in there for sure, but that was all you knew. He didn’t even slow down, by the way, just keeping his pace and mumbling praises to you with a rough voice.

As the raw pleasure faded, you found a new feeling swelling within you— a sudden mix of all sorts of emotion, growing faster than you could fight it off. You’d never felt like this, at least in this specific way, but you knew all too well what was coming: you were about to cry.

You weren’t sad, you were anything but sad, but apparently there were just too many pent up feelings and recently-released hormones coursing through you for you to do anything but cry. It happened so suddenly that you couldn’t even think about how you should handle it— if you should warn him or suddenly get up and run away so he wouldn’t see you like that. You were terrified he would be confused and overwhelmed by it, but you were out of options; you bit your lip as it started to shake, tightening your hold on one of his shoulders, and sniffled involuntarily as tears welled in your eyes.

“Oh god, baby, are you okay?” he breathed, his movements coming to a halt, and you nodded your head feverishly.

“I’m okay,” you whimpered, “I’m fine— I’m really good, I’m just—”

He sat up and pulled you up with him, sort of perching you in his lap, and you looked away as you tried to will yourself to stop crying but failed miserably. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked softly.

You shook your head, hugging him so he wouldn’t see your wet face. “N-no, don’t—”

“What’s going on?” he asked, smiling a little even as his voice was heavy with concern; he kissed the side of your head as he pet your hair gently.

“I’m just— m’just really happy,” you breathed shakily. “I just can’t believe this is happening— in a good way.”

He beamed and pulled back to look at your face, holding your cheeks and wiping your tears away with his thumbs. “Yeah,” he agreed, “I know— that’s how it feels for me, too.”

You choked on another sob, and he soothed you softly, holding you a little closer. “Don’t stop, please,” you whispered, “you said you wouldn’t—”

“Yeah, but I gotta make sure you’re okay,” he laughed.

“I am, really,” you insisted, with a sniffle, “it’s happy tears, I promise. Y-you can keep going, unless all the crying is turning you off…”

“No, it’s okay, kid,” he promised with a little laugh, leaning down to look into your eyes when you tried to glance down, “hey— it’s sweet, okay? And I always thought you were kinda cute when you cried— um, not in a creepy way, but, y’know, like… when we watched sad movies and stuff, and you would hide your face in my shirt—”

You whimpered and shoved your face into the crook of his neck.

“Kinda like that…” he mumbled, rubbing your back as he laid you back down on the couch. “Hey, shh, it’s okay… m’gonna move again, alright?”

You only nodded a little, holding onto him tightly, still crying but managing to get a moan out when he carefully thrusted into you again. He found his pace again, though slower and gentler than before, and lifted himself partially to hover above you. Pushing away some hair that had clung to your face, sticky with sweat and tears, he smiled down at you.

“Hey,” he whispered, “look up at me…”

Afraid to face him like this, you hesitated but blinked quickly as you looked back at him.

“You look beautiful,” he promised quietly. “This is how it was supposed to be, okay? This is how it always should’ve been.”

You nodded in agreement, starting to cry a little harder— though it was pure joy, there was no other way to describe it.

“And this is how it’s gonna be now,” he assured, “you and me.”

“Yeah,” you whispered under your breath, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. He kissed you again softly, and the rest of it was like that: more gentle and patient, shockingly tender, until you two were just melting into each other and you shamelessly gave into every emotion and sensation he guided you through.

Today, the store was running a special on cop movies— so you and Neil were, obviously, dressed appropriately in fake uniforms he got on clearance at the costume shop. Was yours technically a reconstituted ‘sexy cop’ with fishnets and a tight latex skirt? Yes, but you at least ditched the fuzzy handcuffs…

You were sitting on the front counter, swinging your legs and watching Neil as he roamed the store, your eyes lingering on the way those navy blue pants did his ass more than a few favors… the whole outfit was working for you, shockingly. The badge, the aviator shades— you were even beginning to see the appeal of the fake mustache.

He seemed to notice you looking, and he smirked at you proudly as he set down the tape he’d been holding.

“Hey,” Neil purred, taking off his sunglasses somewhat dramatically— he sauntered up to you, putting his hands on the counter on either side of your legs. He had that sparkle in his eye as he looked you up and down, and you bit your lip.

“Hey,” you returned, reaching up to drape your arms over his shoulders.

“You look cute,” he hummed at you proudly. “Who picked out this outfit for you?”

“Oh, that would be my super weird boss,” you smirked, your fingers tracing the neckline of Neil’s semi-unbuttoned uniform shirt and the slightest hint of chest hair peeking out from it. “He makes me dress up to promote our specials.”

“He’s probably got a crush on you,” Neil suggested with a grin.

“You think so?” you cooed as you leaned down, kissing him with a smile still on your lips— but you made a little face and pulled back. “The mustache feels weird…”

“Mm, but you’re still gonna kiss me, right?” he assumed proudly— he knew damn well you found him totally irresistible.

“Yeah,” you admitted with a giggle as you kissed him again: deeper, and longer, but still slow and sweet.

The front door jingled as Jonathan walked in. “Woah, hey, workplace!” he groaned, covering his eyes for a minute, and you laughed as you broke away from the kiss, shoving Neil aside and hopping off the counter. “How are our resident lovebirds doing?”

“Horny,” Lucien answered in a thoroughly unamused tone.

“Well, why don’t you let us take over for a couple hours?” Jonathan suggested with a shrug. “Me and Luc can manage and you two can, you know, take a long lunch and shake each other down.”

“What? No,” you grimaced, shuddering at the idea of Jonathan and Lucien waiting for you two here and knowing exactly what you were doing a few blocks down at Neil’s apartment.

“Alright,” Neil agreed at the same time, but quickly changed his answer to a rushed “n-no, yeah, definitely not.”

Lucien smirked and Jonathan shook his head. "Suit yourselves," he replied as he walked away.

You planned to walk away, too, and finally get back to work, but Neil wrapped an arm around you and pulled you into him. You smiled and hugged him back, leaning your head against his chest with a satisfied sigh.

When he let you go, you lingered for just a moment longer before finding the strength to pull away and get back to work— yet again, he stopped you, this time by touching your face to turn it back to him and softly mumbling ‘hey’.

“What is it?” you asked quietly as you looked up at him expectantly.

“I love you, kid,” he said gently, petting your cheek for a second.

“Wh-what way do you mean that?” you wondered, and he furrowed his brows with a smile. “Like— we used to say that sometimes,” you went on, awkwardly stammering as you looked down again, “but, you know… we never meant it like that—”

He interrupted you with a soft whisper of your name, getting your attention once more, tilting your head until your gaze met his. “I only ever meant it one way,” he admitted. “That way.”

one year later…

You wandered through the crowded video store, doing lots of waving and greeting and patting of shoulders— thanking everyone for coming out to celebrate with you.

A gaggle of women suddenly descended on you with giddy delight, and you took turns hugging them and repeating your practiced line about how you were so glad they could make it.

“You look great,” Helen informed you, and you dismissed it with a wave of your hand. “No, really, it’s so cute! You look good in white.”

“You think so? I was worried it would be weird,” you admitted as you looked down at the silk cocktail dress.

“No, it makes perfect sense,” Priyanka said, “and it’s so cool! Is it real vintage?”

“Yeah, you know how we are,” you shrugged and laughed.

“Well, let’s see the ring!” Helen insisted with a squeal, and all three women yelped happily when you brandished your left hand for them to get a good look at it.

“Oh my god, it’s gorgeous!” Georgia gasped.

“Thank you,” you beamed, “I can’t imagine where Neil got the money for it— god knows it wasn’t here, I’ve seen our margins!”

The ladies all seemed to grab your hand at once and yank it closer, tilting your finger to watch the stones sparkle in the light. As they fawned over it, you looked over and found Neil watching you, beer in hand, looking totally smitten. You waved with your free hand and got a small wave back, making you smile even wider.

You split away from the girls after a while, soon stopped by one of Neil’s only friends who actually had this whole adult thing mostly figured out: Marcia, though her husband and baby were across the store meeting the many, many guests who wanted a chance to hold the precious thing.

“I always knew he loved you,” Marcia insisted as she winked at you. “I’m so glad he finally figured it out.”

“Yeah, me too,” you agreed with a laugh. “It’s been great— like, really great. All the fun we had before, but—”

“But you get to have him all to yourself?” she assumed with a grin.

“Well, sure,” you admitted, “but not just that. He’s changed a lot, you know. He’s still the same Neil I always loved but…”

You trailed off, but she nodded like she understood. “But he’s grown up,” she finished for you.

“We got together on the condition that we wouldn’t grow up,” you explained, “that we wouldn’t change and get, you know, boring.”

Marcia rolled her eyes, making you feel much younger than her than you were. “That’s what you figure out eventually,” she replied, “that growing up is a lot more fun when you’re growing together.”

Her unexpectedly sage advice was still in your head almost an hour later, when you and Neil reunited at the back of the room.

“You ready?” he asked you softly, and you nodded with a smile.

“Been ready for this for a long time,” you replied.

Neil got the crowd’s attention, motioning for the guests to gather in a vague semi-circle facing you and him; you squeezed his hand, feeling your heartbeat pick up just a bit.

“We just wanted to thank you all for coming,” Neil explained, “I mean, it’s so special to have everyone we love gathered in our favorite place…”

You looked out at the crowd filling the store and noticed that, all together, it was a lot more loved ones than you realized you had.

“And with that in mind, we do have a little announcement,” he continued with a beaming smile.

“Pregnant!” Lucien blurted out, and you glared at him as a fellow guest slapped him on the arm.

“Not that,” Neil laughed, “maybe I shouldn’t have said it that way but, uh, anyways…”

“This isn’t just our engagement party,” you admitted with a grin, “it’s our wedding!”

You pulled the mini-veil out from where you’d hidden it in a fake VHS clamshell and quickly clipped it on, the crowd clapping and gasping, and you motioned for Jonathan to come forward to do the honors.

“The bride and groom have prepared special, joint vows,” Jonathan explained as he stepped up beside you both, pulling notecards out of his pocket. You and Neil faced each other, holding your hands together between you; he even swung your hands a little as he smiled at you, and you laughed softly. “Do you take each other in marriage, for life, no takebacksies?”

“We do,” you both replied.

“Do you swear to tell the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?” he asked, and you gave him a confused look. “Sorry— wrong line. Watching too much Law & Order…”

Your spectating friends and family chuckled, though some seemed nervous with Jonathan making a joke like that during your literal wedding ceremony— but you thought it was perfect. You wouldn’t have asked Jonathan to officiate if you didn’t want some ill-timed, goofy joke.

“Do you promise to keep each other close in body and spirit, to share your joy and pain, and to face every day together as best friends and life partners?”

“We do.”

“And do you swear,” Jonathan went on, suddenly getting very serious and lowering his voice, “to always, without fail… be kind and rewind?”

The crowd chuckled, and you and Neil agreed enthusiastically: “We do.”

“Then, by the power vested in me by a very shady website that I think might have been some kind of minister license scam out of Estonia… I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Jonathan beamed, throwing his notecards in the air triumphantly. “Now kiss each other, ya idiots!”

It was one of those wedding kisses that went on a little too long, a few whistles and whoops from the crowd alerting you that it might be too steamy for such a public moment— but damn, was it perfect. As much as you just wanted to grab onto your husband and never let go, both of you were instantly swarmed by loved ones wanting hugs and to offer their congratulations. You obviously obliged, thanking everyone you could for being a part of this impromptu ceremony… and basking in the joy when most of them said something about how they always expected this or couldn’t believe it took so long.

“Congrats, man,” Jonathan mumbled to Neil as he grabbed him by the shoulder. “I think this is the part where she fucks me and kills Lucien.”

“Shut up,” Neil scoffed as he shoved Jonathan away, but he couldn’t stop smiling— and he couldn’t stop staring at you. Here's looking at you, kid.

#neil lewis x reader #neil lewis smut #watching the detectives #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut

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landograndprix · 1 year

Text

everybody talks ✾ m.v

summary – in which max's teammate & girlfriend isn't as loved as she should be.

a/n – requests are open, also don't know what this is but felt max was the perfect guy for this 😭 had to channel my fuck red bull & fuck max persona for this, warning a lot of sour men in here 😂

☆☆☆☆☆

y/nusername

Barcelona, Spain

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 218,761 others

y/nusername barcelona'23 ☀

tagged: maxverstappen1

view all 376 comments

victoriaverstappen have fun you two ❤️

y/nusername ❤️❤️

y/nnmax99 my favorite couple 🥰

jamesxvier I was today years old when I found out these two are dating

charloss1655 have been dating for a while now actually Don't blame you though, they don't post a lot about it.

verstappenmaxie ...because of the shit they both get for it, I would keep my relationship private too

mercgirl how much does red bull pay you to be his girlfriend? 🤡

y/nusername a wdc, don't tell him though.

landonorris can i get the same when I go out with Max?

y/nusername I'll ask..hang on

hannahhh having my fingers crossed for a good weekend for both of you!

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redbullracing

Circuit de Barcelona-Catalunya

liked by yourbestfrienduser, victoriaverstappen and 115,762 others

redbullracing another phenomenal race for our favorite paddock princess, p1! 🏆

#F1 #RedBullRacing #BarcelonaGP

view all 426 comments

zhoueey let's goooo women for the win 🏆🏆🏆

maxverstappen1 the best there is!

redbullracing she sure is 👏

cal092 🤮 🤮

sarahh1 @/cal092 you're a grown man, are you not embarrassed.. 🤮

timothytim sad we didn't get a 1-2 for redbull but we'll keep fighting!

teamy/n that's our girl 🥰

y/nusername just me and my lil' illegal car 🥰

maxmaxverstap in your little illegal rocketship 😭

chilisainz not a red bull fan but would die for this woman :')

frank1971 disgusting, women don't belong in f1.

y/nusername sorry you feel this way frank, however your opinion doesn't make me want to switch carreers. Hope you sleep well tonight, i certainly will. 😊

landoscar 💀 💀

bott-ass lmao that's some queen shit

tifosi200 I hate redbull. 🤮

yourbestfrienduser you're aware you're on the redbull page? You follow them, you stalking them despite it all?

1990m your ferrari ain't doing so good stfu

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y/nusername posted on their story

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y/nusername

Zandvoort, The Netherlands

liked by maxverstappen1, yourbestfrienduser and 198,002 others

y/nusername zandvoort'23 🇳🇱

tagged: maxverstappen1

view all 291 comments

yourbestfrienduser okay..where was my invite?

supermax33 hoping for a great weekend for both of you!

norrlan loving all this max content you've been putting out, love you two together 🥰

zaza29 heard you were sick, please tell me you're well enough to be on the grid this weekend 🥺

char_lec let's hope not lol let others have a chance..hope she'll be sick for a couple of weeks

zaza29 wtf? hoping people stay sick? 🥴

☆☆☆☆☆

y/nusername

CM.com Circuit Zandvoort

liked by redbullracing, yourbestfrienduser and 236,542 others

y/nusername p2 this weekend wasn't something I was expecting this weekend since I wasn't feeling 100%. A big shout out to my doctor for fixing me up the best he could and a big shout out to the team for guiding me through the struggles that I experienced today!

tagged: redbullracing, maxverstappen1

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maddieb sis struggled to breathe over the radio, looked like a hot mess when she got out of that car, looked like she was about to empty her stomach and was visible shaking and still managed to get p2..and y'all still want to tell me she ain't got no skill 💀

maxverstappen1 proud of you ❤️

y/nusername ❤️❤️

carlitosainz stop making me like you dude omg 😭

redbullracing beast mode was on! 👏

lucie2000 I'm not a fan of max but the way he waited for y/n to drive into the pits with a big fat smile on his face was adorable

norrisoscar enemies to lovers always hit different 😂

lucie2000 true true 😂

danielricciardo you might be good at this.

y/nusername yeah, you think I can make a carreer out of this?

danielricciardo with a bit of training? Absolutely.

Tiffie2 pregnant maybe, does look like you gained some weight?

charlus16 wtf is this question, what's wrong with people?

y/nusername it's called bloating tiff, something that happens to a female body when they're ovulating. I thought a woman your age would've known this by now.

bott-ass and I oooop– 💀

supermaxmax @/maxverstappen1 if you don't marry her, I will 😭

yourbestfrienduser another 1-2 with your man 🥰

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y/nusername posted on their story

☆☆☆☆☆

y/nusername

liked by danielricciardo, maxverstappen1 and 278,761 others

y/nusername december'19 – december'23, four years of us. Hoping I can be your pain in the ass for for many more years and may I be able to stop myself from driving you off the track when you once again 'forget' to do the dishes. love you lot, hou van jou ♥︎

tagged: maxverstappen1

view all 401 comments

maxverstappen1 love you lots and hou van jou ❤️

maxiel333 congrats you guys 🥰

dannyricric the cutest couple for sure

danielricciardo ❤️

lunaferrari 4 years already?! 🤯 happy 4 years!

norrizz4 happy 4 years you guys 💞💞

posiexo power couple for real

bennyd14 man bagged his 3rd wdc, drives for the best team AND bagged the prettiest woman of them all. He won for life.

yourbestfrienduser and now get married..

charlie16cl honestly, what's this man waiting for? 😂

bott-ass @/maxverstappen1 you better before I do

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen #max verstappen au #max x reader

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 9 months

Text

Bound to Apologise

Summary: Aemond upsets his wife and forms a punishment fit for a Prince, feat. subby!Aemond | Word Count: 5.6k | Warnings below the cut~

Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

Warnings: subby!Aemond x wife!reader, p in v, oral (m receiving), use of a belt as bondage, orgasm denial, breeding kink I guess, Aemond blueballs Targaryen

When one thinks of Aemond Targaryen, a few descriptors come to mind.

Stoic, stiff, perhaps brazen on occasion and when the opportunity should present itself, he has quite the silver tongue. He is a man who is sure of himself in identity, fiercely proud of his Targaryen ancestry, his skills with the sword and his deep and well-founded knowledge of history and philosophy, a fact he rivals smugly against his older brother at any occasion he is able.

It is not as if Aegon cares much for rivalries of the mind. No, Aegon’s knowledge that is worthy of bragging in his mind is that of the flesh, and he makes sure to flaunt such knowledge in Aemond’s face at any chance.

That is until Aemond took a wife.

It had been almost half a year since Aemond was wed to his sweet wife in the Sept. An arranged affair, of course, and the two had scarcely seen one another beforehand, so even now he remembered the way he held his hands behind his back, wound tight with nerves, wondering what kind of person she was. It felt wrong to be tied so intimately and indefinitely to another person without really truly knowing them.

She had smiled sweetly on that day, kissed him softly once their vows were exchanged, a faint blush at her cheeks while standing before her now husband. The wife of Aemond Targaryen. It felt so final, and she could not help the fluttering in her stomach.

Aemond on the other hand had barely cracked a smile, simply kissed her, as he was duty-bound to do, and said his vows. She was pretty, yes. But he almost felt bad. What did this woman, illuminated so softly by the warm rays of light, have to gain by marriage to someone she surely found repulsive? Aemond hadn’t missed the various hushed conversations his mother had with Otto, the door cracked slightly ajar.

He had a reputation amongst the ladies. Some desired him purely for his title and placing their family name on a high podium, their future children into the bargain. Some were repulsed by his fiery temper, those long, hard looks he gave everyone. And perhaps most notably, they were frightened of the One-Eyed Prince, on this moniker alone. ‘Aemond One-Eye would never find a wife’.

Despite the incident being several years ago, it still raised its ugly head every now and then, in the form of self-consciousness, hushed female whispers and side-glances throughout the Keep. Most Lords and Ladies appreciated his skills from afar, never treading that delicate path in between that would bring them closer to him, which is precisely why it was difficult to even court a woman. Nevermind marriage.

And yet, when his new wife had looked upon him at their wedding feast, she’d given him a sweet smile, looked deeply into his good eye and showed no signs of repulsion. It confused him for a moment. Was she making a mockery of him? By pretending not to be afraid or repelled by him on purpose? Hiding what she truly felt inside. Holding the bile in her throat at the thought of consummation? He blamed her flush on her face on the two cups of wine she had consumed.

He was immensely relieved to have been proven wrong.

Once the chamber doors were closed, she was clearly nervous, as any young maiden would be on her wedding night. With every aching second she removed the pins from her hair, Aemond stood before the fireplace, his heart hammering in his chest with nerves. He didn’t want to have to bare his soul to her. He didn’t know her. And the thought of forcing such a delicate little thing to gaze upon his affliction, watching her face contort into one of disgust, was eating away at his insides, his insecurities feeding on the buzz of the wine.

She looked so pure and gentle in her off-white, thin chemise, leaving extremely little to the imagination. And with her hair down, waved from the braids, she looked positively mythical.

Aemond swallowed and began to unclasp his doublet. She must have seen his true feelings beneath his poorly-hidden expression, because she’d stopped before him, a small hand laid delicately on his arm. A silent confirmation, that she was just as nervous as he was.

“I do not wish to frighten you, my lady”

Her heart could have broken, but instead it merely shuddered with his words.

“Do you believe you frighten me?” she asked.

Aemond’s silence had confirmed it.

“You are my husband. And I, your wife. You may show me as much of yourself as you deem comfortable and I will not judge”

Though brief, her comforting words gave him the confidence to consummate their marriage. At first it was clumsy, the way their lips had pressed against one another, and the clamouring at her body, laid entirely bare for him to feast upon. As with any wedding night, there was some discomfort, both for her and him, but for different reasons.

But he was gentle, which surprised her and elated her in equal measure. And the sting of the loss of the maidenhead gave way to blooming pleasure, alongside something else. Perhaps a closeness that neither of them expected to have after just a few hours of knowing one another. But she hadn’t shied away from him, as he expected her to. On occasion during the act, she held his face so softly he trembled, struggling to fathom that this woman wanted him.

They had left it only an hour before he was inside her again, where he now found sanctuary in her acceptance of him.

In the moons that had passed since then, she had been his haven. His escape. She was so good to him, accepting of his desire to take his time in showing himself to her.

Three moons after their wedding night, he finally pulls off his eyepatch, after a particularly long evening of lovemaking. She was laid next to him, the bed sheets tucked around her chest. Her lips parted when she saw what he’d been hiding underneath his eyepatch all this time, and she felt an undeniable closeness to him that was not there before.

His scar felt raised beneath the gentleness of her fingers, but it was a look of sheer wonder, watching the way the sapphire that replaced his eye adopted the amber glow of the candles.

Aemond felt his heart thunder and his cock get hard, when all she asked was for him to fuck her again.

And he did with a new-found enthusiasm, a warm feeling blossomed in his chest, holding her form beneath him and fucking her relentlessly into the mattress, so hard that the bedframe struggled. He moaned loudly, giving her his seed and praying that it took, so that he could see his precious wife grow round with his child.

It took him an entire moon to figure out that he not only respected her, but had come to love her.

His wife, shy and timid perhaps at first, had become rather a force to be reckoned with. Their intimacy with one another had awakened something not only in her, but in him as well. At first, he delighted in having power and dominance over her, being quite a lot taller and broad, which he was wholly proud to have on display in the comfort of their chambers. He loved every little one of her whines and moans, drawing peak after devastating peak from her until she quivered in his touch.

It had become a nightly routine. Sometimes several times in one night.

Who would have thought that Aemond Targaryen, every now and then, enjoyed having such power taken away sometimes.

It had started innocently enough. After so many moons being married and proving their love to one another every night, his sweet wife had sought for some variety and instead had clambered on top of him and sank on his cock, guiding the pace herself. Her hands steadied on his chest for leverage, her backside smacking against his thighs with every rough thrust of herself onto him.

Alongside the dizzying feeling of watching his cock disappear into her cunt over and over, reaching new places in this new position, he found being held down exhilarating. Dare he say, even pleasurable. It made something wind tight as a bowstring in his gut.

It seemed like she noticed this, as a lazy smirk graced her face.

Ever since then they had experimented with that sensation. The feeling of one partner having full control, being held down, even tied sometimes. It was something reserved solely for them, behind their chamber doors. In the morning, when they break their fast with his family, he is once again the stone-faced, stoic Aemond Targaryen.

Although it does not stop her from shooting knowing grins in his direction on the odd occasion, which makes his cheeks go a very fair pink, the tips of his ears burn and his breeches get inexplicably tighter.

He enjoys this new side to his wife. It was buried deep, but now that he sees it, it never fails to surprise him.

Which brings him to this moment. The moment when he knows he has said or done something to irk her.

Her sister had arrived at the Red Keep alongside her father to visit her for a few days. Unlike his dear wife, her sister was still young and unmarried, and unbearably innocent. As soon as Aegon had laid his eyes on her little sister, his eyes gleamed with mischief, as if he’d seen a shiny new version of his favourite toy, but one that was actually available.

He wasn’t even deterred by the firm look she’d given him.

She and her sister walked arm in arm to the main hall, where they would dine all together that evening. Her sister spoke excitedly, happy to be brought to the Red Keep for the first time and to be reunited with her beloved eldest sibling.

Aemond and Aegon were chatting idly at the table when they’d arrived, her sister went to one side of the table to be sat next to their father. The two brothers, who usually were not so well-acquainted and chatting in such a friendly manner, were so engrossed in their conversation and their cups, that they barely acknowledged her presence.

All the better that Aemond’s back was to her as well.

“She is a lovely looking girl, but it is a shame she is so terribly dim-witted” Aegon chuckled, “A family trait, I presume?”

Aemond, dizzy from the effects of his wine, chuckled.

“Perhaps”

She’d bitten her cheek in frustration. Was he so deep in his cups that he actually found Aegon funny? Not only that, but had humoured him in insulting not only her sister’s intelligence, but his own wife’s as well.

She pulled her chair out beside him loudly, and Aemond went red and jumped in surprise, dread prickled all over his skin. She gave him a mischievous, knowing smile as she sat, “Husband” is all she greeted him with.

Aegon, who found the entire situation hilarious, had left him with that and as Aemond took his seat next to his wife, straight-backed and instantly sober, he bit his lips several times throughout the evening. She didn’t spare him a single word nor glance, unless he spoke to her directly, in which she forced a pleasant enough smile to her face and gave him one word answers. Playing the pliant little wife, while at the same time letting him know that he would not get off so easily.

She thought, once, that she may have taken her retribution a bit too far. But it was fun if nothing else, to watch how frustrated Aemond got.

She did not lay with him that night, nor the night after. Nor the night after that.

When her sister and father departed King’s Landing, he thought this might be the reprieve. But he was wrong.

It had been a full week since he had touched his wife intimately, not because he didn’t want to, he’d tried a fair few times. But every time, she had dismissed him with that playful smirk, the same one she had when she’d clambered atop his lap for the first time. And though her outfits and mannerisms remained the same as always, after being denied the pleasure of his flesh to hers for so long, every sway of her hips, every glint of her eyes and every movement of her hands had his breeches pathetically tight.

She knew what she was doing as well, the little tease.

He was aching. And it became too much. Not only did she deprive him of her sweet, tight cunny. She barely spoke to him. And the silence and barely-contained need to be inside her, was all too much to bear.

She was in their chambers, sat before the fire, a large tome open in her lap and when she’d heard the chamber doors shut, her eyes had met that of an extremely pent up husband.

But instead of greeting him, she bit back a smile and turned back to her book.

That little-

“Wife” he greeted through gritted teeth.

“Husband”

She didn’t fool him with the sweetness of her voice.

“What are you doing?” he asked, half-desperate and half-irritated as he crossed the room to sit opposite her.

“Reading, my love. So that I may grow to have acceptable intelligence”

His nostrils flare in annoyance, and yet he can’t deny the way she acts has a profound effect on him, after a week of not being able to have her, he’s desperate for anything. Even just the brushing of her hand, he is convinced, would make him spill in his breeches.

“You know as well as I that is not what I meant”

She slowly closes the book, righting to stand in front of him, her eyes trickling over his form. She knows him well now. Knows how underneath this cold exterior he offers up to her, is a desperate man underneath, yearning for a taste of her affections. His body sparks up at her hungry eyes over him.

“Then I do not know what you mean, husband” she replies, barely able to stop the spread of her smile, “You shall have to elaborate”

His hands form tight fists. She’s right there, ripe for the taking, his sweet wife. How easy would it be to sling her over his shoulder and take her right there on the bed, still dressed in her finery, with her skirts rucked up over her hips.

“I mean-” he starts, “-you and I have not laid together for the better part of a week”

She cocks her head, “Oh? Is that so?” she answers sweetly, “Forgive me, I hadn’t noticed”

He’s stunned into a sort of shocked silence, mouth slightly open, but without the headspace to form a reply. His wife pretended to busy herself with other things, placing the book back and dusting the covers, something she knew would get him riled up.

“What is this game, wife”

When she turns to him with that faux-innocence smile on her face, unable to hide how amused she is at how outwardly her husband is showing his frustration, Aemond can feel his limbs go numb.

“I do not believe you are in any position to accuse me of anything, husband” she counters, crossing the room in deliberately small steps, “In fact, I do believe I am owed an apology of sorts”

Her brow twitches slightly. She knows. She knows she has him exactly where she wants him.

As much as he tries to ignore the way her attitude makes his breeches get tighter, all of his blood goes straight below his waistline.

“But I can see, in your true Targaryen male nature, that you will not apologise…with words that is” she says, a wider smile gracing her face. An almost mischievous one.

Aemond swallows thickly.

He clears his throat, blinking a few times at what she just said, “Perhaps…you might enlighten me on how I can make amends”

Got you.

“Give me your belt” she instructs.

It’s borderline pathetic, the speed in which he tries to unbuckle it from his doublet and his fingers fumble with the silver, the embarrassment evident in the way it clinks clumsily. He pulls it through the loops and extends the leather towards his wife. She lets his hand hang there for a moment, as if to extend his internal torment, before she takes it, her fingers slipping over the roughened edges.

“Take off your clothes, leave your breeches on” her voice is clipped and deadly serious, “then get on the bed”

She watched from the foot of the bed as he did, twisting the belt in her hands as she regarded him. Saw the way his breath had hitched as she instructed him to do something and the way his pupils swallowed the violet of his eye. He was desperate. And the longer she went without saying or doing anything, the more the excitement and anticipation was starting to build in his core.

“My dear husband” she says, still fully clothed but clambering onto the bed beside him, “You have wronged me in a manner most unbefitting”

Her voice was low, the same way it would be when they were alone together, coupling.

Gently she pulls both his wrists together, tying them first before raising them to the bed frame, sliding the leather through the buckle and pulling his skin flush to it. She pulls on it a few times, to make sure it is secure. Smiling down at him when she confirms he is not able to move.

His chest moves hurriedly, a warm, fluttering expectancy erupts in his gut.

“And all you have been able to think about is our coupling, or rather lack of” she smirks, pulling a large pin from her hair so it falls around her shoulders. Looking up at his dear wife from this angle, in this position, will never cease to be thrilling.

Her small fingers slide under his eyepatch, depositing it on the bedside, so that she may see all of him.

He would never ever reveal beyond their chambers how he enjoys to see her, eyes half-shut looking down at him, exerting her own version of dominance over him. And he was eternally grateful that she never told a soul either. It would embarrass him beyond measure. He could only stand to be embarrassed in front of her.

Even though she was very much in charge, she did so in her own feminine way. Used her body differently, her words even.

He doesn’t think he will ever tire of it.

“Would you like to fuck me, husband” she asks low, nudging his knees apart so that she can kneel between them. It doesn’t fail to set his blood alight, the way she says such vulgar things…and make it sound so right.

As her fingers begin to undo his breeches, his hips move and so do his hands against the bed frame. It sets that grin on her face again.

“Yes, I do…I have missed you”

Her fingers start to peel his breeches from his hips, exposing the pale skin underneath, and he almost sighs in relief to feel her soft hands on his bare skin.

She cocks her head, looking at him, “What makes you think I will let you fuck me?”

A sort of dread…disappointment pools in his stomach, but alongside that, arousal. He cannot tell if she is serious or merely teasing him, and it is the in-between of not knowing that makes his head feel as if there is cotton stuffed into it instead of thoughts.

“Fucking is a reward” she starts, “and you have not been good”

Once his breeches are off, or at least down to his toned thighs, enough where she can see his manhood, aching and swollen against his taut abdomen, hardened from his years of training with the sword. The tip is flushed, the same colour as his lips, with a milky arousal leaking from it. She is sure that with one touch, he could simply come undone, and it makes her smirk wickedly.

“I will forgive you…on one condition”

Gods, how badly he wants her to just touch him already. With his cock now exposed to them both, her hands so close, it’s borderline unbearable to be teased like this.

“Anything, please…”

A flush blossoms on her cheeks. She always did like it when he begged.

“You must not peak, until I say”

Aemond almost goes bright red. This is territory that has not been tread before. And yet, he can’t deny the excitement it sends through him, the way the air is instantly knocked out of his lungs, and how his hands tug slightly against the belt.

He outright moans as her small hand encircles his cock, giving a few languid pumps, squeezing when she gets to the tip, brushing her thumb over the sensitive slit. Now that she has given her order, her demand, all he can seem to think about is his peak, and how hard he is concentrating to not do it too soon.

“You seem more sensitive than usual, husband” she coos, her other hand placed on his thigh, only barely squeezing, “have you missed me that much?”

“Yes…” he responds through slightly gritted teeth, unable to take the breathiness out of his tone.

“Hm” she hums, dipping her head to his waistline, making him suck in a quiet breath, “Let us see if you can be good then”

She flatters her tongue against the underside of his length, dragging up achingly slow to the slit, her hand still applying pressure as she makes her way up. When she gets to the slit, her eyes meet her husband's.

There's that damn smile again.

Aemond shudders a breath, looking into her eyes while she has his cock on her tongue is only spurring him on, so he shuts his eyes, tipping his head back against the pillows. His hands tug at the belt. Wanting morning more than to just run his fingers through her hair.

"Look at me" she orders.

When he does, his jaw slackens, cheeks warm as her hot mouth envelops him entirely. Pushing down to take more of him, her hand strokes whatever else she cannot fit. Aemond watches her take him with every slow bob of her head, pushing his cock against her hot throat, warm, wet and inviting.

If he is good, he may get something else.

From this angle, her breasts are dangerously close to spilling from her dress, and he watches them move as she continues to suck him, her tongue curled up to press against the prominent vein on the underside. After a week of not having him, she relishes the taste of him. How he smells faintly of sweat and leather, and how badly she wants more of it.

She plunges her mouth down further, til her lips are against the base and Aemond moans out loudly. His tip lodges the back of her throat, and while well endowed, she has learned to take him as deep as she can, until she softly gags, tightening her throat around him.

She is testing him. Seeing how far she can push him as she pleasures him with a renewed vigour, humming around him, sending little jolts of pleasure up his spine.

It was his biggest weakness, taking him into her mouth. And to be so clearly pleased to do it as well. Merely watching the way his length disappears between her plush lips is nothing short of heavenly.

He bets her cunny is wet from this alone.

It very nearly makes him peak, those sparks are there most certainly. Especially the way her throat contracts around him.

But he holds back the reins. For now.

She pulls off him with a soft, wet pop, making a show of licking her lips to taste his precum.

"You are blushing, my love" she says, and he knows even without looking she is smirking again.

"Please…" he murmurs, "...do not tease me any longer"

She cocks her head again, pretending to not know what he means.

"Is my mouth inadequate?"

He shakes his head quickly, feeling his hair begin to stick to his nape with the effort of holding back his peak.

"No-no…I just need you"

"Need what" she grins, moving to straddle him.

Aemond's eye widens here. Her dress is fanned out, and underneath he feels her bare form pressed against his aching cock.

The vixen had not had small clothes on this entire time.

And after using her mouth to pleasure him, she was soaked.

It was most like her. She always did everything with purpose. Always one step ahead.

She smiles when she sees it click in his mind and she moves her hips, dragging her slick over his length, making his eye flutter.

"Say it"

He swallows, tugging against the belt. He half thinks of requesting to touch her. But he knows she would not allow it.

"I need to be inside you"

She raises her eyebrows.

"Please" he finishes.

She pulls the front of her dress up, to give him a good view of her wet cunny, spreading her slick over him and he almost moans at just that. It's a sight to behold. The feeling…even more indescribable.

"My poor, silly husband" she coos, taking his length in her hand, using her palm to coat the entirety with her arousal, "...you came here to say something. Now is the time"

She raises her hips, his tip not even touching her, but the anticipation of it is too much. Aemond, almost subconsciously, bucks his hips up. Only to be met with her pushing him back down.

"Stay still" she says firmly, "or you will not fuck me at all"

His chest moves quickly, clenching his fists, his whole body feeling unbearably hot.

She waits, with that glint in her eye. She really would do it. She would clamber off him and not fuck him, just for the satisfaction that she knew he wanted her, and that it had been denied.

"I…apologise…" he mutters quietly.

She doesn't move.

"For?"

He grunts, frustrated. Too busy thinking of him sliding through her folds, nestled in her cunny.

"For saying such things about you…"

She tuts, with an amused grin, "We shall test your loyalty, husband. Remember…you need my permission"

Whatever Aemond was going to say is stuck in his throat as she sinks on him, enveloping him entirely in her slick heat. She does it slowly, so that he might feel every inch of her, every ridge inside. And when her backside sits on his thighs, moving her hips side to side, his tip nudges her sweet spot, the curve of his long, delicious length finding it effortlessly.

He has to briefly close his eye, not look at her, so that he doesn't get too overwhelmed. After a week of not having her, she feels so perfectly tight, so much so it feels as if her cunt is milking him already. He cannot get too tied up in the feeling, lest he lose her forgiveness.

The sound he lets out when she begins to move is almost pained, one that feels like it takes all his strength from his muscles.

He looks up at her, her hair cascading over her shoulders with every shallow thrust inside, with that tell-tale pink to her cheeks from the effort of it. He can feel her arousal weeping out of her, coating his length and smacking against the base, that alongside his barely-contained moans.

Her hands trail up his bare torso and he can feel gooseflesh erupt in the path she leaves. Her soft palms trace the expanse of his chest, and she doesn’t miss the way his stomach muscles tense up as she hastens her pace while she touches him. It’s only when her fingers apply a feather-like touch against his nipples that she finally gets a breathy moan from him.

It only adds more fuel to her fire.

Every touch, as small as they are, with how pent up Aemond had been, is hurtling him towards that edge. He can feel every inch of her perfect insides, squeezing him as she nears even herself. His stomach does flips, a familiar flutter getting stronger inside.

“Please…wife…” she barely manages to say.

She smiles, her chest moving quickly with the effort of their lovemaking. Her thighs ache in the most wonderful way, her cunt stretching around his girth, the tip kissing her end, filling her so deliciously.

“Please what”

“I want to touch you…please” he begs, his fists still tight and pressed against the bed frame.

He takes a much needed breath when she slows down, merely circling her hips against his pelvis instead.

“Are you close, my love?” she asks sweetly, leaning up to grasp the belt in one hand.

Aemond nods, not trusting his own voice, lest it betray the inner turmoil inside. But she sees it. She doesn’t miss a thing.

She cocks her head, half of her wants to reprimand him for not using his words to reply to her. But the other half feels how his cock throbs inside her, aching for completion, to paint her walls with his spend.

“Very well” she smirks, undoing his bondage, “but you may only touch me here”

She guides his now free hands to her clothed hips, keeping hers on top to make it clear how serious she is. Even now, merely touching her, through clothes it doesn't matter, it’s like some kind of torture.

He grabs her hips tightly and backs himself up against the pillow in a half-sitting position, causing his length to press up inside her, he doesn’t miss the small gasp she emits. She’s close as well, he can tell.

He fucks up into her with renewed passion, and her head tilts back, her lips parted only slightly to allow her quiet but wanton moans to slip out. Her sounds are like a reward. But he knows he is still denied the greatest one of all. One that seems more and more difficult to hold back the tighter she clenches around him, her fingers digging into the flesh of his wrists. There was something exciting about her being fully clothes while he fucked her. It almost felt forbidden. But exciting all the same.

He can feel her slowly losing her resolve as he pounds harshly into her, as if he is letting out all his frustrations.

“-Fuck…Aemond…” she breathes, “-Don’t stop-”

His breath comes in hurried pants, wanting her to feel good but at the same time holding himself back. He can feel the pressure inside, fit to burst at any moment.

“My perfect wife…”

“-Aemond, I’m close-”

She pulls up the front of her dress, her small slender fingers diving between her legs to apply pressure to her pearl, and she inadvertently tightens around him at the combined pleasure.

He is not sure if he can last much longer. Forgiveness be damned, he wants to see his spend leak from her.

“My love, I-”

She looks down at him, a lazy, fucked-out smile on her face, her hair sticking slightly to her forehead.

“-Yes, husband…fuck your heir into me…”

His eye widens at the vulgarity, but his throat tightens at the challenge and he slams so deep inside her with a shocking collection of desperate thrusts. She continues to circle her slick over her bud until the buzz floods into her limbs with a choked cry, her body trembling in the bruising hold he has of her hips.

He fucks her all the way through it, now that he has been given the permission he so desired, he craves it like hunger. It feels like it takes everything out of him, the wind surely knocked from his lungs, as he finally stills inside her, feeling the warm, familiar flood of his spend deep against her womb, completely emptying himself until he aches.

Aemond never lets up on his grip, holding her tightly to ensure she has all of it, and he gives a few additional shallow thrusts that make her cry out, hoping his seed will take and she will grow round with child for him. The thought alone makes him want to keep her in their chambers all day if he has to.

Their eyes meet, the only sound is both of their breathing. Her own eyes flicker from his seeing one, to the sapphire, and a soft, contented smile, not the same mischievous one as earlier, makes its way to her face. It encourages him to do the same.

“I could stay in your perfect cunt forever…” he breathes, his chest moving steadily.

She hums a laugh. It is certainly something he would say.

“Am I forgiven?” he asks, eyebrows moved only slightly, like he is expecting a witty response.

His wife pretends to think, her fingers touched to her lips. And with his softening cock still nestled inside her, she leans forward to lay a tender kiss on her husband, her delicate, soft lips pressed so gently to his, in a manner that contradicts the sensuality of what they had just done.

When she breaks, her forehead pressed against his and her hand cupping his face, she wrinkles her nose playfully.

“I shall think about it”

When one thinks of Aemond Targaryen, a few descriptors come to mind.

Stoic, stiff, perhaps brazen on occasion. With not a soft bone in his body.

Who would have thought, that sometimes, he enjoyed letting that persona slip, just for a moment.

But only ever with her.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

General Taglist: @risefallrise @valeskafics @theoneeyedprince @thelittleswanao3 @hb8301

Aemond Taglist: @m00n5t0n3 @boofy1998 @merakiaes @hanihoney88 @let-love-bleeds-red @bellaisasleep @watercolorskyy @heavenley1927 @ryswritingrecord @partypoison00 @gaeela-6 @saeselkie @padfooteyes @introverbatim @queenofshinigamis @thatkingofgirl @ryswritingrecord @dahlias-and-marigolds @triscy

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tarjapearce · 6 months

Text

Chapter 2: So Not Ready For This World

Miguel O'Hara x f!Reader

WARNINGS: Angst, mentions of abortion, emotional distress, unwanted pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, little character background, morally ambiguous characters, enemies to lovers, morally grey characters, slow burn, No proofread.

Summary: The devastating consequences knock on your door.

Previous Masterlist

Chapter's Song:

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A/N: Ngl, proud of this one :'). Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated ✨

Sleep was rather easy to escape your head as time went on. Guiltiness had made your eyes tired, dull and the eyebags a bit more prominent. It had earned you a little reprimand from your upper boss, a reminder that appearances were important and you were slacking.

But how could you focus on something so trivial and mundane when your mind was always gravitating towards Miguel and Dana? Ever since the biting truth unfolded before your eyes those days ago, your head was unable to unwrap around it.

Was this a barbed joke from the universe you weren't aware of?

A tired sigh escaped your lips, hands rubbing a bit too tightly on your enfeebled face. As if such thing would wash away the guilty and hounding thoughts for good.

Miguel O'Hara. He worked in the labs, another reason why you had never seen him before, lab people came out an hour earlier, but he either stayed behind or was too sneaky for you to actually get a glimpse of him.

But after the predicament, he had been leaving at five exactly, hand in hand with Dana, parading themselves before everyone. You specially. A daily caveat to keep you pretty mouth shut. He didn't approach you, no. But you felt watched, stalked with the eyes, a bit harassed even whenever the clock ticked 5 pm.

Dana worked in the new market agro department, she came out at five, and by the hour difference you assumed Miguel waited for her.

How cute.

Your lip twitched in a scowl. Anger rising like bile at the impotence and powerless feeling of doing nothing. Dana deserved the truth, even though you'd come out as the sacrificial lamb in the end. You might not be the brightest bulb in the chandelier, but none deserved to be kept in the shadows like that.

You didn't know if they had troubles, but cheating was surely off the book for her or any normal person really. No engaged woman should go through that.

But those eyes. Sinister, warning, preying with an ominous promise in them prevented you from spilling the truth.

Miguel didn't have to approach you to make his point known and understood. But it left you with a myriad of emotions you were tired of feeling. From time to time you wished to be as cold and hollow-hearted as he was, so you could pretend that nothing had happened. Because for him it was exactly what had occurred. Nothing at all.

He was fine, Dana was fine and you-

Not fine at all but he didn't care. Why would he? Miguel took what he wanted from you, dragging you to this fucked up spiral of power dynamic where he had the upper hand and you could do nothing but fold and obey to a very clear yet silent order.

It wouldn't make the guilt and disgust go away, but you're certain that at how things are going for you, you'd get in trouble for slacking in cues that were required in your work contract.

Another guest approached. It was time to put the resolution to test.

The feeling of being stalked stopped after a couple of weeks, it didn't wane the guilt but you were learning how to live with it. A cruel joke you had no choice but swot on how to take it with a grain of salt to avoid fucking up ever again. One night stands were out of your list permanently.

In the few times you could catch him leaving the building he seemed at ease, sometimes he'd smile while looking at the wedding magazine Dana held in her dainty and manicured hands. She also appeared to be happy. Pretense maybe? You didn't know. For how long had they been together?

Long enough to get a ring on her finger, obviously.

With an exasperated groan you marched to your lunch break. The cafeteria's food seemed good and cheap enough to order the usual. Bit of mashed potatos, salad, and some other protein with either an iced tea or water, depending on your mood. You went for the tea.

A few bucks were used to eat, you sat in one of the available tables and ate. People in Alchemax were either too busy with themselves to actually care about the drama, or were exactly the opposite. Not that you blamed them. Science stuff surely provided them enough entertainment to go by, but you'd be tired too if your whole day revolved around numbers and hypothesis awaiting to be confirmed.

How did they do it was beyond your reasoning. Eyes scanned the area, the same group of men that approached you back at the party, passed over your seat without looking your way. As expected.

The fact that people had selective memory was something that filled your brain with wonder. Your musings however were interrupted by a gurgle in your stomach, appetite leaving you completely. Thankfully there wasn't much to be wasted. Had someone changed the ingredients? Not really.

Everything tasted like the usual. You downed the tea before disposing of the remains in a trash bin to then walk around the building, greeting some staff in the way. There wasn't many people you interacted with, perhaps your evening replacement. An intern called Anna and that still remained on debate cause of her constant mood swings towards you.

But within Alchemax in general, there was none really you wanted to engage with. Life happening too fast in their daily basis. Your thoughts were stopped in their racing tracks when you saw Miguel approaching. Two coffee papercups in his big hands.

Gulping, you didn't think twice in turning around where you had came from before he saw you, even if it meant to cross the whole building again to get to your work station.

Heartbeat raced miles per second, but you had avoided another unnecessary interaction with him. A relieved sigh escaped your lips once you were in your seat at the front desk. The day was nearly reaching it's end.

Something you now looked forward to. You'd be back holed up in your apartment, in the comfort of your privacy, away from worries. Watching either a movie or sleeping. Fatigue seemed a too heavy load to ignore, you blamed it to the stress and lack of sleep. A negative domino effect that had been unleashed thanks to a guy that didn't know how to keep it in his pants.

Your panties were slid down as you sat on the toilet, a frown on your face. Nothing but tiny spots of maroon. Your period was acting up again, but you couldn't really blame your body for slacking when the past month and a half had been awfully loaded with work.

New clients, a shit ton of appointments to schedule, reschedule and cancel; mail to organize, and food that you were sure it had given you a fair share of poison since you always seemed to be sick. And even though you had stopped consuming from the cafeteria, there was little changes.

The cherry on top was to get a memo after your manager had found you sleeping on the desk. Tiredness that day clung to you with such force you were amazed at your own capacity to make it through your eight hours. Only to crash on your bed once you were home.

But today, neither your mood, the universe, nor your body cooperated. You took a shower and put a little pad on your fresh set of panties. The diva cup would be unnecessary to wear since the discharge wasn't abundant, but packed a couple of tampons just in case. Expensive as they were, you couldn't go unprepared.

You changed, grabbed your things and went out the door, everything but ready to face the day that awaited you.

A wave of nausea hit you after you scarfed down a stuffed bagel on your way to work, you got there twenty minutes late due to your ride stuck in traffic, your car had been in repair for weeks now. Manager already awaiting with a sour face. Guests had lined up in the entrance, ready to express their contempt with you.

Fucking peachy.

Morning went in a haste, and you barely could catch a break, the need of peeing mixed with the thirst, and your boss reprimanding you didn't make it any better. Your body was juggling with so many things at once, that all you wanted to do was curl up in a bathroom stall and cry. It was overwhelming and you were sure the cortisol levels were shooting heavenwards.

Appetite came and go, and when your lunch break came you had settled for the idea of some soup, but the second you stepped a foot closer to the cafeteria, the many smells oppressed your senses, overriding your brain with so much information it had you folding and puking into the nearest trash bin.

Your skin turned sweaty, devoid of a healthy color for a moment, some other workers looked at you with a mild disgust on their faces, one woman offered you a napkin, a man suggested you to sit down while giving you a bit of water from a nearby oasis. Both from the research department.

"You got sick from the food too, huh?" You nodded while chugging down the little bottle's content.

"We're gathering some signatures to open an investigation. Would be like ten of us now that get food poisoning."

The woman chattered but her voice was distant, despite her being next to you. An acute whistle rang in your ears, unable to hear her as her voice kept fading until it was nothing but a muffled echo in an open space, your eyesight blurred to finally shut off.

Darkness swallowed you whole.

----

The dim lights of the room and the careful shuffling movements behind the dull, plastic gray curtain lulled you back to reality.

An icepack was put on your head, with a little groan and queasiness subsiding, you sat on the stretcher. Your movements alerted the doctor in turn.

"Welcome back. How you feel?"

A question laced with a little of concern in her gentle voice.

Your head rested on the wall for a second before panic rose again.

"Shit... I... I gotta go." Your eyes rubbed the drowsiness away in a haste as you spoke, trying to get off the bed.

"No, no. Don't worry, your manager is already aware of this. You're fine."

A nurse came in and took your vitals and other info like your blood pressure and weight. How come you had gained a couple of pounds when you had been in a constant food poisoning?

Ugh.

"Everything seems normal enough, have you been experiencing fevers? rashes or any other sort of discomfort?"

"None of that. Just puking and fatigue. A lot of it." The doctor nodded as the nurse prepared a kit for you, it alarmed you greatly she included a pregnancy test.

Horrified eyes immediately widened at the package.

"W-Why... Is there a pregnancy test?"

"We're discarding any other options. And in case it comes out positive, remember that maternity leave is one of your rights as a worker here in Alchemax."

She spoke so unbothered unaware of the unnerving thoughts that ran loose in your mind.

Maternity leave?

"Just talk to your manager to meet an arrangement."

You nodded stupidly. Too stunned to actually pry further. You were dispatched a few minutes later, instructions of going home loud and clear. Not a minute more was wasted before you packed up your things and went out the building almost running home.

It couldn't be. You couldn't be.

All those plaguing thoughts you had once held at bay, were making a triumphant and assailant comeback in your head. What if you were pregnant?

No. No. No.

Denial was one hell of a drug, and right now you were the worst junkie hooked on it, ready to lash out with teeth and claws to whoever bold enough to take it away. You saw Miguel putting a condom on. He didn't strike you as someone that would raw fuck strangers for shits and giggles. Much less get them pregnant.

I'm not pregnant.

It was repeated in your mind like a mantra in an infinite loop. You had stopped in a drugstore to get a pair of other pregnancy test brands, just in case the ongoing madness was just a big jumpscare, to teach you a lesson to keep the horniness with strangers at bay.

For once, traffic was lenient on you and you got your place within less than twenty minutes. Never in your life had you been more at ease to be home. A shaky breath flew between nervous pants.

You tossed the medical kit on the table, rummaging through the diverse array of pills and vitamins the nurse packed you in, to get towards your objective. The neatly purple packaged pregnancy test, along the other ones.

The lock in the bathroom was turned as you got in, shielding your possible biggest fuck up from prying eyes and silent judgement aimed your way. You prepared their tip and one by one were soaked and put over the sink as your hands were washed.

The most torturous and heinous task laid ahead. Waiting, something you clearly hadn't the patience for right now. Not when the nauseas had returned, not when everything around you seemed to be crumbling bit by bit, shaking your sanity foundations to their very core.

Motherhood wasn't in your short, mid or long term goals, it wasn't something you often thought about cause in truth, you were sure you'd never be a good mother. The lack of one and foster home surfing made sure to blur the concept too much to be recognizable anymore.

There were days where you barely could put up against yourself, and having a baby would not only be detrimental for your mental health, but it would ruin you financially. Unless you'd get a raise or a better job.

A baby would change for good years of devoted planning towards a better position in life, work included. You were to participate in the administration programs within Alchemax next month, to get out of the receptionist label, aiming for a more career oriented position.

And maybe just maybe, your college degree wouldn't be mere words backed up by a fancy carton, hung up in your living room's wall, but prove to be something useful for once.

You were set to make that neck deep debt worth it.

Head rested against the coolness of the crips white tiles, banging softly against the wall as if shaking the over thinking would make the worry dissipate. Lips dry and quivering pursed as your eyes bore into the plastic material that had ruined and rekindled several relationships a year.

And now that you had unknowingly taken a ticket of 'With what am I gonna ruin my life this time?' and your turn was on the hypothetical screen, shining with blinding colors, you had to draw out the dreading prize life was about to grant you.

You stood again and collected the tests after what it felt like forever. Sweat clung to you like a second skin, bile and sourness bloomed in your tongue after rising in the back of your throat. Shaky hands brought the little device to your focus, and for a second you forgot how to breath and think. Two parallel lines on each of them, glaring mockingly at you.

Positive

"No!" You moaned over and over while tears blurred your vision. Breath hitched only to be released in a heartbreaking and distressed wail as you threw the pregnancy test against the wall, holding yourself in a shaky and rickety embrace, trying with all your might to keep yourself together.

You were pregnant.

"Oh God, no" Your hands grope at your hair with strength. Riping it out would surely be less painful than trying to assimilate this new inflection point that just showed unannounced in your doorstep in the shape of a baby. You didn't want it.

You didn't want to be a mom. It wasn't your dream. You had prioritized so many things already to have a baby to tumble all what you had worked so far and hard, down and away from your hands. It wasn't fair.

Yet there you were, bawling and drowning in fear, curled and hunched in between the floor and the wall's tiles, hopes and dreams crushed in tiny shards impossible to glue back together right before your eyes. Just like your heart and brains, trying to not choke with your erratic cries and breathings.

You didn't want a child.

How could this have happened? You had seen Miguel roll the condom on. What if it was defective? Had it broke and you didn't notice? Was he even paying attention to it? Of course not. Neither of you were and now the consequences were here, undisputed and irrevocably present in the three positive pregnancy tests.

You didn't want a child and much less one conceived from such a gruesome lie.

Another doleful stab and a new wave of tears soaked your already drenched and flushed cheeks upon remembering Miguel.

He was engaged with a beautiful woman. A woman that was looking for wedding venues to fulfill her dream of getting married to the alleged love of her life.

How would she react if she knew her future husband had not only cheated on her, but also had gotten you knocked up? You didn't even want to think about it.

Because there was none else in the picture, not before or even after the one night stand. Miguel had been the only one you have had sex in a long time.

You didn't know what hurt and angered the most. Knowing you were pregnant, telling him even knowing the implications of such thing, or having to give up on your dreams before they even took off.

Your breath turned into panicky and antsy pants, body trembling and unable to get a grip on your faculties as angry and mourning tears rolled unceasingly.

All of them soul wrenching and ghastly options you weren't ready to make. Motherhood had been an alien concept for you, something you avoided, not out of fear, but out of the awareness of knowing what being a mother required.

You weren't ready to give up your independence yet or your lack of responsibility to none other but yourself. Much less face things alone beyond your knowledge.

Scorching tears mourned the lost future you were dotingly paving, now lost to the unwilling duty of motherhood. A duty that refused to be only yours. You needed two for a tango, and Miguel had to know.

He was as guilty as you were. You for ignoring the signals these past two months and he for knocking you up. It all made sense now, and for all you knew cafeteria's food was good. Pregnancy had been the culprit all along and not your stupid and hopeful reasoning of a food poisoning.

A cold and unforgiving chill ran down your spine upon the impromptu question that took life in your mind.

How far were you?

Another quivering sob echoed while your spine straightened properly against the wall, dread weighed your head down upon the sudden realization of the foreseeable expenses. Prenatal and neonatal doctors, pediatricians, clothes, baby formula, diapers, medicines, toiletries, vitamins for you and-

You retched in the bathroom once more. Nauseous tidal waves were set into making a misery party out of you. It took you a while to calm the fried nerves to wash your mouth and move from the bathroom to grovel back to your bed in between newfound whimpers.

You went under the sheets, hiding your fuck up from the ever judging world. Society was either too praising or too harsh with pregnant women, always contradicting itself. Single parents were the most stigmatized along affair babies, they weren't something you'd parade proudly. Not when the pay off of such twisted and heinous encounter was developing within your womb. Leeching from your life, yearns and dreams, like an innocent parasite.

The news had not only left you disturbed, but for once the only thing you were grateful for, was the heavy and smothering fatigue that put you to sleep almost right away.

You called in sick. Unable to face the world and it's surprises for you. Head heavy and full of pestering thoughts that made sure to remind your new reality in each passing second.

For how long would you be in bed? For how long were you planning to hide and pretend nothing had happened? What time was it? Once more, the nauseas forced you to rush to the bathroom and retch. You hadn't even eaten breakfast yet, but it was the littlest of things your mind worried about.

You just laid there, on the coldness of the floor, watching the secluded space shrink around your frame the more you stared at it. Clawing and biting at your conscience, suffocating your tranquility.

Your phone buzzed, and kept buzzing on your nightstand, completely ignored.

What am I gonna do now?

Was another new mantra that replayed nonstop. Something had to be done, and all you could think of was nothing, despite the obviousness of the situation.

The buzzing again brought your attention back to your room. Bed was so inviting and seducing, but you weren't sleepy. Too deep in pins and needles to articulate any rational thought. With a sigh, you stood and marched back, taking an angry hold of your phone.

Four missing calls from Luke's Garage, a couple of text from your manager asking if you were alright, some pop up messages and ads and one missed call from MJ.

MJ. Your unstable friend in terms of communication. Not that you blamed her, life behind scripts and lines was hard enough to add you as a another burden in her life, even if you had seen her months ago. You'd talk to her later.

Your mind gravitated towards Luke's, hoping they had good news from your car. A little grey Fiat 500.

Grounding yourself onto that, you took a shower and got ready to go after replying to your manager. As strict as she was, she cared in her own tyranic way.

You went for the garage.

After arriving to Luke's, and finally get a bit of good news in the admist of chaos, you got your car back. He hadn't had the time for fixing it, but now it was all yours again.

A little incident with you retching not once but twice upon smelling food, had his wife squealing in joy at the realization of your pregnancy.

Guess you can't hide it from the experienced ones, huh?.

But thanks to her, you were instructed in what to do almost right away. Folic acid was a must and so was a visit to the gynecologist. You'd be lucky if you could afford the vitamins after all the expenses you had through the month with the car rides and food.

Changes were already settling in your life and as much as you rejected them, they had pushed you away from the steering wheel and imposed a new pace you weren't used to outside work. Fast and cruel.

You had bounced through the city, looking for an available doctor. Life didn't stop because you suddenly found out you were pregnant, even though your mind remained rattled and unstable, there were things you still needed to do.

At least worrying about your car was no longer one of those concerns, you didn't have to pay for rides, a little control was returned to you. A reward for getting out of bed? perhaps.

The doctor you had found was in a relatively rundown district of Nueva York, but the urgency of your predicament didn't leave room for being picky. Despite the crummy overall looks from the street and neighborhood around, the small and discreet women's care center seemed decent and clean enough.

Surprise ran rampant at how the milieu looked from the inside, it was one of those places you thought you'd never visit, not had the plans to do so in your life. But here you were, awaiting your turn while chewing on the inside of your cheeks as one of your legs bounced in anxiousness.

The smell of alcohol and other chemicals mixed in the air, shooing away the external and unpleasant odors . Walls were dressed in a soft blue, like the chair rows extending left and right. The doors remained white, just like the floor tiles. Some were broken, but remained spotless. Tattered in some bits but clean and borderline welcoming.

The staff wore sympathetic smiles at every woman that came in. You weren't the exception.

Your name was called, finally, and you stood. Car keys tinkering as you walked in the office, your little purse resting on the flat of your thighs. With a deep breath and a gulp on a dry throat, the appointment started.

Nine weeks. That's how far you were according to the paper in your hands and the ultrasound pictures adhered in the next page.

Your heart still thrummed upon the sight of the little heart on the screen, beating powerfully, as if in every passing contraction of the organ the creature would be saying loud and clear:

I'm here. I'm alive. I'm part of you now.

No.

You didn't want it to be part of you. You refused. And now that you had received counseling after letting the cat out of the bag with a total stranger, the two options remained in your hands. The doctor didn't pressure you into making any further appointments if you went for the most logic and reasonable option. Abortion.

Rather gave you time to think and mull over your decision. It was entirely up to you.

But what if he actually wants a child?

You laughed in between shaky titters at your stupidity.

Maybe he did, but that didn't mean it was with you by all means. You barely knew him, and the little things he had shown you so far was all the unwanted and negative traits a man could have.

Liar, cheater, irresponsible, cold hearted, cunning, a cynic and someone that was too aware of their actions to go by as innocent. A manipulator at best.

It was rather scary and confusing for you how some men could pass as loving and devoted lovers in their home, when they were the complete opposite outside.

A perfectly reversed street angel, house devil situation.

Now that you had the tools and options there was something more that needed to be done.

Telling him.

Even though your choice was already taken, and the possible outcome would only reinforce it, he needed to know, as undesirable as meeting him again was. Maybe it was your time to give him back a bit of retaliation to his silent bully and threats. You needed an explanation and that was nonnegotiable.

Anger finally rose past the initial terror. And it hit like a tsunami. Cold, unforgiving and oh so destructing.

You searched his information through the company's data. His picture came into view with his full chart.

Miguel O'Hara. Second head of the Laboratory and Research department.

And a cheating pig.

Sighing, you discreetly copied his contact number on your phone. If you were to face him, it needed to be just the two of you. You'd talk to Dana later, even if that meant to be scorned and resented by her forever. Luckily she was on her day off, or so her schedule on the screen said.

The thought of Miguel only infuriated you further, since he was pushing you towards things no sane person should be doing. Stalking, covering a devastating truth from a beloved one. Getting you pregnant while at it.

Unintentional, perhaps, but still you needed an explanation. Your mind set in getting it cause in all the categorical truth, you were tired. You were fucking tired of being the only one putting up a fight against the aftermath of his doings while he lived a normal life, blissfully ignorant of the awaiting mess that had his name all over it.

You were allowed to leave an hour early. Obviously, you'd seize that chance to ambush him at his leaving hours to drop the bomb. It wasn't a hundred percent spite, but more like half of it while the other was making him face the consequences. He had cornered you enough to finally get some backlash.

With a deep breath, you opened a new chat log on his name.

Messages were deleted and rewritten with all the things you wanted to say, but again, words were words and you were sure that his dismissive nature wouldn't even take them in consideration. So spilling your heart out in them was useless, you'd do it personally despite being terrified of him. You settled for a simple yet pithy one.

—We need to talk. Meet me at the parking lot.

The game was on, and you were ready to fight against the final boss. Upon the four o'clock ticked, you packed up your things and went straight to your car, waiting for him to show up. Your phone had been quiet ever since you sent the text message. The seen confirmation was the only indicator you got of him being aware of something going on.

Minutes kept ticking, passing and there was no sight of him yet, until your heart leaped to your chest upon spotting him around the corner. Impossible to miss him by his sheer height, a sore thumb among the rest. Stupidly handsome and uncaring as he swaggered over his car, a black BMW x7.

Leather briefcase in one hand, and phone smooshed between his left cheek and shoulder blade. By his bored and annoyed expression it was either something business related or talking to someone undesirable.

Just as you were opening your passenger's door to call his name, he opened his and tossed in the briefcase to then hop in while still in the call, he fastened his seat belt. Not even a minute happened when he turned on the car and left.

What is he doing?!

Frowning at his direct dismissal, you checked the message log again, only to find his profile picture gone and some little yet infuriating message on the bottom.

This number is unavailable for chat.

"Bastard."

It was all you could muster before angry tears welled up in your eyes. But it had been enough. You went back to fuming and drove back home. Next week for sure you'd catch him.

You've had enough.

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