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tomtenadia · 3 years

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Blind mistake

Rowaelin month - day 8

So, this fic was fighting me at the beginning. as I started, deleted and restarted a million times.

Then slowly the idea came and here it is. What I was not expecting was to write a A Little Braver AU.

Aelin and Rowan meet under different circumstances and are two different people from thee actual story. Aelin is still the captain at east station and Rowan still the airforce captain.

Yes, this is a happier fic but as Aelin said in KoA... she loved Rowan because it was him, the man who had known pain as deep as hers.

IN order to enjoy this fic you do not need to have read ALB. A part from Pete popping up for a brief second at the end, this is a complete stand alone story and no knowledge of ALB is needed.

Rowan sighed. His love life sucked so much that he ended up using a dating app. Since Lyria dumped him a year before he had been struggling to go back in the game. He had been on a few dates but so far none of the women he met had sparked his curiosity. Far too bland and with almost no personality or far too bothered by looks. Some of them had been downright stupid and he had been a gentleman and played along when all he wanted to do was run away screaming. The last nightmare had been a woman called Remelle who Lorcan had recommended to him. He had to feign food poisoning and pay the chef to let him escape from the back of the restaurant to flee the monster. He had paid the bill sneakily, and once home he had insulted Lorcan and his poor taste in women.

Now he was again in a restaurant, ready for probably another fiasco. He and the woman had chatted a bit and she had seemed interesting so he had dared to ask her out and she had accepted. On the paper it was all good. In reality he was getting ready for another crazy escape. Maybe he should just give up and live alone and become a grumpy old man.

He had a kingsflame on the table near him, their code to recognise each other at the restaurant. The fact that they knew very little about each other made him nervous. It was a recipe for disaster. He knew she was a personal shopper and that she liked movies and music. He was really dreading the encounter now, and started to realise that perhaps it had been a mistake. She could have lied.

Until he raised his head and he noticed the woman who had just entered the restaurant. He then spotted the flower pinned on her green dress as they had agreed. Gods, the woman was way too hot for him. There was a catch somewhere. His heart raced when realisation dawned on her face and she waved and started to walk to him. The smile. Damn, the smile could stop a man’s heart. The woman walking toward him was a goddess. He was expecting her to turn away for another table until she sat down in front of him at his table. Rowan was speechless.

“Sorry, I am late. Accident on the ring road. I stopped to give a hand to west station.” She used her hand to brush off the smudge of grease he had only just noticed she had.

“You stopped?”

“Yes,” she looked at him with a strange light in her eyes “I am a firefighter. I am the captain at east station.”

Rowan blinked twice. Shit. She was the wrong woman. She was not here for him. Of course. It was too good to be true. She had sat at the wrong table and a part of him was sad.

“I am Aelin.” she said and he knew that it had dawned on her as well that he was not her date “You are not Chaol.”

Rowan shook his head “I am Rowan.”

“Holy shit. I saw the kingsflame. The restaurant. And you smiled at me when I came in. I just assumed...” He did not want her to go.

“Ach, I was having second thoughts anyway.” He shrugged.

In that moment the waiter came and they were hesitant for a moment then Aelin grabbed the menu and started ordering, surprising him. Rowan got some wine for both and they placed as well their order.

“Our dates are late anyway. Maybe stuck in the horrendous traffic out there.”

“You will not hear me complain.” Said Rowan with a smile “so, you stopped and helped?”

Aelin nodded, sipping a bit of her wine “I couldn’t resist it. West station was there but there were so many cars involved that I had to something. The traffic wasn’t moving anyway.”

Rowan could not believe the woman in front of him. Not only she was a goddess. She had even stopped to help her colleagues save people from a car crash on her way to a date. Where had she been all his life?

The waiter came with their order and smiled at the expression of joy when Aelin looked at the amount of food in front of her. Another point for her. She had an appetite. He had no need of another date ordering a boring salad. He was a healthy eater but loved a woman with an appetite, especially because he loved cooking.

“So Rowan, what do you do?” She asked him while tackling the gigantic prawn on her seafood tagliatelle.

“I am an airforce pilot. I am a captain.”

Her face lit up “as in the uniform and all? And the awesome planes?”

Rowan nodded.

Aelin was about to take another sip of her wine when two figures stopped at their table. A brown-haired man and a blonde woman. Both had a kingsflames pinned on their dresses.

“Excuse me but you are with my date.” Said the stranger.

Rowan looked up from his risotto “finders keepers.”

“And he is my date.” Said the woman in a shrill voice.

“What he said.” Added Aelin while eating another prawn.

“We got stuck in traffic. There is a massive road accident on the ring road.” Chaol complained, not letting it go.

“Yeah I know. I stopped to help and I still made it here before you.”

“So what does this mean?” Asked Chaol.

Aelin stared at Rowan. It was a no brainer. Chaol was cute but Rowan was sex on two legs. Between the silver hair and the green eyes he ticked all of the boxes. And he was a pilot. Chaol was an accountant.

“You two can go on a date together.” She suggested and hoped they took the hint.

“That is rude.”

“Oh shoot,” said Aelin covering her mouth in fake surprise “I must have left the fucks I have to give in my bunker gear.”

Chaol looked at her aghast. The blonde woman turned on her heels and left.

“You missed an opportunity.” He added before he left as well.

As soon as he left Rowan burst into laughter and she joined him “no fucks to give…” he said trying to catch his breath “I have to steal this when my CO drives me nuts.”

“Ansel, one of my firefighters, she taught me that.”

“It’s fucking perfect.”

And both resumed their dinner without the awkwardness of a blind date. No stupid questions like how many siblings do you have or what is your favourite colour. No, with Rowan there had been a connection from the start and the joke had been the final proof.

“Most guys would have left running at my joke. I have a big and foul mouth. Not very lady-like.” She apologised. “I work in a male dominated place. Apart from Ansel and my two paramedics, I am surrounded by guys and well, they are not easily scared.”

Rowan chuckled “I am in the military. My CO uses fuck you as a term of endearment and one of my lieutenants has the record for the most innuendos in a sentence.”

“How many?” Asked Aelin curios.

“Ten.”

“No friggin’ way.”

Rowan nodded solemnly. Then looked at her and he was glad she sat at his table mistaking him for another man. They had known each other only for twenty minutes but he was dumbstruck by the woman.

She was fierce, intelligent and with a wicked sense of humour.

The meal had been perfect. Aelin had polished every single plate in front of her and also ordered dessert. And when she offered to pay for half the bill he had smiled. He had plenty of dates where the woman didn’t even offer. She took it for granted that he, being the man, was the one paying. He had no issues with that, he was happy to pay, but the fact that Aelin offered made him realise that she was different.

They left the restaurant and he gasped when he saw a red pickup reading Terrasen fire department on its livery, parked just outside the restaurant.

“Way to scare the patrons away.” He joked.

“Sorry. Yesterday I took a lift to work from a colleague and I forgot for a moment that I had a set the date for tonight after my shift. So I grabbed my work pickup to get here. I need to go back to the firehouse and return it.”

“I’ll follow, you drop off the pickup and then I drive you home.”

“I can take a cab, you don’t have to come all the way to the station and back.”

“Humour me,” he said giving her a beautiful smile and she accepted.

Ten minutes later they were at east station and she parked the pickup in its corner at the side and out of the way.

She saw Rowan getting off the car.

“Welcome to east station.” She said extending her arms. She pushed a button and the rolling doors slid up and two big trucks appeared in front of him. He had always wanted to see one up close.

“Cap,” said a man at her back “what are you doing here? I thought you were on a date?” He smiled “that bad? I told you accountants were a bad idea.”

Aelin laughed “looks like I got myself an airforce pilot instead.” She winked at him and Rowan’s heart skipped a beat.

“I’ll tell you next shift, Pete. I just brought back the pickup before Dorian kills me.”

She waved at her relief captain and followed Rowan in his car and told him her address.

While he drove she studied him. He was wearing a nice pair of jeans, a shirt and a black leather jacket. She should have guessed he was military. Aedion had the same posture and he was ex-army.

“Which house?” Asked Rowan, waking her up from her thoughts.

“The one with the blue door.”

He parked and walked with her up to the door “I had so much fun tonight,” she said to him, not wanting him to leave her.

“I am so glad that you sat at the wrong table. This was the best blind date ever.” He looked at her and wanted to kiss her so badly but they had just met and he did not want to pass a a pig.

She moved a step toward him “I am glad too.” And her lips brushed his cheek in a kiss “perhaps we could go on a proper date. One where we are actually meant to meet each other.”

Rowan sighed relieved “It would make me very happy.”

Aelin rummaged in her bag until she found a pen then grabbed his wrist and pulled up his cuff a bit and wrote down two numbers.

“The first one is my personal mobile number. The second one is the direct number to my office. I am known to leave my mobile in my bunker gear.”

“Thank you.”

“Let me know a date and if I am not free we can find a better one. Us firefighters have crazy long shifts so I need to be off.”

He took her pen and her wrist and wrote his number “then you text me. A day that you are off shift. I work regular hours. This makes more sense.”

He took a step down from the few step and she hated the idea of him leaving.

“Goodnight, Rowan.” She opened the door and looked at him one last time.

Rowan waited for her to disappear behind the door and then went back to his car and was grateful for the best blind mistake of his life.

#rowaelinmonth #rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #rowan x aelin #fluff

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wicked-mind · 3 years

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Soulmates

Summary: Soulmates are connected on a deeper level emotionally and physically. They can feel what the other needs and wants. As hints, the universe grants tattoos on your skin to help you find your soulmate. When Bucky’s soulmate tattoo appears out of the blue, he knows that she is about to come into his life, but the way she does is not what he was expecting.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Small bit of violence, swearing, little bit of drinking.

All Writings Masterlist

Note: This is a potential series so if you would like more, let me know! 10 points to anybody who knows what Sister Margaret’s School for Wayward Children is from as well as Weasel (;

As always, likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated❤️

*gifs not mine

Chapter One - Tattoos

Sister Margaret’s School for Wayward Children, the place where the bad and ugly went to escape. It had been turned into a bar years ago after the actual school got shut down for child abuse, and this was the main spot mercenaries-for-hire went to get jobs.

At the end of the bar quietly sat Y/N, drinking a bottle of beer. She wore black leggings with a grey guns-n-roses shirt with cut off sleeves, showing off her left tattooed arm. The tattoo had appeared one day out of the blue, stretching from her shoulder down to her fingertips. It covered every inch of skin on her arm and hand, even the palm. It was mostly black and white swirls that looked like smoke with pictures of dog tags, a freight car and some Russian words as well as the numbers seventeen, nine, and one. On her shoulder laid the only color the tattoo had, a maroon star. This was the tattoo that symbolized Y/N’s soulmate, though that didn’t matter to her. She had other things to focus on than finding someone to spend her life with.

Y/N had been hired by an unknown source to steal information from the Avengers, something to do with a James Buchanan Barnes, whoever the hell that is. They were paying her a lot of money to get the information and Y/N couldn’t pass up the amount they offered. Things had been slow for her lately, the world must’ve been running out of scumbags to take care of.

“You want another?”

The bartender known as Weasel broke Y/N’s concentration with the question, making her eyes snap to his face, “Sure. I’m going to need to be a little tipsy to fit in at Stark’s gala. I don’t think walking in there looking like a raging bitch is going to work.” She muttered out to him, sliding her empty beer bottle towards him and caught the filled one that was slid back to her.

“You got invited to the Stark gala?” Weasel asked curiously with wide eyes.

“God no, do I look like a prissy pants woman who’d be invited to something like that?” Y/N replied then took a large gulp of the beer, “I’m sneaking in, got a job to steal some information.”

Weasel shook his head, “Wait. So, you’re going to just walk into the billionaire’s gala full of super persons and just expect to steal information from them?”

Y/N shrugged at him, “Well, yeah. What? You think it’ll be hard?” She asks with a tilt of her head.

Weasel blinked at her, trying to decide if she was being serious, “Nah, should be a cake walk.” He said sarcastically, “All you have to do is get past the billionaire robot man,”

“I think he calls himself Iron Man.” Y/N corrected with a scrunch of her nose

“Iron Man, two super soldiers, some bird dude, two assassins, and whoever else decides to show up. Shouldn’t be hard at all.” Weasel said with a roll of his eyes before walking away, “I’m putting your name on the dead pool!” He called behind his shoulder as he walked.

Y/N rolled her eyes at him, “You must be a groupie to know the whole squad!” She yelled towards him before finishing chugging the rest of the beer. She checks her phone, almost time for the gala. She would have to change into something nice and find someone man’s arm to hang onto so she could sneak in.

——

The soulmate tattoo had appeared on Bucky’s right forearm a days ago. He thought he didn’t have a soulmate since one had never shown up, but then he woke up to a burning on his right arm as the tattoo slowly appeared. It was the queen of hearts playing card with a knife stuck through it surrounded by Marigolds. He stared at his forearm for a moment, wondering why it had shown up now instead of sooner. Something must’ve changed in his and his soulmate’s path that would bring them together. Buck reluctantly pulled on his long sleeved black jacket, having to look nice for Tony’s party. He hated these events, but had just cleaned things up with Stark and wanted to keep on the right path with making his amends and becoming a better person. He walks out of his room with a slight scowl on his face, walking to the elevator and heading down to the main floor where the party was. He quickly found a spot at the end of the bar where he could hide for the rest of the night to drink whiskey and not be bothered.

Y/N had changed into a long, tight black dress and some black heels. The dress had her arms covered so only her hands showed, the left one heavily tattooed. The back of her hand had the number seventeen tattooed on it while the inside of of her palm was just tattooed with what looked like smoke dancing up to her fingertips. She was hanging onto the arm of some man she had just learned the name of, flirting her way to get inside the gala with him. She quickly lost him in the crowed, losing her smile when she departed from him. Y/N scanned the room before spying what she would figure would be an easy target at the bar to take her upstairs. She pulled out lipstick from the small hand held purse she was holding, putting some on her lips careful not to ingest it. It had a paralyzing agent in it that would help her get to the information she needed. She approached the handsome man and introduced herself under a fake name, “I’m Michelle.” She said with a smile to him. Y/N learned his name was Sam and after a little bit of flirting, she was walking to the elevator with him giggling and holding his hand.

Bucky had watched the mystery girl named Michelle approach. He narrowed his eyes at her, something about her was different. Something drew him to her and he couldn’t figure out what. He couldn’t help but feel a slight disappointment and jealousy watching Sam take the woman to the elevator. His stomach turned slightly thinking of Sam touching such a woman and he couldn’t figure out why. He usually didn’t care about who his friends bedded but something was pulling him towards her.

Y/N waiting until the elevator doors shut, turning to Sam and pushing him up against the wall. She slowly pulled on his tie to make him lean towards her and kissed him, smiling slightly as she felt his body slump against her in a paralyzed state before falling to the ground, “Sorry, sweetness. You seemed like a good time.” She told the now paralyzed man on the floor. She quickly slid the dress off, revealing black shorts and a matching black tank top. She had a gun strapped to one thigh and throwing knives on the other. Her heels followed, being kicked to the corner of the elevator. Barefoot was going to have to work, she despised heels. Y/N pulled a queen of hearts playing card out of her bra and placed it on Sam’s shoulder with a smile towards his brown eyes that stared at her widely. When the elevator doors open, Y/N waltzed out of the elevator and towards the nearest lab she could find.

Bucky had enough whiskey that was never enough to get him drunk and watching the guests mingle. Plus he was still irritated that he couldn’t figure out why it bothered him so much that Sam had taken some woman he had never seen before up to his bedroom. He walked to the elevator doors, clicking the button. He froze when he saw Sam on the floor just staring at him with wide eyes and tying to form words from his paralyzed lips. Bucky went in and leaned down, the doors closing behind him, “What happened to you, bird brain?” He muttered out before noticing the red lipstick and the queen of hearts playing card, quickly thinking back to the woman. He picks up the card, freezing as it looked just like the one of his soulmate tattoo before seeing the dress the mystery woman had been wearing on the floor. Returning to his senses when Sam was able to mumble ‘floor three, buck,’ he quickly hit the floor three button, dropping the card to the floor before exiting.

Y/N stood in front of the computer, typing codes to shut down Jarvis’s security system and rerouting the AI whenever it tried to reprogram. She quickly searched through all personnel files, finding the one labeled ‘James Buchanan Barnes- Winter Soldier.’ Y/N pulled a flash drive out of her pocket and plugged it in, downloading the information. Hearing the door behind her open, she grabs a throwing knife from the strap on her right thigh, throwing it with her tattooed hand towards the tall dark haired man that had entered.

Bucky caught the knife with ease, leaning his head back away as the blade passed before he caught it. He kept his eyes on the woman in front of him, studying her. His eyes snaked up the tattooed covered left arm, his eyes widening at the pictures, numbers, and Russian words that painted across her smooth skin in bold black. They were his words, things that were significant to him. Then he saw the red star on her shoulder, staring intently.

Y/N narrowed her eyes at the man, watching him study every inch of her tattoo. She rolled her eyes slightly, grabbing the flash drive and tucking it back in her pocket. Based on the file she just went through, this was James Barnes. Her eyes quickly moved to red hair walking up from behind the man, a smile flashing across Y/N’s features, “Ah, Natalia. I heard you were part of the super squad now. How’d graduation go?” Y/N asked the redheaded woman, her eyebrow twitching upwards for a moment. Y/N knew the woman who now went by Natasha, they trained at the Red Room Academy together. However, Y/N had left before the graduation ceremony, becoming a free-agent assassin and spy for hire.

Natasha rolled her shoulders, ready for a fight, “I was having a nice time at the party, then I find Sam and your card in the elevator.” She said, stepping closer to Y/N until the space had closed to a few feet, “What are you doing here, Y/N? Who are you working for?”

Y/N shrugs slightly at the question, “Don’t know. But they pay really well.” She smiled again before throwing out a punch towards the redhead which was blocked immediately.

Bucky watched the two women throw punches and kicks at each other. Both of them had the same fighting style which made them a pretty even match when it came to fighting. Neither were making good progress in stopping the other. It wasn’t until the rest of the team came up to stand behind Bucky, watching the two fight. Jarvis had alerted them after the flash drive had been unplugged and Y/N had stopped typing in codes to reprogram the AI. Clint and Steve rush passed the frozen figure of Bucky who was just watching Y/N, his eyes locked on her tattooed sleeve. Clint grabbed onto one of Y/N’s arms before being kicked away. Steve was able to wrap his arms behind Y/N, pinning her arms down while Natasha quickly put magnetized cuffs on Y/N’s wrist, pinning her to the closest metal table. Y/N managed to kick Natasha and Steve away, but hadn’t noticed Clint get up. He stuck her in the neck with one of Natasha’s shocking spheres, causing Y/N’s body to seize before going into unconscious.

Natasha took a deep breath and looked over towards Bucky after Y/N was unconscious, “Thanks for the help, Barnes. You were super helpful.”

Steve looked at the unconscious woman, his eyes sliding along the tattoos. He looked to Bucky then back to Y/N, “Oh my god…” He trailed off, knowing immediately what this meant.

Bucky watched Steve observe Y/N’s tattoos before walking closer his eyes locked on the face of Y/N, studying everything about her. It was like colors were brighter when he looked at her and worry melted away from his core. Everything drew him to her, “She’s my soulmate.”

______

“Her name is Y/N Y/L/N.” Natasha began as the whole team stood outside the cell Y/N was in, watching her through the mirrored glass, “She was at The Red Room Academy with me. She was the top of her class, a year older than me. Y/N adopted the name ‘Queen of Hearts,’ a name I helped come up with. I thought it was ironic given that it didn’t seem like she had one. Y/L/N left the academy before she graduated, refusing to kill an innocent man. Last I heard she was doing mercenary work.”

Steve nodded at the information, looking towards Bucky who was just observing Y/N through the mirror, “What was she trying to steal?”

Natasha pulled out the flash drive she had obtained when Y/N was unconscious, “She was stealing information from us. Information of Barnes.” She said, her eyes flickering towards Bucky, “Whoever paid her, wanted to know everything about you, including all the information we know of how you became the Winter Soldier.”

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next part>

#Bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x you #winter soldier x y/n #james buchanan barnes

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peter-parcoeur · 3 years

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Good girl gone bad | (frat!tom)

request: How about frat cocky Tom at a Christmas party, wearing something that shows off his muscles, and he keeps flirting with y/n, who hates him. Throughout the night, he slowly wins her over, and once he has her in the palm of his hand, he makes her compliment him and then worship his muscles and then get on her knees and suck on him through his boxer briefs and then finally he f*cks her face and he's dirty talking and boasting all the way through :)

disclaimer: Hiii, so this was a request (sadly anonymous but if you’re out there reading this, I hope you enjoy and this lives up to your expectations...) this is my first attempt at fratboy!tom so I apologize in advance if that’s not exactly what you expected from it or whatever. Also I’m french so, some unfortunate spelling mistakes may occur and for this I apologize too! (damn I do really know how to sell myself, don’t I?) Anyway, enjoy your reading and please give it a ♥ if you liked it and a comment if you either really liked or hated it. Annnnd I’m talking too much.

warnings: smut smut smutty smut is to be expected, obviously. includes: brat!tom, braggy!tom, boasting!tom and some serious potty mouth / enemies to lovers (well, more like enemies to fuckbuddies idk) / oral-sex / face-fuck / dirtyDIRTY talk/ fingering / brief mentions of self luuuuvin (that’s masturbation, for you) / dom!tom + sub!reader / I guess a little bit of humiliation and praise kink idk if that’s triggering so just in case... / roughness... I guess that’s it? probably enough already.

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« Come on, it’ll be fun! God knows you could really use some fun… » your friend’s voice almost begged over the phone as you safely locked it between your cheek and your shoulder to open the door to your dorm room, your keyrings grazing the piece of metal surrounding the lock with a soft, clicking noise.

“Yeah cause hanging out with complete morons as they get shit-faced on cheap vodka is totally my idea of a good night...”

“ Urghhhh, Y/N please, are you really gonna be a Grinch about it?”

“ Well, it’s a Christmas party so I guess that’s convenient?”

You could tell your friend was getting frustrated by now, the slight change of tone in her voice making her sound desperate. Kicking off your shoes and dropping your books above the mess on your desk, you immediately crashed onto your bed with a loud, exhausted groan as this never-ending day had managed to push every single one of your buttons. You felt completely drained and yet, your best-friend wanted you to join her to some frat-house where, apparently, the “most incredible” Christmas party was about to be held? Uh-uh. No way. Your actual plan for a Friday night (= eating take-out food in front of some true crime documentary on Netflix) seemed much more appealing than the effort your friend seemed to require from you.

“You’re really gonna bail on me? What if something happens to me?”

“Now this is guilt pressure and you’re so much better than this! “ You laughed, “plus… I know you wanna go just so you can make out with Harrison… You really don’t need me for this and truth be told, I really don’t need to see that guy shove his tongue down your throat!”

“Maybe YOU need someone to shove his tongue down your throat “

“I’ll pass, thanks “

“Come on, how long has it been since you’ve got laid? “

“That’s… way beside the point?””

Still, you thought about it.

How long has it been, really?

Well. As far as you could remember, there were a couple (disastrous) tinder dates at the beginning of the semester. Nothing major even though the sex was still okay. Then you had decided to delete the app so you could focus on your studies, thinking that, eventually, life would grant you with an actual IRL, cute boy who could actually work a little harder to get into your pants whereas it had taken a single swipe on a screen for the previous contestants.

But for now, as the semester had come to an end and Christmas break was around the corner, it only occurred to you just how busy you had been, studying all night long and running on fumes and gallons of coffee. Maybe your friend was right. Maybe you truly needed to blow off some steam. Sometimes you wished you were more like her, carefree and less picky when it came to boys and random flings. Like her current crush, Harrison.

Harrison was a typical heartthrob with the face of a Greek God, so it was only natural for him to act like a brat and play with girls as he wished. With his piercing blue eyes and dreamy smile, girls could only wish he would look at them twice. But still, he wasn’t the worst part of Team Jackass, as you liked to call them. Their captain was actually Tom Holland. Football Quarterback, Tom collected girls’ hearts like trophies and held his pride within his questionable reputation. Party animal, heavy drinker and confirmed exhibitionist since he’d been caught fucking a cheerleader in the middle of the football field right after a game, his name was on everyone’s lips, whether they whispered gossips down the faculty’s corridor or muffled into a pillow as he dived into another naïve, besotted girl with the promise of an encore. To this day, all of the girls he had laid his eyes on were still waiting for a call-back.

You pulled a disgusted face at the thought of witnessing his little hunting game one more time. Tom was actually one of the main reasons why you usually skipped any frat party now. There were just so much time you could waste, sipping on some funky tasting “home-made” punch as “Football superstar” Tom Holland bragged about his athletic skills or how many girls he had fucked over the last couple days. Sometimes, it felt like a competition between him and his brain-dead friends. Somehow, you just knew he kept score of his one-night stands. Maybe he’d give you five stars for trying anal, a deep throat would give you another six and god forbid if you flattered his enormous, gigantic cock, well then, by all means, the throne would be yours. There was just something about him that screamed and irradiated praise kink.

“Y/N? Have I lost you?”

Your friend’s voice brought you back to reality as you seemed to have blacked out for a while.

Then, out of nowhere and unexpectedly, the words came out of your mouth.

“What time is the party then?”

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For every party, there’s a dress code.

Surely, a “Christmas” party just couldn’t be, without a fair splash of colorful jumpers or any subtle hints at Santa Clause as an excuse for a last-minute theme. Still, standing in front of what could only be Wednesday Addams’ wardrobe, you were suddenly hit by your lack of interest for any piece of clothes that wasn’t a shade between black and white. Was beige even a color anyway?

For a brief second, you considered wearing your infamous Christmas onesie, basically a fluffy one piece with a zipper, an oversized hood and covered with snowflakes and candy canes. The jokes would never end but no one could blame you for being ‘off theme’, then.

In the end, you settled for a rare “colorful” top which, luckily, happened to be whatever shade of green Christmas trees actually were. It was also skin tight and you knew for a fact it made your chest looks twice its size because of the way the velvet fabric enhanced your waistline. It was nowhere near provocative with its long sleeves and turtle-neck so you figured you could be a little bit more risky with the bottom part of your outfit, grabbing the black mini-skirt you’d bought a week before on a splurge, even though you didn’t know if you’d ever find the confidence to pull it off. It was short, there was no denying that as you turned around in the shop’s fitting room to catch a glimpse at your backside, knowing your whole ass would be exposed if you ever dared to bend down even so slightly.

Still, you felt sexy in it and as a girl who happily traded a sexy dress for yoga pants and an oversized hoodie, any piece of clothes that made you feel good about yourself was an instant buy.

Looking down at your final outfit as it laid down on your bed, a pair of nice ankle boots at the bottom of it, you patted yourself on the back for making the extra effort and walked to the bathroom for a well-deserved boiling shower. Staring at your reflection in the mirror above the sink, you sighed to yourself as the aftermath of a sleep deprived week and lack of skin care routine or basic maintenance whatsoever hit you like a truck on the highway. Your hair had been wrapped into the same messy bun for days and it would definitely take some professional skills to cover up the bags under your eyes.

Maybe this party was the wake-up call you needed, the equivalent of a Judging look from your mother every time you visited her after a while. You could almost hear her complain about how unhealthy you looked and how you should wear more “flattering” clothes. Ironically, you also knew she would never approve the skirt you intended to wear that night. You remembered just too well that frown she’d given you at your father’s 60th birthday and how you had to gulp an entire bottle of red wine to forget about the fact the woman who gave birth to you had called you a prostitute for wearing a dress above the knees. Sometimes it’d be like that. Family gathering were like a plague, somehow, you just couldn’t escape it and it would either scar you for life or make you wish you were dead.

As you entered the cubicle, the coldness of the tiles hit you, covering your skin with goosebumps and sending shivers down your spine. It took you a couple minutes to adjust as you waited for the water to turn hot enough to coat the mirror with a thick foggy layer. Only then did you relax, letting go of this week’s emotionally charged weight upon your shoulders and focusing on yourself, at last.

It was a fairly long shower as you decided to go through your entire haircare routine instead of a brief, one minute shampoo. Not to mention the fact you also had to shave entirely as it felt like it would be a good way to get rid of this nightmare of a semester, like stepping out of your old skin and into a new one. Usually, body hair was probably too far down the list of your preoccupations to even be noticed but you figured, as you felt surprisingly motivated, now was the right time to make your body smooth as a baby. You actually loved the feeling of a soft, freshly shaved skin.

As you rinsed off the soap, your hands fondling the body parts water failed to reach, your mind unexpectedly wandered through some steamy thoughts as soon as your fingertips grazed your slit, taking some shy dip between your folds. It was no surprise that a simple, barely there stroke would instantly strike your arousal, after all, it had been a while. You shamelessly admitted that your studies had taken over your life, up to the point you’d even find yourself too exhausted for some self-love. Somewhere in your chest of drawers, the small collection of adult toys you owned were probably collecting dust in the middle of your socks and panties, wondering when they’d get to take a swim and make you squirm into your sheets as you hold on to the headboard, biting your lip until it turns white so you don’t scream through climax.

What struck you the most was the fact TomfuckingHolland came to your mind the very second your middle finger met your clit, circling it softly as you felt electricity spark through your legs, making it jolt. Why the hell was his stupid smug splattered all over your unspeakable thoughts when he was, by far, the last man on Earth you’d let come close to your naked self? Let alone in a shower cubicle the size of a shoe-box where you’d have no space whatsoever to escape his heavy, muscular chest.

His body looked ridiculously built for a man with the face of a 13 year-old. Sometimes you’d catch him randomly flex throughout the day, showing off his enormous biceps to anyone willing to praise his impeccable shape. There would be no room for these guns in there, you thought as a brief image of these massive arms shielding you from both side, fists tight against the tiles, came immediately to your mind. What took you by surprise wasn’t to actually picture Tom standing in there with you, naked and definitely willing to make that room a lot steamier, but the fact you slipped a finger into your surprisingly dripping core as soon as you imagined him stepping closer so your bare, sticky chests would meet, his obvious arousal poking at your inner thigh, begging to make an entrance.

You stopped before you inevitably came, even though your body craved for that well-deserved relief. You may have been hornier than you thought, but not nearly horny enough to hand your first orgasm in months on a silver plate to a boy who probably stroked himself in front of a mirror on a daily basis. Your thighs squeezed together where your fingers had left a desperate void, rinsing your entire body with a much colder water, hoping it would bring your sanity back.

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You looked incredible.

It wasn’t just you boosting your ego through a pep talk in front of your mirror back in your dorm this time, and even if you loved to give yourself an encouraging speech, praising whatever features you thought made the cut in the top three of your best assets as you gathered the strength to go out in public in an outfit pretty far from your comfort zone, nothing could ever beat the look people gave you as you walked into the frat house looking like a three courses meal. There was just something about that short time slot where you caught a gaze and knew what that look was all about.

You knew Liza, the head student with a soft spot for athletes so obvious she probably had the entire football team’s handprints tattooed on her skin, just hated to see you get the attention she usually caught. Athletes loved nerdy, smart-ass girls like her, but to her own despair, you actually happened to be one of those, only with a shorter skirt and thicker thighs.

You knew half of Team Jackass was already staring at you, wishing they’d catch a glimpse of whatever you had to offer underneath that impeccable outfit as the soft fabric of your skirt kept rising up, every step bringing you closer to an unfortunate peek at the plain, white cotton undies you had chosen to wear that night.

But above anything, you could most definitely feel someone’s gaze upon you, burning up your skin like lasers trying to scan through your clothes. Suddenly, you felt exposed and with a simple smirk, Tom-Holland came out, strong as ever, just so he could pop out the comforting bubble you had built around you. Of course, he had chosen to wear the tightest white tee-shirt so everyone could distinctively see each of his six, rock-hard abs. Of course, his sleeves were slightly rolled up to enhance his biceps and if you weren’t familiar with his despicable behavior, seeing him flex just so he could kiss the pumped-up mount irrupting from his upper arm like a fresh batch of popcorn on a stove, you could have barfed immediately at the disgusting sight of a man with an ego the size of a fucking comet.

For now, you simply rolled your eyes all the way to the back of your head and watched as he smiled cockily, his hand reaching out for a redhead girl’s cheek even though his eyes were most definitely undressing you from afar. You could tell the girl had dressed to impress as she was tightly wrapped into the just-slutty-enough version of Santa’s outfit. Basically a velvet red dress with a fluffy white strap on top of her bustier. The way she laughed and twirled her long curly strand of hair as she gazed lovingly at Tom was enough for you to know she would soon join the never-ending list of names on his score board.

Shaking your head at how easy it seemed for him to get laid within the first hour of a party, you made your way to the kitchen where the alcohol seemed to be. As expected, most students were already sipping at some questionable cocktail right from the bowl with a straw and since you didn’t feel like going straight for the strong stuff, you settled for a beer, fiddling with the bottle cap for a solid minute before you heard a voice coming from behind your back.

“Need some hand with that, sweetheart?”

The cocky tone and thick accent immediately sent you off as a long, single shiver ran down your spine from the disgusting thoughts it brought along. It had come to the point you couldn’t even stand his stupid voice.

“I’m fine, thanks” you lied, your first still tightly gripped on your sealed beverage.

“You look like you could use some strength…”

Of course, he had to bring up his impressive, spectacular strength within seconds. Maybe he expected you to slow clap, bow down or throw confetti’s all over him for being strong enough to open a beer bottle. What on Earth would you do without his strong, manly hands?

Grinding your teeth as your tongue clicked against your palate out of pure annoyance, you gave him the most unimpressed look as he grabbed the bottle from your hand, popping out the cap hard enough to make it fly off and hit the table with a soft, metallic thump. Smirking to himself, Tom handed you the bottle back, tilting his head as he obviously expected some enthusiastic reaction.

“Do you want a medal or something?”

“A simple ‘thank you’ would be a good start? “He mocked, raising his eyebrows in a way that made your consider throwing the entire bottle at his face to wash away his stupid cockiness.

“Thanks” you simply blurted out, raising your beer slightly before walking away as you took a couple sips. It wasn’t even that cold or remotely good.

Tom watched as you walked away in silence, his eyes inevitably drawn to the way your hips and that glorious ass of yours seemed to wiggle into that daunting skirt. Grazing his thumb over his bottom lip with a smirk, the eager flame in his eyes made his will to take you to a quiet place grow bigger with each step you took.

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The music was getting considerably louder as people were now dancing all over the place, from the staircase to whatever was left of furniture after too many parties hosted in this house. The constant buzzing sound of chit-chats and laughter was slowly making your head spin as you gulped on your third (or was it the fourth?) Shot of tequila. As expected, Y/BFF/N had wasted no time as she was already clinging to Harrison’s neck, feasting on his mouth like an open buffet. His hands were on her bum, holding on to it for dear life with a strong grip. At least, she was having fun.

Out of boredom and to your own surprise, you had agreed on doing shots with a couple people you knew from class. Not technically what you’d call reliable friends but you always bumped into them at parties where you’d basically chat, and drink. From afar, you could see some people had gathered around a table where Team Jackass had started the inevitable beer pong contest. Nibbling at a piece of lime, hoping it would wash away the burning haze of the tequila, you winced at the sourness as your eyes suddenly locked with Tom’s. He was now holding his arms up on both side, raising one fist through the air as he had clearly won that first round. There was something pathetic about a man in his twenties begging for attention and acting like he was about to claim the gold medal at the Olympics when all he did was throw a feather-weighted plastic ball into a red cup.

All the alcohol in the world would never get you drunk enough to tolerate this guy.

Sometimes, you couldn’t help but think it was a shame to see him act so pitiful when he face was actually okay. Well. He was definitely cute as long as his mouth was shut and his stupid, pretentious smug out of the way. With his soft, chocolate brown eyes, his tousled eyebrows and thin pink lips, he could’ve been a guy you’d be interested in. His brown hair was somehow, always tucked into a snapback or a beanie but you had caught a glimpse of his natural curls once and though it killed you on the inside to admit it, he did look great when he didn’t try too hard to be a complete asshole.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t see him walk towards you.

“We’re doing shots now? “

“Impressive” you frowned, “did you figure it out all by yourself?” you chuckled, swallowing what’s left of lime, basically pulp, in one soft gulp.

“You like to act all smart ass around me, don’t you?”

“Correction: I am, in fact, smart… Not that it’s something you’re familiar with so, pardon me if it’s all too confusing for you… “

“Are you calling me dumb, then?” he was frowning now, his enormous self-centered head deflating under the unexpected pressure of your witty come-back.

“Did you hear the word ‘dumb’ coming out of my mouth?”

“No – but I sure know what I would like to see come in that sweet mouth of yours, darling”

The fact he had the nerves to say that kind of stuff right to your face was enough to piss you off but what caught you off guard was his hand reaching for your face as his thumb delicately grazed your bottom lip, pulling at it just enough for you to taste his fingertip.

“Surely, lime isn’t the only thing you like to suck on?” he smiled, cocky as ever as you could feel actual rage building up from your core and all the way to the back of your throat.

“I suggest you keep your hands off me” you snapped, pushing his hand off your face as he laughed to himself, the raspy sound caught in his throat making you throb against all odds.

“Or what? What you gonna do about it, uh?” he teased, confident as ever, his words coming out of his mouth halfway between a threat and a challenge. His arms were crossed against his chest now, making every inch of muscle he owned just pop out. There was nothing sweet about the way his body was built, and was he ever given the occasion, you knew he could break your spine in half with his one hand. You just wished you’d never thought about it as the filthiest images came to your mind, starting with Tom spinning you around over the sink in the bathroom and pinning you down with his palm pressed between your shoulder blades as he pounded hard and fast into you.

Maybe Tequila had gotten to your head faster than you expected.

“I know girls like you” he started, walking backwards until your back hit the wall and you were completely trapped between his arms, one of his leg parting yours so his knee would slowly graze that spot where your thighs met, claiming his access to that precious part of your body you could definitely feel getting damper against your will.

“What about it?” you asked, slightly more provocative than you had intended.

“You like to act all innocent, pretending you have higher standards…” His breath was warm, wrapped into the thickness of alcohol, curving a ball at the back of his throat so his voice would come out raspier and lower than usual, “… but secretly you just want guys like me to fuck the back of your throat until you choke”.

You felt it. Your pussy throb at the single thought of it. You didn’t want to physically react to these obscene images, words coming out of his mouth filthier than anything you’d ever heard, but still, as hard as you wanted to remain cold and unbothered, there was no denying for the dampness between your thighs. You just hoped he wouldn’t get a chance to notice it.

“You disgust me” it took you all the strength you had to spat back at him, and even then, all he did was smile then chuckle softly to himself as his hand slid up your throat, wrapping it slowly until his thumb pressed itself into the crook under your chin, nesting as it was made to be there.

“Please—are you really going to pretend you’ve never thought about my cock filling up your pretty mouth?” his fingers found your lips again, tracing it slowly as your heartbeat increased with each word, “like you’ve never thought about me when you finger yourself at night” he paused, pinching his bottom lip between his teeth as he tilted his head, his mouth coming closer to your hear with a dark whisper “I know you do, baby… I know you touch yourself thinking of me, wishing those fingers were mine, diving into your dripping cunt… Touching spots you could only wish you’d reach… how I would spread those lips open and run my tongue all over your slit….” A warm breeze brushed your neck as a cursed laugh escaped his lips, making you squirm unexpectedly, “I bet you taste so sweet, I would never get enough of that glorious pussy…”

By now, you were wrapped into the intoxicating scent of his cologne. It was strong and manly as expected, yet comforting in a way you didn’t want to think about. You didn’t want to picture yourself wearing that grey hoodie he loved to wear after a game, his perfume raining over your bare chest as you’d lazily ride him on his dorm bed after you’d get bored of whatever movie you’d settled for, pushing your panties to the side as he couldn’t be bothered taking it off completely. You didn’t want to picture him unzipping that same hoodie, palming your boob with one of his strong hands as his mouth sucked on your nipple until your soft, delicate skin turned red from all the biting marks. You didn’t want to feel yourself stretch around his rock-hard cock as he’d lift your legs up to wrap it around his neck, because he’s that kind of jerk who likes to show off even when he’s completely buried inside of you, that kind of complete asshole who loves to remind you just how deep he can go, smirking to himself as he hits your special spot over and over and over…. until you beg for him to stop. That kind of utterly disgusting dickhead who’d never stop, because he knows that, deep down, you just want him to keep going.

“Now you can tell me you’re not already wet… But we both know that’s a lie” he smiled again and as you felt his hand going down, palming you through your top and all the way down to the front of your skirt, you finally decided to come to your senses and grabbed his wrist into your tight fist, stopping him just in time before he’s reached the only approval he truly needed.

“Go to hell, Holland” you snapped, using all of your strength to push him off and walk away.

You didn’t turn back to see him chuckle at the sight of your flushed face.

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The coldness of water came as a shock as you bent over the sink in the bathroom, splashing your face until it didn’t feel like your skin was on fire. Grabbing a towel, you patted your cheeks and forehead, staring at the reflection in front of you. You definitely looked flustered, like you had just run a marathon when all you really did was to suffer through your archenemy’s evil little game.

Usually, you would have just brushed it off and that’d be it. But tonight, for some reason, you just couldn’t seem to shake him off your thoughts, his voice still echoing through your head like a curse without a cure. Outside the bathroom, you could hear the muffled sound of music and screams coming from the living room as beer-pong had turned into strip-pong with everyone removing a piece of clothes every time the ball missed the cup. Typical, drunken behavior. Soon enough these parties would turn into a massive orgy and it wouldn’t even come out as a big surprise.

Freshen up a little had helped you settle your thoughts back into place but still, your body didn’t seem to catch a break as the build-up tension and frustration Tom had caused within your core was yet to be released. There was no denying that your toys would have come handy if you were back to your dorm room as it felt like your pussy kept clenching for no reason, like the gaping mouth of the thirstiest man in the middle of a drought. You knew how bad you needed to put it out of its misery but if you thought undressing for a ping pong game was bad, what would happen if anyone walked on you literally fingering yourself in the bathroom of a frat-house? No one would shut up about it.

Tom would certainly not. Shut. Up. About. It. Ever.

You pressed your thighs together, hoping for some sort of relief as his words came back haunting you, thinking about how your hand had found its way between your legs earlier in the shower, the very second you had thought about his body pushing you up against the tiles. Is that what he was to you, now? A fantasy? Would you become another disgusting cliché of a girl begging for the typical frat boy to fuck her at a party because she couldn’t handle his dirty mouth?

Then you thought about your best-friend and how the last time you’d seen her, she was heading upstairs with Harrison, giggling, her lipstick smudged all over her chin after making out heavily on the couch up to the point everyone was starting to wonder whether they should be charged for that kind of peep-show or just roll with it. How she was probably getting fucked in his bedroom while you were standing alone in a bathroom, dripping wet for a man you hated down to the very bottom of your guts.

The door swung open abruptly, making you jump.

“So that’s where you’ve been hiding!” Tom smiled, walking in.

“Can’t a girl have some privacy?”

“I need to take a piss, you’re the one standing out there doing nothing” he joked, walking to the toilets with his hands already fiddling with the zipper of his pants.

“Hum, excuse me?” you spat, widening your eyes as you realized he was genuinely about to use the toilets with you still standing a few meters away.

“I said I needed to take a piss… So either you just stand there watching, which I don’t mind really… or you can get out?” he pointed his chin towards the door, unbothered as he casually pulled his dick out of his boxers.

Both infuriated and shocked, you turned around as there was no point leaving the room now that his whole junk was out and already halfway through it.

“Do you have to be that disgusting? Really you’re such a pig!” you complained as you heard him sigh with relief before the toilet flush broke the most awkward silence of your entire existence.

“Don’t worry darling, I’ll clean it up real nice just for you…” he smiled even though you still had your back turned to him. You heard him use the tap, washing his hands for a considerably long amount of time. At least he wasn’t one of those filthy rats who thought basic hygiene was optional.

“What were you doing by the way?” he finally asked, grabbing the towel to your left, “touching yourself thinking about me?”

You turned around to face his cocky face once more, this time with a furious need to slap it. Hard.

“You know I’ve seen you walking around campus a couple times, Y/N… Those big jumpers and yoga pants you like to wear don’t do that body any justice, but this?” he circled his finger in the air, pointing out her entire outfit “this, I like to see… and if you weren’t being a little brat I would gladly pull up that skirt up to your waist and have you there, above the sink…”

“I’m being a brat?” you scoffed. That was rich, coming from the ultimate king of bratty assholes.

“Well you call it whatever you like but denying yourself something you truly need just to prove a point seems a little childish…” he shrugged, shoving his hands into this jeans pocket and giving you a perfect glimpse at the veins running up his arms and disappearing underneath his rolled up sleeves.

“You think all girls are begging for you to fuck them? Really?”

“Probably, yeah, and who could blame them really? I have a great cock and I’ve never had a single bad review about the way I use it…” he smiled, with the arrogance of a king sitting on a throne of indecency.

“You’re so full of yourself… it’s insane” you shook your head with pure disgust.

“Then go ahead and prove it”

“Prove what, exactly?”

“That you’re not dripping wet as we speak…”

Point taken.

You were, indeed, dripping wet and soon enough, you’d have some serious explaining to do as the thin cotton fabric of your underwear was now soaked with your unsolicited arousal. Even though your head was filled with hateful thoughts and resentment for Tom, it felt like your body would not stop begging for his touch, dragging him closer like two pieces of magnets on a fridge. Unconsciously, you were now standing a couple inch away from his face, so close you could actually smell the soft mixt of menthol and alcohol from his breath. There was no point denying the obvious tension between you two as you looked like you were about to break into a passionate kiss but now it was just a fight between your will for self-preservation and your body, aching to be touched.

And so you heard yourself say these words you never thought you’d say, like you were standing in the audience as your other self was performing on stage, making some questionable decisions you weren’t 100% okay with.

“Which one’s your bedroom?”

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You could have fought longer, for the sake of your personal values, but as your feet were swiped off the ground, your back hitting the door as it closed behind you with a loud slam, all of your good sense and respectable choices just vanished as much filthier thoughts buried them for good.

Your legs were wrapped around his waist as his hands had wasted no time and found their way under your top, fondling your breast with the hunger of a wolf. Your lips attached to his, you moaned louder than expected as he pushed himself a little harder against you, the obvious stiffness of his crotch pressing against your aching core. Your skirt had risen up to your waist from spreading your legs a little too wide, flashing your white panties as it was now so soaked you could definitely see the outline of your lips, the thin fabric sticking to your slit. Catching your breath, heavy pants breaking your kiss, you looked into Tom’s eyes only to see nothing but pure, absolute lust in them. As you tugged at his brown locks, a couple strand curling slightly at the back of his neck, you watched as his snapback fell to the floor with a thump, unleashing his brown untamed mane.

Suddenly, he didn’t seem so bad, groaning slightly as your fingers scrapped the back of his neck, your lips sucking on his throat for good measures. With his head tilted back slightly, it felt like Tom was getting soft for a while, caving in so you could take control over him. Unfortunately, that didn’t last long as he suddenly traced a hand all the way down to your inner thigh, immediately pushing your panties to the side with his middle finger.

“I knew it…” he smiled, sliding his finger along your slit as you wrapped it up with a glistening coat of arousal. You knew he had won the minute he felt just how wet you were for him, but when it should have been upsetting, you just didn’t care. All you needed now was to feel his cock filling you up in any way he wanted, “who made you this wet, darling?” he smiled, pulling at your bottom lip with his teeth.

“Don’t be a brat…” you complained as you could see some mischief in the way he looked at you.

“Just say it” he insisted “I want to hear you say out loud just how wet I make you” this wasn’t a request, but an order. And for some obscure reason you didn’t want to figure out, it somehow turned you on even more.

“You…” you started, biting your lip out of nerves, or out of excitement, you weren’t sure quite yet. “You make me so wet, Tom” you almost moaned, pushing yourself a little harder against his hand when he failed to give you exactly what you needed. His fingers. Buried deep inside of you.

“Hmm” Tom groaned, two of his digits spreading your lips apart at a torturing slow pace, “I like the sound of that…” his knuckles were barely halfway when you buckled your hips off the door, begging for more, “what’s that darling? Tell me what you want…” he was whispering by now, slowly pushing his fingers into your desperate slit, “I want to hear you beg for it…”

You felt him push deeper, curving his fingers into a hook every time he reached your g-spot. By now you were so aroused you just knew it would take you more than a couple stroke to cum heavily into his awaiting palm. You could hear the sloppy sound of your own wetness every time he slammed his slick, extremely skilled digits back into your throbbing pussy. His lips curved into a hasty smile as he could feel you literally drip all over his palm and wrist.

“I want you… I want you so much” you barely managed to whimper as he increased the pace, his wrist working its magic between your thighs.

“Hmm hmm? I’m gonna need you to be more specific baby… what exactly do you want?” his thumb grazed your clit for a brief second and that was enough for you to squeal under his touch, making you clench suddenly around his fingers, “say you want my cock” he almost growled as you felt his hard-on twitch against your thigh, begging to be freed.

“I want your cock” you immediately wimped, your own words sending shivers down your spine as you twitched with anticipation, “I want it so, so bad…”

“Good girl…” he hummed, slowing down the pace so he could add a third finger, stretching you out slightly this time, “d’you think you can take it though? It’s pretty big…” he smiled, twisting his hand just enough so he could dig himself a path.

You simply nodded, unable to speak anymore, but as you were about to beg for more, Tom removed his hand, leaving you frustrated and hornier than ever. His face changed suddenly as he watched you pout, his hand reaching up for your lips.

“What about that pretty mouth, then? You think it may fit?” he smiled, spreading your lips apart so you could taste yourself on his soaked fingers. You immediately obliged, sucking at it, one by one, never keeping your eyes off him. When he shoved three of his digits, watching as your tongue twirled around it, cleaning it off completely, you could definitely tell his eyes had gotten darker, filled with unspeakable thoughts you would be begging to hear soon.

“You’re gonna let me fuck that pretty face?” he added, removing his fingers from your mouth so he could give you a soft, cheeky slap on the cheek. You nodded, obedient as ever. “Say it” he commanded, louder this time, “say you want my cock inside your mouth”.

“I want it… I want your cock inside my mouth” you pouted, only because you knew he loved to see you beg like a spoiled little princess. You’d seen it in his eyes, the way he looked at you every time you tilted your head to fake an innocence that was long gone.

Tom stepped back, walking away slowly as he watched you standing there, flustered, your hair all over the place, panting out of lust and frustration. Pulling his shirt off, you watched as his impressive chest unveiled in front of you. Abs like rocks, a thin strand of hair tracing a path from his navel to his crotch, disappearing under his jeans, his impeccable V-line bringing images you never thought you had within yourself. As he pushed his hair back, daunting you with his a look half way between arrogance and disdain, it felt like all signs of dignity had left your brain as all you could think about was to crawl to the floor and beg for his cock.

“What you’re waiting for then, Darling?” he smiled, unzipping his flies as he watched you walk towards him and get on your knees within seconds.

Your hands pulled at his jeans until it finally pooled around his ankles. Looking up to stare into his eyes, you felt both small and powerful, submissive but in control as you were now responsible for this man pleasure. It was up to you whether he’ll get to cum or not. But as you considered edging him as an option, Tom wasted no time in remembering you who was actually in charge.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me?” he sighed, grabbing your hair into a fist as his other hand stroked his cock through the cotton fabric of his boxers. You could tell he was just horny as you were as a couple pre-cum had already stained his briefs, turning it into a darker shade of grey.

Again, you nodded, removing his hand so you could replace it with yours, palming him through his briefs as he growled against your touch. He was big. Actually much bigger than you expected but somehow, you were up for a challenge. Tracing the outline of his cock with your fingers tips, you felt him push his hands on the back of your head, forcing you to come closer to his crotch.

“I want to fuck your pretty little mouth so, so bad” he groaned as you unexpectedly ran your tongue all over his stiff through the fabric, feeling it twitch as you palmed his balls. By now he was so hard you could feel the veins tracing a dirty road up to his leaking head as Tom started grinding slowly against your mouth, messing up your hair with his desperate fists.

When you pulled down his boxers, you took a couple seconds to stare at his glorious manhood, hard and pressed against his abdomen where it curved slightly, your mouth watering with a thirst you could have never pictured, especially when standing in Tom Holland’s bedroom. And yet, you couldn’t wait to have this magnificent piece of flesh filling up your mouth.

“Like what you see?” Tom smirked, boasting as ever but immediately squinting his eyes with a deep growl the minute he felt your tongue licking at the base, slowly going up until you finally bobbed on his creaming head.

You had always been good at this, giving head. Not that all of your partners would give you a proper review in the morning, pointing out your highs and lows, but there were just things men couldn’t do, like hiding the fact they were just having the time of their lives. And right now, Tom actually looked like there was nowhere else in the world he would rather be than standing here, with his cock in your mouth.

Twirling your hand at the base where you mouth couldn’t go just yet, you started bobbing up and down his shaft, sucking your cheeks in so your mouth would pop every time his dick came out. You had quickly figured out a couple things about Tom, including the fact he just seemed to love it dirty and noisy. You could actually hear him growl louder, his fist tightening its grip into your hair every time he slipped off your lips, only for him to shove it back a little harder and definitely deeper with each thrust.

“That’s it baby… Just like that… you’re such a good girl…”

You were a good girl, indeed. Always had been. Straight-A’s student from day one, the pride and joy of your parents, spending most of your week-ends doing some volunteer work whenever it was needed while being a caring, polite girl who never did anything wrong. Right choices only.

Or so you thought. Obviously, tonight would be always marked as the only questionable decision on your impeccable path to perfection. But still, as Tom grabbed your face with both hands to push himself deeper and all the way down your throat, making you gasp for air slightly, you had no regrets.

You stayed still for as long as your lungs could handle it, holding on to his firm, muscular buttocks as you swallowed him all. Looking down on you, Tom was left speechless as his cock stretched your cheeks out, his balls resting into your palm as you twitched them slowly, making it jolt with both pain and pleasure. When you felt like you were about to gag, you pushed yourself back, gasping for air as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. Your cheeks felt numb and yet it missed the feeling of being stretched out already.

“Hmmm baby look at you…. you think you’re ready for it?”

“Yeah” was all you could blurt out. Yes to anything he wanted. You were prepared. You longed for it.

Looking around as Tom started pumping himself, getting ready for you, spitting into his palm to lube himself up so your lips wouldn’t drag along his shaft too much, you just couldn’t believe you were there, kneeling on the navy carpet of Tom Holland’s bedroom, the epitome of the ultimate frat boy. A huge flag from his favorite sports team was hanging above his bed, his never-ending hats collection sitting on wooden shelves by the wall like it was some kind of “frat boy starter pack” Art exhibition. In the corner of the room, you caught an unexpected glimpse at a guitar. It looked fairly new, but never in a million years would you have pictured Tom playing guitar. On his desk, his laptop was still open on a Spotify tab where you’d probably find a playlist based on some typical white boy rap music but against all odds, the room looked neat compared to what you had in mind.

“You look so beautiful” he sighed, out of nowhere, and to be completely honest, had your mouth not been filled with his dick, you would have probably picked up your jaw from the floor. Taking him all in once more, you just pretended you couldn’t hear, sparing you some awkward misunderstanding. Maybe those words were actually directed to his dick. After all, the boy loved himself just that much.

His hands were all over your face, wiping tears from your eyes every time he hit the back of your throat a little too hard, stroking your cheeks, massaging the back of your neck, roaming through your tangled hair as your kept up with his reckless pace, his hips swinging back and forth while you remained completely still so you could take him like a champ.

“God, I love to see you choke on my cock….” He gritted through his teeth “so…so hot…” you could tell he was getting sloppier now, pumping in and out of your mouth abruptly then a lot more slower as a couple twitch from his cock gave you a hint of his upcoming grand finale.

By now, you were a slippery mess, the taste of pre-cum hitting your throat as you dribbled all over his shaft, obscene sounds of suction coming out of your mouth every time he pushed himself out and back in all over again.

“F----uuuuck….fuck baby I’m gonna come!” he grunted, the sudden high-pitch of his broken voice driving you insane as you pushed yourself up a little so you could open your mouth wider, expecting him to fill it up soon enough. “D’you want me to cum in your mouth? Uh?” again, he gave you a little slap on the cheek, not quite hard enough for you to feel any pain. You nodded, moaning whatever came close to a “yes” as every single inch of your mouth was filled with Tom.

You heard him whimper, twitching a couple times, harder with his thrust as his hand fisted into your hair abruptly throughout his climax. Looking up to see his face, your eyes locked with his as he came all over your tongue, raining down your throat with a couple last, sloppy thrusts.

“Oh fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuuu------“

Your eyes immediately teared up as you tried your best to swallow every drop of cum he had to give, the corner of your lips dripping like an overflowing sink.

Then there was a complete silence.

As you wiped your mouth off the thick, warmness of his cum, you felt him kneel to your side, then sit. Both of you looked completely exhausted, drained from every ounce of energy you had left.

“Well, that wasn’t half bad… for a little brat” he spoke again, and you just couldn’t believe he had gathered the energy to say this when he could have chosen silence.

Laughing quietly to yourself so you wouldn’t slap him across the face, you decided not to fuel him up and remained quiet instead. His hair had gone curlier than heaver, his glistening red face making him look like any cute boy you could easily fall for.

“I’ve got a feeling we’re gonna see a lot more of you at frat parties now?” he spoke again, and though it truly pissed you off to admit it, you just knew this wasn’t a one-time thing. For all you knew, this, was barely a prequel to a long, bumpy story of a good girl gone bad.

All because of Tom-fucking-Holland.

#tom holland #tom holland smut #frat boy tom holland #frat!tom #enemies to lover #tom holland x reader

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scorpionyx9621 · 3 years

Text

Robins at the Airport

So a fun fact about IRL me is that I work in shipping & logistics and I work closely with a lot of the major airlines as both vendors and customers. And it had me thinking. How do the Robins fly? (And no I don't mean with their suits lol)

Also I'm aware that Bruce is a billionaire. Bruce without a shadow of a doubt has not only a private jet but access to a lot of personal travel supplies. That being said, even though some of our boys have definitely flown on Bruce's jet. I have no doubt since most of them are adults now, if they wanna travel they're probably flying commercial.

I'm also a filthy ♌ Leo Sun ♌ and fire signs stereotypically love to travel. So! Here's the Robins and their travel traditions.

Tim Drake

Tim is interesting because he, like Damian, actually grew up with money. Like. The Drake's were in the same tax bracket as Bruce.

Tim likes to travel and has flown everything from small little turboprops to big commercial jets to his family's and Bruce's private jet.

I feel if Tim is going commercial he's that guy who arrives at the airport 4 hours before his flight. He's catching a 7pm flight? Expect Tim to be there at 3pm.

He's that person who can find an outlet by his gate, get some overpriced airport coffee and/or food at a standard fast food restaurant, and wait down the time for his plane to arrive.

Tim dresses pretty smartly but casually. Usually a button up and some jeans with some tennis or boat shoes that are easy to slip off in security.

I don't think Tim sleeps on planes easily unless it's a red-eye. But he does just spend his time on his phone or on his laptop either watching movies or doing coding to kill time.

Dick Grayson

Prior to inheriting all that fortune from Alfred Dick loved to travel and loves airports. Both for the people watching and the jet-set atmosphere.

Traveling around alot as a child helped out with that. The Flying Grayson's almost always traveled by car so anytime Dick gets to go on a plane he gets excited.

Dick has a fascination with Technology and I can certainly see Dick being a low-key Avgeek. Seeing how these huge planes carry hundreds of people across the sky through feats of human engineering is something that makes him smile.

That being said Dick is not often on time for traveling. He always either shows up WAY too early or he's sprinting through security because his flight departs in 45 minutes and he just got to the airport.

Hell even when Dick is EARLY he ends up running late for his flights because he always ends up eating at a restaurant/bar post security with the best views of the planes and loses track of time.

Dick has missed many a flight/connection because he gets lost in the moment much fo Bruce's chagrin. Granted dropping a couple hundred to rebook Dick at a moments notice is literally just a minor hindrance for billionaire Bruce Wayne.

That being said, more than once, Bruce has had to call a charter for a private jet to pick up Dick when he got stuck at an airport and he HAD to be on the last flight out from San Francisco to Newark or Gotham.

Dick can sleep on a plane no problem. None. It's one of the few times he does ever get truly good, restful sleep. Much to the shock of everyone.

Dick always wears something athletic for flights. Usually sweats or compression pants and a hoodie with tennis shoes. He always carries his Nightwing outfit in his carry-on though much to the chagrin of his family.

Damian Wayne-Al Ghoul

BRAT

He's that person I, myself, would hate at an airport. He demands to fly private all the time because he can't be bothered to deal with the riff-raff of us poors.

He gets better as he gets older though. He still demands to fly first class at a BARE minimum and will give Bruce hell for it regardless.

Damian may be a bit snobbish when it comes to trying restaurants but he always wants to eat before he gets on a plane because plane food is gross to him.

He's fine most times though. Like Tim if you plant him in front of an outlet and give him a sketchpad and/or his video games/manga he'll be fine.

On a flight he's always very respectful to the flight staff but he will use them for what they're worth. He takes full advantage of all the perks he's given. He's not old enough to drink but he certainly will take advantage of the snacks he can get (Damian insists on flying Delta because he loves the Biscoff cookies. He doesn't like many sweets, but Biscoff cookies are his weakness.)

Damian is way too vigilant to sleep on a flight. Even if it's a red eye and even if he's flying private. He just can't seem to find a way to be comfortable.

Damian is like Dick, casual and comfortable in dress. It's an airport not a gala.

Jason Todd

So fun fact: we actually have a canon representation of Jason on a regular flight from Red Hood & The Outlaws!

Boy literally wore a blazer on a flight while Roy wore a freaking Tank Top lmao. And he was uncomfortable with Roy's behaviors but flirted with a flight attendant and one of my personal favorite minor characters/love interests in Red Hood's lore, Isabel Ardila.

Jason is also like Dick in that he actually really enjoys traveling. That being said, being legally dead and not on Bruce's best terms means Jason's a well-versed economy traveler.

I read somewhere that Jason has a small personal fortune from the assassinations he's done. But I think he still chooses to fly economy when he can. He sees flying first class as unnecessary and would rather use airline miles for free tickets than free upgrades.

Is a master of getting crap past the radar (it's called checked bags friends. Also if Jason needs to move heavier firepower he knows it's easier to just ship that shit ahead of him.

He's like Damian in that he gets everything he can out if a service. Free pretzels? You bet. Complementary drink? Give him a coke with extra ice (it's canon he likes extra ice in his drinks)

He's always extra nice and polite to all the flight staff and any TSA he sees because Jason knows he's a monster and has to work extra hard to blend in.

#Jason todd #dick grayson #tim drake #damian wayne al ghul #robins #batfam #rants #posts for me but you all can enjoy too if you want.

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general-mahamatra · 3 years

Note

This is very specific but do you have any headcanons about double dates between Jeanbilee and Silvercyclops? That or how do you headcanon Charles and Erik’s sexualities? I think of Erik as pan and Charles as gay.

Hehe... Oh I can do this.

For Charles and Erik’s sexualities, I definitely agree. Charles is gay and Erik is either bi or pan (that one I’m not too solid on).

With the double date, catch me putting this in a modern setting. It’s under the line since there’s a lot

Individuals

Scott

Scott was definitely against the idea of a double date

Why? Because it’s kind of awkward to go out on a double date where the other couple... one of them is your ex

Yeah he’s still good friends with Jean! He’s just not sure how to handle going out to an event with her in a sort of romantic setting. Especially because there’s that slight problem that you KNOW he’s kinda anxious. Like what if people who knew him when he was dating Jean finds him all close and romantic with Peter?

Of course that’s not gonna happen. Man’s just anxious

But Peter managed to convince him and assure him that it would be alright

“It’s just a movie, Scotty. No one’s gonna care,” Peter had said. “Literally it’s dark and the seats are set up in pairs, you don’t need to worry.”

Scott protested immediately with, “but what if--”

“I’ll pay for the popcorn and treats. And the drinks. I’ll pay for it all for you.”

Scott caved pretty quickly

Except he didn’t know that before the movie the group was going out to dinner because for some reason his mind completely omitted that information. By the time they got together, he remembered, but oh man. He was not prepared

Yeah he was dressed up because Peter was really insistent on him wearing something decent, but the fact they were going out to dinner skipped his mind entirely

He was antsy during the dinner at first. Really shifty-eyed and such and was overall just visibly nervous

But he cooled down fast

He had a lot of fun at the dinner, even if he was a bit awkward with Jean at first

But he loosened up. He found himself enjoying the event much more as time went on and he even managed to calm down enough to comfortably interact with Jean just like he used to

It was actually kinda refreshing

He had whole conversations with the ginger. While Jubilee and Peter were going off about their crazy ideas and plans and things that have happened to them over the past weeks, Scott and Jean were just talking about... life. Catching up on what they’ve missed since they split apart and inevitably pulled away from each other (Scott moreso than Jean)

It brought a sense of closure to Scott that he didn’t realize he needed

He found himself warming back up to interacting with Jean and was... happy with it

Peter

Oh Peter was excited for the double date

Ever since Jubilee ran up to him and proposed it to him he was completely on board. Hell, he even helped plan it out with Jean and Jubilee at times

It was actually Jean’s idea for Peter to convince Scott that things would be alright. She knew he was worried about it, even if it was all irrational. She also knew that he was their best bet on helping Scott out and getting him comfortable with the idea

So Peter did just that

He actually did a lot more than just blatantly tell Scott that he was going to pay for everything at the movies

Peter did a lot of minimal prodding. Stuff to get Scott to talk in a way that wasn’t too intrusive or anything (it’s honestly a special ability of Peter’s). It helped him understand what he was gonna have to do to help his boyfriend out

Because Scott had never been on a double date before

And Peter actually found that kinda funny

But when it came to the date itself, he was completely down for it. He wanted to do it since the moment Jubilee told him about it and he decided he was going to put about as much planning effort into it as her. After all, it’s not different from other... events they’ve planned in the past. They have a perfect system

The movie was his idea

He deemed it “necessary after eating at some dumb fancy place. Because who in their right mind is gonna go out to eat and then just head home at like, 7pm?”

(Peter was also the reason they didn’t end up going to a restaurant where you had to dress up SUPER fancy)

(Granted he wasn’t entirely successful. Jean shot him down and made him settle with having to dress up a little. She wasn’t going to drive them all to dinner if it was gonna be some fast food shit)

Honestly, him and Jubilee are on the exact same wavelength for the date

Jean

Jean was definitely the TRUE brains behind the double date

She was the one who mentioned the idea to Jubilee who then took the idea and ran with it, making it a true plan

She did it because, well, she’s always wanted to have a double date. It was only possible now that she was with Jubilee and her other friends were together

Besides, she like anyone else was aware of just how close Jubilee and Peter were. It was honestly a perfect plan

Scratch something off her bucket list while also getting the two away from their peers so everyone could actually catch a break from their high energy

Actual perfection right there

That and she could tell Scott was awkward around her, even if they’ve been broken up for almost an entire year by this point

There were a lot of times Jean tried to reconnect with him and get him to loosen up but nothing really worked until she came up with the double date

It would give her the opportunity to get her friend back while also allowing him to be in a sort of comfortable environment (she’s noticed the way he tends to cling to Peter whenever she comes around. She isn’t sure if she should be hurt by it or not but she knows he doesn’t mean ill will)

She has to admit though, Peter’s idea of a movie after was a great idea. It’s not something she would’ve put forward or even thought about

Then again... she wasn’t expecting the duo to take over the planning and make it a lot more “light” than an actual “true” date

Jean was looking to reserve them stuff out at a true fancy restaurant. Maybe get them to all dress up and put them in a romantic setting but she was quickly put in her place by Jubilee and Peter’s insistence that it’s a double date, they don’t need to be in a super romantic area

And honestly, they had a point

But she refused to let them make the event completely casual. If she was going to be involved in any planning, they were gonna go somewhere where they have to dress up at least a little

She won that argument easily

Jubilee

OH MAN

Okay yeah Jubilee was definitely the front runner with the planning and setting everything up

Even with the double date originally being Jean’s idea, Jubilee took it upon herself to plan it all out mostly because she wanted to treat her girlfriend

(You act as thought Jubilee doesn’t know her own partner’s bucket list. Jean literally has it written out in a notebook under her pillow, Jubilee has gone through it multiple times)

She wanted it to be perfect

Which is why she went to Peter

Jean was the one who planted the idea of going on the double date with Scott and Peter but let’s be real, Jubilee would’ve chosen the boys anyways. They were the best bet

Either way, she was ecstatic

She literally has so much experience with planning from the pranks and events she’s set up with Peter, she knew exactly what she was doing when she got with him to plan everything out

Jubilee was actually the one who chose where they were going to dinner

It was a nice Hawaiian themed place. A seafood restaurant with a tropical theme and generally considered a 4 or 5 star restaurant. It was a perfect place, especially with its looser “dress code” (it was basically a sort of business casual, for lack of better terms. If she tried to describe it she would just point to Scott wearing a nice button up with no tie and Jean wearing a cute blouse and flowy pants to match)

(The really funny part is her and Jean low-key made it out to Peter like super fancy restaurants require you to wear formal clothes just so he would cave and “go somewhere less strict”)

(He never found out)

But if she was going to be honest, her favorite part of the double date was the movie afterwards

It was the newest Men in Black and she was losing her mind throughout it

Did she tune out the boys while they were nerding out quietly to her right? Yes, yes she did. She was much more focused on the humor and action and experiencing it with her girlfriend

Overall

Not gonna lie, Scott definitely clung to Peter at first

Like that much is obvious, but it really wasn’t that... obvious? It was if you looked closely at how he hovered closer to the older boy or how his head always seemed to be turned slightly towards him during conversations as if looking to him for stuff to say

Peter noticed it for sure, just as Jean did

Both of them let it happen. Because even when Scott loosened up as the night went on, he still wanted to stick close to his comfort and they didn’t want to pull him away from that

Man just doesn’t handle break ups well

Honestly though, the dinner was wonderful for the entire group. There was so much laughter and chatting and catching up, especially since they aren’t consistently hanging out together anymore

Jubilee convinced Scott to try some really spicy squid dish that he couldn’t remember the name of for the life of him and Peter just... kept ordering more chocolate milk

(They quickly learned that he forgot refills aren’t free)

(That didn’t stop him)

Outfits

Scott: Nice blue button up and black slacks. Honestly really basic typical “oh that guy looks cishet” kinda look, especially with the very plain uniform look to him

Peter: Black button up with white specks across it that look like stars and some slacks as well except his belt was a bit more... decorative than Scott’s. (It’s colorful)

Jean: A cute, loose blouse with a nice white and red floral/watercolor sort of pattern that sits nicely on her frame with some flowy pants and flats. Her hair was done into a braid

Jubilee: A nice long sleeve sweater-like yellow top and a short white skirt with a pair of flats as well. She had her hair down and man was it nice and curly

Honestly everyone was dressed so nicely, it was almost a miracle

During the movie, the couples sat together. That’s a given. But the way they interacted was definitely different from each other

Jean and Jubilee were vibing in their seats. They had chocolate and slushies and popcorn and were overall having a great time just enjoying the movie. There wasn’t too much commentary other than them laughing together or making fun of something they saw on screen

(Jean one time did yell at someone for having their phone on in the movie...she’s that person)

Jubilee was constantly touchy with Jean whenever something crazy happened or there was something intense. Hell, she ended up wrapping around Jean and crying when her favorite character died

Jean took it and honestly... it made her soft

She didn’t know it was possible to fall even further in love

Peter and Scott, though, were different. They too had all the treats and candy and such like the other couple but they were much closer than the girls. They were BASICALLY cuddling (Scott will never admit it). Like come on, you know it’s true

Scott was curled up against his boyfriend. Like head resting against Peter as the older had his arm around him. You know the drill

Again, Scott will never admit to it

But the entire time they were geeking out. Both of them grew up with sci-fi, especially MiB. And BOTH were excited for the newest movie and were having a great time pointing out the aliens and all that stuff and just overall having fun

After the date, the drive was both full of energy and calm. It was 10 by the time they were leaving the theatre and honestly... it’s an experience none of them would give up for the world

...they planned another one for the future

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pikemoreno · 4 years

Text

denying, admitting

part 2 of the ‘pretending’ universe

pairing: jack “whiskey” daniels x f!reader

word count: 5.2k (hahaha whoops. the longest single piece i’ve ever written)

warnings: canon typical violence, mildly gruesome death of a bad guy, some bad words, idiots to lovers

a/n: here it is finally, the continuation of the drabble pretending. the link to it is below. enjoy the best yeehaw man. we ignore canon here.

wanna join a taglist?

pretending | masterlist

“Your name is?”

“Erica Shields.”

“And your boyfriend’s name is?”

“David Wells.”

“What does he do?”

“He is the CEO of a new weapons manufacturer called Co-Tech.”

“And when they ask what he really does?”

“He is the CEO of Co-Tech… And all of their offshore accounts holding millions of dollars from the sale of illegal bio weapons.”

“And, just so we’re clear, the targets tonight are?”

“Mr. Lucas Mora and Mr. Grant Levin. Lead dealers of an illegal weapons ring known in the inner circles as IWE. They are the primary targets and any known-associates can be subdued as secondary targets.”

“Good,” Champ nodded, looking quite confident in your ability to keep to your fake identity, “You’re good to go, Agent Brandy. I’ll call up Agent Whiskey now and you can go ahead ‘n head down to get ready.”

You froze as you stood to leave. “Get ready, sir?” Air left his mouth gruffly in a way akin to a laugh as you looked over the pantsuit you were wearing. His eyes were knowing where yours were markedly confused.

You were already ready… You thought?

“Just go meet Ginger Ale downstairs. She’ll explain. Good luck tonight.”

“No luck needed, sir. We’ll take ‘em down tonight. Maybe a couple of their other dealer friends if we can prove they’re in on it.”

“Not that, Agent.”

“What--” Agent Whiskey knocked on the half-open door at that moment.

“Ready for me, sir?”

“Yes, please come in. Agent Brandy was just leaving.” His cheeky smile directed between the two of you told you nothing and everything all at once.

What did he think he knew about this? This was nothing. Just an agent with a miserable crush on a senior agent. You excused yourself from the conference room quickly, ignoring Jack as you brushed past him.

Ignoring how intoxicating he smelled-- was that a new cologne for the occasion?

Ignoring how nice he looked-- wine-colored velvet suit jacket, white button-up, dark dress pants, the usual hat abandoned in favor of his dark hair, immaculately styled for the occasion.

Ignoring the fact that you could feel his eyes boring into you and you were not going to be giving him the satisfaction of playing into his flirting.

You did as you were bid, making your way to the staging area to get your weapons and other effects for the mission to find a high-low red satin dress, black heels, and obnoxiously large jewelry hanging along with your knives and the “upscale” version of the Statesman glasses. Your face must have dropped quite visibly because you heard a laugh from Ginger Ale next to you.

“Absolutely not,” you groaned, “I thought ‘Maybe a tasteful pantsuit with some flats?’ Maybe some boots? How am I supposed to work in this, Ging? Where are my knives gonna go?”

“Unfortunately this crew you’re going to be dealing with is-- well-- Unapologetically misogynist under the guise of being ‘traditional’ is probably the best way to put it,” Ginger shook her head.

“So they’re afraid of a girl wearing pants?”

“When they look as independent and secure as you, absolutely,” she laughed. “The other women at the party are gonna look like this. You would’ve blown your cover before you even spoke if you were in your regular attire.” You sighed. You guessed it was a pretty hot look, if not a little unruly to complete the mission in. It’d get you to walk three inches taller in newfound confidence and you guessed that couldn’t have been anything but helpful in this scenario.

“So do I get my knives or am I just playing the part tonight?”

“Not at all. What better way to take them out then doing it by the hand of someone they don’t respect? They’ll never see it coming.” She presented the thigh holster that had been laying on the table next to her.

“Oooh, now that’s sexy, Ging,” you gawked, admiring the piece and absolutely filling it to the brim with the best of your knives from the wall of weaponry in front of you, as well as your trusty vial of poison.

“I know someone else who’ll think so too.” You stopped cold and turned to face her as she looked particularly smug

“Oh, not you too. First, Champ was acting weird about this and now you too? What exactly do you guys think is going on here? It’s Jack. He flirts with everyone.”

“It’s not just Jack that I’m talking about. I mean this with all the love in the world, but you can’t possibly be that dense, Brandy. Stop playing coy.”

“Playing coy how?’ Your anger bubbled in your throat, not at Ginger Ale or tonight or even Jack. Just yourself. Yourself and your dumb affections. It made your words come out a little more venomous than you intended, but Ginger took it in stride. “Pretending I don’t have a ridiculous crush on a senior agent and my partner in this tonight? Pretending that I won’t be heartbroken when tonight means nothing in the grand scheme of things?”

“You should probably go ahead and get ready. Your partner should be done with Champ any minute.” She gave you a tight-lipped smile and ushered you off to go change.

By the time you made it outside, Jack was already waiting, leaning coolly against the sleek black town car-- no Bronco for tonight; a CEO could only show up in the best.

“Look at you, all gussied up,” Jack smiled as you walked towards him. You rolled your eyes, and avoided his in doing so. It was all a part of the charm. Jack was a serial flirt. You’d seen it. And you’d seen too many before you fall for it, take his having fun too seriously. You couldn’t let his words fluster you or start thinking they were something they weren’t. But still, you couldn’t hide the playful smile that pulled at the corners of your mouth as his eyes stayed on you.

“After you, my sweetheart,” he opened the door to the elegant car for you.

“There’s no one here, Jack, you don’t have to start with that yet.”

If only you saw the way he had to bite his tongue as you settled into the passengers’ seat.

You were really starting to make him question how good he is reading the signals. It had been seeming so obvious that you were into him; and so he reciprocated, making it more than clear that he is very much into that idea. And now you had taken the coy act so far that he was wondering if it was an act at all. Of course, he wanted to tell you how he felt about you. He’d wanted to tell you tonight. After a night of him “pretending” to woo you, showing you off, and kicking some criminal ass, he would tell you that the pretty things he’d said to you were real, that he would love to take you out for real and definitely not to an illegal weapons party this time.

But he didn’t want to do that if you really weren’t interested. He didn’t want to put you in that uncomfortable position of having to reject someone you were going to see and work with everyday. Until he got a good read on how you really felt, he’d have to keep it to himself… While still making it so painfully obvious-- in a non-committal way.

The drive was largely silent as you both thought far too hard about the messes you’d put yourselves in. The thick cloud of it was only interrupted by occasional questions and confirmations about the plan, the targets, and the escape.

Mr. Lucas Mora’s mansion was absolutely breathtaking as you pulled up to you: all light stone with a tiled roof, big windows, a grand driveway featuring a roundabout winding around a glamorous fountain that sparkled in the night lights. You found yourself trying to hide your awe as a valet took the black town car away and Jack led you by the arm up the marbled stairs to the front door that must’ve cost more than your entire apartment. You kept your voice low as you spoke to Ginger Ale over the com. She’d hacked into their security cameras like the damn genius she was and had eyes on the whole affair.

“What do we see, Ging?”

“Levin and Mora are in the lounge. A lot of foot traffic in there. You should get them out of there before engaging”

“We have to get them separated. Less chance of one escaping.” Jack put his hand over his mouth, pretending to scratch at his mustache so no one could read his lips. You walked in the direction of the lounge, arm in arm. The way the knuckles of his other arm ran lightly over your arm was far too distracting for its own good, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“I’m not seeing a lot of weapons for a weapons dealer party. Should we be worried, Ginger? Anything hidden?” you asked, talking into a flute of champagne you picked up to keep your words hidden.

“Of course not. Their weapons are far too dangerous for their own use,” she laughed, “I don’t see anything, but I’ll let you know if that changes.”

“Copy th--” You didn’t get to finish before the two of you were intercepted by Levin, the younger of the two leaders. He had a strong jawline featuring a smattering of well-kept stubble, slicked back greasy hair, and a smile so smugly charming it surely sealed him a few deals.

“Where do I know you from?” he had an oddly ambiguous accent that you couldn’t quite pin and you wondered if that was on purpose. This man had to be a chameleon. “I pride myself on never forgetting a face. It would seem I’ve missed one.” He talked solely to Jack-- of course.

“David Wells. CEO of Co-Tech.” He held out his hand to be shaken. Levin only looked at it. “And this,” he put an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer, “is my girlfriend Erica Shields.”

“Never heard of you.” Jack let his hand fall back to his side, not dropping his eager smile.

“We’ve had several dealings with IWE. Often sell to--” Levin’s eyes lit up.

“Oh none of that code here, Mr. Wells, we’re all friends. Glad to have a loyal associate here with us.” He gave Jack one solid pat on the shoulder and then continued on to talk to someone else. You noticed for the first time how tense your shoulders had been and Jack rubbed a hand over one soothingly. How did he always know?

“Alright, let’s re-group,” you shrugged his hand off lightly, turning to face him. “I’m gonna tail Levin. You try to schmooze Mora. Take this.” You placed the poison vial in his hand, disguising the gesture as a hand squeeze-- which you couldn’t say you were mad about doing-- and stalked off to find your target.

It was a half hour before you saw him again. You were walking the pool deck and listening to Jack’s poor attempt to give Mora a poisoned drink. He was incredibly uninterested and you internally groaned at how obvious Jack was being with trying a little too hard to get it to him. The thought was interrupted by a voice coming from the pool below.

“And who might you be? I think I’d remember a gem like you.” You looked down to find none other than Levin, and staggered a moment, unsure of what to make of the comment.

“Erica Shields. We met a few minutes ago? With my boyfriend David Wells?” you responded in your sugary-sweetest voice.

“Right, right, of course.” You nodded awkwardly and there was a long beat of silence. What game was he playing? Or was he really just that dismissive towards women? “Well, are you coming?”

“Coming?”

“You don’t have to play dumb with me, sweetheart.” It was the same term Jack had used with you earlier, and yet this one went down like poison instead of honey. “Come on down here with me.” He rose to float on his back in the water to emphasize where exactly he was wanting you to go. “Your boyfriend may be making millions, but I’m making billions.” He winked. You had half a mind to take a knife out right there and plant it directly into his chest, unconcerned with the consequence of the on-lookers, but then you realized you had an even better opportunity.

Let’s turn this Ms. Shields into a gold-digger.

You played along.

“Oh I don’t doubt it, but I’m afraid I didn’t get the memo about swimsuits.” You cocked a hip, tilting your head at him.

If you could just get him alone.

He practically leaped out of the pool and climbed up onto the deck, coming to stand almost nose to nose with you.

“Brandy, I know what you’re trying to do and I can’t recommend this. Rendezvous with Whiskey and you can figure out another way,” Ginger Ale’s voice came into your ear. Levin’s voice cuts back in.

“Well, we don’t have to stay here, angel.”

“Ginger, what’s she doing?” Jack’s panicked voice followed, “Brandy? Where are you? I’m coming to find you.” You’d never heard him speak so urgently. It made you freeze for just a second before you spoke to Levin

“Lead the way,” you smiled, watching as Levin quickly dried off before leading you with a hand on the middle of your back. You leaned into it despite wanting to put one of your knives through it. What a pig.

It was at that moment that you met eyes with Jack, just briefly, just long enough to see his face fall. You turned away before Levin noticed your staring, missing the seven stages of grief cross Jack’s face as you walked away.

His first instinct was jealousy. He, of course, knew you weren’t going anywhere with a worm like Levin for any reason other than your job, but he couldn’t help the knee jerk reaction from seeing someone else with an arm around you. His second reaction was worry. You were the most capable agent he knew, but that sort of situation was a particularly dangerous one. He didn’t miss the possessiveness of Levin’s grip; and he didn’t want to think about what he was going to try to do when he had you alone. His third reaction, then, was to follow you. It was his fault you were in this mess with him anyway-- so much for “wooing” you. There was no way he was going to let you suffer for it.

In that time, Levin had pulled you into the first of ten bedrooms in the upstairs corridor of the mansion and promptly pinned you against the opposite wall, an arm on either side of your shoulders. You responded in kind, the way anyone would respond to an unwanted advance by a sleazy billionaire: by stabbing him in the neck. About that time is when Jack finally caught up to you, slamming the door open, lasso at the ready, eyes wide in fear. He relaxed visibly as Levin crumpled lifeless to the floor. You watched Jack crack a smile.

“Guess I should’ve known you wouldn’t need any rescuing,” he reeled the lasso in, returning it to its place on his belt. You smiled back.

“You should’ve. But it was sweet of you to worry, so I’ll forgive you. Let’s get Mora and get the hell out of here before anyone finds the body.”

***

You made surprisingly, anticlimactically quick work of Mora once you found him again. You snagged a tray of drinks from where a member of his extended wait staff had set it down. Jack added a dash of your little secret ingredient to one of the glasses and you presented it to him as he lounged on the couch. He gave you one singular nod, took the drink from you, and continued laughing with his guests. One sip would be plenty to have him on the floor within ten minutes, and you watched him take that first deadly sip with pride.

So now the targets were either dead or dying and you knew instantly you were going to have to book it out of there because once Mora keeled over, it wouldn’t take very long for anyone in that room to figure out the culprit. The issue, of course, was remembered once you made it outside the doors: your ride back was in the hands of the valet: a valet that was overcrowded with guests trying to leave. It’d take far too long to get the keys and peel out of there. Mora would be long dead before then.

“Ginger, how long before we can get an extraction? We can’t get the car back in time.” Jack mumbled lowly as you made your way out of the mansion, walking with Jack hand in hand as though you were a couple going to look at the front gardens

“I’m not sure. All other agents are out. There’s a small town about a mile away if you can get there. I’ll send someone to you with a ride as soon as possible.”

You looked at each other.

“Guess we’re walking darlin’.” Screams sounded from the house and you both jumped at the sound. “Quickly,” Jack added, eyes wide.

It was about a quarter of a mile of walking down the roadside before the terrible heels really started digging into your feet, leaving blisters and arch pain in their wake. No one had trailed you so far, which was good because your feet couldn’t handle moving any faster than their current trudging pace.

Jack must’ve noticed your limping, because he stopped and grabbed your hand to stop you as well, eyebrows knitted in a frown.

“You alright?” He looked you over, as if checking for injuries.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine, Jack. Don’t worry. It’s just the shoes.” He looked down at them, noticing the angry red rub marks. He didn’t waste a second in kneeling down and starting on removing his right shoe.

“What are you doing? You don’t have to do that, Jack. I’ll just go barefoot.”

“Nonsense.” He finished removing the right shoe and started on the left.

“Well now you’re gonna be barefoot. What’s the difference?”

“I still have socks. You don’t know what kinda weird stuff is on the side of the road out here, Brandy.” He removed them and then gestured to your shoes, looking up at you. “May I?”

You worried at your bottom lip for a moment, looking down into sparkling eyes you’d thought about too often. They were now so close, so earnestly looking into yours. The care and concern sent a little spark up your spine. You nodded and joined him in undoing the little buckles on each shoe. He held out a hand for you to grab onto for balance as you slid out of the heels and into his much-too-large dress shoes. The strange, casual intimacy of the act was odd, but not unwelcome.

“Well, it’s certainly not a perfect fit, Cinderella, but it’s better than whatever the hell Statesman gave you,” he smiled and you returned it. He stood back up and your hands parted as you continued your trek to the town Ginger had found, shoes in hand and the promising lights of it gleaming up ahead.

Actually arriving to the little town of Speake was less than spectacular. The shining lights you’d seen came from the neons of a gas station and a 24 hour dive and the flickering street lamps in front of a long-closed post office, and a quaint but not horribly sketchy motel.

“Ginger, we made it,” you called, “What’s the ETA?” She hesitated.

“Is there a place there you’d feel comfortable staying at a while?

“I guess,” you sighed, afraid to ask again, “What’s the ETA, Ginger?”

“First thing tomorrow morning.”

You looked to Jack. “Motel it is, then.”

***

Jack couldn’t help but feel he’d won the lottery as you dragged yourselves up to the second floor of the motel. There was only one vacant room with one king bed. It was a little too perfect, like he’d set it up himself, but he hadn’t. Well, he guessed he had, actually, but just the part where you joined him on the mission as his fake girl, not that you’d get stuck out here and have to share a motel room. Sure, he hadn’t gotten the chance to charm you quite like he’d wanted to: having you on his arm, complimenting you to others at the party, maybe getting to fake-- real-- kiss you. And he definitely regretted putting you in danger. But all of that sort of fell away from his memory now that he was getting so much more alone time with you than he’d initially bargained for. He wouldn’t dream of trying to share the bed with you, of course. He’d rough it out on the chair or find a way to make something up on the floor. But still, he couldn’t help but be a little giddy at the prospect of spending this much more uninterrupted time with you.

Jack might’ve been incredibly enthused with the scenario, but he hid it from you well. He didn’t want to seem overeager and come off as though he was excited about the arrangement because of the off-chance that you might sleep with him. He knew what his reputation could be around the workplace. Hiding what he was feeling from you, though, meant that you had no idea what to think at this point. It all looked very different and incredibly confusing on your end of things.

First and foremost, you’d settled it in your mind now that you would be sharing a bed with him. That was fine. You were friends, pretty good ones at that. And both professionals to boot. The unsettled part came in you knowing how you felt, but becoming more and more unsure of him. The fact of the matter was that any flirting that occurred before tonight was unreliable as proof that he might be attracted to you. He flirted with far too many other women for you to be able to take it seriously. Then there was tonight. He was clearly panicked about your safety and willing to give up his shoes for you. Hard to say what it meant. He might be a bit of a stubborn asshole at times, but he cares deeply about people. It’s what put him in Statesmen in the first place. Given that, would he have acted similarly with other agents out of the simple goodness of his heart? Maybe. But then again, it had seemed that he was catching onto your crush based on the day in the boardroom when you got this assignment. “You keep saying that we’re friends but you look at me for a moment too long for that to be true,” he had said. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Obviously, he was getting the idea. So assuming that he truly was acting differently around you, was it because he felt differently in and of himself? Or was it because he had caught on to how you felt and knowing someone had given into his charms made him automatically more interested in them?

It was hurting your head, going in circles like this. And by the time you gave up on your spinning, cycling thoughts, you’d reached your $35 room for the night.

It wasn’t… Terrible, you guessed. About what you’d expect for a $35 room in no-town Kentucky: beyond basic, subpar comforts, and flickering fluorescents. But it looked clean enough, that was a relief.

Relief ended as you looked in the bathroom mirror, mentally getting ready for bed as it now reached 1am. Relief ended when you realized you had nothing to sleep in other than the sweaty, itchy, puffy dress on your back. A long night was about to be even longer as you stared at the ceiling uselessly, sleeplessly waiting for the extraction.

You stepped out of the bathroom and stopped as you watched a long-legged Jack trying to squeeze himself into a small armchair in the corner of the room.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like? I’m getting ready for bed.”

“Yeah, sure.” You hopped onto the bed. “C’mon, there is more than enough room to share this miserable little bed here.” You spread your arms across the bed for emphasis. but he hesitated. Of course he really didn’t want to spend the night in a lumpy old chair, but he didn’t want you to say that it was ok just because you felt bad for him and have you be uncomfortable.

“Ah-- Well, only if you’re comfortable with that, darlin’. I don’t want to overstep. I’m fine here, really.” You raised an eyebrow.

“Get over here.”

“Oh, thank God.” He practically ran and jumped next to you on the bed.

“Liar,” you grinned, “I thought you said were fine over there.”

“Who wants to spend a night on a chair like that? I’m not crazy.” He crinkled his nose at the realization of your bed attire. “But I’m thinking you might be. Are you really gonna be sleeping in that?”

“Well, what else am I supposed to be sleeping in?” He sat up and started unbuttoning his white button up shirt before you could utter another syllable. “What--” You began, but it was obvious he wouldn’t hear it. You were too distracted anyway, unable to look away from the exposed, tanned skin of his shoulders down to his soft belly. You’d always assumed him to be the type that took immaculate care of his body and wouldn’t settle for less than perfectly toned abs. The realization of the truth was a happy one, if you were honest. It was endearing, imperfect. It made him a little more human and less Agent Whiskey.

“It’s not exactly comfortable, but it’s probably a lot better than that.” He held the shirt out to you and promptly turned around for your privacy when you took it with gratitude.

“No peeking, Whiskey,” you teased as you changed.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sunshine.”

You flopped back onto the bed when you’d finished and touched his shoulder to let him know it was ok to turn back around.

“Better?” he grinned.

“Much better. Goodnight, Jack.”

“Goodnight sweetheart.” He flipped off the light and you both retreated to your edges of the bed.

Both out of respect for the other.

Both kind of wishing that this was happening under other circumstances that didn’t require you both to separate like two magnets of the same pole.

But instead you repelled apart until sleep took you both.

Waking up in the morning was another story. Both of you had migrated toward the other in the night, meeting in the middle. You were facing each other, noses almost touching, his arm draped over your middle. Both of you coming to at about the same time led to an awkward dance of moving away and arms jolting away and mumbled sorry’s as you both laid there for just a moment more.

And he didn’t mean to say it, he really didn’t. This was not how he’d want this come out, but he was just admiring the way his shirt laid against your skin and the way your eyes glittered even in this grungy lamp light. And it just… slipped out.

“When I’ve imagined you wearing my clothes this definitely wasn’t what I was expecting.” You sat up so fast you felt a touch of vertigo.

“I’m sorry, what?” His eyes widened in panic. Did he say that out loud? He wasn’t just thinking that? Damn was he tired still.

“That came out wrong I—“

“What does that mean, Jack? Why would you be imagining that?” Your heart rate was picking up to dangerous speeds, your tone was more clipped than you intended, fear seeping into it.

“You know,” he mumbled, hands covering his face now, regretting every choice that led him to this moment.

“No, I don’t,” your voice softened as you crawled over and gently removed his hands from his face. “As a—,” you gulped, “A conquest or a… Something else.” He sat up, horrified, sitting directly across from you.

“A conquest? Of course not! I talk a big game, but I don’t do that shit anymore.” He sighed. “I recognize that I flirt around a lot, but it really never goes anywhere honestly. I don’t let it. But even then, of course you were different.” You gawked, but you couldn’t hide the way your mouth twisted upwards on the corners.

“How was I supposed to know that, Jack? You said it best, you flirt with… Everyone. How was I supposed to tell the difference?” He took your hands softly, giving you the space and permission to take them away if you wanted. You didn’t. You let him thumbs run over the knuckles soothingly as he spoke.

“You think I’d give just anyone my shoes to walk in or my shirt to wear? Hell, do you think I’d generally offer to take the floor when presented with a gorgeous woman and a motel room? No, Lord knows a younger me would’ve been all too happy to share the bed and hope something more came out of it. But it’s all different with you.”

“Oh,” you whispered, looking down at the interconnected hands between you.

“Oh?” he chuckled, “That’s all I get?”

“Jack I-- I’ve liked you since I met you on my first day. Do you remember?” He nodded. “Swept me right off my feet. I was so upset when I realized you were like that with everyone.”

“It was different then too. I just didn’t know how to make that obvious. It’s been a while since I’ve had to actually try to woo somebody, I guess.”

“You didn’t even have to try. I wasn’t so good at showing that either, I guess. Afraid I was just another name on a long list.”

“No lists. If there was, you’d be the only name on it.” You outright giggled in embarrassment and glee and exhaustion and pure dumbfoundedness all at once. Then your downcast eyes met Jack’s fully and next thing you knew your lips were on his and you really couldn’t have told who initiated it, but now his hand was on your cheek and your lips moved soft and slow against his, just getting used to the brand new feeling that was sending sparks through your stomach. It was over too soon, but you smiled at the prospect of that being your new normal, that you would have the opportunity to get used to the feeling: the feeling of his lips on yours in the morning light and the feeling of his hand in yours as you walked to meet the agent outside for the extraction.

Well, maybe you wouldn’t need another extraction again at least.

permanent taglist: @acomplicatedprofession @hdlynn @makaela27 @space-floozy @catfishingmorales @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @princessbatears @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @findhimfives @mistermiraclee @marydjarin @seasonschange-butpeopledont @miss-leto @spacegayofficial @winters-buck @phoenixhalliwell @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @mrpascals @aerynwrites @jigglemiwa @manda-not-lorian @dindjarindiaries @pancakepike @huliabitch @sammiesweet @randomness501

#whiskey x reader #bri writes

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i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend · 4 years

Text

Sexiled (Part 23/23) ~ Steve Rogers x Reader ~ College!AU

A/N: Hello my lovelies! Happy Friday! I hope you all had a good week and are staying safe and healthy. This is it. The last part of this story. It’s been a joy writing and sharing with you. I hope you enjoy this final part. A big shout out to @captainscanadian for listening to all of my rambles as I tried to finish this fic. Love you!

Summary: You and Steve finally go on your first date!

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader, Brief - Bucky, Wanda, Sam, Tony

Rating: T

Warnings: Language, some mild suggestiveness maybe,

Word Count: 2492

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

After keeping you thoroughly focused on him and making up for the lack of quality time over the past few weeks, Steve finally dragged himself out of your bed around six, which left you with just an hour to get ready for your date.

Relief over being done with the semester and the excitement of going public with Steve had you giddy. You turned on your favorite feel good playlist and danced around as you got dressed and did your hair and makeup.

You grinned at your reflection as you made sure your lipstick was perfect. Doing a quick turn in the long mirror, you adjusted the bright blue lace sleeves of your dress so they were even just below your elbows. And you made sure that your skirt was fluffed properly, falling just above your knees. You’d even opted for your favorite black heeled booties that had bows on the back. While they weren’t your trusty converse, they were the most comfortable fancy shoes you owned, and you were more than willing to put up with any minor discomfort to complete the look.

At seven o’clock on the dot, Steve knocked on your door, and you raced to open it.

Steve’s eyes went wide as he took you in.

“Wow,” he breathed. “You are stunning, sweetness.”

“Not so bad yourself.”

In truth Steve looked amazing. Black suit and a dark blue button up. He’d forgone a tie and you momentarily lamented the fact you couldn’t yank him down by it, but his lapels would have to do.

“Whatcha hiding there?” you asked peering around him when you noticed that he had his hands behind his back.

“Oh,” he produced a bouquet of red roses from behind his back. “These are for you.”

“They’re beautiful. Thank you,” you pecked him on the cheek

He went to kiss you properly, but you’d already ducked out of his arms to find something to put the flowers in.

“Tall and narrow,” you muttered to yourself, eyeing the container you kept your sharpies in.

“What? No kiss?” he pouted.

“Steven Grant Rogers, expecting a kiss before you even take me out to dinner. I am appalled. What would your mother say?

You dumped out the markers and filled it halfway from your water bottle and dropped the flowers in before turning to him with a faux shocked look.

Steve quirked an eyebrow, but you held his challenge. You were about to give up the game when he spoke.

“You’re right, sweetness. Ma would kill me. It’s probably for the best anyway. Wouldn’t want to mess up that pretty lipstick before we get to dinner.”

You shivered slightly at the implication, making him smirk and you couldn’t hold his gaze.

The charged moment quickly passed, and he cupped your chin to lift it. You saw that his smirk softened into a genuine smile.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered brushing his fingers along your cheek.

““You’re not so bad yourself, handsome.”

“Are you ready to go? I haven’t stopped thinking about this since you said yes.”

“Me neither. I’ve been looking forward to it all week.”

Steve helped you on with your coat, and once you had double checked your purse, offered you his arm. If you hadn’t been wearing heels you probably would have skipped along next to him.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

You both froze when Tony’s voice drifted lazily out of the common room.

“Should we make a run for it?” Steve whispered.

You glanced down at your heels in answer.

“I’ll carry you,” he laughed.

“You know we can hear you right?”

Tony and Bucky were now grinning at you from the doorway and you decided it was best to humor him. You reluctantly backtracked a few steps. Bucky opened his arms for a hug, which you happily gave him.

“Hey, doll. Sorry about sexiling ya last night.”

“It’s okay, Buck. I’ll just bill you for the chiropractor.”

He rolled his eyes and went to ruffle your hair but your glare warned him off.

Wanda snickered before cooing at you from her seat on Sam’s lap.

“Aww you both look nice.”

“Thanks, Wan.”

“Where are you two off to?” Sam asked as Bucky plopped down on one of the chairs, swinging his legs over the side.

“Just going out to celebrate the end of the semester,” Steve shrugged.

“And you didn’t invite us,” Tony shook his head.

“Well, we’d love to stay and chat…”

“But we’ve got a reservation. So we’ll see you later,” You finished for Steve.

“Wait are you coming to brunch tomorrow?” Sam yelled.

“Yes!” you agreed poking your head back in the room.

Steve led you towards the elevator laughing silently at the not quiet comments your friends were making.

“Is it just me or did they actually get their heads out of their asses?” Sam asked.

“Nah, Nat said they’re still being dumb,” Tony argued.

“Tonight sounds pretty romantic,” Wanda countered.

“It does,” Bucky agreed.

“Are you two still standing by your bets? There’s still time to change them,” Tony comment.

“Absolutely,” Wanda said with confidence.

“I’m good as I am,” Bucky announced.

“It’s your cash.”

“We get a cut when Bucky wins right?” you giggled as the elevator shut.

“Oh definitely,” Steve nodded.

The T was crowded with everyone out celebrating the holidays, so Steve held onto the pole while you held onto him. He would kiss you on the forehead randomly and you’d kiss him on the cheek. And he held you tighter when you wobbled in your heels.

It was only a five minute walk from the T to the restaurant in the North End Steve had picked out, and you happily walked hand in hand, ignoring the cold. But you were early for your reservation and had to wait outside. Steve quickly pulled you close, letting you steal his body heat.

“Sorry, sweetness.”

“Don’t be. I really don’t mind snuggling with my boyfriend for warmth.”

He grinned down at you, somehow tugging you even closer.

It was only a few minutes until the hostess called Steve’s name and led you to a table in the corner. You could feel the heat from the wood stove, and it helped take the chill off.

“This place is so cute,” you gushed once the waitress had taken your drink orders.

“I thought you’d like it.”

“How’d you find it?”

“Well I had made a list. But Bucky recommended this one when he found me staring at an excel sheet,” he admitted with a chuckle.

“You made an excel sheet of restaurants in the North End?”

Steve went pink to the tips of his ears.

“Well… I technically made one for all of the restaurants in Boston that I thought you’d like.”

“Was it color coded?” you grinned.

He pointedly read his menu.

“Oh my god it is, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he sighed, looking at you. “Among other organizational systems.”

“If I wasn’t already in love with you, I would be now.”

He chuckled and shook his head, but his smile was bright, blue eyes sparkling.

“That’s because you’re a nerd.”

“And proud of it,” you assured him, raising your nose into the air. “I have it on good authority that nerds are cool now.”

“Well whoever told you that definitely has a crush on you.”

You tilted your head curiously.

“You think Tony has a crush on me?”

This time Steve laughed outright.

“You are ridiculous. And I love you.”

“I love you too.” You squeezed his hand, holding on to it as you perused the menu. “I do hope you kept the excel though. It’ll make picking date night spots for the next three years a lot easier.”

“Three years,” he repeated softly, goofy grin crossing his face.

“For starters,” you added.

His grin only got wider.

Dinner was delicious - filled with stolen bites and giggles. After a quick stop into Mike’s Pastry to get treats for brunch the next morning, you walked to Faneuil Hall arm threaded through Steve’s and your hand resting on his bicep. You popped into a few stores, finishing up some Christmas shopping.

“So are you still full from dinner or are you ready for something sweet?” Steve asked as you were leaving the candle store.

“I’m always ready for something sweet. What did you have in mind?”

“Ghirardelli is open. We could get some hot chocolate before we keep walking around?”

“Perfect.”

Warm from the hot chocolate, Steve led you towards the far end of the marketplace, checking his watch.

“Are we heading home now?” You couldn’t hide your disappointment.

“Not yet. Come on let’s sit for a few minutes.”

You eyed the cold wood warily, but Steve sat on the bench, patting his leg for you to sit in his lap.

“Are you ready?” he whispered once you were settled.

“For what?”

He tilted his head towards the rest of the marketplace.

“Watch.”

Moments later the lights that lined the tress began flashing in time with the music now playing over the speakers. You watched in wonder at the beautiful display, Steve’s arms wrapped around your waist. It was magical.

“Tonight was perfect,” you murmured as you walked back to your room.

“I’m glad, sweetness.”

Steve stopped you outside your door. You tilted your head, confused.

When he kissed you on the cheek, whispering, “I had a really good time tonight. I hope we can do it again soon.” You realized what he was getting at, and stifled a laugh.

“Me too. In fact, I don’t know that I’m ready for the night to end,” you flirted. “Why don’t you come in for a little while?”

“I don’t think it would be proper, Y/n. It’s only our first date.”

You pouted and shrugged, “That’s too bad. Have a good night, Steve. Thanks for a great date.”

You pecked him on the cheek before sauntering into your room, closing the door behind you.

You giggled and waited ten seconds before opening the door to a grinning Steve who was leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets.

“Date officially over?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Good. Get in here.”

He crossed the little hallway with a step and half and you in his arms in an instant.

“That was fun,” he chuckled as he twirled you into the room, kicking the door shut.

“Yes, it was.” You kissed him once. Twice. Three times, as you gazed up at him. “Thank you for making tonight so special.”

“You’re welcome, sweetness. You deserve to feel special. I’m so glad we get to do these things now.”

“Me too. Speaking of which, I think it’s time for that post.”

“Do you know which pictures you want to use?”

“Mhmm,” you used his shoulder to balance as you slid off your heels, groaning in relief.

You sat on the bed and after shrugging out of his suit jacket and rolling up his sleeves (which wasn’t distracting at all) Steve pulled your feet into his lap and started massaging while you made the post.

First you added a selfie the two of you took that afternoon while you’d stuffed your faces. Frankly, you looked like gremlins in it but you loved it. The second photo was Steve kissing your temple as you smiled serenely in front of the Christmas tree. And the third was you and Steve kissing in Times Square, taken by Becca during Thanksgiving.

You quickly added the caption.

Three versions of celebrations.

1. The end of finals

2. Our First Date/2 Months (Yes both can be true)

3. 1 month of dating (PC: @BeccaBarnes) (Did I mention I loved NYC?)

Which is your favorite? @SteveRogers Happy two months, handsome! I love you.

When you were happy with the pictures and the caption you showed it to Steve who grinned and kissed you.

“Perfect.”

You hit post and squeaked in excitement. “It’s done.”

“How long do you think it will take for them to see it?”

“Four minutes?” you guessed, though that was probably an overestimation.

“Probably. Well, I have something for you in the meantime.”

You couldn’t help but perk up.

“Really? I actually have something for you too.”

You reached into your top desk drawer and produced the neatly wrapped package while Steve retrieved his jacket and pulled something out of the breast pocket.

“Happy two months, sweetness.”

“Happy two months, Steve. You go first,” you encouraged bouncing on your knees.

Steve happily tore off the paper, before looking to you wide-eyed. You hoped that was a good sign.

“This is too much. You shouldn’t have.”

He ran his fingers over the gold lettering of his name embossed on the dark blue moleskin journal.

“I wanted you to have something a little bit special, and I know you mostly have bigger sketchpads, so I thought it would be nice for you to have something to carry around.”

“It’s perfect. And it’s a lot special. Thank you,” He kissed you tenderly. “Now open yours.”

“Okay.”

You carefully undid the paper and lifted the lid of the lavender box. Inside lay a silver ID bracelet that was engraved on both sides.

“I love you,” you read aloud as you examined it before you turned it over.

“More than yesterday and less than tomorrow,” Steve recited with you.

You couldn’t hold back the tears.

“Oh, Steve.” You shot forward, throwing your arms around him. “It’s so beautiful. And perfect.”

“Just a little something for the days when I’m not beside you to remind you.”

“I’m never going to take it off. I love you so much,” you sniffled.

“I love you too, sweetness.”

Leaning back on your heels, you held out the bracelet to him so he could clasp it. He pressed a kiss to your pulse point before began to trace his way up your arm.

However, violent vibrations drew your attention from each other.

“I think they saw the post,” he chuckled.

“I think so. Should we face the music?” you asked as you retrieved your phone.

He plucked the device out of your hand and silenced it. After doing the same with his own, he placed them both on the desk.

“They can wait. I have much more important things to attend to.”

Steve reached out to cradle your cheeks, keeping you still as he leaned up to kiss you. He hesitated for just a hair’s breadth away from your lips. For a moment you thought he was going to ask if he could kiss you, like he did that night in October. But before you could say anything his lips met yours, and you melted into the kiss. The wash of contentment that rushed over you was similar but somehow even deeper than the first kiss you’d shared. You were certain it was because you loved each other more than you did then. And the thought of how much love you would feel in your future kisses had you smiling against Steve’s lips.

A/N: So that’s it for this story! I have loved writing for them and I hope that you’ve enjoyed reading this story. Thank you so much for all of your support and patience. It means the world to me. On to the next project!

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#Sexiled #Steve Rogers x Reader #College!AU #college!steve rogers #Final Part

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inkoutsidethelines · 3 years

Text

Some next gen bakery au fluff, because I was in the mood for it :D Also, I decided to bring back the infamous Boston’s Best.

(Owen belongs to @universalfanfic, Adrian belongs to @whindsor)

“I promise, the bakery is good,” Rachel called from her room. “I’ll grant you, some of the staff is annoying, but the food more than makes up for it.”

“Uh huh,” Mary said, not looking up from the screen of her phone as she waited. What’s taking her so long to get ready?

“All set?” Rachel asked, finally coming out of her room. Her steps came to an abrupt halt. “You’re going dressed like that?”

The scandalized tone caught Mary off guard; Rachel rarely took issue with Mary’s preference for leggings and oversized hoodies. She looked up and both eyebrows rose when she saw how Rachel was dressed; her black “date night” skinny jeans, her cropped red blazer with a red lip to match, her pearl earrings, and peep toe heels. For Rachel, the look was her version of dressing for a night on the town, not a midmorning visit to a bakery on a Saturday.

“I didn’t realize the bakery had a dress code,” Mary said.

Rachel’s cheeks flushed slightly. “No, obviously there’s no dress code. But you could at least try to look decent.”

Right. She doesn’t wear her pearl earrings and peep toe heels when she’s just trying to look “decent.”

Mary glanced over at Grace, who met her look with wide eyes, and they both came to the same, unspoken conclusion.

Rachel has it bad for someone at the bakery.

Normally, Mary would argue about changing her clothes, but this time, she decided to roll with it. “Fine, I’ll change real quick.”

“You can borrow something of mine, if you need to!” Grace called after her as Mary went to the guest room she and Grace were sharing while they visited Rachel.

“Thanks,” Mary called over her shoulder. She’d probably need to, given the way Rachel was dressed, and that she hadn’t complained about Grace’s maxi dress and cardigan combo.

Mary dug through Grace’s suitcase, looking for any relatively plain options – she’d never understand why Grace was so enamored with prints. The best she was able to manage was a pleated black skirt with a black and white stripped t-shirt tucked into it.

“Am I acceptable now?” Mary asked.

Rachel gave her a quick once over then nodded. “Much better. Well, let’s go!”

On the way to the bakery, Mary could hardly make herself concentrate on the conversation. She was too caught up wondering just who might have caught Rachel’s attention. Regular customer or employee? She leaned towards a regular; she’d always sort of assumed that Rachel would end up with another lawyer. But it wasn’t impossible that she’d fallen for one of the employees either.

Wait, what was it she said earlier? Some of the staff is annoying but the food is worth it?

Oh, that had to be it.

“Here it is,” Rachel said, leading them to a building that signs confidently declared Boston’s Best.

A cheery bell jangled as they opened the door, and the warm, rich smells of pastries and coffee greeted them. Mary glanced around; the bakery was cozy, only a few customers at tables. They’d come after the morning rush.

There was a man at the cash register, and Mary studied him, wondering if this was the one Rachel had taken an interest in. He was tall, and built enough to suggest he spent time in the gym when he wasn’t at work. He had curly blonde hair, and a short beard, and a warm smile when he saw Rachel.

“Good morning, Rachel,” he greeted, his Brooklyn accent a surprise. Not exactly what Mary expected to hear at a place called Boston’s Best and located in Boston. “You’re running a little late today; normally we can set a clock by you.”

“Morning Owen,” Rachel replied, and Mary eyed her, looking for any signs that this was the guy. Her posture was relaxed, smile friendly, but nothing special yet. “Visitors slowed me up today.” She waved a hand to indicate Mary and Grace. “Meet my sisters, Grace and Mary. Sisters, this is Owen.”

“Nice to meet you,” Grace said, her voice extra chipper. Probably she was trying to figure the same thing Mary was.

“Good to meet you too,” Owen said. His gaze went back to Rachel. “Did you want your usual?”

“Please,” Rachel said, already fishing her wallet out of her purse.

Owen punched some keys on the register without even looking, calling over his shoulder, “Hey, Adrian! Time to earn your paycheck.”

Rachel’s chin lifted slightly, her eyes darting towards the door that led back into the kitchen.

Oh?

The door swung open, letting out another man. He wasn’t quite as tall as Owen, though he was also pretty built – did this place have a fitness requirement for its employees or something? – disheveled dark brown hair, and bright blue eyes. The look he shot Owen’s way was annoyed, right up until he spotted Rachel. His whole countenance brightened, mouth stretching into a grin. “I was starting to think you weren’t coming today.”

Rachel sniffed. “Well, I still haven’t found better bagels anywhere else, so here I am.” She moved down the counter to the waiting area, and Adrian followed, matching her stride.

“Then you’ll be coming here forever,” he said. “We are, after all, Boston’s Best.” He actually winked when he said that, and Rachel rolled her eyes, but Mary recognized the way Rachel’s lips twitched.

“Your puns haven’t gotten any better,” she told him. “I’m not even sure that counts as a proper pun, since you were just repeating the bakery’s name.”

Adrian pressed a hand dramatically over his heart. “You wound me. But fine, I’ll try to think of a better one before you leave.”

“Shouldn’t be too difficult,” Rachel said. “You’ve set the bar pretty low.”

“Someone so pretty shouldn’t be so cruel,” Adrian said, and Rachel’s cheeks actually noticeably flushed.

“Mary?”

She tore her gaze away from Rachel and Adrian to focus on the cashier, Owen, who was watching her with a half-smile. “Huh?”

“Did you want to order something?” he asked, and Mary blinked and looked, only then realizing that Grace had already placed her order and was moving to the waiting area.

“Oh, right. Um. You know what, surprise me with something,” Mary said, causing both of Owen’s eyebrows to raise. But the food wasn’t what Mary cared about most. “How long has that been going on?” She jerked a thumb towards Rachel and Adrian.

Owen glanced that way then back down at Mary, bemusement crossing his face. “The bickering? Pretty much since Rachel started coming here.”

“Uh huh,” Mary said, “and have they gone on an actual date?”

Owen went from bemused to genuinely surprised. “Date? No. I’m pretty sure she’d turn him down if he asked.”

Mary stared. Could they really not tell? Was Rachel’s flirting not obvious?

She glanced back their way, and now Rachel was glaring at Adrian about something, but at the same time her mouth was pursed the way it always was when she was trying not to smile, and…

Actually, that might not be obvious to someone who hadn’t grown up with her. And most people probably didn’t designate black jeans as “date night only” jeans. And possibly, they didn’t realize that bickering was a form of affection for her, and she was never having more fun than when she was debating about something.

Oh, boy.

“Do you like whipped cream?”

“Yeah,” Mary answered automatically. “Wait, what for?”

“Your drink,” Owen said, tapping keys on the register. “I’m picking something out for you.”

Oh, that. Well, she had said to surprise her, so she couldn’t complain about whatever he went with.

“You like chocolate?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Mary said.

“Okay then, I know what you’re getting.”

Mary paid the total. “Care to tell me what I’m getting?”

“You’ll see once you get it,” he said with a grin.

“Of course,” she said, moving down to the waiting area.

Rachel had her order already, and Adrian was making Grace’s drink. As she drew closer, Mary realized he was doing latte art, making a pattern that matched the one on Rachel’s coffee. But more impressive than his skill was the small smile Rachel wore as she watched him work.

But Owen thought she’d turn Adrian down if he asked her out.

A conversation needs to be had.

But it couldn’t happen in front of Rachel.

This place is only what, two miles from her apartment? Yeah, I can make this part of my run in the morning.

And then, they were going to talk.

#next gen au #oc crossover #the business has expanded #the kids run the boston branch ;p #and listen listen #i'm in love with the fact that #dressing flirty for rachel #mean wearing her good pear earrings and peep toe heels #but also its no wonder that people sometimes don't get the message she's sending lol #but mary is coming to the rescue #she's about to meddle #A Lot

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jenmyeons · 5 years

Text

Fine Dining | M

Pairing: chanyeol x fem reader Summary: Chanyeol shows you his own version of Fine Dining Warnings: explicit sex, unprotected sex, slightly inappropriate touching in a public setting, mild choking, dirty talk, swearing, park chanyeol himself

Word count: 3,4k

Author’s note: can be read as a sequel to tender love but is perfectly fine reading as a stand-alone fic

Also tagging @chogi-wae

The buzz of conversation vibrating through the restaurant feels soothing as you sip on the glass of red held firmly in your hand. Over the rim of the glass you notice your boyfriend trying to take a not-so-sneaky picture of you from his side of the table. Thankful for the more secluded spot in the restaurant granted by the waiter graceful enough to understand your need for at least a little bit of privacy, you indulge him. Giving him a few smiles and not so modelesque poses.You imagine there are more than a few glances cast your way but don’t bother confirming your suspicion. Curious glances and whispers comes with the territory of dating an idol. Plus, your relationship has been public for long enough that you’ve grown somewhat accustomed to the attention. They aren’t necessarily looking at you anyways but rather observing the man in front of you living out all of his Instagram husband dreams.

”If you wanted to take a photo of me you could just ask, you know?”

Chanyeol looks up at you with a wide eyed gaze, flustered by being caught. Not that he was subtle in the first place. ”I was trying to get a good candid,” he shrugs. ”Besides, I wanted to document you actually wearing that ridiculously expensive dress for once.”

The smug smile he shoots your way, accompanied by a greasy wink, is not appreciated and you give him a light kick under the table.

”You were the one who picked it out dumbass, now give me the phone I wanna see the pictures,” you tell him and stretch your arm across the table, impatiently wiggling your fingers until he lends you the device. ”Maybe I’ll post one or two when we get home.”

You spend a minute or two flipping through the surprisingly many pictures he’d managed to sneak of you to decide which ones are good enough for keeping and another few seconds go to sending them to yourself just before your dinner arrive. Sliding the phone across the table back to its owner while the plates are placed in front of you, you vaguely hear the waiter reciting all the ingredients of your respective meals. Something you will never understand about the luxury restaurant culture. Not intending to be rude, you make sure to give her a hopefully encouraging smile and thank her before she struts away to tend to the other guests.

As it turns out, Kyungsoo’s recommendation was a good one. Although, over the years of knowing him, you’ve learned not to question the impeccable taste of the culinary enthusiast turned military chef. The food tastes heavenly but you’re not sure you want to look at the price point of the most certainly expensive steak kissing your tastebuds with the way it seemingly melts in your mouth. Not exchanging this heavenly meal for a quickie then ramen and some more sexy time was definitely a good call, however turned on you had been in the car ride over to the restaurant. Your handsy boyfriend keeping a steady hand on your thigh had not been helpful either.

Feeling a sudden surge of confidence by the mix of alcohol in combination with the not very innocent recollection of what had played out no more than an hour earlier, you slowly move your right foot forward and nudge Chanyeol’s left foot slightly. His questioning look turning into a playful smile as you knock your black pump off and slide said foot up over his ankle then move further upwards to stroke his calf. There’s an audible gasp heard from Chanyeol’s side of the table and he fixes you with a hard glare as he reaches for the water carafe to refill his water glass. Desperate to quench his sudden thirst. Thankful for the thick white cloth covering the table, he feels the smallest sense of comfort in knowing that at least other guests won’t be able to see his lover’s attempt at seduction. At the back of his mind, he knows that he brought this upon himself when he couldn’t keep his hands to himself during the car ride here. He lets you continue, however flustered by the whole ordeal, knowing that working him up is exactly what you have in mind. You continue your ministrations while receiving the occasional nudge of his own foot against yours. A silent invite for you to keep playing. Conversation flows rather effortlessly between the two of you despite what is going on beneath the table.

You can imagine the headlines if people were to find out that a member of EXO was caught playing footsies at one of Seoul’s most critically acclaimed restaurants.

At one point during dinner you find yourself placing your foot on top of Chanyeol’s thigh and him, having eaten up, reaches down and starts caressing your ankle. He gives a firm squeeze and the message is clear; this game of yours is not funny or cute anymore. You try moving the foot closer towards his crotch but Chanyeol makes it very clear that he is done with your games when he shoves your foot off his leg. Having learned quite early on in your relationship when not to push boundaries. However, you can’t help but put one last nail in the coffin of his patience and send him a wink while nicely retreating your foot and slipping your heel back on. Much like the last grains of sand in an hourglass, you can see the exact moment his restraint wears thin and you know that he is no longer playing by your rules.

”That’s enough baby, I’m taking you home,” he tells you, the tick in his jaw signaling that there is no room for negotiation. Not that you feel any need to object.

After waving the waiter over and asking her for the tab while rushing to decline her offer of dessert, you watch in amusement as Chanyeol all but rips his wallet apart while attempting to retrieve his credit card. You pipe up to let him know that sharing the tab is more than okay but the unamused daggers more or less shooting from his eyes stop you mid sentence and you let him continue in peace. The poor waiter watches in amused confusion at the scene playing out in front of you and you let out a laugh as well. Your boyfriend is certainly a man full of passion.

The car ride home is a mess of grabby hands and making out in the back of the taxi, making the excitement and anticipation of what’s to come that much higher. You’re surprised you even manage to punch in the familiar code of your apartment correctly at the first try what with your needy boyfriend planting kisses along your neck from his position behind you. The house slippers go long forgotten as the pair of you make quick work at kicking off your shoes before making a beeline for the bedroom. In the morning, you will come to laugh fondly at the mess made up of his suit jacket carelessly thrown over the chair in the hallway and your purse on the floor outside your bedroom door accompanied by Chanyeol’s suit vest.

You’re unable to stop the shiver running down your spine as Chanyeol carefully unzips your dress. Gentle hands leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. The dress straps are soon enough pushed off your shoulders, accompanied by kisses going down your neck and you make quick work of stepping out of the piece of clothing as it pools around your feet. Leaving you in only your underwear. Turning you around, he admires you for a few long seconds that drag on for an eternity before finally pulling you close and letting you get to work on unbuttoning his slacks. With both your hands busy, Chanyeol starts loosening his tie then moves on to his shirt buttons where you meet him halfway then haphazardly rid him of the material, desperate to get your hands on his warm skin. If you thought Chanyeol had been handsy earlier, it was nothing compared to the way your hands are touching him everywhere at the same time when given free rein over the muscular planes of his upper body. He nudges you in the direction of your shared bed with a soft push and gently tells you to lay down. The low burn in your stomach turns into a small fire as he hooks his long fingers around the waistband of your panties and slowly drags them down your legs. His features get taken over by a sly smirk when he then rids himself of his boxers, the only piece of clothing left on his body. The smirk grows wider as a small gasp leaves your lips and you take him all in.

You watch as he climbs onto the bed and settle yourself up on your elbows but you are quickly pushed into the mattress once again by a steady hand on your right shoulder making you lose balance. Said hand then takes one of your breasts in and squeezes lightly. He releases his grip and instead opts for leaning in to take your nipple into his mouth and sucks, once again making you hiss loudly under your breath. Another gasp leaves you when one of his hands finds its way down between your legs, pushing them apart in order to have access to your most private area. Chanyeol takes his sweet time. Relishing in the sound of your breathing picking up slightly as he caresses your inner thigh then lets his fingers barely touch your sensitive pussy.

”Please baby, more. It feels so good,” you beg him and his own neediness and arousal fogging his eyes makes it easy to give in and finally make proper contact with your clit. Starting at an agonizingly slow pace.

”You’re so beautiful,” he tells you, his voice filled with adoration. ”I can’t believe you’re all mine. Want to keep you in my arms forever, if you’ll let me.” Hearing these words, you snake your arms around his neck and pull him in for a passionate kiss. Telling him that you’re his for as long as he’ll have you. His tongue pushes ever so gently against the seam of your lips, asking for permission to be let in and you of course relent. Then a finger is pushing against your entrance and he breaks away from your kiss. ”This wet already baby?” You nod at his question. As a matter of fact, you had been steadily soaking your panties ever since he let you know how he wished you unravel you tonight while watching you get ready. Your moaning mixed with the obscene squelching of his finger moving in and out of you makes for a sinful melody which fills the room.

The one finger is then accompanied by a second and you can feel your climax approaching but Chanyeol has other plans and pulls away completely, leaving you a whiny mess. You reach down in order to soothe the tingling feeling left by his abrupt stop but soon enough, you understand the reason for breaking the contact was in order to move down the bed and settle in-between your legs.

This is going to be a long night, you decide, when wet lips come in contact with your inner thigh and start a trail to where you want him the most.

”Oh fuck,” you sigh as your boyfriend’s mouth finally connects with your wetness, setting a deliciously unpredictable pace. Tongue flicking your clit. He stops for a second and looks up at you underneath thick eyelashes.

”We’ll get there baby,” he cheekily lets you know with that smug smile of his. You don’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes at his confidence and tell him to get back to work. He answers you with a ’yes ma’am!’ and you huff out a breathy laugh which molds into a whine as he continues his ministrations. Letting his fingers join and curl inside you, your hips involuntarily buck against him with fingers bunching the bedsheets between them. You can feel the orgasm once again start to build the moment his fingers pick up their pace, your walls flutter and the feeling of a rubber band pulled taut snapping together is the last push you need to fall over the edge. Chanyeol slows his pace to ease you down from your high before withdrawing completely. He sits back up and rests against his heels so you have a moment to catch your breath for a moment. Although the sight of you lazily touching your breasts only serves to feed the need to devour you again right away.

Chest heaving and cheeks flushed from arousal is a wonderful look on you. Chanyeol thinks he might not even have vocabulary enough to properly do you justice. Fuck, you might be the most beautiful being he’s ever laid eyes on and trying to water that down into simple compliment would be shameful. But this doesn’t mean he won’t spend his life reminding you of how utterly breathtaking you are. He notices that you have once again pushed yourself up by the elbows and gently places his hand on your cheek. The one with his Loey tattoo. The one that just moments ago had worked you into your first climax of the evening. His thumb brushes against your reddened cheek. A motion that makes your eyes flutter close.

”You’re doing good baby. So, so good.” His praise alone has you feeling like a goddess in your own right and you feel yourself craving more. If only you could feel like this every day. But the world is cruel at times and the beauty standards you try to be on par with often do more harm than good. There is no telling who you would be without the man looking at you like you personally hung each and every star in the sky. You aren’t sure how you got lucky enough to stumble upon such a brilliant person such as Chanyeol. All you know is that you never want to let him go. That you want to make sure he knows exactly how much you love and adore him for being so unapologetically himself at all times. How thankful you are to be lucky enough to be on the receiving end of his love.

You fall back and place your hand over the one he has still covering your cheek. Chanyeol leans in and kisses you. First on your lips, moving on to the corner of your mouth, then removes your now intertwined hands to gain access to your cheek. Last but not least, you feel his hot breath against your ear and he lowers his voice to a whisper.

”Ready to keep going?” You nod frantically in affirmation. Yes. A million times yes. ”You better hold on tight then babygirl.”

The sound of his deep voice in your ear makes your insides melt. ”Take me,” you challenge him.

He positions himself against your entrance, the blunt tip of his head bumps against your clit due to the wetness caused by his earlier preparations and both of you hiss at the stimulation. How he had managed to put his own needs to the side this long is beyond you, but then again, he had always been the giving type. Someone who revels in making you come undone over and over under his hands. When he finally pushes inside, you swear all you see is stars. His name leaves your lips in a drawn out moan and something dark and alluring takes over his gaze. He lets you adjust for a few seconds until you signal for him to start moving.

The pace Chanyeol sets starts out slow at first with his chest pressing against yours and your legs drape around him in order to bring him in even closer. Desperate lips meet in the most unsophisticated manner that is all gasps and teeth occasionally bumping together, your noses pressed against each other.

However giving a lover Chanyeol is, he is also a very impatient one and soon picks up the pace of his hips. The feeling of your nails scraping down his back only serves as fuel to his passion and he makes you into a writhing mess beneath him.

”More Chanyeol. Need more.” You’re a babbling mess but Chanyeol seems to understand what you’re after and shifts himself off of you slightly to give your hand enough room to touch your aching clit. The stimulation heavenly against your neglected bundle of nerves.

”Fucking hell baby I can’t even begin to explain how pretty you look taking me right now. Would look even prettier with my hand around your throat though,” he tells you with a devilish tone. It gives you exactly the approval he knows you get off on so much. Knows that you love this more dominant side of him. ”You want that baby?” He continues, ”you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

”Yes Yeol, please. Need it.” The whiny tone to your voice makes him throw his head back. His neck looks absolutely appetizing from your position. Not a second later, the feeling of his large hand closing around your neck is all you can think about. Gentle pressure on the side your neck has your second orgasm for the evening approaching fast, fueled by your restricted airflow.

”Good?” Chanyeol questions while slowing down for a few seconds until he gets your consent.

You nod your head firmly but Chanyeol is not having it. ”Use your words baby.”

”Yes.” The word comes out forced due to the shortage of air but clear enough for your lover to continue and pick up the speed of his hips once more.

Lightheaded by the lack of oxygen, you feel yourself start to tear up. Just as a single tear falls, you feel him release his grip while telling you how pretty you are. His hand abandons its place on your neck and making you gasp for fresh air. You’re teetering dangerously close to the edge and tell your lover this. Chanyeol in turn, leans down once again and captures your lips while making sure to increase his pace.

Your hands are everywhere yet somehow nowhere while trying to desperately find something to anchor you as he fucks into you with a newfound vigor. Finally settling on wrapping your arms around Chanyeol’s, you deepen the kiss, whimpering into your lip lock.

”Close,” you pant hastily into his mouth as he lets go for a second to breathe.

”Mm, me too.” He lets you know without letting up on his frantic movements. ”Come on baby, let go. I wanna feel you.”

His dirty words is exactly what you need to come undone in his arms. While coming down from yet another high you can tell that he’s almost there by the loss of rhythm.

”Where do you want me to come?”

Quickly coming to your senses your tell him exactly where you want it. ”Inside, want you to come inside please.” Chanyeol groans and with a few more thrusts and you clenching down around him, he comes with an even louder moan of your name before collapsing on top of you with an exhausted sigh.

Opting to instead lean over you on his forearms, Chanyeol presses one featherlight kiss on your nose and another one against your lips.

”I love you. You know that, right?”

You laugh warmheartedly. ”Mhm, how could I ever forget? You make sure to let me know several times a day, Yeol.”

”Just making sure,” he grins in return.

”And Yeol?” there’s a hum in response as he strokes your hair, eyes locked with yours.

”For the record, I love you too.” It’s cheesy but perfect for the moment nonetheless and Chanyeol retreats from inside of you. The stickiness between your legs pulls a grimace onto your face. You let your eyes fall shut as he lays down beside you, not having enough energy to clean up just yet.

”Feeling alright?” He asks from beside you and reaches out to take your hand in his and gives it a squeeze.

You roll onto your stomach and force your tired eyes open. ”Perfect,” you let him know while trying to get into a comfortable position with your naked chest pressed against his. Your warm skin sticks to his from the remaining sweat coating your bodies. It’s a nice feeling, you think, staying in the post orgasmic haze without needing to say much.

Smiling, you look at him for a long moment, wanting memorize his features as you brush his damp hair away from his eyes and steal a kiss. ”Absolutely perfect.”

#chanyeol #exo #chanyeol fanfiction #chanyeol fluff #chanyeol smut #exo smut #exo fluff #chanyeol x reader #park chanyeol #exo x reader #exo fanfic #why did i put myself through this #please be kind #this was not supposed to escalate like this #but here we are #i clearly need to rethink some life choices over here

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dangerouscommiesubversive · 4 years

Note

Marvelous/Joe, Z (Hair)

Today, Z is for hair

There isn't enough good water on the Galleon for decent bathing, Marvelous hasn't had a chance to restock in a while, and so after first aid his new friend--Joe, Joe Gibken, formerly of Zangyack--has to make do with the sonic shower. He doesn't seem disappointed when Marvelous tells him this, at least. "If there's no time limit then it's already better than military hygiene."

"Nah, no time limit, not like there isn't a second one." Marvelous passes him a towel. "Your clothes are gross, though, we can probably find you new ones once you're out unless you're really attached to those."

Joe looks down at the remnants of his military uniform and says, "Is there a spot where I could burn them?"

Marvelous grins at him.

A quick shower of his own, clean trousers, and then Marvelous sits down to figure out, "Where the hell am I going to find clothes for him? He's too tall and skinny for my stuff."

"Basco might've left some clothes," Navi says, and then squawks and tumbles off its perch when Marvelous throws a Ranger Key at it. "Hey, I was just saying!"

"Don't say that name." Marvelous scowls. "I'll find something that'll work. Something else."

A soft voice says, "Something that'll work for what? And who's Basco?"

"Nobody. Clothes that'll fit you. That is. Uh." Joe has emerged from the showers with his towel wrapped around his waist. It's strictly for modesty, of course, it's not as if the sonic leaves any trace, and Marvelous is suddenly terribly thankful that he remembered to offer one at all. "I mean."

Joe pauses and then says, "Is there a reason you're staring at me?"

Marvelous casts around desperately for a response that isn't just, you're not wearing anything and I haven’t even seen someone else naked in at least a year and holy shit you’re gorgeous, and comes up with, "Your hair's pretty long for a navy man, wasn't that against dress code?"

"Most of the recruits came from species that didn't naturally grow hair like this, the dress code didn't cover it. I put my clothes in the trash." Joe wanders around the common area, looking over the sparse furniture and minimal decorations, peering curiously at Navi, apparently unconcerned by his general nudity. Right, Marvelous thinks, military man, he’s probably used to bathing and changing around a whole troop of other people. “This is a nice ship. Warm. Navy vessels are chilly. It’s really only you here?”

“Just me and the bird, yeah.”

“Not a bird!”

“Shut it, Navi.”

Navi makes an offended noise and flies away through the cockpit door.

“How’s your neck?”

Joe raises his hand and touches the collar mark, which has already started to heal with the first, pre-shower application of ointment but still stands out red against his skin. “Not so bad. You’re still staring at me.”

Marvelous settles back in his chair, trying to look casual, intensely aware of the fact that he’s not wearing much himself. “I was wondering what your hair care routine is, you look good for someone who’s been on the run.”

“It’s genetic. You’re not looking at my hair.”

Fuck it. “...no, guess I’m not.”

The stray-cat look has come back, Joe still and eyeing him sidelong, and the air is tense in the silence of the common area. Finally, “I’m not going to sleep with you just because you saved me.”

Marvelous makes a face. “I wouldn’t expect you to, I’m not that kind of pirate.”

“But you’re still staring at me.”

“You’re walking around in nothing but a towel, who wouldn’t stare at you?”

Another pause, and then a smirk just as catlike as the earlier wariness. “So I should take the towel off, then.”

Marvelous feels his face go hot and curses silently. “Look, it’s just been me and Navi for a while now, I’m not used to having...people here...” and he trails off as Joe walks over to him with even more of a smirk and a hip sway that he definitely didn’t have earlier. “I mean. I.”

It’s one hell of a kiss. Granted, he hasn’t kissed anyone in a really long time--although he suspects Joe hasn’t either, military life hardly lends itself to that kind of thing--but it’s still a lot. It’s a kiss that’s saying things. Marvelous can hardly focus enough to figure out what those things are, though, so it’s helpful that Joe follows up with, “I’ll take my towel off if you want me to.”

Marvelous blinks several times, makes a few incoherent noises, and then, finally, manages to croak out, “I absolutely do want that, yeah.” He’s never been more happy to have the ship to himself.

Joe kisses him again. This one’s even more of a kiss. “Your hair’s nice too.” His hands are untying his towel.

Marvelous says, weakly, “Thanks.”

#captain marvelous #joe gibken #fanfiction #askrikkaiandhyotei

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yvixtrae · 4 years

Text

A Teeny Tiny Tad Bit of a Re-Write of the Bad-Boy AU I Wrote for Park Jisung About a Year Ago or Something

Oh boi—

A bad-boy AU with Jisung??

Let’s set this boi somewhere in highschool then

Because why not though lmao

Mayhaps a sophomore or junior, per say

Honestly, bad isn’t the proper word for it

I guess it’s more like… He’s a tad bit rough around the edges??

Like I dunno bro but he’s just not that bad

Mainly keeps to himself and stays really quiet

Just skips classes a lot

And sometimes skips school altogether

But like...

He just usually spends time on the rooftop or something like that instead

Somewhere peaceful to have his earbuds in and be alone to just like, vibe

Y’know??

Because nothing really beats listening to things like i prevail, starset, hollywood undead, and even black veil brides or all time low--unless maybe you wanna listen to things like chillstep, melodic dubstep, and electronic which is valid too

And despite listening to both, he also has spare room in his music taste for things like a fair amount of neffex and random songs from either troye sivan or older get scared songs

You might find him roaming the halls too, if he for some odd reason isn’t tucked away on the rooftop or something

Nonetheless, always has headphones in, with his music playing quietly

Never really pays attention to the school uniform dress code, so you’ll find him in something like…

Either hella casual or a bit more on the edgy side

Maybe something like a dark but faded baggy blood red zip-up hoodie or red and black flannel over some sort of band or general fandom t-shirt or something paired with plain black skinny jeans and converse

Or maybe you’ll find him in something along the lines of...

Maybe something like a slightly oversized seemingly almost pastel galaxy-colored sort of hoodie with a strip of simple black and white checkering down the sides of the sleeves paired with ripped light or dark grey skinny jeans and heeled gothic boots

No matter what though--he’s typically wearing something with long sleeves just to wear one as a sweaterpaw and roll the other one up to his elbow

Almost always has accessories of some sort like a simple and delicate choker or super pretty but dangling celestial earrings or even a bit of chaining for his jeans

Sometimes he puts on a teeny tiny bit of eye-liner on because why not

There are times where the teachers try to say something about his apparel but he just can never find it in him to care and listen

But since it’s not too big of a deal in general, he hardly ever gets in actual trouble over it

Has gotten into a few fights before due to things like standing up for the few people he associates with when they’re being picked on and whatnot

But this is where you come in

He’s had his eye on you for a while

You’re not really someone who entirely fits what’s expected of you--at school at least

If that makes sense??

Like, you’re kinda just the artsy-fartsy day-dreamy wallflower that not many people really pay attention to and you’re always doodling/sketching or writing in your extra notebook that you take everywhere

And you can be found most of the time listening to music through one earbud while attending class and things like that

What’s cool though is that you actually share almost the exact same music tastes as precious mochi boii

The teacher’s aren’t thrilled at your lack of undivided attention in class but like

It’s whatever since you still make insanely good grades in most of your courses

Overall though, you’re quiet too--at least when you’re in school unless you’re chilling with you friends at lunch or after school

You’re pretty smart, and generally sweet—when you aren’t riled up

Someone was picking on your friend, and you stepped in to try and get them to leave your friend alone

But as soon as the person went to lay a hand on you for intervening, Jisung was already there to take care of it

Literally came out of nowhere, but you didn’t question it

To be fair though he happened to be roaming the halls for once and saw what was going on

Anyways—from then on out

He’s just tagged alongside you and your friend through the halls in between classes

And again, you don’t question it

You just sometimes make small talk with him

Like saying how the day went for both of you

Or maybe if something new happened at home

You learn some of the little things

Like how he doesn’t like cockroaches and how his favorite colors are green and black

Your friend gets along with him just fine too

Every few days actually, you all hang out after school for a few hours or so

Y’all just kinda vibe and walk around town or something and maybe talk either a little or a lot there’s just no in between

At some point, he even starts showing up to class more often

You actually share all of your core classes

Granted, even though he shows up, he falls asleep most of the time

He just somehow still manages to keep pretty good grades though

But he particularly struggles a little bit with science

His sleeping through class doesn’t help with this

But the notes you take for him do

It would be a few months before you turn out to really develop feelings for him

His feelings were there from the start of the year before and one-sided since he just kept to himself

It’s just one day that you’re running late to school for the first time in a while

Late enough to where you’ve missed first period and only have a little over half of second period left

But to be fair you just didn’t go to bed until like 4 or 5 in the morning because you were hyperfixated on sketching a few things and actually inking and coloring them in

And thus you slept through your alarms and then had to rush with chugging your coffee and slipping into your uniform and just haul ass to school

You find yourself pacing the halls, but mainly keeping to the wing that your third period is in

But passing an empty room, you see through the cracked door that Jisung’s there

He’s there and dancing

To what?? You dunno

But you’re gonna guess it’s to something along the lines of general electronic because even though there’s no music audible to you, you see that he’s got earbuds in as per usual

You’re surprised since you’ve never seen him dance but like

Here it is now and you watch him, thinking that despite not knowing what he’s listening to, he’s really good at it nonetheless

After a solid few minutes, he stops and pulls out his earbuds, turning to the door

And he sees you

He kinda just stands there for a sec

Just kinda shocked since no one’s really like, crept up on him and was able to do so without him knowing before

But then he greets you with a small smile and a wave, moving to exit the room and walk with you to find your friend and talk as you walk in between classes

Before you make it to third period though, you casually compliment his dancing from earlier and miss how his cheeks flare red

Like, how does one handle one of their favorite people taking the time to compliment them on one of their favorite things to do?????

With a simple thanks and a blushy smile

That’s the way he does

But with turning his head to make sure you miss his blush, of course

The day continues as per usual

And so does a few months more into the school year, actually

Yes, you consider the days that he shows up to school with messy and vibrant blue hues in his hair as usual when it happens

You actually love the sight of the color on him

Because it just makes him look even cuter somehow--if that’s possible??

It’s how the habit of ruffling his hair suddenly pops up

Like, it was kind of a thing beforehand since his hair is fluffy

But now it’s even more of a thing since his hair is blue

Y’know?? lmao

It’s only towards the end of the school year that he decides to try to ask you out

Spending so much time with you, he finally had the opportunity to get to know you and like, feel as if he had great reasons to list on why he liked you so much

How you always smile whenever you see him and how it always lights up his day and makes his heart do all kinds of flips in his ribcage

How nice your voice sounds to him and how cute he thinks your laugh is

How he finds you to be both pretty and cute

Heheh--he thinks you’re “pretty cute”!! *ba-dum-tss!!*

Sorry, just had to say it like that lmao

He also thinks that you’re pretty funny at times

And that it’s super duper cool that you’re so smart and know random fun facts and have the ability to do crafts so well

All that good stuff

The list goes on though, just know that, okay?? lmao

Anyways—onwards to how this bean asks you out

It’s honestly super casual and simple

Just during a hangout after school

Walking around a nearby park

The stereotypical, “Will you go out with me??”

But what makes it so cute is that he’s struggling to even start to say it

And he stutters a bit

Literally takes him a solid minute to ask

Your friend who’s with you both is now slinking off to give you two some time alone

You’re pretty grateful for that but at the same time ready to thwack them upside the head for how they’re barely containing their laughter at Jisung’s struggle to speak

But it’s all aight when they make their way to elsewhere

As soon as the words have fell from his tongue though

You’re smiling to yourself for a few moments to just bask in the joy that sparked through your system at this, your heart just screaming for you to say yes

So you do

And you don’t think his smile’s ever been so bright

You’re shocked when he suddenly picks you up in a hug and twirls you around with an ecstatic laugh

But anyways

Dates with him are very simplistic

Random as well

Like, he’ll show up in the middle of the night and climb through your window to just chill

Just clad in something like a plain hoodie and sweatpants

Sometimes you’ll go out to eat fast food

Or maybe a small corner café to just simply vibe and chug caffeine

You sometimes watch him play games or vice-versa

Maybe you guys even chill on a rooftop and share earbuds to vibe while staring up at the sky in a verbal silence

Y’know

Sweet little clichés

But you love it all

When dates end, it’s always him walking you home if you’re not already chillin’ there in your room

Always gives you a forehead kiss or something before he leaves

Honestly, even your parents have come to know him as a regular visit at your house

But they don’t mind

At least, not too much since he’s made a very good impression on them

As the relationship progresses, he’s bold enough to give you fleeting pecks in public alongside holding your hand or something along those lines

But staying in to just cuddle and look at memes has become a big thing now as well

You two take turns being big spoon lmao

He loves laying his head in his lap and how you always comb your fingers through his hair during those times

And

There’s also sometimes munching on mochi together, actually

Melon mochi, specifically

But also

Since he’s babie

You like to boop his nose

And sometimes bro

He just scrunches in response with a shy little smile and giggle

And it’s so precious that you almost cry lmao

Plus

He swears up and down at some point that he loves you

But to himself of course

Until one day the words spill a year later

And you return them, making him the happiest boi on the face of the planet

Oh god, he’s such a soft bean for you

Or in general, but specifically for you

Just please love and protect this baby lmao

#park jisung #nct dream #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #jisung imagines #jisung scenarios #park jisung imagines #park jisung scenarios #but anyways yeah i just really wanted to add some things and so here we have this lmao

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 4 years

Text

A Family of Five- Part 6: Ready

Calum and Harlowe’s marriage hasn’t always been easy, but it has always been filled with love. This is a collaborative experience with In Sorrow and In Joy. Dad!Calum. Black OC.

CW: Over the course of this series, there are mentions of pregnancy, therapy, and postpartum depression. There is also 18+ Content (Smut)

Enjoy my masterlist | Series Masterlist

Support me on kofi

No one has my permission to repost my work of fiction. This includes translations as well.

_____________________________________________

Luke finishes the last of the dishes. Noor’s at the bar, reading over her lines before the bus. Zahara dangles the keys to her car on her finger, waiting for Zeek to grab the charger for his tablet from his room. The house is quiet. He finds himself wondering how long that it will last. The question is answered a minute later when a shout rings out, “Babe!”

“There goes the silence,” he chuckles, wiping hands on the dish rag. “Yeah?” he calls out, taking the stairs two at a time to the bedroom.

You turn around, dressed in black jeans and your pajama shirt. “Where’s that heart button up shirt?”

“That’s actually Calum’s shirt,” he grins leaning up against the frame of the door.

A groan falls over your lips. Out of habit, you reach up and fix the bun of your curly hair and mutter to yourself. Of course, your favorite shirt to steal wasn’t actually Luke’s. He probably took it from Calum’s case on their last tour, last year, and only just recently realized that it didn’t belong in your closet. You could go without the shirt. But it annoys the crap out of you, that you couldn’t finish the outfit that you had been planning for days now for the first day back to school.

“Now that I think about it. That’s definitely his t-shirt too. Forgot to give it back,” Luke states.

You look down at the gray t-shirt covering your body. “So, you’re telling me, Harlowe’s gonna call asking for this shirt eventually.”

He shrugs. “Only if she knows the shirt is gone.”

You roll your eyes, peeling off the shirt and stealing inside the blue button up of Luke’s. “Honesty, one of these days y’all need to go through your closets and figure this shit out.” You’ll call Harlowe. She’ll know where that heart button up is. And more importantly, she’ll be willing to trade.

“You and Harlowe end up stealing stuff from us!” he laughs. “It’s not all our fault.”

“Shush, I said that you two need to figure out what belongs to who and then she and I can figure out what’s up for trading and what has to stay. You didn’t let me finish.” Tossing the shirt at Luke, you laugh a little at his flail, startled by the action. “Start a load of laundry please. Use the kid’s detergent. Harlowe’s skin is sensitive.”

“For one shirt?” he jokes, his high pitched shout cracking a little on the the word ‘one’. “I’ll at least wash some of the kids stuff too.”

“That’s the idea!” you shout to his retreating figure. With the last of the shirt buttoned, you pick up your phone. As you open to your recent messages, Harlowe’s name is right at the top.

The phone rings twice before you can hear her shouting in the background. “Esha, it doesn’t even take me this long to put a face on in the morning, c’mon. You’re beautiful and I will fight anyone that says otherwise.”

Calum’s laughter filters in from the background before his voice fills the line. “You’ve reached Harlowe’s phone. She’s currently helping Esha figure out mascara. Can I take a message?”

“She’s really letting Esha wear makeup to school, huh?” you ask. The debate on whether Esha could wear makeup to school was definitely a long one. You remembered just a couple months ago when it first started, during the summer. Harlowe and Calum feared she’d go off the deep in, but didn’t want her to feel like she couldn’t explore in the world of make up or self expression. You just had no idea that they had agreed on anything yet. Granted, you all kept up well, some things inevitably would fall through the cracks. Between getting syllabi together and raising kids, some news unfortunately fell to the waste side.

“It was a long battle. We agreed to mascara and lipstick. Nude lipstick though. Specifically a nude lipstick.”

You nod. “Sounds like a smart choice.”

More laughter floats in from the background. “Keep looking up, you’re not going to poke yourself I promise,” Harlowe chuckles.

“But I could!” Esha retorts. “This is scary.”

“So,” Calum says, “I know you called for a reason.”

“I was trying to see if a certain item of clothing could be up for trades. It appears that I, really Luke, but by extension me as well, have a certain t-shirt that belongs to you. And a certain heart button up shirt was not Luke’s, which is disheartening.”

“The gray one with Conway studios on it?”

“That’s the one.”

“She was looking for that last night. Hold on second.” There’s muffled talking in the background. “So, while Harlowe’s sad about losing the heart button up, she’s willing to trade.”

“It’s your shirt, technically.”

Calum laughs. “She has taken my closet. Nothing is mine anymore except my shoes. If she could wear those, she’d probably take them too. Like right now, she’s in my green plaid pants. It’s a great outfit, but I was the one that pulled the pants down this morning.”

“You’re going to the studio! You know you would’ve opted for jeans anyway,” Harlowe bellows.

“I would’ve at least like the option, baby. At least give me the option.” There’s a shuffling sound and Harlowe finally speaks.

“Ignore him, girl. He’s just pissy this morning.”

“So tonight we’ll trade shirts. I had this whole first day look planned, but of course, the shirt I wanted, wasn’t Luke’s shirt.

“Okay, normal table. I’ll see you then.”

Even before opening the door, you know what the place smells like, sounds like. You and Harlowe have been coming here every Wednesday before the twins were born. It’s ritual to walk in, hearing the clack of pool balls on the smooth red velvet and a white buzz of voices. It’s ritual to smell beer, but also the famous cheese fries cooking in the back. The place is old, but it somehow feels right. No, this wasn’t always your cup of tea. But Harlowe fell in love with the place, her second collection of poetry was birthed here. So on Wednesdays, this is where you two sat, chatting about the week previous, the week ahead. Talking about husbands, and kids. Talking about students and universities. You two worked at different schools. You do this for cheese fries, the laughs, the gossip. But more importantly, you do this for her, because she needed something to look forward to after the post partum depression from Esha.

Inside, you spot her afro at the bar, “the normal table.” “If that’s a virgin rum and ginger ale, today was fine. But it’s a virgin Caribbean Rum Punch, someone’s trying to fuck themselves up,” you laugh, sliding into the bar stool next to Harlowe.

She laughs, slinging an arm across your shoulders, resting her head for a moment onto your shoulder. “Yo got me. Just ginger ale. How were your classes?” She straightens, pulling her arm away.

“There’s a freshman in my 300 level class. The fear was real in there eyes, looking at the syllabus.”

“How did they get into that class?”

You shrug. “No one asked for an override into class. My assumption is that they thought they were hot shit and signed up.”

“Didn’t even check RateMyProfessor, I bet,” Harlowe grins, flagging down a bartender.

The man walks over with an easy grin, closing his eyes and taking a deep breathe. “Let me guess.You’re going to order a plate of cheese fries. Ranch dipping on the side.”

“It’s like we’re regulars or something,” Harlow laughs.

“Or something,” he chuckles, then turns to put the order in.

“Well not all of us teach poetry and fiction. Some of us have to have reading lists a mile long,” you counter.

Her laugh fills the room practically. “You make the syllabus. It does not have to be a mile long. You clearly just like suffering and taking your students down with you.”

Feigning shock, you gasps, turning around. “I don’t need this kind of negativity in my life.”

She chuckles, watching you. “Go ahead then. Run from the truth. But who’s the one that complains everything you have to reread those sections--you.”

“I cannot believe you’d read me like that in this here fine establishment.” This causes both of you to laugh, Harlowe falling into you a little, her laughter bouncing around in your eardrum. “How were your classes?”

With a smile resting on her face, she leans onto her elbows, toying at the glass. “Good. One girl came up to me after class and said she had signed up specifically for my section of poetry workshop because I was the only Black professor. Like I know this isn’t Kansas, to use a really dated expression, anymore. Like I know this isn’t the States, but it still means a lot be there for someone that needs it.”

“When’s your Fiction workshop?”

“Tomorrow. I’m teaching that in the morning and then the second section of intro to creative writing in the afternoon.”

“Must be nice,” you tease.

Harlowe barks a laugh. “I’m not the one that spent years getting their Ph.D. in History, only to bitch about being the exact thing they wanted to be. So yeah, it is nice to enjoy my job.” Both woman laugh and the steaming bucket of fries is placed between them. Two glasses of water also thuds against the worn wooden counter.

“How are my babies though?” There’s something in the way she asks that. You watch her face as she rummages into the depths of her bag. You catch nothing on her face. She pulls out the black button up and hands it over to you. You wipe your hands on a napkin and find the soft gray cotton in your backpack. You guys trade shirts.

“My babies are good.”

Harlowe huffs, biting hard into the fried potato. “Oh hush, I’m their aunt. They are effectively my children too.”

“What do you know that I don’t know?”

Harlowe shakes her head, reaching for her drink. “If I tell you, I break code.”

“It’s irksome that you know things before me,” you sigh. But you respect it. Your kids and Harlowe have a code. Though you desperately wish you weren’t always the last one to know about things, you understood. Sometimes the kids wanted to handle stuff by themselves, they didn’t want to always come to you or Luke. They maybe felt embarrassed having to go to their parents about everything.

“They know they can talk to you, girl. They know.”

“I’m just the last to know. I feel so left out.”

“If you think Te Koha, Esha or even Nikau even tell me everything, you’re wrong.” Harlowe downs the her glass. “Children will not tell parents everything. Did you tell your mom everything?”

“Hell no.”

“Exactly my point.”

The first plate of fries is just about empty. Harlowe’s ordered a second drink when a presence slides up to the left of you. The cologne is familiar. As you giggle at Harlowe’s story about the disaster at the printer today before her class, you feel Luke’s hand resting gently on your lower back. You wondered when they would come up. When you walked in, you made a beeline for Harlow at the bar. Luke went to the table Calum had on the floor somewhere. You guys always do this. Split up, just for a little bit to have a little time away from each other. To talk all the junk you couldn’t do when your spouse was right there. It was always nice to have these moments away, to yourself, to be quiet and listen to Harlowe dramatically retell her adventures of the day or week.

Her story finishes, an exasperated sigh falling over her lips before he speaks. “Can I get a pretty girl like you a drink?”

With an eye roll, you gently press into his chest for a quick hug. “Buy us another round of fries, and then we’ll talk.”

He laughs, palm brushing up and down your satin covered back. “Sounds reasonable.”

“Ranch on the side for my friend here,” you add on, gently tapping his chest.

“Please,” Harlowe adds, batting her eyelashes.

“I’m right here,” Calum laughs, settling down next to her.

“Are you buying me french fries?” she shoots back, resting her head into his chest.

His arm wraps around her, almost protectively. “I’m the one you go home with.”

She reaches up, tapping the end of his nose with her finger. They’ve always been way more affectionate. You pretend to gag, before burying your face into your glass of water. She just buries herself deeper into him before raising her middle finger to you. “That’s rude!” Luke interjects, voice turning up into a laugh.

As the second and third, due to Calum’s ordering, basket of fries comes out. It feels like old times, like being twenty three again during the summer before your second year for your Master’s program. When you forced Harlowe to get up on that dinky stage and read her poems. When Calum and Luke approached the two of you at the end of the night. It feels like you’ve got nothing but time, nothing by belly laughs and Harlowe and Calum’s antic, the lovingly nagging, the teases, you and Luke’s quiet moments, whispers. It’s nothing but being twenty three again.

Until a phone chimes. The time of youth is over. You finish off the last few fries, cleaning off your fingers. Luke’s hand slides into yours. It’s Harlowe’s phone and she sighs. “Gotta get back to relieve Te Koha of babysitting duties,” she mutters.

Calum leans in close to her, “Can I come home with you?” He’s only a few beers in this evening. Nowhere near as far as he can go.

“Hmm,” Harlowe chuckles, nails dragging under his chin, “Depends on how well you handle three kid.”

“Some might say I’m an expert,” he laughs.

“An expert in making them,” Luke jokes, with a whistle.

“That’s all you,” Calum teases. “Some of us made the choice a lot time ago to shoot blanks.”

“We are not having this discussion right here,” you interject.

Harlowe pushes on Calum’s shoulder, to get him walking towards the door. She digs into his jacket pocket, retrieving the kids. “I’ll talk to you probably in an hour,” she laughs. “Good luck, getting your drunk giant home.”

“Do not remind me,” you call before adding, “Love you.”

She shouts over her shoulder. “Love you too. I covered half the bill.”

“I covered half,” Calum corrects loudly.

“Will you be quiet and walk you drunk piece of man. Let’s go. Kids. Kids. We gotta get to our kids.”

You drive the two of you back. Luke hums quietly along to the radio for a while. His leg bounce. You watch him at a red light. “What’s up?” you ask, pressing your palm into his denim-cladded thigh.

“Do you know what’s up with Ra?”

You had noticed she was way more quiet than usual. This is whatever Harlowe knew but you did. Luke continues, his voice panicked. “I tried asking her what was up, but she wouldn’t budge. I’m not sure if you know.”

“I don’t know either.”

His sigh is heavy. You can imagine his fingers carding through his hair as the stress settles onto his forehead. “Is it college stress? Boy trouble? If it’s boy trouble, I’m kicking someone’s ass,” he murmurs.

“Call Harlowe too.”

Luke chuckles, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “Yeah, I can’t forget her. What do you think it is?”

You don’t even want to try and think about that, what darkness is potentially overcoming your baby girl. Your grip on the steering wheel tightens. You’d go through hell and back for your kids. Sure you weren’t always the most affectionate person, but you’d be damned if your kids were going through some shit and didn’t at least know you were in their corner for them. The rest of the drive you and Luke try not to envision all the terrible scenarios. Had someone hurt her? Touched her the wrong way? Was she failing a class? Did something happen to a friend? Did she think that you and Luke weren’t there for her anymore?

With the car parked in the driveway, you two climb out of the car and share a concerned glance before walking inside. Ra’s chilling on the couch, Noor passed out in her lap, the TV’s on. It’s not barely nine. “You’re free of being pretend mom,” Luke says softly.

Ra looks up with a small smile. “How were drinks?”

“Good. Anything happen here?” you asks.

“If it had, trust I would’ve called. After you guys left after dinner, we all finished up some homework. Or rather they finished up, and then Zeek showered and start drawing. Noor and I watched some TV. She had those physical fitness test today, so she’s pretty exhausted I guess.”

Luke nod, kissing both their foreheads. “We’ve got her. Finish up that work, yeah?”

Ra nods. “How many pints, Dad?” she laughs.

He shakes his head. “Hush. Only a few more months and then I’ll take you out.”

“Oh, God, please spare me that embarrassment.”

“Okay, so Auntie Harlowe can take you out on my dime, how about that?”

She grins. “Now you’re talking.”

Luke pulls her in for one last hug, kissing her hair. “Go finish your work, missy.”

As Ra ascends the stairs, you wait until she reaches the first landing before stopping her, a gentle hand on her back. “Hey,” you start, looking into her eyes. The twinkle is gone. She looks tired. “You know I’m here right, for you. Both your dad and I are. You can tell us anything.”

She nods, lips pursing close. “I know. Thanks, Mum. Got a paper to finish though.” She lifts her thumb over her shoulder to the stairs, to her room, to her escape. You nod. She turns and takes them two at a time. She’s not ready. You can’t force her.

It’s another two weeks. Zahra walks in through the door behind Noor and Zeek, closing the door behind her. “Hey guys,” you call out, tending over the pot of pasta.

Zeek kisses your cheek and Noor buries herself in a giant hug. Ra doesn’t round the corner. You peek around and see her leaning against the glass, hands covering her face. Her shoulders shake once, twice. She’s crying. Before you can set yourself in motion towards her, she throws herself into you, tears staining her cheek, streaking her make-up. “Fuck,” she whimpers, shaking against you.

Your heart thunders in your chest. “Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay.” Part of you is frozen. What the hell is happening? But the other part is ready to fix whatever it is. Whatever is heavy in her soul. “Talk--talk to me, baby. I’m right here,” you attempt to soothe.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I know,” she hiccups. “I know emotions are totally not our thing. But god, I’m so tired of holding this in anymore.”

The two of you stand there, you rubbing at her back and she sobs into your skin, her tears feeling like fire. What else could you have done to get her to open up sooner? What else could you have said? “You’re ready now,” you whisper. “It’s okay.”

It takes a few minutes for Zahra to collect herself. Her cheeks are streak a little. But she takes a deep breathe. “Did my mascara run?”

You shake your head, a smile cracking through the fear. “No. Told you that shit would hold.”

She laughs. The two of you head into the kitchen, you hand her some tissues. She’s much taller than you, taking her height from Luke. You have to look up at her a little. Rubbing her arms, you find yourself at lost for words. Wait until she’s ready, you think to yourself. Wait until she’s ready. Zeek hands her a glass of water. “Your face didn’t melt too bad.”

“Thanks,” Ra mutters, taking a sip. “And you’re still a pain in my butt.”

“I’m the best pain,” he smiles, hugging her.

“Can I talk to you and Dad, when he gets here?” Ra says quietly behind her glass.

You nod. “Of course.”

Luke arrives home about an hour later. Just as dinner is finished. He immediately notes the pink to Zahra’s face and flashes you a look. You respond with a gesture of your hand, telling him to wait, to not jump the gun. But Zahra knows when her hug is a few seconds longer than usual. Dinner goes by nicely, though Zeek does make one comment, “So we’re not going to discuss the emotional breakdown or?”

“Shove your mouth with pasta or there’s gonna be another breakdown and not from me,” Ra smiles.

Zeek huffs, “No need to take my head off, okay?”

Noor reaches over, holding Ra’s hand, while shoveling more food onto her fork. “Some of us know our manners,” she quips.

Luke and you try to swallow the snickers. Your children did learn from the best. Zeek and Noor get excused from the table. You know the kitchen’s a mess but that can wait. Zahra looks up from her empty plate. “So, like, what if I said I wasn’t sure I was straight?” she asks all in one breathe.

You blink for a second, all the air rushing out of your lungs, before you smile. “I would say I’m very happy you told me.”

She looks to Luke. He takes her hand between his palms. “I would say that I love you no matter what. Straight or not, you’re still my daughter and I love you dearly. And it’s mighty brave of you to admit that.”

Zahra blinks rapidly, eyes welling up again. “It’s--” her voice is thick, she takes a moment. “It’s strange. To always have known something was different with me. Not just skin color or religion. But like something different. I don’t have a label for it. And I tried to push it down, ya know? Not think about it amongst all the college application deadlines, and dances, and school work mixed in with my job. I just….it’s been too long for me not to say something.”

You hand her a napkin. She dabs under her eyes. “You don’t need a label, sweetie. You don’t have to be afraid of us. We will always love you.”

“Always?” she questions.

“Of course,” you and Luke chorus.

“So, on top of that, I also don’t think artsy is my thing, Dad. I like the idea of Med school.”

Luke grins, placing one hand over his heart, faking a groan of pain. “I still got two more shoots at one of my kids turning to the arts.”

Zahra laughs looking over to you. “Every Brown parent’s dream, isn’t it?”

You nod, laughter bursting out of you. “Maybe just a little bit. I don’t care what you do, just as long as you love it, sweetheart.”

“That’s really a one two punch,” Luke jokes, later as the three of you clean the kitchen. “Really breaking your old man’s heart.”

You slap his bicep. “Now’s not the time.”

Zahra hugs him though from behind, cheek squished by his back. “I figured if you guys could handle me being a giant question mark in the sexuality department then maybe changing from arts to sciences would be easier to swallow.”

Luke turns in her embrace, wrapping her up tightly. “Yeah, a good way to deliver the news.” You let your cheeks lift, watching Zahra happily rests in her father’s arms for a beat or two longer before going back to putting the dishes up. It’s no longer heaviness in her shoulders, she no longer drags. That makes you happy.

Not even two hours later though, there’s a knock at the door. Luke answers it, his laughter erupting from him. You watch as Harlowe comes barreling down the entryway, a rainbow flag in her hands. She wraps Ra up in as she hugs her, rocking them both side to side. “Welcome to the club!” Harlowe laughs.

Calum, Te Koha, Esha and Nikau follow in slowly behind her. If you had to equate the two of you to weather, Harlowe is a hurricane and your just the run of the mill thunderstorms. But you wouldn’t have her any other way. Esha walks over, prying her mother away from her life long friend. “So, we’re going to pride together or what?” Esha jokes, giving Zahra a hug. Esha has been out as pan for a year now. Calum and Harlowe took her to a few pride events since then.

Ra laughs, “Yeah, yeah I guess we can.”

Te Koha steps dish out a hug too. “That’s very brave and you. I’m proud,” he says quietly. Zahra and him are in the same boat, not straight, not gay, just questions, just queer. Te Koha has not said anything. She hopes this pushes him. You watch their silent conversation before Nikau hugs her too and it ends.

“Momma brought you cake,” Nik informs to Ra.

She laughs. “Of course, you did Auntie Harlowe. Only you.”

“I’ve been quiet for weeks! Weeks, I told you i would not say anything until you came out. But I hope you’re ready because now, I’m not holding back!” Harlowe laughs, walking into the kitchen. That’s when it comes evident that her rainbow clips are holding back her two-strand twists from her face. You laugh at the detail, but happily take the slice of cake she hands you.

“Thank you,” you say to Harlowe as the kids chat in the background. Ra’s still wearing the flag. “Thank you for being there for her.”

“It’s what I’m here for. I do not take the title aunt loosely.”

“Clearly,” you mutter, motion to the cake and the flag. “You make that abundantly clear.”

#calum hood #calum hood fanfic #calum hood fic #calum hood imagine #calum hood series #dad!cal #dadl!cal series #dad!calum #h writes #5sos #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5 seconds of summer fic #5 seconds of summer imagine #calum hood x black oc

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evangelineartemiasamos · 4 years

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Red Queen Secret Santa 2019

A fanfiction for @redqueen-marecal-lover

I hope you’ll enjoy it! It’s a next generation story <3

A Melody and A Flame

Coriane

My life began to take a turn downward with that cursed party. Before, I was a girl just like any other, no one special, who only wanted to improve on the violin and whose biggest problem was jealousy of her pampered baby brother.

I could’ve guessed, I suppose, paid more attention, listened to my parents discussing matters going beyond the concerns of a 12-year-old. In hindsight, everything is possible and foreseeable, when in truth, I don’t think it would’ve changed anything. It wasn’t my fault.

Furthermore, I had no reason to anticipate anything. I was a child, and everyone in my family, everyone who cared about me and who I cared for in return, wanted me to do anything but be a child. For them, this simple thing had been a luxury they happily granted me.

Unfortunately, there were people who didn’t care about me, but my pedigree.

I have to confess I was the most excited about the party myself. It was to be an event much grander than the usual school concerts I played at; a soirée of guests from all over Norta and even from beyond her borders where several groups of young musicians could present their skills. Weeks before I was listed in the string orchestra, I’d had been eyeing a dress in a Summerton boutique. I’d tried it on a few times, sneaking behind the vendors, and fell in love with the deep green gown with its high lace cleavage, dreaming of myself on the stage in the ballroom of the Summerton town hall, the former palace.

The day I received the news that I would play at the party, I’d also saved enough of my own money to go and buy the dress. No longer the awkward 12-year-old in the exquisite shop, I entered the boutique with determination and pride, trying on the dress for a final time and lifting my violin out of its case to test its feel against the fabric as well.

The vendors listened intently to the handful of notes that spread through the shop, smiling at me with utmost politeness when we finished the trade. I beamed as well, obviously, and did so the rest of the day and when I stormed home, full of joy.

My parents weren’t at home, so I couldn’t tell them yet. Instead I took care of Shade, my little brother. Years ago, our parents had been worried if it worked out, my violin lessons and a lively toddler, yet that had never become a problem. When he was a baby, I’d been ambitious to get good enough to play him lullabies he’d sleep to, and as he grew, he still loved to listen to my exercises – no matter how repetitive – while he’d play quietly with his own toys.

Even at mere five years, he knew to congratulate me as I told him about the party concert and after I showed him the piece I was to perform, I played games with him in turn.

It was one of the best days of my life, altogether. Maybe because that night, I went to bed full of happiness and self-confidence as well as naiveté, for the last time.

My parents heard the news at breakfast. Mom squealed when she learned of it, kissing and hugging and maybe even a little shocking me. I was so happy she was happy for me. Dad was like always, proud of everything I did like I was his own kind of princess, but Mom’s excited outbursts were rare, and thus more precious. It wasn’t just the one concert, it was the perspective coming with it – me becoming a musician, a person living her dream. All Mom could want for her children.

The high mood soured in the afternoon when I presented the dress I loved so much. They still smiled, and I with them, but something had changed. I couldn’t read their faces, didn’t want to either. Finally, Dad pulled me over, sitting down with me. “Coriane, I’m not sure,” he said. “We can’t … we aren’t …”

It was the first of many times I heard these half sentences, buzzing with implications.

We can’t. We aren’t. A code of rules I hadn’t known of caged our lives.

My hands fidgeted and I had to look away. Of course I was pissed, too. How dared they deny me my dream dress?

Dad squeezed my hand and when I pulled away, Mom came over and looked in my eyes.

“It’s green like Montfort,” she said, and Dad nodded. She sighed. “Coriane, see, we can’t … it’s better if we don’t show any allegiances.”

I was bewildered. Montfort was an ally of Norta; Mom’s family lived there and we visited them twice a year. Of course we had ties to Montfort, so why should that ban wearing a colour?

Calmly, they told me that Montfort and Norta kept a careful distance to avoid shedding suspicions of unduly influences – or imperialism – from Montfort’s side. Especially the Barrow-Calore family, once we’d settled back in Norta, had to stay neutral.

M parents were soldiers. Since the last years had been peaceful, I hadn’t watched for signs of political unrest. I hadn’t seen reason to. Life was good. But while my parents weren’t politicians themselves, they were enwrapped with friends high up who provided them with intelligence. In turn, Mom and Dad weren’t to show their personal opinions. Which, I had to realize, extended to their children.

Irked, I tried to take it lightly and proposed in jest several other colours for me to wear – which were all discouraged, a lakelands blue being the last of those. “What? I’d offend everyone equally,” I snapped.

“White is neutral, it’s all colours,” Dad offered eventually. Technically, the same applied to black but even I knew that was the real taboo. Black was the colour of the royal house Calore and its loyalists.

Mom gave me a wry smile. “I have a surprise for you,” she said compassionately and got up. Left waiting, I stared in a mirror. Would the rest of my life be like this, forbidden to wear a certain colour in a certain place, or only when important people could see me?

Coriane Barrow-Calore, that name had never been a problem before. In Summerton, everyone had family or friends who had history with each other, reaching a long way back, rarely nicely. I was one of many. You didn’t see a princess when you met me. My blood was obviously Red, and with my small though not delicate figure, brown skin and brown eyes, I resembled Mom more than Dad. Apart from my long black falling down my back in shiny waves. I loved my hair. Would soon people appear and claim how “Calore” it made me look?

What else did I inherit from him?

Mom returned with another gown, a wholly different one she held up with fanfare. Dad smiled, gestured for me to take it.

I got up slowly. The dress was white, high-waisted and would look rather plain if not for its exquisite materials and tailoring. It was soft cotton and lush silk with intricate embroidery shimmering pearly. It was obviously more expensive than anything I could’ve bought myself.

Mom gazed at the gown with affection. “My sister Gisa made it and sent it as a present for you,” she explained. “It would make her proud if you wore it on the occasion.”

My hand trailed over its skirts. “Sure,” I agreed quietly to make peace. I swallowed my annoyance since the gown was so beautiful. Maybe my parents had really only wanted me to wear this dress. Maybe nothing was actually this dramatic. I realized I couldn’t ignore my royal descent as before but, well, I thought being aware it was a part of growing up.

My parents’ concerns were quickly forgotten as I returned to exercising my music for the concert, returning to what was really important to me.

The evening of the party I put on Gisa’s creation with awe, watching its skirts swing as I pirouetted. Dad seemed similarly amazed. He pinned up half my hair and let the other fall down in curls. Gold and copper make-up shimmered on my cheeks and eyelids, letting my brown eyes sparkle. I hugged Shade before we left and, full of anticipation, played my piece for him one last time. He was still too little for such a party; Mom said he’d be bored. She glanced at me then. I blinked but we said nothing else.

My parents both wore dress uniforms, as usual for events like this.

I understood Mom’s thoughtful look later at the party. The decorated ballroom was impressing, the students playing before me were passionate. So was I. My group was scheduled to play in the middle and my heart beat so fast, I didn’t know if it was excitement or the sensual onslaught of the party. A surprise were the animal decorations of butterflies and birds on the ceilings, corners and pillars. I felt watched and with nervousness, I rushed behind the stage for last preparations. I don’t remember much of the actual concert; it was only about 15 minutes long. My anxiety changed to concentration as I held up my violin and sunk into the music in harmony with my fellow musicians. Pleasant warmth spread through my body. I’d been so glad to receive this spot at all; I didn’t mind not having a solo part. I loved perfecting my skills more than being special. I was no one special during my performance, rather someone talented, and it was good.

This emotion of content was lost afterward. I still brimmed with its lingering presence but the party itself became a drag for me. I didn’t know the guests besides my fellow musicians, didn’t know who to talk to or what to say. The ever-present noise bothered me too much to even try to follow a conversation and I abhorred dancing (and with who, furthermore?). Unlike my parents, who, after praising and congratulating me, left me alone to refresh old contacts. I found a seat close to the stage and defended it by staying seated, only to be even more bored after the youth concerts ended. I wanted good music to listen to instead of the droning voices, or at least something to read. I itched to get my violin back from the cloakroom, if only to get comfort by holding and touching it and occupying my fingers.

Instead, I passed the evening with eating. I couldn’t figure out many of the dishes, so I was hesitant at first, but after I’d found a favourite, I piled a large portion of it on my plate and rushed back to my place. At least nothing bad could be said about the potatoes.

Sometimes, I thought I heard my name whispered behind me and startled. Had someone noticed I was one of the artists? Yet I dreaded being spoken to and was relieved when nothing followed up. My unsettlement stayed though and the animal decorations only turned weirder. From the corners of my eyes, I believed they were moving, but how could that be? In my growing confusion, I looked around the ballroom and glimpsed my parents in the distance. I jumped up. It was getting late enough to leave.

Give it a good end, I said to myself, find Mom and Dad and say goodbye to your music partners. I strove for them, careful not to bump into people. I was relieved when I reached the empty dancefloor yet something was odd about it. I’d intended to dash across it, to the alcove where Dad was, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. I footed further, goose bumps rising on my skin. My eyes moved as I gasped: This time, I was certain the birds moved.

And then they flew toward me.

I screamed.

I lifted my arms to protect myself. I was so hot. Butterflies joined the birds and I stepped back. The heat was a comfort. My hand jerked forward and with it, a flame.

I’d felt the heat for months. It rose sometimes when I was anxious yet instead of making me sweat in stress, it coursed my body pleasantly and erased my discomforts. For a moment, it did this at the party too. I’d burned a few of the animals to ashes and bones that dropped to the ground, the rest retreated. I fell to my knees. I stared at my hands that brought forth fire. I didn’t know I could but I wasn’t surprised. Not at all. I smiled faintly. The fire was within me and I could call it back whenever I wanted.

The murmurs returned to the room and with it, my peace vanished. I froze. The master of ceremonies ran toward me and patted my shoulder carefully, as if afraid I’d burn him.

“Madame,” he urged quietly. I blinked; I hadn’t liked his touch. He swallowed, his lips moving before he repeated, “madame…!” and prompted me to rise.

He took my hand by the fingertips in an odd mix of firm and light which I only realized later as reverence, as well as that he’d wanted to call me by my name first. Fortunately, he didn’t, or I wouldn’t have made it to my parents and back home before the guests figured out who I was by themselves.

That was bound to happen soon enough.

I didn’t go to school the days after the party. We didn’t know what to do when the letters started to arrive. The morning after the event, my parents pretended normalcy. They were good at it, at least in front of Shade and me. Mom played with Shade and Dad was his usual talkative self. I considered he liked that I was a burner like him. No one could guess what kind of ability I’d have and I’d imagined how Mom and Dad would joke with each other once we found out.

I wanted to find that in the way he smiled but I saw no genuine joy. I knew when he asked me if there’d been a spark.

“A spark?”

He sighed. “Did you need a source to … make fire?”

“I don’t know,” I replied, looking away. I did know. He asked because he wondered if my ability was like a Silver’s or a Newblood’s. I had to be Newblood, didn’t I? I was a Red with an ability, but could one be sure when I was half Silver?

Sure was I that the fire came from within me, no need for a spark. It was mine. While Dad was merely curious about my ability, the letters told another story: Of people who believed my fire a beacon of rebirth – the rebirth of the burning crown.

I read every one of the letters; my parents soon ceasing to try to talk me out of it. I had to know what concerned me. None of the letters was straight-forwardly royalist. None addressed me as “highness” or “princess”. The master of ceremonies had only been the beginning of an endless line of “madames” and “my ladies”, used so often it turned into something deeper than politeness. It was blatant. Some even dared to reduce my name to “Coriane Calore”, dropping Mom’s last name like they wanted to remove her heritage from me and Norta herself.

Beyond the addresses, the contents were artworks of suggestive insinuations. What a pleasure to see a burner in the Hall of the Sun, they wrote, using the old name of the building that was outdated though not forbidden.

Your flame gave me hope for Norta, said another.

My family rejoiced at the memories you woke, said the letter sent by Carol Viper, probably the most disturbing one. The Vipers were the important, most dangerous of the royalists and seceders and likely those responsible for the bird assault causing my outburst. It’d be investigated. The Vipers liked to deny accusations of animal spies or attacks and so Carol Viper was barely tolerated in Norta only for her insistence of distance to her traitorous relatives.

I figured which memories she wrote about – my mother falling into Summerton’s Queenstrial 23 years ago and revealing her Newblood ability. I suppose, while I was a burner like Dad, Mom and I would always share the way our abilities showed themselves in public.

The letters were a slap in the face that came back again and again. After two days and a dozen of them, I expected Prince Arthur of the Lakelands – who had been one of the foreign guests – to ask for my hand in marriage. I thought that my childhood was over, that a girl is only allowed to be a child until someone notices she is useful for them. Now I was some kind of fire goddess. I stared at the walls of my room when I didn’t read the letters. For once, I didn’t yearn for my violin, didn’t itch to occupy my mind and fingers by creating music. I thought … I thought my dream of a music career had ended, that I was no longer free to pursuit it when I was under the threat of being turned a reactionary’s political tool. The fear of losing the music pained me.

Mom came for me every day, joining me on the bed with her face full of care and worry and love. She understood how strange this was. A Red girl with an ability, a child of a Red and a Silver, no one would’ve cared for me 20 years ago. I would’ve been reviled at best; now the royalists probably thought themselves progressive by “championing” me.

Mom waited until I asked her to hug me and after years, I wanted it again. I hadn’t enjoyed touches since I was little. With her arms around me, I cried, craving to be a little kid again, when I was my parents’ greatest treasure. Their firstborn child, born of Mom’s first pregnancy ever without any of the complications that came after. Mom and Dad had held me for comfort after her miscarriages; happy that while having a second child turned out to be so difficult, they’d always have me.

I was jealous of baby Shade because everything had become different by then, in the seven years that lay between us. I was the strong and healthy big girl while he was little, frail and to be protected. No matter that he grew up as strong as me, Mom and Dad pampered Shade for the losses we’d suffered.

My jealousy was so meaningless now.

“Can’t we go back to Montfort, Mom?” I asked. “To that lonely cottage in the mountains?”

Mom stayed silent like she was considering it. Then she shrugged. “You have a guest,” she said instead, stroking my hair one last time. I groaned, she smiled. “Don’t worry, it’s family,” she reassured me. She rose and left and the door didn’t open before Clara, my cousin, entered the room.

I yelped because she still enjoyed startling people by teleporting.

It made for very good distraction, though.

Clara grinned, falling on the bed beside me. Her amusement waned a little as she noticed my blotchy, tear-stained face. “It’s good to see you,” I said to avoid her pity.

“I hurried to come here but I couldn’t make it to your concert,” Clara replied.

“Too short notice,” I agreed. Her teleporting made it easier to see Clara than my other relatives who lived in Montfort. As her assistant, Clara also accompanied her mother the general on her travels that often meant my parents and Aunt Diana met frequently.

I remembered when Clara and Diana had glared at each other one time when they spoke of Clara’s choice to became a soldier. They hadn’t needed many words, and even I understood them.

You could be anything, Diana’s frown said.

But I choose this, Clara’s lifted chin retorted.

Today, Clara still wore her uniform as we chatted. Usually, she changed into frilly dresses as fast as possible. She’d really hurried and I felt a pang of love for her. My tall and beautiful cousin of 22 was so cool.

She blew a curl out of her face. “You haven’t heard the best yet,” she said. “You know that Ada Wallace left the Harbor Bay government?”

“After like … 20 years?” Ada was – had been – the senator of the region and the partner of Clara’s mom.

Clara nodded. “It was quite hard for Mama and Ada to have a distance relationship but they made it work.” Her serious tone shifted into a wide smile. “We dined together two days ago, to celebrate Ada’s resign – or so I thought.” Clara beamed now. “But then, Ada proposed.”

“No!” I exclaimed.

“Sure! It was the most romantic thing. ‘We served freedom and our countries all this time, you there, me here. Now I’ve done all I could for Harbor Bay, I want to be with you. Always.’ Aww. I cried. Mama cried! And Ada was beyond elated, you should’ve seen her.”

“Damn,” I whispered. “I’ll have to congratulate them.”

Clara tilted her head. “You will, you will. At the wedding the latest.”

“Sure,” I said quietly, again rather uncertain of my future.

Clara played with a tress of my hair. “I expect you to play the waltz, Coriane.”

I took a deep breath. I knew where this was going. My life would continue no matter what.

I’d keep playing the violin. And wearing my lovely green dress, I’d celebrate the hell out of my aunt’s private wedding feast.

“Absolutely,” I promised.

I chose for what I burned.

A/N: The story should speak for itself, but if any of you tag this with “coriane calore”, please don’t ever read one of my stories again.

@merrymareshmallow @farleydiana @lilyharvord @goldfincheli @avid-author-activist @redqueenfandom @petergrantkavinsky @elliemarchetti @redqueenetwork @blairistired @inopinion @maudthebookeater @scxrletguardsdawn @loveverygalaxybouquetstuff

#red queen #red queen secret santa #marecal #coriane barrow-calore #shade barrow-calore #cal calore #mare barrow #victoria aveyard #rqss19 #redqueenetwork #redqueennet #a melody and a flame #red queen one-shots #red queen one-shot #clara farley-barrow #diana farley #fada #ada wallace #i imagined coriane as autistic and gave her many of my feelings

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with-pryde · 4 years

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spot the difference: excalibur kitty pryde v. evolution kitty pryde

𝙴𝚇𝙲𝙰𝙻𝙸𝙱𝚄𝚁:

academics. in junior high (so grades 7-9, approx. ages 12-14), she was enrolled in college courses and was so ahead of her peers that she barely had anything to do with them, and rarely ever saw them. like a lot of gifted kids, she sees herself as “better” than her peers and she can be quick to alienate kids her own age, and isn’t entirely sure how to socialise with them. she got off on the wrong foot with the new mutants even before getting put on their team by calling them babies, despite the fact that some of them were older than she was. problem was, she had more experience and was smarter, thus, age didn’t factor into her assessment.

the two exceptions to this rule are her two roommates, illyana and rachel, but it should be noted that, as roommates, both spent a lot of time with her to break these barriers. and both had such horrific childhoods, illyana in limbo and rachel as a hound in the future, that they were forced to grow up and mature faster than kids their age. and, thus, like kitty, they both also don’t really have much of a connection / fit in well with their peers (unless they work at it), so they’re more exception cases than the norm for kitty re: friends her age (though rachel IS maybe a few years older than her anyway).

aggression. as noted above, kitty had very little to do with her peers and, after joining the x-men at 13 (and a half), her main influences were those she served on the team with (namely ororo, colossus, kurt, logan and the professor, with scott and psylocke also featuring). of those, she forged strong bonds with kurt, logan and ororo, but she takes after wolverine a lot, even using his phrase bub when in a bad mood. she’s pretty quick to resort to violence, though she’s of course mindful of who she’s up against. the goal is to hurt, not kill (though when she’s mad she often thinks about how good it would be to kill them). granted, she doesn’t understand wolverine’s “berserker rages”, and isn’t much like that, until she joins excalibur and Sees Some ShitTM that makes her understand what whole consuming hate and rage feels like.

also worth noting during this time she’s dealing with a lot, including loss of those who were like family and chronic pain, but even so she has a pretty short fuse and will punch you in the face. or, in the case of a friend, will have something smart and sarcastic to say. also kitty is very much the type of person where, if she’s mad, she’s mad at the whole world and will unduly take her anger out on people who aren’t even remotely responsible for her misery. she gets better about not yelling when she lashes out (she mostly drops that by excalibur), but she still lashes out with mean / sour comments or gets very snappish and snarly.

authority. again, like logan, she doesn’t always take kindly to authority. granted, she does tend to like her teachers and likes to receive praise from them, but she will also yell at the authority figures in her life without batting an eye. she will also go against their wishes, too, like facing threats on her own to prove she belongs on the x-men main team instead of the new mutants.

colour palate. she loves colours, mostly jewel tones and saturated colours. blues and hot pinks and creams. when she wears her cream sweaters, however, she’ll accent it with colours like red elsewhere. while she used to wear the most eye-catching bedazzled outfits, she’s mainly toned it back to a bright splash of colour in her outfit, usually her shirt. her clothes also favour comfort over style and attraction, and the one time she tries skinny jeans she hates them.

computing. she’s a computing genius and sometimes jokingly calls herself the goddess of computers, with every right. she especially excels at hardware, and can make a stunning array of gadgets, including a handheld non-telepathic cerebro. she can also programme, however, one of her best friends, doug ramsey, a mutant gifted with an ability in language (including machine languages), he could often take her most mediocre efforts and make it work amazingly well and, often, handled a lot of the code and programming. they did work together and she learned a lot from him.... but she also relied on him a lot, too, and so when it comes to software and programming, she’s not as strong as her evo counterpart for it.

confidence. in the toilet. again, because she has little contact with kids her age and looks down on those her age, kitty pryde tends to crush on older people who are out of her league age-wise. they don’t really pay attention to her, at least, not in a romantic way (as it should be), but she tends to take this as rejection of who she is. her roommates, illyana and rachel, too, are very good looking and tend to get a lot of attention that she doesn’t, and so kitty goes through her younger years believing she’s not very attractive. she’s also incredibly self-critical and just. doesn’t have much self-confidence outside of her ability to beat people up.

cussing. she doesn’t outright cuss, but instead uses words like flamin’ and devil. it doesn’t sound bad nowadays, but i’d say it’s like the equivalent of crap, and she’s constantly reprimanded for her inappropriate language when she uses these terms.

demeanour. when she first arrives to the x-men, she’s bubbly and cheerful, if a little introverted. by the time excalibur rolls around, she’s travelled to space, across galaxies, faced gods and aliens and her worst fears ten times over. excalibur forms, in large part, because the x-men are dead. she also has no real way of dealing with and working through all the trauma. as such, she’s more serious when excalibur rolls around or, at least, knows when to get serious. she’s still quippy but more measured and, again, she has a short fuse, a problem that’s only exacerbated by sharing a small living space with the whole the excalibur team.

music taste. kitty absolutely had her boy-band phase, and loved dazzler (sidenote, it’s because of dazzler she wanted to wear the roller skates in her first costume) however, by excalibur, she’s refining her taste. she still likes music she can dance to, however, her favourite band, cat’s laughing, is one whose lead singer is also kitty’s favourite writer. it’s more refined, with good lyrics and writing. think kind of like hozier lyrics but with more of a danceable beat. she also likes big band music and jazz from her dancing days, music that’s old for her even then. the key is danceability, though.

personal style. while she absolutely detests “preppies”, kitty pryde dresses like one when she leaves the house, with collared shirts under sweaters and full on suits being things she wears out. often, she’ll pair her outfit with her black leather jacket, a prized possession, which often lends a bit of toughness to her otherwise preppy look.

at home, it’s usually it’s loose sweaters / shirts and leggings with her hair restrained in a ponytail, especially when she’s working on something. she also wears glasses when tinkering. as mentioned above, she always has a splash of colour somewhere, which applies to at home as equally as going out.

because this is the 80s-90s, when she dresses up (and even her costume), the outfit usually features poofy sleeves and/or very pointed and defined shoulder pads.

relationships. as colossus and pete wisdom are not canon here, she hasn’t had a canon relationship, which also feeds into her insecurities and low self-confidence. again, because she tends to have eyes for older guys and gals, relationships rarely pan out for her. occasionally, however, someone her age catches her interest (in canon, part of her loved doug ramsey, for instance, because although he was her age, he, no pun intended, spoke her language) but, usually, she needs to be forced to see people her age. like with larry, she was told by a teacher to dance with him at a school dance and only then did she find out he was pretty nice (that ended badly but the Concept applies).

teamwork. kitty tends to do her own thing. she can and does operate as part of a team, but she doesn’t always coordinate well with them. she definitely starts out as more of a team player because she’s not equipped to handle situations on her own, and because she’s scared, but as she receives more training and her confidence in her abilities increases, she often thinks she can handle it on her own and grows more self-reliant. it makes her more capable and better at devising plans, but sometimes it means she bites off more than she can chew. as well, if she thinks she has something to prove, she’ll try and tough it out alone.

training. she’s been possessed trained into a killer ninja by a master with a bone to pick with wolverine in a very traumatic milestone. she hates to think about it, but the training did remain even when the “demon” did not. she’s incredibly deadly, though she still hasn’t added the swords to her repertoire. also, during the events of excalibur, her default state is to be phased, making her extremely difficult to target (barring her powers malfunctioning for whatever reason).

𝙴𝚅𝙾𝙻𝚄𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽:

academics. kitty is taking advanced and college level classes and graduates a year early, however, unlike her excalibur counterpart, she’s not so far beyond her peers that she never sees or interacts with them. at most she’s a year or two younger than those in her class and, in this verse, all of the x-men are teenagers meaning she spends a lot more time with people her age and is generally more social and more sociable.

aggression. again, she’s got more social skills. this translates to an increased understanding of those around her and her first tactic is to try to mediate and preserve social cohesion. like her counterpart, she can and will stand up and say something if needed, and she will get into fights if needed, but it’s usually to protect a friend rather than herself and when there are no other routes for compromise (like when duncan takes away scott’s glasses and tries to get him kicked out of school, she shows up ready to brawl but, also, when duncan and his pals leave, she lets them, without pushing for a fight).

while sometimes sarcastic, she’s also less sharp with her sarcasm. for her, it’s less about hurting the other person and more about highlighting the situation whereas, in excalibur, her words hit much harder. part of this, i think, is her social cohesion with her team; she’s more mindful of how her words can hurt and, therefore, doesn’t throw them around as quick or to be mean. she also knows how to contain her anger better; she may be annoyed and grumbly, but she won’t be yelling at someone who isn’t responsible, only maybe venting if they’re willing to lend a listening ear.

authority. again, like her excalibur counterpart, she thrives on praise from her teachers and authority figures in her life. unlike her excalibur counterpart, she’s much less likely to go against them and usually only does when it’s a friend on the line.

colour palate. kitty also favours colours here, but she wears a lot of pastels that her excalibur counterpart doesn’t really. pastel pink, sherbert orange, pale lavender. she does also wear some jewel tones (green, burgundy and purple), but her go-tos are the pastels.

computing. she favours software to hardware, unlike her excalibur counterpart. she has no doug ramsey to help in this show, so she has to develop and write her software on her own. hardware-wise she’s not inept, training with the x-men gives her a strong base with it, but it’s not something she nurtures. because she grows up in a more typical school setting, she still wants to have a sort of normal life, and working on hardware just isn’t it. software is easier and, as she takes a computer class, she also meets people who are into it and she can connect to over the interest, namely in risty (mystique in disguise, but obviously she doesn’t know that) and arcade (yes, that arcade, though the show changed him considerably).

confidence. because kitty tends to like guys (yes, guys, i’ll get into the heteronormativity piece in the relationships section, but that’s deliberate wording here) her own age and they’ve liked her back and she doesn’t have the same superiority complex (resulting in looking to older people outside her league and facing their rejection), kitty in evo has way more confidence than her comic counterpart. of course, like any high school girl she has things she hates and she does find flaws in the mirror but, on the whole, she doesn’t feel ugly or less than compared to the other x-men the same way her comic counterpart does. (if she does feel inept next to them, it’s mainly due to her inexperience, though that inspires her to do better and eventually goes away as she gets more settled into the life of being an x-man).

cussing. no cussing. heckin is about as bad as she gets. granted, as she grows up she starts cursing more but, during her years in canon her language is pretty tame. because this is the 90s / early 00s, she does say lame a lot which, while not a cuss word, isn’t good to say, but for different reasons (ableist and rude), but that’s a different thing.

demeanour. she hasn’t quite had the same level of traumatic experiences as her excalibur counterpart and, moreover, they’re way more spaced out than they are in the comics so she’s pretty bubbly and upbeat throughout most of high school. this changes a bit with the emergence of mutants and when the world hates them, she’ll sometimes get down about it, but, on the whole, her world tends to look up. like her excalibur counterpart, things do eventually take a turn for the dark and in future verses she’s more measured and has lost some of this shine, but she definitely is upbeat for longer.

music taste. very, very pop heavy. boy bands, britney spears, taylor swift, katy perry etc. she’s not a jus.tin bie.ber fan but that’s about it in terms of restrictions. as she gets older she branches out more, including into electroswing, but she’s more of a pop girl at heart.

personal style. again, she tends to dress “preppier”, but 90s/00s style: so a collared shirt except it shows her midriff or capris and a cardigan but the shirt under her cardigan shows her midriff. lots of midriff outfits (even her school dance dress was two pieces and showed some stomach) and collars (her costume even has like that business shirt collar thing going on). she tends to favour comfort, too, but also pairs it with some style (like, platform sandals: comfy but also very in). also plastic jewellery, chokers, etc.

relationships. as she goes to school and has a lot of contact with her peers, she actually crushes on and dates people her own age in this show (and we love to see it). granted, she kind of lets a lot of things slide in her first relationship that aren’t cool, something which informs her relationships going forward (in that, she realises they weren’t okay and isn’t going to take it in future ones), and her first relationship is very, no pun intended, rocky, with break ups and get togethers galore but.....it’s with someone her own age which, have i said how much we love to see it? because kitty is in school in the 90s/00s, and felt the pressure to try and fit in for longer, she absolutely internalised some heteronormativity (in the comics, too, but she sheds that faster after leaving school so young and joining the x-men), and, while she looks at women, it’s very much in a “wow i love that outfit on her” or “wow how’d she get to look so pretty, i gotta ask for tips” way, and it takes her time to connect this to an interest in women, too so, generally, for her canon / high school years, she only really looks to guys/male presenting peers in a romantic way (or, that she connects to as romantic).

teamwork. finally, she’s better about working in a team here, too. partially because she doesn’t have the skills to be completely on her own (no ninja training til post canon) and partially because her team is all the same age and her friends both at school and at home, she’s more used to looking to them for support, especially scott. something happens and her first instinct is to go to him and get his take on it. sometimes she’ll still act on her own but, barring a time crunch or someone really instantly in danger, she favours waiting for the team.

#tbt .#long post /#thought i'd sit down & finally compare & contrast .#evo kitty is more happy go lucky & more of a kid for sure .#exc kitty grows up faster & wasn't ever a normal kid to begin with . & that's really affected her in noticeable ways .#you can really see it in the issues she goes to the girl's school in excalibur . like she's very different from her peers & isn't good #with connecting w them ( unless it's her fist to their face ) . & same w the new mutants .#it's a mission & a need to get something done that brings her together w her peers & while that bond works & makes them friends .#w/o it . she has no common ground . unlike evo kitty who is an expert at finding common ground & is friends w people in her classes .#& helps even throw a party & is very social in general .#ANYWAYS .#death ment /#ask to tag /

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yangholic · 5 years

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I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus | Oneshot

christmas au— tooth-ache inducing fluff

wordcount— 4,479

pairing— kim seokjin x single parent!reader

a/n: this oneshot is part of a collaboration with @chimchimsauce for her 12 Days of Christmas advent!

Motherhood was one of the best things to have ever happened to you. Your daughter was the light of your life; your reason to keep going every morning. When you found out you were pregnant with Daeun, you had expected her father to stay. You two were young, dumb and supposedly madly in love. But the moment you broke the news to your ex, he split and was never heard from again. It was hard raising Daeun on your own, especially in a society that stigmatized single parents, but you did it all for her. Daeun truly was the light at the end of your tunnel. She reminded you of yourself— instead of watching YouTube on a sparkly new iPad like all the other girl and boys her age, Daeun found enjoyment in playing with your old toy kitchen playset. While other children wore brand new clothes toting this year’s most popular superhero or princess, Daeun learned the concept of ‘vintage’, which was code for hand-me-downs. Your daughter never cared that money was tight, which meant that she couldn’t always get what she wanted, because her heart was always set on one irreplaceable thing that money could never buy— that missing puzzle piece in her small family of two.

Today, Daeun had decided to wear rainbow leggings, a brown skirt— despite it being the middle of winter— and a fuzzy pink sweater. Her sense of style was honest to god horrible, reminding you of your college buddy’s obsession with mismatched Gucci pieces that were both gaudy, yet somehow tasteful. Smiling to yourself, you scrolled through your phone waiting to pass the time while Daeun scuttled about at her toy kitchen. And just like clockwork, as soon as your digital clock hit noon, there was a knock at your door and your daughter rushed to answer. “Daeun,” you shouted from the sofa, grabbing her attention, “What do you say when there’s a stranger at the door?” She gave you a puzzled look, a tiny smile plastered on her cherubic face. “But it’s just Jin, mama, and he’s your best friend!” A muffled giggle, which belonged to none other than Kim Seokjin, wafted through the door. “Who is it?” Daeun’s tiny, unassertive voice inquired. A low, baritone voice replied curtly, “Min Yoongi.”

Wide-eyed with fear, Daeun glanced at you over her shoulder. She did not know this person named Min Yoongi, who, in reality, was just Jin pretending to be his grumpy coworker. Seokjin’s prank had clearly caught her off guard because she looked like she was about to burst into tears. Seokjin could sense her discomfort from the other side of the wooden barrier and he was quick to rectify his mistake, “Daeun, it’s just me. It was a joke, I’m sorry!” The girl was beside herself with both fear and anxiety— two feelings both so new to her at the ripe young age of six. She was scared that there really was a strange man at the door, and worried because she had almost let him in. “Oh honey,” you cooed, pushing off the sofa and scooping your daughter into your arms. “It’s okay, don’t cry.” With one hand, you skillfully unlocked and opened the door, waving Jin into your abode. “See? It’s just Jin!” Daeun’s tearful frown morphed into a bright smile when she saw the blonde man before her. She wiggled out of your hold, muttering something about ‘not being a baby anymore’, and clung onto Jin’s legs, effectively trapping him in the doorway, slushy winter boots and all.

It was endearing to see your daughter so comfortable with another man. In fact, besides your dad, Kim Seokjin was the closest thing Daeun had to a father figure in her life. She loved him— always telling you she wanted to marry Jin when she got older. And Seokjin, being the kind-hearted man that he was, would play along with her childish daydreams. Unbeknownst to Daeun, both you and Jin had decided to not disclose your romantic relationship to your then four-year-old daughter, due to not wanting her to get too attached. It was for the best, although hiding a big part of yourselves from your daughter was painful. There were moments when you both believed Daeun noticed the stray caresses or longing looks shared between the two of you, but in her childlike wonder, she continued to call Jin your ‘best friend’. The fact that she was so comfortable around Seokjin made your nervous; how would she respond when you decided to disclose your relationship with him? Would she be hurt that it had been kept a secret? Or thrilled at the aspect of her mom having a boyfriend?

“Daeunie, I thought you were mad at me,” Jin said as he removed his winter gear. He jokingly wrapped his scarf around the small girl’s head, covering her like a mummy. “No!” Daeun fumbled with the woolen fabric until she had made a small face hole for herself, “I just thought you were a bad guy and I was scared that- that mama would be mad for letting him in…” Now free of the confining garb, Seokjin kneeled down to level himself with your daughter. “Daeunie, sweetie,” he began, “You are a very smart girl, someone who’s brave and fearless. I just surprised you by playing a mean prank, and I’m sorry.” The blonde smoothed your daughter’s hair down and pressed his cheek to her head affectionately. “Forgive me,” Jin said, his plush lips peeling into a sorry smile. “Pretty please?” Daeun pulled back from Seokjin’s warm embrace, giving the man a skeptical look. “Hmmm,” the master manipulator feigned disinterest, causing Jin to fluster considerably. “I’ll give you three piggyback rides!” Daeun remained stone-faced. “I’ll convince your mother to give you ice cream for dinner!”

“Seokjin,” you warned, eyes pointedly glaring at him.

“Okay, maybe not,” he replied with a sheepish grin. Suddenly, Daeun clapped her hands together as she hopped up and down, “A makeover!” Jin acquiesced quickly, seemingly under the presumption that he would be giving the makeover. The young girl ran off towards your bedroom in search of beauty items, granting you and your boyfriend a few scant minutes alone. “So,” you muse, striding over and wrapping yourself around his broad chest. “When is Santa going to pay us a visit?” Seokjin had agreed to play ‘Santa’ for Daeun this year, due to her growing skepticism about the mythical Saint Nicholas. He hummed contemplatively, probably formulating one of his dirty dad jokes. “Depends, have you been naughty?” Jin’s hand began to wander down your sides, before settling on your hips, his lithe fingers trailing just under the waist of your pants. Soft, supple lips enveloped yours in a passionate kiss—tongue and all— despite the fact that your six-year-old daughter was one room away. “Or nice,” he added somewhat breathlessly, palming the flesh of your bottom. You jerk away, trying your best not to laugh at his lascivious joke.

Jin continued the barrage of crude humor, “I know Santa’s got a big package just for you, Y/N.” You scoff at his poor attempt at comedy, “Oh God Jin, that was so cheesy.” Despite your nonchalant dismissal of his jokes, you both knew his puns were secretly your guilty pleasure. “C’mon, baby. I know Saint Nick’s got three ho’s, but you’re the only one I want to ride on my sleigh.” He broke into his characteristic windshield-wiper laughter, curling over himself as he slapped his knee. You joined him in his merriment, laughing so hard tears begin to form in the junctions of your eyes. Your daughter returned with arms full of makeup and hair products, bewilderment evident on her face. “What are you laughing at?” The two of you regained your composure before Seokjin sat down on a nearby ottoman. “Wanna hear the funny joke I told your mom?” You shudder, knowing his child-friendly jokes are even more cringe-inducing than his naughty ones. Daeun settles herself at Jin’s feet, looking up at him with her big doe eyes. The blonde clears his throat dramatically, “What happens if you eat too many Christmas decorations?”

“Uhhh,” Daeun scratches her head, then relents. “I dunno.”

“You get tinsel-itis!” Cue his maniacal laughing and Daeun’s bubbling giggle. Once their laughter quelled, your daughter remembers her initial purpose for her trip to your bedroom, and she gathers the items she dropped on the floor. “Jinnie, come here,” Daeun waves at the man blushing due to his bestowed nickname. He obliges and sits cross-legged before the six-year-old, ready to begin her makeover. Seokjin’s taken aback when she twists the tube of bright red lipstick and shoddily applies it to his lips. “Wha-”

Daeun interrupts him with a shush. “No talking during your makeover!” You shook your head, pleasantly surprised that your daughter could be so cunning. Jin, on the other hand looks like he’s about to pass out, his ‘beautiful skin’ being tarnished by the grubby hands of Daeun. And yet, he stays and lets her apply makeup haphazardly without a single complaint. Daeun truly did have Kim Seokjin wrapped around her tiny pinky finger.

•·················•·················•

Clad in matching a-line plaid red dresses, you and Daeun looked like the dictionary definition of ‘Family Holiday Card’. She wore white stockings and red mary janes, while you settled on simple black heels and candy cane earrings. Although you both had dressed up, something which Daeun loved to do, you could tell she was feeling perturbed. Usually, she was rambunctious like any other child her age, but today she was on the quieter side— more sullen and reserved than usual. Sitting you daughter on your lap, you begin to broach the subject carefully. “Daeun, baby… What’s bothering you?” She looked away, stubbornly refusing to answer. Unfortunately, her hard-headedness was one traits she inherited from your ex. “Nothing,” she pouted as she looked at her dangling legs. “Daeun, look at me,” you asserted, grabbing her attention immediately. The small girl looked at you, tears brimming in her eyes as she hiccuped her confession. “Mama… They’re so mean.”

“Who? Who is mean, sweetheart?”

“My classmates,” she explained between choked sobs, wet spots staining the crimson of her fancy dress. “They- They said Santa wasn’t real and they made fun of me for being a baby!” Your heart clenched for your daughter’s shattered innocence, but you knew this time would come soon enough— but not on the same day that Daeun was supposed to meet ‘Santa’. Wrapping your arms around her small frame, you cuddled her into your chest in an attempt to soothe her. “Daeun, just because they can’t see Santa doesn’t mean he’s not real,” you insist in an attempt to preserve her innocence. “In fact, I think he may be paying you a visit today to ask what you want for Christmas!” The pure, unfiltered joy that returned to your daughter’s eyes was indescribable; Daeun was mature in a sense— she valued the little things in life, even more so than most people your own age.

“Is he really coming, mama?”

You nodded with a wide grin, “I promise! Mr. Santa heard you were a very good girl this year.”

Daeun responded with a small gasp, tiny hands covering her mouth in shock. “And I can ask for anything?” Again, you nodded in agreement. The past few years, Daeun only asked for one or two things, but this year Seokjin agreed to help with funds for a bigger, better Christmas gift for your daughter. You knew she had been eyeing the latest Hatchimal that most of her friends had, and you’d do everything in your power to give her the one thing that she wanted. “But no pets, okay Daeunie? I already told Santa that our apartment doesn’t allow pets!” She let out a soft ‘aw’ in defeat before jumping off your lap and grabbing a cookie off a nearby plate. Just as she was going for a second, the front door creaked open followed by a ridiculously handsome Santa Claus walking in. Due to forgoing the potbelly, Jin looked like a younger version of Kris Kringle— if he were a model.

“Ho Ho Ho! Merry Christmas, Miss Daeun!” Said girl sprinted towards the man in red, eyes wide with excitement. “Santa! You’re real!” Seokjin, in his most believable rendition of a Santa voice, chuckled, “Of course I am, I came to visit a very special girl today.” Your daughter tugged Santa towards the plate of cookies she had laid out for him, “I made you sugar cookies with lots of sprinkles!” Seokjin grabbed a cookie and bit into it, overacting every single mannerism, although Daeun seemed to not notice. After settling into the nearby armchair, ‘Santa’ patted his lap signaling Daeun to sit. “Miss Daeun, someone told me that you were a really good girl this year! All A’s in every subject?” She nodded with a proud smile, her cheeks flushed from the praise. “Yup! Mama says I’m a smart girl!”

“Well then, I certainly think you earned the right to anything you want this Christmas, Daeun,” ‘Santa’ said as he patted her shoulder. Your daughter sat contemplatively on your boyfriend’s knee, her eyes following something unseen. “I want- Well- It’s a secret, okay Santa?” Jin nodded, the fluffy white beard bouncing as he did so. Daeun leaned into him, her hand cupping around his ear so as to hide her words. You studied Jin’s expression, gauging his reaction. Much to your surprise, his eyes widened into saucers almost as large as the wire-framed glasses he wore. “O-Oh, Daeun, that’s a lot to ask for,” Seokjin stuttered as he gawked at you. He recovered quickly, though, continuing with more positivity, “But I’ll do anything to make sure your wish comes true.” It was as if Jin was speaking to Daeun as himself rather than ‘Santa’, which made your heart melt. The young girl cheered giddily, wrapping her arms around the suited man. You took a photo, capturing the tender moment on film— it was times like these where you felt the overwhelming love you had for both your daughter and Kim Seokjin.

“Well, Miss Daeun,” Jin exclaimed, rubbing his back mockingly. “This old man has to go see other good little boys and girls.” Your daughter gave the jolly man in red one last hug before sprinting off to her room, most likely to play with her dolls before bedtime. Making sure the coast was clear, Seokjin removed his beard, wig and hat, sighing at his release from the torturous devices. Silently, he pulled you into his torso, breath ghosting on the crown of your head.

“Thank you for doing this,” you murmur against his chest, the sinewy pectoral muscles softened by the fake white trim of Santa’s coat. “I know it’s not easy dating someone with a child.” Seokjin inhaled sharply, a hand coming to card through his hair. “About that,” he said, voice cracking slightly. “She- She told me what she wanted for Christmas and I don’t know if I can fulfill her wish…” You peer up at the blonde man before you and study his face; his eyes were searching somewhere far beyond you— as if he were looking a thousand miles away. “She said,” he began, choking on his words once more, “She said she wanted a dad.”

“A dad?” You repeated, simultaneously perplexed and awestruck. Your sweet, darling Daeun had never once mentioned such a sentiment. Any other single parent might feel a numbing inadequacy that their single-parent household was not enough for their child, but you— you felt happy. Perhaps this was your daughter’s way of telling you she had accepted Seokjin and was comfortable enough with him being a permanent presence in her life. After mulling this fact over for a few seconds, you glanced back up at your boyfriend, only to see his rich brown eyes brimming with tears. “It’s time we tell her,” he sighed, a smile peeling at the corner of his lips. “Daeun should know her mom has found someone that can make her Christmas wish come true.” The Santa hat he once held now lay in a pool of discarded items, as you two engaged in a kiss full of passion and promise; a promise of love, a promise of a happy family. As you and Seokjin stood entwined in one another’s embrace, your daughter peeked her head into the living room, excited to show you her styled doll, only to see someone who looks vaguely like Santa Claus kissing you, her mother.

•·················•·················•

“Smile,” the waiter exclaimed as the flash of Jin’s cell phone nearly blinded the three of you. Daeun blinked, scrunching her nose in discomfort. Seokjin sighed dramatically as he looked at the picture, his hands ruffling his hair. “Aigoo, I look so old! Is that a wrinkle on my forehead? Y/N, we need to retake it.” The blonde raised his hand, ready to flag down another server, but you stopped him. “Jin, you look way younger than 27. Plus, the restaurant is swamped tonight, so please just let it go.” Framing his face with a thumb and index finger, Jin cockily wiggled an eyebrow. “Do you promise I’m the most handsome man in the world?” You knew the man was just fishing for compliments, but nevertheless, Seokjin’s cheekiness never ceased to amaze you. “I hope you go bald, Kim Seokjin.”

While Jin sulked over your joke, Daeun busied herself by doodling in a sketchpad. You recognized yourself— partially due to the red and white triangle dress somewhat resembling your own. Next to you was a smaller stick figure, presumably Daeun herself. There was one last stick person: a bald man with crude red bowtie. Gesturing at the unfamiliar figure, you ask your daughter who she supposedly drew. “Who’s this, honey?” Daeun scoffed as if it was obvious who the mystery person was and points her red crayon across the table, “mama, it’s Jinnie of course. Look at his bow!”

Seokjin leaned across the table, handing your daughter a paraffin stick titled ‘unmellow yellow’. “But why didn’t you use this color for my hair?” Daeun tilts her head innocently, eyes wide with confusion. “Mom said you were gonna be bald…” You nearly choke on your water as you try to stifle the laughter that threatened to ruin the ambiance of your dinner. Seokjin looked dumbfounded, and you were sure the man was about to give himself a heart attack. Patting your daughter on the back, you praised her work and gently steered the conversation away from Seokjin’s impending baldness towards a more serious topic.

“Daeunie,” you said, rubbing your hand over the expanse of her back. “Jin and I have something very important to tell you, okay? Please put your crayons down and listen to us, and then you can go back to drawing.” She nodded, giving both of you her undivided attention. “First, honey, I want you to know that if anything we say makes you upset, then let us know and we’ll stop,” you inhaled sharply, making eye contact with Seokjin, who nodded in encouragement, before continuing, “You know it’s always been just us two for the longest time, and I couldn’t ask for anything more. Having you was the greatest thing to ever happen to me, and I’m glad you’re my little girl.” You planted a kiss on Daeun’s cheek, which she happily accepted. “But mama’s been hiding a really big secret from you, and she wants you to know tonight because it’s a special day.”

Your daughter flashed a toothy grin, “Because it’s almost Christmas!”

“You’re right, sweetie. Because it’s Christmas Eve.” Reaching across the table, you laced your fingers with Seokjin’s— displaying a subtle, yet succinct level of intimacy. “I wanted to tell you that Jin and I are a bit more than ‘best friends’. Actually, we like each other very, very much. We’ve liked each other for a very long time, and he makes me happy.” Seokjin continued where you left off, and his hand trembling slightly as he addressed your daughter. “I like your mom a lot, Daeun. She’s a very special woman, and I want to be in her life— and your life— for a long time. I know that initially, you may not feel comfortable with me being around all the time, and that’s okay. I will do whatever it takes for you to feel secure. Your happiness matters to me too, because I’ve always thought of you as a… daughter,” the last few words catch in Jin’s throat. What he said clearly impacted him because his eyes were brimming with unshed tears. He feared rejection— not just by others, but by the most important person in your life. The last thing Kim Seokjin wanted was to encroach on Daeun’s comfortable, stable life with you.

Daeun was reactionless. It worried you slightly, but, in all honesty, no reaction was better than a tantrum. After a heavy bought of silence, it appeared that Daeun had finally processed the bombshell you’d dropped on her. A pair of unsure eyes stared at you apprehensively, “So… does that mean I have a daddy now?” You released Seokjin’s hand to instead cup your daughter’s face, brushing down any fly-away hairs. “He doesn’t have to be if you don’t want him to. I know this is a lot for you to process, and we’re not expecting an answer from you right this minute.”

Suddenly, your daughter’s bottom lip puckered, followed by the sound of a soft whimper. Trying to prevent her from crying, Seokjin reached across the table and offered his hand. “Why don’t we talk about this outside?” Although she initially looked surprised, Daeun reluctantly agreed, before attempting to zip her coat up to no avail. Once again displaying the utmost patience, Jin knelt down to help with the zipper. Once the two found themselves in the crisp, winter air, Daeun immediately scooped up a measly amount of snow and chucked it at Jin. “Hey, that was rude. Just bec-”

“Mama belongs to Santa!” Daeun crossed her arms over her chest, angered, yet somehow still adorable. “I saw her giving him a kiss! So that means she doesn’t like you. Please don’t lie to me…” Combing through his hair, Seokjin tried to conjure a reasonable explanation for the actions your daughter had witnessed. Fat tears rolled down Daeun’s cheeks, threatening to freeze her eyelashes. “I ju-just want a dad to take me to d-daddy daughter dan-dances,” she hiccuped. “I ge-et made fun of cuz I don’t h-have anyone but m-m-mama.” Seokjin’s heart nearly broke at the sight of your daughter so overcome with emotions over wanting a father figure. He didn’t know if it was too direct, but his instincts had him scooping Daeun into his arms. He stroked her hair, effectively soothing her sobs into small sniffles. “Daeun, I’m sorry if we made you think that we lied to you, but your mother and I really do love each other. I was the one who actually dressed up as Santa,” Jin explained. He felt bad for ruining the illusion of jolly Saint. Nick, but assuaging Daeun’s worries were more important. “Santa was supposed to come, but he got sick, and we didn’t want you to be sad, so I borrowed his coat and hat!” That explanation seemed to pacify her, and soon she was back to playing with the freshly fallen snow, crafting another snowball from the fresh powder before lobbing it at his legs. “Can we play like this every Christmas, Jinnie?” Seokjin dipped his hand into an unbroken mound of snow and retaliated, missing Daeun by a long-shot. “Of course we can, Daeun. Nothing would make me happier.”

•·················•·················•

The years went by, and the three of you continued the same Christmas Eve tradition: go out to eat dinner, followed by Jin and Daeun’s infamous snowball fight. Each year that Daeun grew closer to becoming a young adult, she would ditch more of her old values. Unfortunately, that meant Santa was no longer of importance to Daeun. Her affinity for vintage clothes changed to favor of more stylish apparel, and asking for Barbie dolls soon became asking for a cellphone. Because of her transition into early-adulthood, both you and Seokjin worried that Daeun would outgrow the childish tradition in favor of hanging out with her pre-teen friends. But every year, she would have to practically drag Jin outside to play, stating that ‘the cold will keep his face firm’.

This year, Daeun had hinted that she had a special gift for your fiancé, although she never gave you more than a few vague clues. As your small, unconventional family huddled around the Christmas tree, you noticed Daeun nervously fiddling with a red envelope in her lap— as the number of gifts slowly dwindled, the more fidgety she became. Finally, after the last present had been distributed, Daeun stood and cleared her throat. “This last gift is for you, Jin. I know you promised to grant me this wish 8 years ago, but I think it’s only right for me to be the one to let you know that I’m ready.” She handed Seokjin the envelope, and both you and your daughter studied his reaction as he opened it carefully.

“Dear Jin,

Thank you for being there for my mom when no one else was. You treat her so well, and I am grateful for that. When I think of ‘true love’ I think of the relationship you two share, and I want to find the same type of romance when I grow older (also, don’t worry, I won’t date until I’m at least a sophomore in high school). I’d also like to thank you for being there for me. You always supported me in school and in life. I’ll always remember you being patient with people who questioned if you were my biological father whenever you’d take me places, or the times when we dressed up as twins for father-daughter dances. Thank you for taking care of me and showing me that a real father doesn’t need to carry the same DNA, but instead should carry the same overwhelming feeling of love.

Love,

Daeun.”

Jin sniffled, trying his best to suppress the tears that reddened his eyes. You wrapped your arm around Seokjin’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort him, knowing how overwhelming it must have felt to receive such a heartfelt letter. He clutched the note in his hands, scared it would disappear at any moment. Watching as your daughter reached behind her back to procure a long, flat parcel wrapped in festive paper, you felt Jin stiffen. “Open it,” Daeun insisted, placing the packet in his hands. Tentatively peeling away the layers of wrapping paper, Seokjin gasped when he saw the contents of the folder.

Adoption papers.

“Merry Christmas, Dad.”

#bts christmas #bts christmas au #kim seokjin christmas #kim seokjin christmas au #bts single parent au #kim seokjin single parent au #bts christmas fic

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