Punk One Direction One Shots

Liam for Aria

I smiled as I stood outside Aria’s window. She was hugging her father and mother good night, like any good girl does. She closed the door, pressing against the back of the door, a wide grin spreading across her face. I drew my eyes away from her, looking back to the direction of my parked car. I really hoped no one broke into it, or stole it, or it was in a no parking zone, because I was broke. I had just enough to pay for gas to get us to the spot, buy decent enough gas station food, and condoms-just in case. I doubted, though, that Aria would go through with this.

It’s not like she couldn’t find a boy decent enough at Harvard-which her mother was paying for. Aria wouldn’t fall through with this. I should just turn and leave now while the night was young. I took a step back, crushing some of the pansies that her mother had dutifully planted. If I were her, I wouldn’t be wasting my time with a dirtbag like me. I would stay golden to please Mummy who was paying a ridiculous amount for college. Nor would she want to have to sit through hours of Latin being shoved down her throat by Daddy.

Looking up, Aria waved down at me from her balcony, smiling suggestively. She offered a wink, mouthing for me to catch her. Spreading my arms open, I smirked to her. If she didn’t jump, I would leave this alone, let it go, move on.

Aria drew a deep breath, flinging herself off the beams. She landed in my arms, her hands locked behind my neck. “Hey baby.” She said breathless. Damn, that was hot. I continued to hold her, staring at how the light reflected off her hair and eyes.

“Hey baby yourself.” I growled, moving her closer. “I’m proud of you.” It did my heart well to see I was making a delinquent out of her.

“Psh,” she smacked my chest lightly, scrambling out of my arms, “I’ve had it in me this whole time. I’ve just been waiting for the right time is all.” She mumbled, pulling her hair out of the bun her parents expected it to be in.

“Oh really?” I challenged, helping her untie the trench coat she had wrapped around her luscious body.

“Really.” She assured strutting to my car, wearing, of all things, a plaid skirt that had to have been from her private school days, but it feel right at her thighs. Her 1975 muscle shirt was tugging at her cleavage. It was so hot.

I started the car, looking down as her hand trailed up my knee to my thigh. “You bad girl.” I purred. “I’ve been such as influence on you.”

“No,” she protested, “I’m a good girl, the most dangerous kind, because good girls are bad girls that haven’t been caught yet.” She attached her lips to my neck, growling into the skin “Drive.”

So I began to drive, and I wouldn’t stop until we reached a place far enough away so we wouldn’t be interrupted. Aria was my good girl, who was bad just for me, and only me. I’d be her good boy, but I was no one else’s. I remained hopeful as she slipped into my pocket pulling out the silver wrapper. This was going to go well.