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mediumgayitalian · 6 months

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part one

———

Finding parking is, as expected, hard, largely in part because Michael wants to get them all killed.

“— yeah, that’s right, shitwad! Back off! We were here —”

“Will you please shut the fuck up,” Lee hisses, jamming the switch for Michael’s window. Unfortunately, Michael is sticking his fucking head out of it, so it won’t close.

“This fucking guy! This fucking guy thinks he can swoop up to our spot —”

“Motherfucker we’re in Wilmington, do you want to get fucking shot —”

“He can wait his godsdamn turn like everybody else! Hey, fucker —”

He succeeds, finally, in yanking his brother back in by the scruff of his neck and speeding away from the shitwad in question.

“I can’t believe you let him walk all over us!”

“If I end up with a bullet hole through my windshield, I am kicking your ass, Michael. I won’t need to worry about some trigger happy mortal taking you out. I’ll kill you.”

“Drama queen. Now we’re never gonna find a damn spot.”

They do, in fact, find a damn spot. Within forty-three seconds of Michael saying that, actually, Will points out not just a parking spot but a pull-through, which Lee takes, smirking. Michael aims a kick for his knee.

“Go help Will unbuckle, you bitter bitch. I gotta grab something.”

Ignoring both Michael’s grumbling and Will’s insistence that he can unbuckle himself, thank you very much, Lee jogs over to the trunk. He grabs his and Michael’s bows, just in case, and carefully grabs the bundle of roses he bought from the stand across from his apartment. The stems are a little crushed, but the flowers all seem fine, full and bright, sunny yellow. Even the paper is relatively uncrinkled, folding delicately around the thorny leaves.

Michael nods when he sees them. “Nice.”

“Thanks.” Lee tosses him his bow, slinging his own over his back. It flickers with his quiver under the Mist, settling eventually to look like a small backpack. “Got ‘em this morning.”

“Can I hold them?” Will asks.

“Sure, kiddo.”

He lays them gently in his arms, the same way Cass has taught him to bundle herbs and plants when they gather for poultices. Every step is suddenly much more deliberate, avoiding potholes and cracks in the pavement so he doesn’t trip and crush them under his body. When he nearly walks in front of a car, not paying attention, Michael plants a hand on his head, guiding him around like a claw machine.

“Okay,” Lee says, holding open the door. “Let’s find Diana.”

The lobby is crowded. There are people everywhere — families, grandparents, and of course dozens of dancers, shining hair pieces glinting in the low lights, tutus and rhinestones peeking out of studio sweatsuits. Faces heavy with stage makeup bleed into each other. The building is abuzz with sound, chatter and laughter and shouting and twenty different songs playing at once. Lee can hardly believe they’re all fitting in the same building, and almost convinces himself it’s actually enchanted, smaller on the outside. He glances down when Will backs into him, flowers clutched tighter to his chest, and rests a firm hand on his shoulder. He hooks his finger around Michael’s hoodie, too, and for once he doesn’t complain.

“You see her?” he shouts over the noise. Or, well, Lee’s pretty sure that’s what he said. He shakes his head, anyway, and Michael scowls, standing uselessly on his tiptoes. Even if that didn’t put him just barely over most people’s shoulders, the throng of people is too thick to see much. People elbow and push each other around to meet up with family members, and groups of dancers do their best to practice their routines in what limited space is available. Lee has felt less claustrophobic in Times Square at Christmas.

In a stroke of brilliance, in his very humble opinion, he lets go of Will’s shoulder, puts both hands under his arms, and hauls him over his head, settling him on his shoulders.

“Keep an eye out,” he shouts.

Will grins, tugging on Lee’s hair with his free hand in confirmation.

One hand clamped over Will’s knees, the other still hooked on Michael’s hoodie, Lee starts to wade through the crowd. He can start to see, as he gets farther from the door, the entrance to the stage, the ticket stands, the coat check. Several banners hang temporarily from the ceiling and stick to doorways, welcoming them all to the Twenty-Sixth Annual Believe Dance Comp!, and a table laden with trophies sits proudly by the stage doors.

Sitting under one of the banners, Lee notices a group of girls of varying ages, all wearing the green and purple Stage Lights Dance Academy Cass sometimes wears. He guides them closer, scanning each stage makeup-ed face to try and find his sister, but stops short before he gets too close.

Two girls, sitting at the head of the group, mime twisting their hair, exaggeratedly anxious looks on their faces. The rest of the girls roar with laughter.

Lee feels something heavy settle in his stomach.

“You think anyone will come for her?” a younger girl asks, hushed so that Lee can barely hear her over the crowd.

One of the older girls snorts. “Are you kidding? The only way her mom will come is if there’s an open bar!”

Lee is reminded of the one and only time he’d fought a group of empousai. There’d been a trio of them a Central Park, on a field trip he’d gone on with his ninth grade class, surrounding one of the oak dryads. They’d crooned at her, tugging on her leafy hair and trailing clawed fingers down her handmade dress, calling out backhanded compliments. But Lee’s skin felt like it was crawling, he remembers, and the dryad had been tense, green tears building in her eyes. Every bleat of their laughter had grated his ears, and he’d snapped, eventually, ripping off his bow and picking them off one by one. The third one had seen him, chasing him away from his group, but he’d been so mad that he wasn’t even scared. The dryad hadn’t done anything. They got nothing from poking at her. They’d just done it to be cruel, because it was fun for them.

“I don’t even know why she has the gall to show up. She missed the final practice.”

“Miss Breanna likes her, that’s why,” one of the girls scoffs. “Of course she can skiff off practice and still compete. She thinks she’s so much better than us.”

Michael shifts forward. Lee throws out an arm to stop him, shooting him a warning look.

“You think anyone’ll take your side?” he murmurs.

“They’re talking about —!”

“I know, Michael.”

“They can’t talk about her like that!”

“I know, Michael.” He forces his jaw to unclench. “I know.”

“Yeah, well, favourite or not,” another dancer says wickedly, “her seats will be empty again. And she’ll walk out empty-handed and alone, like she always does.”

Most of the adults milling about the lobby hold flowers, like they do. Except unlike them, their bouquets are large, unlike them the stems are not crushed, unlike them they are wrapped in ribbons, in embroidered banners. One is, even, shaped as a ballet slipper, and Lee notices the oldest girl in the group, the one who made the joke about Cass’s mother, eyeing it, smirking.

He pictures Cass holding it next to all the other girls from her studio. With their big, normal families, their wide smiles, their fancy cameras, their beautiful, expensive bouquets. Pictures the smirks that will be sent her way, the whispers. They can’t — gods, what was he thinking?

“What time is it?” he asks.

Michael glances at his watch. “Quarter to.”

“Hm.”

In her frantic IM, yesterday, Diana had ordered them to be here by noon. From what little he knows about dance competitions, Cass’s performance will be sometime after that, nestled among the many. When exactly, he doesn’t know.

If they leave now, wagering, they could miss it. And that would be the worst thing of them all. But…

“Will,” he says, suddenly getting an idea. “C’mere.”

He reaches up and sets Will back on the ground, clutching his hand as he weaves through the crowd, beelining for the far corner. He stops at a sign with a little stick person on it, gently taking the flowers from Will’s hold and passing them back to Michael.

“Listen to me carefully.” He crouches to Will’s level, meeting his eyes. “Diana is — somewhere, in there, getting Cass ready. Michael and I can’t go in there. We need you to go in and act really confused.”

“That will be very easy, because I am confused,” Will protests. “Why do I have to go in there? I don’t even really know why we’re here!”

“Just — go in,” Lee insists. “Trust me. If I give you more instructions, it’ll ruin it.”

Huffing, Will goes.

“Brilliant,” Michael mutters. “Lose the kid and Diana. Great plan, Lee.”

“Come on, does no one trust me?”

“No one knows what you’re doing, dude! You hang around Carter for five minutes and suddenly you think you’re Mr. Plan Guy —”

Lee flushes. “That is not what this is about!”

“I am not missing this! I swear Lee, if we’re late —”

“We’re not gonna be late!”

“Why is it that every boy on Earth is actually stupid,” hisses a new voice. The change room door busts open, damn near cracking under the heel of a heavy boot, and Diana comes striding out behind it, Will perched on her hip. Her short dark hair sticks out in every which way, shoulders tense as a line, mouth twisted in a scowl. Immediately, Lee and Michael snap their mouths shut.

“Hey,” Will complains, pouting.

She adjusts her hold on him, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Not you, sweetpea. Only Thing One and Thing Two, over here.” She glares at them. “Why did I find him wandering around in the change room? I told you to wait for me in the lobby! I swear you two want to — ruin this!”

“Hey,” Lee says, flinching back. “You know we don’t, Diana. That’s not fair.”

She scrubs a hand down her face, sighing. “I know. I know. I’m sorry. It’s just —” She presses another kiss to Will’s cheek and sets him down, leaning on the doorframe. “It’s been a rough morning. She keeps trying to call her mom, and — well.”

Lee hates that those girls were right. He hates it. He hates that they’ve been right before, that Cass has walked off the stage, face blank, alone. Hearing their giggling, probably. Twisting her hair around her fingers as she tries to hold it together.

His jaw tightens.

Not this fucking time.

“What time is Cass on?” he asks

“…Her solo at one-thirty,” Diana says. “But —”

“Great.” Lee grabs each brother’s shoulder, pulling them back. “We won’t be late, Diana, I promise.”

“Wait! Lee — dude, what are you —”

“We’ll meet you inside! Save us seats!”

“Lee! Get back here!”

“Seats!” Lee calls, glancing back. He makes a vague gesture in return to her incredulous, spread-wide hands, trying to convey the Situation. “We won’t be late! Promise!”

“I’ll kill you if you are!” she relents. “Be fucking back on time!”

———

In hindsight, it would have been smarter to take the car.

For whatever reason, both Lee and Michael assumed there would be a flower stand just outside the theatre. Neither of them had seen one on the way in, but it made sense. If Lee had a flower business, he’d probably put it next to a theatre. Where else would you put it?

Regardless, there isn’t anything close across the street, or even on the whole block. Will sits on his shoulders again, because it’s easier than trying to guide him, and every so often he glances at the watch Beckendorf made him, calling out the time.

“Will,” Lee begs, veering around a street corner, “you are not helping.”

“I am so!” He checks his watch again. “Twenty-seven minutes ‘til Cass starts. That’s why we’re here, right? To watch Cass dance?”

“So long as we make it in time,” Michael stresses. “Shit, Lee, maybe we should just head back. The flowers we have are fine —”

“Cass deserves more than fine.”

Michael snaps his mouth shut. “I know that.”

Lee slumps. “I — know you know. Sorry.”

Their steps fall in synch, footsteps making level prints in the light dusting of snow. On occasion a passing car drowns them out, but for the most part the only sound is their breathing, and Will picking at his nails. The shifting of their jackets.

“You’ll never undo it, Lee.” The road cross button makes a heavy click noise under Michael’s fist. The countdown for the walking man is loud, four, three, two, one. Three of the little lights are broken, making it look like its chest is cracked open. “There’s some shit you just can’t fix.”

“I’m not trying to — fix her,” he argues weakly. “I’m just…”

He can’t push away the horrible ache in his chest. The rapidly expanding feeling, the sinking chasm of expecting and hoping and being disappointed. Of looking out into the crowd to find a familiar face and not finding one. Of hearing giggles as you walk past and clenching your teeth, knowing. It balloons, pushing out on his ribcage, forcing its way up his throat.

Michael stops, arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed. Lee stares at a spot at the air above his shoulder, swallowing roughly, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood.

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“You are, Lee. You think competing with those assholes is gonna — go back? Gonna magically bring her fucking — hell, bring Dad?”

Lee looks away. “Of course not.”

“We’re going to be there. That’s what matters, isn’t it? That’s what’s really important.”

“Oh, to hell with high horses, Michael. I’m fucking tired of — of pretending it’s okay!” He starts forward again, ignoring the twinge of pain in his skull when Will grips his hair, yelping at the sudden surge forward. Michael jogs to keep up. “It’s — fight these monsters, train these kids, lead your cabin. Ignore the fact that your dad couldn’t be assed to visit a few times a year, he’s an Olympian, after all, you understand. Well, I’m tired of it! I’m tired of —” he trips over a crack in the sidewalk, barely catching himself — “I’m tired of being so damn understanding!”

For a moment Michael says nothing. Lee’s breathing is heavy, shakey, and it takes effort to still the tremble in his hands.

“The girl,” Michael says eventually. “The prissy one, who sat closer to the door.”

“…What about her?”

“I just.” He chews at his bottom lip. “I’m not saying I disagree with you, dude, but you have issues, dude, and shit you need to work out. For real. Besides just —” he gestures broadly at the mostly empty street — “ranting into the air.” Slowly, a smirk spreads across his face. “It would be really, really funny to see her face if Cass walks out with a bouquet three times the size of hers, wouldn’t it.”

Lee matches his grin. “It would be.”

“Betcha she’d seethe.”

“Probably turn purple.”

They turn to each other, finally back in synch.

“Nineteen minutes,” Will pipes up.

Lee startles. He checks his own watch. “Oh, shit. Let’s go.”

———

part three

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god-has-entered-my-body · 5 months

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Caught up in Fashion - Matty Healy

A/N: something that isnt smut???? applaud me. Also #unedited if there are any errors no there arent

wc: 3.5k

content warnings: bit suggestive, mpind typical cursing, drugs (weed), kissing, matty gets handsy?, he's done way worse

The British public transport system has been an ongoing source of disappointment since the day you learned how to spell the word. Busses that acted like they didn't have places to be, coming too late or just not coming at all, leaving you stranded on the highway in the middle of some city you didn't know the name of, Matty at your side, whining and complaining and being totally unhelpful in general.

This time, however, you had struck gold. Both your buses had arrived on time, making you actually catch the next one and not forcing you to wait around for another, or god forbid, try your luck hitchhiking.

It was a bit loud, the sounds of families on their way to day trips or lunches filling the bus with noise, the occasional baby crying out for its parents. You were sitting at the window seat, your back to the glass as your legs draped across Matty’s, the soles of your shoes slightly blocking the way for other people, but seeing as the two of you were in the second to last row, it didn't actually bother anyone.

It was nearing summertime, the blazing sun making clothes stick to your skin and makeup melt off, no brand of setting spray managing to set it. Matty, instead of being a normal fucking person and wearing short, was clad in his signature black skinny jeans, the only flow of air coming from the giant hole on his left knee.

The two of you had finally found the time (and finances) to go shopping at a mall that had recently opened across the city. You were determined to get there, even if it did take you an hour and two bus connections, Matty insisted that he needed new clothes.

“I need some tops, seeing as you steal all of mine.” you comment, earning yourself a piercing look from Matty, an insult forming behind his lips.

“Fuck off, give me my joggers back and then we’ll talk” he gestures to the pants you were wearing which were, in fact, his. They sat perfectly on your hips, hanging low enough so even your longest tops looked cropped.

“I dare you to try and take them, fucking watch what happens” you threaten him, clutching your pants like he was going to rip them off your legs right then and there out of pure spite. “I look better in them anyway” adding that little comment only made him huff in reply, deliberately turning his head away when you try to give him an apology kiss.

“Fuck you do! I rock everything, especially when it's mine.” you roll your eyes at him, successfully planting a kiss onto his lips. The smile that spreads onto his face is impossible to hide, even if he denies it.

The bus finally comes to a screeching halt, the breaks to sound it makes you cover your ears at the high pitched noise. Matty giggles, his eyes creasing up as he laughs at your misfortune.

“At least I haven't gone deaf from having my music at 100 you knobhead.” he holds his hands up in defeat, pushing your legs off of him to get up, exiting the bus. You latch onto him from behind, letting him lead you over the gap between the door and the floor, catching you in his arms when you pretend to trip, performatively falling in slow motion. His hands grip onto your waist, setting you down onto the hot pavement.

“Smoke?” you nod, walking over to the bench under the bus stop’s roof, the plastic of the seat warm against the back of your thighs as you sit down, leaning against the Fanta advertisement behind you.

Matty pulls out his packet of cigarettes, taking out two and handing one of them to you. A smile spreads onto your face when you see him lighter, your initials decorating the side. He catches your look, running his fingertips over the slightly faded rhinestones and lighting your cigarette first.

You take out your ipod and headphones, gesturing for Matty to take one. Without asking, you put on ‘The Masterplan’ by oasis, quietly singing along to the lyrics as he nudges you in the arm.

“Your music taste is not a shit as it used to be.” he comments, looking almost proud of you. You click your tongue, leaning your head against his shoulder and taking a drag of the cigarette between your fingers. “Seems like you’ve terrorized me so much I finally gave in.” The smoke leaves your mouth as you speak, cheekily smiling up at his deadpan expression, obviously hoping for a different answer.

“Dramatic much?” you kiss his shoulder, playfully biting his arm making him jump at the feeling of your teeth digging into his skin.

“Ow??” you just laugh, collecting your hair and brushing it over your right shoulder, making your position a bit more comfortable.

The inside of the mall is air conditioned, a groan of relief leaving Matty’s lips as the cool air kisses his skin. You take a look around, eyes landing on a store down the giant hallway. Hollister. Matty turns to you and nods, booking it down the corridor in its direction. You hurry after him, his hand dragging you faster than you could keep up.

“It’s fucking massive.” he breaths, stopping right infront of the entrance. Racks filled with piles upon piles of clothes makes the little shopping addict in Matty twirl, completely forgetting the amount of money he had left the house with.

The two of you part ways, going into different sections and rifling through clothes, groaning when your eyes fall on the price tag. You see Matty coming towards you in the corner of your eye, holding something in his hands.

“You like?” he asks, holding a black, floor length floral skirt to his lower half, spinning around in a small circle. It flows around him, the multicolored flowers standing out against the jet black fabric nicely.

“It's cute, it makes you look a bit taller.” you admire him, obviously giddy from finding something he really liked that didn't have a two digit price tag. And it's true, it did make him look taller.

“Not that I need it.” he states, gesturing at his body, standing at a totally average 5’11 (6’ in boots). You decide to tease him a bit, loving watching his grin disappear as you speak.

“Oh you definitely do, you're like an oompa loompa who's managed to escape the chocolate factory.” his jaw drops in disbelief, almost looking genuinely offended.

“Fucking oompa loompa, maybe fix your contour before you come at me.” he shoots back, making a point to wipe at you face, some of the product coming off.

Your hands go to cover your face and you rush to a mirror, absolutely mortified. Upon taking a look at your reflection, you realize he was taking the piss out of you, and that your makeup looked perfectly fine, apart from your eyeliner being a tad smudged. It looked good, nonetheless

“I fucking hate you.” you spit at him, attempting to shove past him, his hands gripping your shoulders stopping you.

“But you believed me, didnt you?”

“Fuck off and die, I hope your scrote falls off.” you can't help but giggle at your own words, biting your lip between your teeth.

“Awwee, but who would keep you happy and satisfied then? Can't make you cum without my precious little friend.” he winks, wrangling his eyebrows at you. You cringe, your nose scrunching up in disgust.

“Don't ever refer to your dick as ‘precious little friend’ again, or I will leave you for George.” George would at least have the decency to not name his dick.

“He’d be a shite shag.” Matty says, matter of factly, like it helped his case. Deciding to try and rile him up in retaliation, you twirl your hair around your fingers, speaking in a dreamy voice.

“But look at the size of him, you know he’s packing at least twelve-” Matty cuts you off with a harsh kiss, both his hands cupping your cheeks. You let out a surprised noise, it getting swallowed up as he slips his tongue into your mouth, running it across your bottom lip.

“I do not want to speculate on the size of my best mate's cock, thanks.” you nod, slightly breathless from the kiss, too dazed to debate him further. You go back to the rack of clothes behind you and Matty walks over to a display of skimpy going-out tops.

“D'you like this on me?” you press a black and pink tube top to your chest, getting Matty’s attention. He takes his eyes over you, smirking as he notices the bottom of the shirt is completely sheer, only a black strip of fabric keeping you from flashing everyone.

“It's hot. You should try it on, give me a preview.” his fingers touch the bottom of the top, running his fingers over the pink mesh. It looks tight, too tight for a bra seeing as it could cling to your body if you decided to wear it.

“You’re such a boy.” you snigger, adding the top to your pile of yes’s.

“Can you blame me?” his arm wraps around your waist, fingers hovering over the curve of your arse, giving it a quick squeeze. You smack his hands away, cursing at him for basically groping you in a Hollister.

He smirks against your ear, attemüting to whisper into it before you shove him off, changing the subject by asking what he had decided to buy.

Matty holds up the skirt from earlier, bragging about how it was “Only nine quid, can you believe that??”

The second item he had picked out was a thin, long sleeved top in none other than leopard print. You giggle at him as he proudly shows it off to you, boasting about how sexy and delicious he would look in it, deliberately having taken a size or two too small.

You pay at the till, and Matty legs it to the changing stall, peeling off this shirt and putting on his new top, letting it ride up to show the low rise of his jeans. He actually looks quite good, even if he gives off ‘old hollywood hooker’ vibes with the top.

His hand intertwined with yours as you walk into a children's store for shits and giggles, looking through the vast catalog of toys and fake makeup.

Your eyes land on a matching pair of kids friendship bracelets, one pink, one blue. Matty asks you what you have, and you show it to him, begging him to wear them with you

“Its cute!” you argue, trusting the cheap pieces of plastic into his hands.

“Its tacky, does not fit my vibe at all.'' He tries to deny you, but the look on your face is too endearing to say no.

“You are the embodiment of the word, look at what you're wearing!” you point at his top, bursting out into a fit of laughter when he pops out a hip, standing with one hand resting on his waist.

“It's fashion.”

“That's one word for it.” you snigger as he reluctantly pays the 1.99 the bracelets cost. He slips his on first, the pink a stark contrast to the otherwise sandy and dark colors of his outfit. The blue bracelet fits perfectly around your own wrist, half of a heart connecting with the half on Matty’s via a cheap magnet.

“Look at us, defying gender roles.” Matty smirks at you, admiring both of your pieces of jewelry.

“Fighting the patriarchy! You did pay for me though, so not completely feminist." His laughter makes a fuzzy feeling spread through the body, an intense feeling of adoration making your heart pound in your chest. Fucking idiot.

The two of you wander around, stopping to window shop in a store you could dream of actually going in, knowing you’d be thrown out in under a minute. His eyes gleam as he sees a proper jewelry store, acting like a child on christmas morning as he flips through the piles of discount earrings at the back of the shop.

“You don't even have pierced ears mate, how’re you gonna wear them?” you snap him out of his little adventure, reminding him of his inability to actually wear the hoops he so desperately wanted to buy.

“I'll go get them pierced then, have Rome do it for me.” Rome was now working on opening an actual shop, finally graduating from piercing people on the beat up sofa in his living room.

“There's a piercing parlor literally there, and it's like five quid.” you gesture to the neon sign next to the till, pointing to a back room labeled ‘Sasha’s piercings’, which was a really shit name if she wanted to attract actual customers.

“Will you hold my hand?” he juts out his lip, pouting at you in a childish manner. Sasha, the only employee (surprise surprise), greets you with a warm smile, asking what you wanted to get done. Matty tells her he wants to get his ears pierced and coughs up the five quid, sitting down onto a red leather chair. It was when she pulled out a piercing gun that he started to look a bit nervous.

“Fuck no, that is not touching my ear.” he squirms away from the lady, a confused look on her face. Matty was a grown man, after all, even if he did act like a behaviorally stunted 8-year old.

“You're so pathetic it's actually quite sad.” you say, urging him to just get it over with, and that he was being a wanker making the employee wait.

“Usually I'd appreciate you calling me that, but genuine degradation isn't really my kink.”

The piercer looks mortified, asking you if you needed a bit of time before the piercing, and you nod, watching her step to the side.

“Its fucking gun.” he mutters under his breath, eyeing the device that set onto a steriel tray on the table next to where he was sitting

“A piercing gun.”

“It has the word gun in it.'' Obviously normal, adult reasoning isn't cutting it, so you went with the next best thing.

“Do it and I'll give you a blowjob.” Matty’s eyes light up at your proposition, a filthy smirk spreading onto his face.

“Fucking sold, go on then.” you're surprised it actually worked, scoffing in disbelief.

“Men are so simple.”

“Says the one who let me finger her in the bathroom of a club.” he shoots back, watching the blush creep onto your face as that night flashes behind your eyes. The smell of that bathroom is ingrained into your mind, no amount of wishing letting it leave your memory.

“Don’t fucking speak about that,” you huff, fucked off that he brought it up. It was genuinely embarrassing, the way you humped him on the dance floor and then dragged him off into a stall. “We were both so off our tits, I died for about 72 hours after.” you shudder at the monster hangover that left you immobile for the days following, having to get Matty to bring you all three meals for a concerning period of time.

“Sureee, just deny deny deny you loved it.” you finally call the poor girl over, hoping she didn't accidentally overhear your crude conversation. Matty whimpers slightly as she brings the gun to his ear, pressing down. Squeezing your hand so hard you were sure your blood flow was cut off, he winced before relaxing, realizing that he was, in fact, losing his mind over absolutely nothing.

The second ear takes a fraction of the amount of time the first ear did, Matty grinning like a maniac at the lack of pain apart from a small sting in his earlobe. You shake your head apologetically at the lady, knowing she was probably rethinking her place of employment.

“And you call me dramatic.” you snigger as she puts in two silver hoops, matty blatantly ignoring her recommendation to start with studs, saying they looked boring. He admires his new accessory in a small hand held mirror, flicking the earring back and forth before answering you. “It did actually hurt! Of course, I took it like the legend I am.” an exasperated sigh leaves your lips.

“Tosser, more like.” he smacks the side of your arm, laughing right along with you.

You had spent almost the entire day there, running around stores, trying on piles of clothes just for the fun of it, feeling like teenagers in an American film. But even you had your limits, and your stomach started to growl as the sky began welcoming traces of night, the sun slowly setting over the horizon.

Matty had spotted a chippy right across the road from the mall, draggin you there to get you something to eat. Both your wallets are almost empty, but you manage to find an old, crumple up fiver behind your expired school I.D. It was just enough to get one large portion of chips, the guy behind the counter generously adding a little extra when he noticed you’d be sharing it.

Your hand clasps his as you trudge up a small hill off the side of the highway, hoping there would be a nice spot to sit down somewhere, away from all the noise. Matty’s inner compass somehow always knew where to go, his intuition sensing it or something. It was weird, but you’d learned to just follow him, knowing it your be worth it in the end

And fuck, was it worth it this time. The hill slowly ended, the top of it nearing as you saw a pile of giant rocks, covered in graffiti. The sun was beautiful, hues of orange and purple painting the sky, clouds looking unreal in the light. He plopped down onto one of the rocks, facing west as you sat next to him, the box of chips on the ground between you.

Matty feels around in his pockets and you raise your eyebrows at him, wondering what he was doing. He grins as he pulls out a spliff from his jean pocket, presenting it proudly like it wasn't the most beat up joint you've ever seen in your life. Still, you were thankful, plucking it from between his fingers and lighting it for him.

“I think I might actually love you, mate.” you place the lit spliff between his lips, thanking his past self for remembering to bring weed, knowing you'll be craving it at the end of the day.

“Of course you do, and for the love of god, stop calling me mate. You’ve quite literally fucked me multiple times, maybe its time to drop it?” he huffs, inhaling the smoke deep into his lungs. His expression changes when he hands it back to you, visibly more relaxed.

“What else would I call you?” Matty scoffs at your question, listing weird, couple pet names off the top of his head.

“Baby, darling, the love of my life. Fucking anything that doesn’t make me feel like im talking to Ross.”

you take a drag, listening to his little rant, nodding along as he rambles. You cough a bit when the smoke hits your lungs the wrong way, your eyes watering.

“Fine, love it is.” you choose at random, only to make Matty stop ruining your high. Groaning, he pushes you, almost making you lose your balance on the rock you were sitting on.

“Love of my life.” he insists, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Sure Matty, whatever shuts you up.”

“I know plenty of ways you can shut me up.” he coos, grinning wildly as his fingers trail up your bare arm.

“God, I forgot you have the sex drive of a fucking bonobo.” you roll your eyes, putting on a display of faux annoyance. Matty giggles at your response, smacking his knee as his laughter grows louder.

“I meant kiss me, but if you wanna-” oh god, he knew you would interpret it as something inherently sexual, especially if it came out of his mouth. You had fallen right into his little trap, his infectious laughter making it hard to even oretend to be fucked off at him.

“Fuck off, giz a kiss.” you mutter, crashing your lips against his. His tongue licks into your mouth, biting down on your lower lip hard enough to draw blood. Matty moans into the kiss, his hand gripping the base of your neck as you make out in the orange glow of the sunset, only pulling away to take drags of the spliff, even attempting to shotgun one.

You fail miserably, too high to think straight, let alone get your mouths that close together without one of you kissing the other out of pure instinct. At some point, you move to the ground, laying flat on your back as the warm summer air kisses your skin.

Matty’s shoulder is against yours, your fingers interlocked between your bodies. Neither of you speaks, silently admiring the stars that littered the night sky, glimmering against the darkness of it. Crickets chirp in the distance as the cars become less and less noticeable, a veil of calm draping over the two of you.

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fanaticsnail · 11 months

Text

Swing - Part 1

This is another chapter of the Dance Series. Masterlist here.

Word Count: 3,910

Song Accompaniment Suggestions: 1, 2, 3

Video Dance Reference: 1, 2

Edit: leg extension lift reference here at 1:50

The lights resonating from the large vanity mirror blared a vibrant yellow light, illuminating the green room to the side of the red and white tent you had called home for the past year. After running away from home to hone your skills as an acrobat, you found a new family within the Buggy Pirates; under their infamous blue haired clown-captain.

“Hey, partner?” a voice called to you after pulling back the tent sheet to reveal his enthusiastic face.

You turned in your chair to fully look at him, a warm smile falling to your features in welcome.

“Yes, partner?” you asked him, quirking your head to the side at the title he’d given you; whilst returning it to him.

His smile teetered off to a warm smirk before he fully entered the green room and took in your form. You had just begun meticulously removing your stage makeup, swiping at your face with a dampened rag and soap solution. He reached down and claimed the material from within your hands and sat against the benchtop of the vanity, reaching over to wipe your face with the dampened cloth.

“Captain has given us a night off,” he said, wiping at your cheeks lightly; prompting you to scrunch your nose at him as he continued: “some old friend has come to see him, apparently. Real intimidating-type if you ask me.”

You hummed in response, allowing your acrobatic partner to continue to swab at your cheeks and eyes with the material to rid yourself of your thickened face paint; revealing your bare skin to the air.

“So,” you asked, closing your lips in as your partner brushed over your nose with the towel, mumbling: “what are we doing tonight?”

He chuckled at you before laying down the towel with a nod to his handiwork; “we’re planning on a little party; a celebration, if you will.”

You downturned your lips and nodded with your eyes wide in happy surprise. You glanced past your partner’s form to look over your face for more of the paint, arching your neck up to look beneath your chin for any missed skin.

“Alright,” you nodded, turning your eyes back to him, “give me a couple minutes to get out of this leotard,” you gestured down at your body; a solid, dazzling unitard with darkened rhinestones reaching from your neck down to your ankles clutching to every crevasse of your skin for free movement. Your acrobatic partner’s eyes followed your gaze as he nodded in agreement, you adding: “I’ll be out there shortly.”

“Get into something light,” he nodded over to your duffel bag of your regular attire, “I still want to throw you a little, if you would be up for it.”

You giggled at him, scrunching your nose up to display your playful expression: “absolutely, Jac. You want to try that leg extension? Really show off for the boss?”

He nodded profusely, reaching to take your hands within his own: “I want nothing more than to demonstrate all of your hard work. You’ve trained for a long while to manage that trick and I really want the Boss to see it.”

A giggle once again released itself from your chest and melodically lifted the air at your partner’s praise, prompting you to rise to your feet and release your hands from his grip.

“Our hard work, Jac,” you reiterated to your acrobatic partner, “you do as much work as I do as the base. You deserve more recognition than I do.”

He reprimanded you by raising his index finger to your nose and tapped it lightly, prompting you to close your eyes and scrunch up your nose against his playful discipline.

“Whatever the case may be,” he continued on, you reopening your eyes to gaze at him fondly, “we’re all going to be dancing tonight. I think Cabaji even said he wanted to give you a little twirl.”

You laughed at his comment, turning to push against the back of the wooden stool to slot it in to neatly fold itself beneath the desk of the lit vanity. Turning to meet with Jac again, you asked: “what style is on the agenda tonight? We just doing jigs like the good ol’ days, or something a bit more,” you reached up and caressed his cheek with a small giggle; “sensual?”

At this comment, the two of you broke into a loud uproar of laughter. Neither of you had harboured any feelings of anything more than comradery between you; small flirtatious touches here and there, more out of boredom than anything leading to something other than friendship. You had been working as a team for almost eight months, him being the perfect masculine balance and strength to your feminine energy with flexibility and fluidity through acrobatic expression.

“We’re opting for a bit of a mash-up tonight, I think,” he suggested, “might even try trios, if a few of us are keen on it.”

Your interest immediately became peaked, noting that several of the trapeze and juggling crew had wanted to explore the possibility of engaging in dance-like skills; being eager to learn new skills at your hands. The excitement that grew within your partner’s chest began to rhythmically pump its way within your own ribs in anticipation.

It had been a while since you both had the possibility to explore a night away from your duties as an acrobatic duo and join in with the whole crew in recreation. You knew that Jac had his eye on a particular minstrel and wanted to show off his skills with you in front of them, hopefully leading to something more exciting to pull him away from the crowd.

“Okay, okay!” you laughed at him, tapping his chest and ushering him out of the green room, “let me get into some loose clothes and I’ll be there in a hot minute.”

He skipped to his feet and made to exit the canvas flap of the red and white tent, only halting as you added; “make sure you get the right music sorted! I have to really feel the beat to get moving!”

He nodded before shrouding his body from view in his release of the tent-wall door. You laughed again before moving the lycra material from your shoulders and releasing the material from your arms; ushering the tightness from your body to pool at your feet.

Bored were the ever-watching, haunted yellow eyes of the sword-master; observing the troop of unhinged Buggy-Pirates dance with one another. He swirled a short-stemmed goblet between his index and middle fingers to oxidise the crimson liquid within. He released a disinterested sigh as he raised the goblet to his lips, taking a long sip of the wine; rolling the flavour over his pallet as he did so.

He lay reclining in the bleachers of the large circus tent, his great sword; Yoru lay beside him on the wooden bench. Raking his eyes through the crowd, he witnessed the colourful captain he had decided to pay visit to linking arms with several members of his crew and chortling gleefully as he spun with them.

The attention of Dracule Mihawk was drawn to an approaching figure with a warm smile as they singled out a member of the troop and began to effortlessly maneuver their body to playfully dance with them. He leaned forward, brows knitting together with interest and subtle curiosity. He could barely feel the shift of weight next to him as the clown-captain plopped himself down next to him on his lefthand side to witness the glee falling onto his crew.

“Something catch your hawk-eyes?” Buggy teased him, following with a loud roar of laughter at his own joke. Mihawk chose to not acknowledge him, completely transfixed by the figure he spotted as they danced with their partner.

Buggy teetered off his laughter, furrowing his brows before following the unblinking path of Mihawk’s undivided fascination. His breath hitched in his throat as he witnessed his two prized acrobats dancing so playfully together; several thrown aerial tricks being utilised throughout the exchange while continuing to lazily dance with each other for the slower moments.

“Ohh-,” Buggy sighed out in a drawn out breath, a large grin falling upon his face as he brought his gaze back to the swashbuckler next to him, “-I see you’ve found my acrobat.”

Mihawk glanced in the corner of his eye, narrowing them slightly at the captain before flickering them back to the couple who were laughing while continuing to spin around in the large ring of the red and white tent. Buggy chuckled and clapped his right hand upon Mihawk’s shoulder, shaking him a little at the impact.

“Well,” Buggy shrugged, bringing his face closer to the finely maintained cheek of the sword wielder, “you can’t have her. She’s my favourite.”

Mihawk immediately turned his posture towards the clown beside him, prompting Buggy to scuttle slightly back in his seat with widened eyes at the intensity of the yellow, hawk-like gaze.

“Oh, can’t I?” the sword master smirked with narrowed gaze at the clown, relishing in his discomfort at the proximity. Buggy shifted against the wooden bleacher he was sitting against, leaning back onto his hands as the sword wielder continued to stoop over his retreat.

“N-no, you can’t,” Buggy stuttered over his words, frowning deeply at the implication. He trailed his gaze back to the acrobats as they continued their playfully flirtatious dance with each other, prompting Mihawk to follow the clown’s gaze. They both watched as the two acrobats fell their bodies back to back with large smiles falling over their faces.

The woman that held their current fascination extended her right leg to hold itself completely vertically in front of her face, her hands gripping the male acrobat’s hips behind her to steady herself against him. He reached up his hands and circled them around the foot above his head, supporting her ankle within his firm grip. In one swell movement, she swept her grip upwards atop his forearms as he bore down against her leg; whipping her upwards to be raised above him. She steadied herself against his grip, remaining on display and far above the ground in the arms of her partner. Her leg continued to be extended in its elevation, graceful in her movements while the male acrobat laughed before dropping her from his grasp to cradle her against his chest.

Both Buggy and Mihawk’s eyes widened at the swift motion: the male acrobat a perfect frame for the woman’s flawless painting. The acrobats continued to sweep throughout the room, interchanging partners but always finding each other amongst the crowd to perform difficult tricks within the dance.

“She’s excellent,” Mihawk commented, continuing his unblinking and undivided attention against the form of the acrobat.

Buggy huffed out a breath in resolve, straightening his torso while Mihawk shifted from his prowl to fall back into the seated position to continue to watch the graceful movements of the acrobats within the ring.

“Again,” Buggy’s voice broke through, drawing the swordsman’s attention back to him, “you can’t have her. She’s special.”

Mihawk hummed, raising his goblet back to his lips and taking a small sip of the liquid within. Buggy rose to his feet and made his way into the ring of his crew dancing together, the music teetering down as they all clapped at the musicians playing.

“We shall see,” Mihawk smirked against the rim of his glass, keeping his vision completely fixed on the acrobatic pair as the clown-captain approached them.

Twirling once more in Jac’s arms, you came to a halt and cheered in praise to the minstrels performing their music in absolute joy and adoration. Jac cheered with vigour at the singer of the troop, celebrating her mastery of vocal skills as she took a small curtsey; a warm blush rising to her cheeks. You flittered your knowing gaze between them, prompting you to place your hand atop your acrobatic partner’s shoulder to bring his attention back towards you.

Your eyes met, you shot him a wink and urged his pursuit of the musician with your chin before scrunching up your nose with a smile. He sprung immediately into action, fleeing from your grasp and running to circle his arms around the musician, her laughter springing melodically from her lips as he spun her in his arms.

A presence found itself beside you, a hand placed firmly against your hip; alerting you to their attention. You turned with the arm to face the individual, meeting with the finely painted face of your captain looking at you with joy and pride.

“Acrobat,” he cooed at you affectionately, bringing his other arm to rest on your hip.

“Captain,” you smiled in return, raising your hands up to lace around his neck fondly. His gaze softened, the teal-eyes baring down into your own eyes with warmth.

“Are you up for another round?” he asked you, tweaking his left eyebrow upwards in question; his tone playful.

“Of course, Captain,” you nodded eagerly while unlacing your arms from around his neck and finding his hands, “what are you thinking?”

He hummed in response, leading you away from the crowd and into the centre of the ring. The crowd of crew parted for your entrance, some taking seats to watch your exchange while others retrieved tankards of ale or cups of water to replenish themselves from their prior overexertion. He released your left hand from within his right and twirled you out towards the floor, still holding your right within his left as he did so.

“I’m feeling something light,” he quirked his head to the side, eyes half-lidded in affection. He pulled you in towards him, he in turn spinning to face away from you to queue the musicians to play. Removing his hat and large coat, throwing them to the side of the tent, landing in a heap on the floor; your gaze immediately found its way to waist-line of his brown leather pants. Without hesitation, you brought your right hand over to lightly tap his left ass-cheek, laughing as you spun yourself away form him; his own laughter following his initial shock at the action.

“Keeping it playful, are we?” Buggy purred at you, a small growl in his tone. His eyes widened before narrowing at you, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“Don’t I always?” you returned his smirk before breaking into a wide grin.

He loosened his mustard-coloured cravat and circled his neck to release it of any tension as the minstrels began to play; up tempo and light melody to set the atmosphere between you. You rose your right hand out as an indication for him to take your hand within his own; an action which he readily participated in. He clasped your hand within his own, drawing your body into his while lacing your right hand around his neck in a swift motion.

Dancing with your captain was something you could never find yourself getting bored of. Although it had been a while since the last time the entire crew had an opportunity to express themselves away from their duties as members of his circus; when you did all have such an opportunity thrust upon you, your captain was almost the first to come to you for a dance. You had an uncanny ability to match-energies with your partners, being able to draw the best out of them while you moved with them. The captain would always find your improvisational movements comforting, knowing you would readily reciprocate any action he would bring to the dance free of any fear of rejection.

He held your waist with his right hand, pulling your body to lay flush against his own. You pressed your forehead against his and leant into him, falling to your toes as he pulled you around in a circular motion. As the music picked up, you swung your hips to the beat, prompting a similar reaction from your captain as you did so. You drug your hand over his shoulders and he released his hands from your waist as you circled around him, continuing to slide your fingertips over his chest and back as you did so; feeling the crevasses of his muscular and athletic physique beneath his waistcoat.

Buggy felt any prior uneasiness from speaking with his broad-hat wearing guest flitter away, your actions making him feel as he is the only man to have ever peaked your interest; even though you and the sword wielder were yet to have a single conversation. When you brought your body back in front of him, he took your right hand in his left and twirled you; walking away from you to continue to keep you at arms distance away. He admired your form as you continued to match his energy, swaying your hips with a large smile on your face.

As the clown-captain took an exceptionally large stride outwards, you dropped to your knees to the floor and extended your back outwards to slide gracefully beneath his legs and rise back to your feet as you re-emerged from the other side of his body. Buggy began to laugh whole heartedly, feeling you already circle his body to reclaim his hands within your own.

“You’re wonderful,” he praised you, clasping your right hand within his left and lacing his right hand behind the middle of your back to bring you against him.

“So are you, Captain,” you laughed at him, allowing him to rock your body from side to side, extending your hips and sliding on your toes to keep up with him.

He managed to pull you into two spins, spinning his own body to face away from you again and bringing your hands to his shoulders. You watched as your captain did a particularly overemphatic hip gyration, prompting you to raise your left leg upwards and mock a playful kick to his left ass-cheek; prompting him to laugh whole heartedly, spinning himself again to face you.

“This is why you’re my favourite,” he muttered in a voice only you could hear, prompting you to arch your eyebrow upward to lightly chastise him.

“You’re not meant to have favourites, sir,” you mocked a tone of playful discipline, bringing your right hand from within his and wrapping it around his neck and pressing your forehead against his once more. You swore you heard him moan when you referred to him as ‘sir’, but it could’ve been your imagination.

“And where was that written on the sign up sheet, hm?” he hummed in a jesting tone, reaching upwards to clasp your hand within his once more. He twirled you once, enjoying the way he had complete control over your actions as he lead you through the song.

You felt eyes watching you, prompting you to flitter your gaze from your captain and seek out its source. Yellow ever-watchful eyes met with yours, intensity baring onto your body; prompting a pink flush to reach your chest and upper ears. He was neatly manicured, his shirt laying open to reveal his bare chiselled torso to you. His broad, feathered hat and his aura of confidence the complete opposite of your current dance partner and captain.

Shaking your head, you brought your attention back to the blue-haired man in your arms, feeling him become slightly uneasy at your teetering attention.

Noticing his contentment and humour falling from his face, you instinctively raised your left hand to rest on his cheek instead of his shoulder; prompting his blue-green irises to meet with your own. You searched within his orbs, flittering between them indecisively. An almost sorrowful expression fell on his face at your search before a small smile once again found its way to his red-tinted lips.

“Saw the guest, did you?” he whispered against your palm while spinning with you, “what do you make of him?”

He pushed lightly on your torso, bringing your body away from its close proximity to him and twirling you with his left hand.

“He expressed an interest in you, you know,” he uttered when bringing you back against him, his right hand snaking around your back to once again sway with you. You creased your brows at the comment, noting the light atmosphere began to turn dark at his words.

“Captain,” you stated firmly, bringing his eyes back to you from their current position looking at his crew. Once his eyes met yours, you felt him melt against your gaze.

“Yes, Acrobat?” he asked you softly, indicating for you to continue your train of thought. You sighed deeply, the music teetering off to completion but neither of you breaking from your hold on one another.

“When I’m in your arms, I’m yours: your dance partner, your woman,” you reassured him, reaching your left hand up again to claim his right cheek, “you have my complete and undivided attention always, sir. I’m yours.”

He sighed against your caress, tilting his face into your hand and pressing a feather-light kiss against your palm; prompting your breath to hitch in your throat slightly.

“Only while we dance?” he smirked, releasing your palm from his lips and searching your eyes for any further indication of your affections.

“In all aspects of my servitude to you, Captain,” you nodded your head, releasing his cheek from your caress, “I’m yours-.”

He laced both arms around your waist and hoisted you into the air, prompting you to squeal against the sudden movement. Buggy laughed whole-heartedly at your ill-preparation of his movement, twirling you around in a circle while remaining hoisted into the air. Your gaze fell to the flex of his shoulders and forearms as he held you firmly, prompting the raw blush to reappear on your un-made-up features.

“Good!” he yelled before planting your feet back against the ground and lowering his voice, “because you’re my favourite.”

You shook your head and used your right hand to place a small tap against his chest, playfully reprimanding him again for his comment. He chuckled at your action, unlacing his arms from their place against your hips and trailing them up your sides to take your hands within his once more. You shuddered slightly at his touch before taking his hands within your own.

Throughout the whole interaction between you, the ever watching hawk-eyes continued to hold firm against your body; watching how effortlessly you moved with your captain and with your former acrobatic partner. The way you made the ridiculous clown-captain look as if he was the most important man in the world, your subtle touches of your hands brushing against his skin tenderly, your playful smile almost prompting one to fall upon his moustache-clad lip in response.

It was there Dracule Mihawk knew he had to have you in his arms. He didn’t even care if he had to share you with the ridiculous clown he had come to visit with; he wanted to experience the way you made the ‘flashy fool’ look and feel with the way you moved, your body flowing effortlessly against his. He initially ignored the heat rising steadily in his chest and the way his breath hitched in his throat at witnessing your skillful flexibility and dexterity in movements with your acrobatic partner. After watching the full dance between your blue-haired captain and your body, he knew he had to experience that intensity before he left. Again, he found himself willing to share you. He knew he wanted you, at least just once.

(Edit, Part 2 here)

#one piece #opla #x reader #opla fic #one piece live action #buggy #buggy x you #captain buggy #buggy the clown x reader #buggy fic #mihawk x reader #buggy x reader x mihawk #dance fic #dracule mihawk

265 notes · View notes

mcufan72 · 7 months

Text

Sugar and Cinnamon

Loki x female reader/ 18+

Chapter 6

Chapter 5

Warnings: contains fluff, smut, sex, oral sex, angst, alcohol, soft!dom/sub vibes, jealousy, dirty talking. It's a very long chapter (~9.5k words) so please be prepared! Some of you asked for it and I delivered.

Note: the dancing scene came to my mind when I walked through Soho/London a few weeks ago. It's also inspired by the dancing scene from the movie "Last Night in Soho" and you can find it on YouTube, and this is the song Anya Taylor-Joy and Matt Smith dance to... just to get a bit of the vibe ...and I couldn't resist to let MS make an appearance

I couldn't resist, my lovely @lokisprettygirl You already know that. Thanks for your help and for answering my special question and I sincerely hope I got it right...

This special part of the chapter is for you, my dearest (you'll know it when you read it)❤️🩷💚🤍

Loki couldn't remember the last time he felt that nervous and excited before an event. It must have been on Asgard when he was a young innocent prince, attending for the first time to a ball at the Asgardian Court, expected to dance with a princess for the very first time. He was delighted when Rhea sent him your confirmation for tonight's gala dinner and he looked forward to seeing you again. It wasn't even a real date, officially he booked you as his companion or as you were calling it, his arm candy. Nonetheless, he was grateful that you still wanted to spend time with him.

Dressed in black briefs after a relaxing bath which he took after returning from a run in Morris Canal Park, he stood in his closet and began to dress himself for the evening. For the gala dinner, he chose a black three-piece suit, perfectly tailored, excellently wrapping and emphasizing his muscular body. He combined it with a tight-fitting black shirt, and a dark-green tie which perfectly matched with the dark-green details of the waistcoat and the dark-green evening gown he gave to you, and finished his look with black leather shoes. He wished you would wear the dress tonight. He'd feel honoured. He had a further, little surprise for you. It was nothing special but he hoped you'd like it.

Nervous, nauseous, and excited. Three words to describe your condition. With trembling hands, you did your makeup and put on the dress. Why were you always so nervous when you had a date with Luke? You already slept with him so there was no need anymore to be nervous. You pulled your hair into a sleek tight bun like you always did, the knot high on your head this time. You'd prefer to wear your trainers but of course, you chose the elegant golden high heel sandals you had bought for events like these. They were just a further pair of beautiful little beasts but they perfectly rounded up the elegant design of the gown. You finished your look with the dark red lipstick and there she was: Sugar, ready to meet Luke. You grabbed your golden box clutch, studded with shimmering rhinestones, from the dresser and left your apartment, leaving all your problems behind. You wanted to enjoy this evening to the fullest. You deserved it, didn't you?

When you arrived at the event location, Luke was already waiting for you. Because of the evening darkness and the tinted car windows, you couldn't see what he was wearing but you were sure he would be the most handsome man tonight. He was always eye candy but for tonight he was your eye candy. Luke opened the door for you and offered you his hand helping you to get out of the limousine. You smiled brightly at him, happy to see him again. How could he look better every time you met him? He looked dashing in his tailored suit. Did his tie have the exact same colour as your evening gown? You found his attention to detail remarkable and adorable. What a man. What a wonderful, attentive man. Why wasn't he already taken? There must be a woman who would appreciate and want to be with a man like him.

Loki helped you to get out of the limousine and the first thing he saw were your beautiful legs and the elegant golden high heel sandals with the delicate straps on your feet. When you had left the car completely he smiled lovingly at you. You were wearing it, the evening gown he had chosen for you and you had no idea how happy you were making him. The evening gown hugged every curve of yours perfectly and the strong updo allowed an excellent view of your smooth neck and nearly bare back. You were so damn beautiful, and for tonight you were his and nobody would take you away from him.

“Good evening, Sugar. You look stunning in that dress. Absolutely gorgeous,” he gushed, one hand still hidden behind his back.

“And you look very dapper in your black suit. You're such a handsome man, Luke. And I like your tie, it looks gorgeous. I'm so happy to see you,” you complimented him.

“I hope I didn't overstep a boundary by sending you the evening gown. I just thought you might like it. Thank you for wearing it tonight. I feel extremely honoured,” and a hint of shyness appeared on his face.

“You didn't overstep, Luke. The dress is fantastic and I love it. It's perfect. You have an excellent taste for fashion. I don't deserve such a generous gift and I appreciate it. And also thanks for your lovely letter and I can assure you, I'm not mad at you. How could I, you don't owe me any excuse,” you explained to him sincerely.

His answer was a thankful smile and then he gave you what he had hidden behind his back. A little bouquet of multi-coloured wildflowers, tied together with a small green ribbon.

“Oh my god, Luke! Thank you! Thank you so much…how beautiful,” and your eyes teared up. You've gotten a lot of bouquets from some of your clients but none of them compared to this one. You never got a bouquet as pretty as this. You were sure he had poured his heart into it.

“Did you pick the flowers yourself?”, and you caressed the flowers.

“I did. I collected them in Morris Canal Park. I hope you like them,” he told you and you recognised a bit of shyness in his gaze.

“No man had ever done this for me. Thank you, Luke,” you whispered and pressed the flowers gently to your cleavage. You wanted to hug him but you didn't dare do it.

“It's nothing special but I…”

“Don't underestimate the beauty of self-picked flowers…and they are special. They're special to me because they're from you and I love them,” you interrupted him. You didn't want the flowers to wither and so you gave them to Walker who promised you to take care of them.

Loki felt like a little boy, trying to impress his first crush. He had never expected this cute reaction. He could've impressed you with a giant bouquet of roses but it seemed you appreciated the wildflowers more than any rose or lily he could've bought for you. You were amazing. How could you still be without a loving man by your side? You were so adorable… and naughty as well. A perfect combination.

“Shall we go in?” and as the gentleman he was, he offered you his arm.

“Yes, I'd love that!” and you two entered the location.

Loki introduced you to some of his business partners and finally, he wanted to introduce you to the host of the evening, Mr.Smith, who was still in a conversation. But he had already made eye contact with you. And then you understood what Rhea meant when she said, he's an attractive man. He wasn't a classic beautiful man but he definitely had an extremely charming aura. Almost as tall as Luke, he was lean but bulkier, had dark blonde hair and a sly smile which gave him something boyish and devious but in a very sympathetic way. His green deep-set eyes were sparkling with mischief and fun, and they had nearly the same stare as Luke's. The way he moved, spoke and behaved could captivate everyone under his spell. His elegant black tux and black bow tie perfectly rounded up his impressive appearance. You were sure a lot of women wouldn't say ‘no’ to him and your gaze wandered to an Indian beauty in an amazing black lehenga dress. This absolutely beautiful and elegant three-piece ensemble consisted of the actual lehenga, a long ankle-length and voluminous skirt, embellished with golden intricate embroidery, the choli, a well-fitted blouse top which emphasized her perfectly formed torso and the dupatta, a scarf which she had draped around her stunning outfit. Her waist-length and nearly black hair shimmered like black velvet and cascaded over her back, her big and sparkling dark-brown eyes were the most beautiful eyes you had ever seen. She was such a stunning eye-catcher and you didn't miss how Mr Smith looked at her from time to time. You knew that kind of gaze very well, not just from your clients and every time their gazes met, they both quickly looked away. It was kind of adorable. One might think he was totally smitten by the Indian beauty and nobody could blame him for this, she was one of the most beautiful women at tonight's gala.

“I don't like the way he looks at you,” Loki growled quietly.

“Do I hear some jealousy in your voice, Mr.Larsson?” you teased him. You didn't want to annoy him, you just wanted to see his reaction. You didn't want him to fall in love with you, he paid for your company but nonetheless you wanted him to desire you. You knew that was weird but tonight you were just his, and he was just yours, right?

“What? No, of course not! You're my escort, not my wife,” he frowned, pressing his lips firmly together, his jaw clenching.

“No, I'm not your wife. A pity, actually,” you teased him further and he side-eyed you, the expression on his face unreadable.

At this moment Mr Smith ended his conversation and came over to you two.

“What a beautiful sight at my friend's side… good evening, Miss…?

“...Black, I'm Miss Black,” you greeted him and he took your hand in his and gave a brief kiss to your knuckles.

“You look gorgeous, Miss Black, a further sparkling diamond at my party,” his deep-settled eyes staring flirtatious into yours and a sexy smile curved one corner of his mouth. He grabbed a glass of champagne from a waiter, who passed by with a tablet of filled champagne glasses, and gave it to you.

“Thank you for completing me, Mr Smith,” and you took the offered glass of champagne from his hand. “It's a pleasure to meet you,” you responded tantalizingly and held his gaze.

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Black and I hope you enjoy the evening. Eat, drink, dance and have fun,” he encouraged you and he turned towards Loki. Mr.Smith was such a player, a sexy lad, you've already sensed that.

“Luke, my old friend, what a pleasure to have you here. I hope you enjoy the evening,” and he shook Loki's hand and placed his other hand amicably on Loki's shoulder.

“Matt, it is a pleasure to meet you, as always and thank you for the invitation," he answered, slightly annoyed and both appraisingly staring into each other's eyes. After a short conversation, Mr.Smith left to order a drink for himself at the bar.

You sensed the tension in Luke's shoulders and you suppressed a grin. He was a bit possessive over you, wasn't he? Since you worked as an escort lady, you were used to a man’s behaviour like Mr.Smith’s. You did everything to get these reactions, through clothes, style, and attitude because every man you saw could become your client. But all of this was a costume, a mask. That wasn't you. Luke would never want you or even like the woman and her problems, who were hidden behind that mask. The woman behind all the makeup and the dark-red lipstick. The woman who called herself ‘Sugar’.

“He was just being polite, and there's nothing wrong about it. He's interested in someone else so, relax Luke, he really was just being nice,” and he side-eyed you again, with raised eyebrows.

He was just being nice? Interested in someone else? You were a head-turner, an eye-catcher tonight and he just saw this guy lustfully staring at you and the only thing he could think about was that no man should ever chase after a girl on a friend’s turf. He saw you taking a sip of champagne, turning your head and grinning at him.

Between the main courses and the serving of the desserts was a pause so that everyone could take a short walk, have some drinks at the bar or enter the dance floor. Shortly before Loki wanted to ask you to dance with him, Mr.Smith came back to you, a glass of bourbon in his hand. With the biggest mischievous smirk on his face, he addressed Loki with a question.

“Would you allow me to dance with your charming companion?”

“You don't have to ask me. You have to ask the lady,” he said to Matt, giving him a fake smile.

“I think I should allow our host of the evening to dance with me, shouldn't I, Luke?” and Mr.Smith took you by your hand.

You would never understand why you had fun annoying Luke and where your self-confidence came from. Why did you want to provoke a reaction from him? And what kind of reaction did you expect? You didn't understand yourself anymore. Did you expect him to fight for his right to dance with you because he paid you for your company? You knew that Mr Smith just wanted to provoke a reaction from that gorgeous-looking Indian lady his eyes had been glued to for over several hours now. He couldn't fool you.

“I'm on to you, Mr. Smith but…Let's play a little game," you said to him while he led you to the dance floor. “But don't you dare play with her, she likes you,” you warned him.

“What do you mean, Miss Black?” He tried to play ignorant.

“Mr.Smith, don't fool me. I just dance with you when you spend the rest of the evening with her and dance with her only,” you answered demandingly, smiling at him.

“Her? Who is ‘her’?”

“The beautiful lady in the black lehenga.”

“I don't dare ask her. I'm sure she doesn't find me pretty enough, not good enough for her.”

“Then you probably should stop eye-fucking each other all evening… it's pretty obvious that you like her… and she likes you,” and you sensed he felt caught.

“Likewise,” he mocked you, "Mr Larsson is eye-fucking you as well, so… you two are not any better than us. It's obvious how possessive he's over you,” and he crowned his statement with a smug smile.

“I see we're speaking the same language, Mr.Smith. Get your girl, she likes you more than you think and believe me, you are very attractive and charming,” you tried to convince him.

“Thank you for saying that, you're very kind...And you go and get your man before he combusts with jealousy… he's addicted to you. And by the way, call me Matt.”

Before you could answer anything the music started to play and Matt began to dance with you.

“You're not his girlfriend, are you?” And he twirled you around.

“What makes you think I'm not?” you asked when you faced him again.

“Don't get me wrong, you're beautiful and charming but he's more the type for fake dating, he never wants to be connected to someone or be close to someone, nonetheless…,” you danced several steps away from him and twirled back into his arm, “…he's undressing you with his eyes,” and he twirled you around again and when you danced face to face again, he held you by your midriff, swaying to the rhythm.

“Why does it bother you? You should mind your own business, Matt. And to be very clear, I'll never date you, it'll always be him and you better take care of the Indian beauty over there. You should really ask her to dance with you … I'm not the one that you want,” you said kindly.

“Yeah, you might be right. I think if Luke is addicted to your personality and not just your body, then he may be falling for you.”

“I think we shouldn't play cruel games with them. We both have what we want, both are furious with jealousy. We should redeem them from their suffering, shouldn't we?” you suggested.

“You're an amazing woman, Miss Black, no man can fool you, indeed.”

“Not in this case, I guess, and… you can call me Candy,” you responded and with that the song ended, your dance was over and you both left the dance floor, walking towards Loki who was waiting for you with an annoyed expression on his face.

That was it. That was the reason why he hated it that you worked as an escort. Other men touching you, lustfully looking at you, dancing with you the tantalizing way Matt just did… This guy was too close, his hand too low on your back, his gaze at you too intimate. Loki fumed with jealousy. All those men didn't deserve you. He didn't deserve you either but he must do something to get you out of the escort business and he better not run out of ideas.

“Thank you for this nice conversation and the dance, Matt,” you thanked him with a bright smile.

“The pleasure was all mine, Candy. Thank you very much for telling me about your opinion and enjoy the rest of the evening.” Loki looked unbelievingly back and forth between you two, frowning.

“Relax, mate, she talked about you only,” Matt said to Loki, patted his shoulder and walked over to the bar.

“Candy? What?” Loki was confused.

“It's my second name, don't think about it further…oh and you can relax, Matt is off the market, he's no competition for you. He never was,” you smiled defiantly at him, clearly feeling the tension in his body. When the next song started, you saw Matt entering the dance floor with the Indian lady. ‘What a beautiful couple,’ you thought and smiled.

You could be such a bratty girl. You did it on purpose, didn't you? You had forbidden him to fall in love with you but you didn't hesitate to tease him like this? Maybe he should give you a proper and all-devouring kiss, here and now so that you and everyone else know, you belong to him. No, no he should not do that. You didn't belong to him. You were your own person and you could do whatever you wanted to do. But he had enough. He grabbed you by your upper arm and pulled you with him into an undisturbed, dark corner and pressed you with his whole body against the wall, breathing heavily.

“What are you thinking you're doing here, hm? Teasing me like that, here in public? Want me to fuck against the wall? Now? Hard, quick, deep?”

“Maybe? You wanted to show me pleasure…”

“You're such a tease. You in that dress… have you any idea what you're doing to me?”

“You wanted me to wear it…”

“Oh yes, because I knew how amazingly sexy you would look in it. And I wanted you to be one of the most gorgeous-looking women tonight because you deserve it. And I'm proud to be the man by your side,” he growled softly.

“Why didn't you want to dance with me? You let him dance with me but don't demand your right to a dance from me? You pay for me and my services. Why don't you force me to do my job?” you asked him quietly, still caged between him and the wall.

“I don't chase, I attract and to make myself very clear, I won't force you to do anything!” His voice dropped to subzero temperatures, dryer than gin.

“And believe me, Sugar, the kind of dance I'm thinking of, is not meant for the dance floor. All you have to do is ask me.”

“You can ask me the same question, I'm your escort, you pay for me, you can possibly demand it from me,” you provoked him further, a tantalizing smile on your lips.

“I'd never do that. I'd never force you. I'm still not sure if you want to do it at all so you'll have to be the one to ask!”

There it was again. He tried to give you the feeling that you were the centre of everything, that he was there to please you, not the other way around. You grabbed his tie and pulled his face closer to yours.

“I want to sleep with you, I want to make it up to you, I want to erase my mistake. I want you to play with me. And I want to try new things,” you whispered, your lips slightly brushing his earlobe, making him shiver. “Play with me, I allow you to kiss my whole body, if you want to, except my face,” you offered him sweetly.

“So you allow me to play with you? Are you sure?”

“Yes, show me pleasure, Luke. Show me how to give in to you, show me how to do it right. I won't disappoint you again,” you promised him.

“I'll do whatever you want and whatever you allow me to do. You won't regret it and believe me, you did nothing wrong or disappointed me,” and he pressed a gentle kiss on the soft flesh of your throat, his hand caressing the part of your naked thigh where the gown had the slit. Your hands clasped his shoulders and you felt his muscles tensing. You lifted the leg he was caressing and hooked it around his waist. He immediately pressed his hips against your throbbing core and you felt his cock hardening.

“We should stop doing this, Luke. We don't want to cause attention, do we? We should continue our ‘dance’ in the hotel suite later,” you moaned faintly.

“You have a valid point there. I don't want anyone to look at you while I tear you apart,” and he gave your butt a gentle squeeze. You felt so good in his arms, too good.

You giggled like a schoolgirl and loosened yourself from his lustful grip, took him by his hand and intertwined your fingers with his. It felt so familiar as if he were your lover, not your client.

“Let's get something to drink. And I need to sit down somewhere…my feet…”

“…are killing you. The little beasts, right?”

“Yeah, sorry. I shouldn't complain so much.”

“It's alright, sweet thing. We'll drink something and you can put your aching feet on my thighs if you want… underneath the table, of course. No one has to see it,” and he winked at you.

“You're adorable, Luke. I don't deserve it. Come, I need a cool beverage now… and…”

“…a dessert, yeah. I already know that. Sometimes I think it's the only reason why you escort me to dinner events,” he joked and teased you and he got a heartwarming laughter from you. You were so devastatingly beautiful when you were laughing. He shouldn't allow himself the feeling but you grew on him more and more.

“You might be right, Mr.Larsson,” was the only thing you could answer him. Desserts were definitely your weakness.

On your way to the dining area, you saw Matt and his beautiful Indian lady heavily making out in another dark corner of the location, both completely melting into each other's arms and forgetting the world around them.

“Shhhh,” you gestured to Luke, “we don't want to disturb them” and you both sneaked silently past them. You couldn't deny that you wouldn't mind Luke Larsson kissing you the same way Matt kissed his girl but unfortunately … you'd never kiss a client.

“I don't like desserts. I don't have a sweet tooth.” Loki complained when you both sat at a dining table to eat some dessert, sitting opposite to each other.

“Who doesn't like desserts? I still don't get it. It's the best thing about a meal. The culmination of every menu… sweet and a melting pleasure on the tongue…,” you gushed.

“I hate it, okay!”

“No, you don't!”

“I do!”

“No, you don't!”

“I do...mpffhh…” and you shoved a spoonful of chocolate mousse with cream into his mouth before he could speak further nonsense. The delightful glance in his eyes when the taste buds of his tongue were pleasantly surprised by the dark chocolate, told you otherwise. A blissful moan rumbled in his throat, making you smile.

“As I said. You don't hate desserts,” you stated knowingly.

“You forced me to eat it!” He frowned and pouted, licking the last droplets of mousse from his lips. “Can I have some more?” He whispered, barely audible to you.

“What did you say?” You mocked him.

“Can I have some more, please?”

“I'm sorry, it was the last one on the buffet… Well, you shouldn't be too disappointed that you can't have more, Luke, because you hate desserts, right?” A mischievous grin curved your lips.

“Hm!” He pouted and crossed his arms in front of his chest, trying to avoid showing his disappointment. “It's not as bad as I thought it would be… but, yeah you're right. I still hate it.”

You chuckled silently and recognised how cute he was at that moment. Trying hard to hold on to his opinion about desserts and not to show you how much he truly liked it after tasting it. Gosh, he was so adorable.

“You can tell me that you've changed your opinion about desserts. It's nothing to be ashamed of. And we can share my chocolate mousse if you want,” you told him softly.

“I appreciate it, Sugar, thanks. Enjoy your chocolate mousse. Come, place your foot on my thigh, sweet thing,” and you did.

Loki opened the straps of your sandal, took it off your foot, placed it on the free chair next to him and began to massage your aching foot and the toes tenderly but with the right amount of gentle pressure.

“Gosh, that feels so good,” you sighed blissfully and enjoyed his tender hand kneading your foot for several minutes.

“Now the other foot,” he said and gave it the same attention and care as he did with your other foot. You moaned blissfully again and the way Luke glanced at you was arousing you. When his fingers massaged around your ankle, you jumped at the opportunity rubbing your foot over his crotch and you felt him getting hard. You looked enticing at him and his pupils dilated with arising lust.

“You're such a bratty girl,” and he pressed a thumb into your bunion, hitting the right spot. You hissed lustfully and a dull throb in your core made you feel all giddy.

“Shall we leave for the hotel?” You asked him and he just nodded. He came over to you and gave you your shoes and when you put the first sandal on he bent down on one knee and fastened the straps.

“Luke, please, get up. I can do this on my own,” you begged him vehemently. He wasn't your servant and he certainly did not have to do this.

“You wear this torturous footwear for me so helping you with your shoes is a bare minimum,” he declared.

You stood up from your chair and stood close to him. He leaned into you and you put your hand on his shoulder. Your cheek gently touched his cheek when you whispered a soft “Thank you” into his ear.

Your closeness and your scent intoxicated him. His one hand wrapped automatically around your middle and pulled you closer to him. The way you gave in to his movement without any hesitation came so naturally that he immediately felt wanted. He couldn't believe that you were just pretending to want him. But it was maybe just your art of seduction and your magic allure that blurred his mind and made him succumb to you.

When you arrived at the hotel and finally in the same suite as the last time, you both didn't waste any time. You quickly prepared the things you needed to be prepared and put your kimono and a lace bra on the backrest of the chair. The purpose of being here again was more than clear. Loki took his jacket off, as well as the waistcoat and the tie. He would need the tie later. He opened his shirt completely but let the hem stay in the waistband of his trousers. He took a seat in the armchair and spread his long legs wide.

You stood opposite him, getting off of your high-heeled sandals and watching him getting partly undressed and taking a seat in the leather armchair, his shirt completely open. Every muscle in his arms and thighs and torso was flexing and relaxing while doing it and it sent a shiver down your spine and directly to your cunt. When there was one thing you hated, that disgusted you to the core, it was men sitting with wide-spread legs. Normally it disgusted you but Loki doing it did something to you, you had never expected. It aroused you, you wanted to sit on his lap or … humping one of his beautiful, muscled thighs. God, if you didn't shove those thoughts away immediately you would've turned into a wanton whore sooner than you thought. Nonetheless, you couldn't stop staring at his prominent bulge. This man was too sexy. His whole body screamed sex.

“Do you like what you see?" he teased you, an arrogant grin on his face while slowly rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.

"W…what?"

“I asked, do you like what you see?” And he placed his now bare forearms on the armrest of the armchair again, his long fingers curling around the ends.

“I hate it when a guy sits like a man whore.” Loki chuckled darkly, smugness written all over his face.

“You like it!”

“I hate it,” you murmured.

“Liar! Come here, Sugar!” Loki pronounced every single word, his voice deep and rich.

You looked at him and a smirk appeared at the corner of your mouth. You shook your head lightly and rolled your eyes. You wanted him to play with you and the game had already started. You both were all in.

“Come.Here.” His voice dropped to subzero temperatures. Harsh, cold as if he could freeze the whole room into an ice cave.

A shiver ran down your spine again and you obeyed. You walked slowly toward him until you stood between his spread thighs. You stared down at him, his ocean-blue eyes glancing up and down between your eyes, your lips and your cleavage. You wanted to be cool and collected but you couldn't help the wetness between your thighs drenching your lace underwear. Why was he able to cause such arousal in your body? It was just sex. A sex appointment. A date, set by your escort agency. A consensual sex date to get some steam off. Just a natural need that you and he wanted to satisfy.

“Strip off your dress,” he commanded seductively.

You obeyed again. You loved to be told what to do next. Since when? You reached behind your back to pull the zipper down but had some struggle finding it.

“Could you please unzip me?” And you slowly turned around. You couldn't see him but you felt his gaze wandering up to your shoulders and down to your buttocks where his eyes remained for a moment.

He could smell you. The subtle scent of your perfume, the natural scent of your skin and the heavy, beguiling scent of your arousal.

“You're outrageously beautiful, Sugar,” he murmured and pulled your zipper slowly down. It was the most arousing sound you had heard for a long time. He was so close to you and you felt his breath fanning over your skin. You let your green dream of a dress slide down your shoulders and it pooled around your ankles and you stepped out of it, kicking it carefully aside.

Slowly he let his hands slide over your shoulders and flanks to your front and cupped your naked breasts carefully, teasing your nipples with his thumbs, making you sigh and moan. A warm tingling rushed through your veins but a coolness rushed over your skin as if a god would touch a mortal to make said mortal shiver in submission.

“Get your bra,” he whispered to your ear, nibbling at the soft skin of your neck. You did as he told you and he took the flimsy lace bra from your hand, put it on you, and closed the clasp of your bra. From the last time, he remembered that you felt better leaving your bra on. And he wanted you to feel comfortable.

“Am I still allowed to play with you?” He asked quietly.

“Yes, yes you are,” you whispered and turned around to face him.

Loki made some steps backwards, sat down again in the leather armchair, leaned back and spread his long legs wide.

Loki's heartbeat quickened and his mouth watered when he saw you in your tantalizing black lingerie. The flimsy lace bra emphasized your cleavage and cupped your breasts perfectly. Your peaked rosy nipples were on display for him through the transparent lace and he felt his cock throbbing with anticipation. He was on edge and he would've loved to take you instantly, roughly, thrusting his cock deep inside of you until you were a dripping mess, screaming his name. But he wanted to take his time with you, enjoy you, seduce you slowly till you were begging him to fuck you. And he would make sure you never needed to fake an orgasm again. With him, every orgasm of yours would be a real one. He would take good care of it and he wanted you to enjoy it to the fullest without feeling ashamed or bad.

“How do you want me?” You asked him softly, your lips slightly parted. Your plump lips drove him crazy. He wished he were allowed to kiss these beautiful lips of yours. He could just imagine how deliciously they must taste.

“I want you to suck my dick. I want you to suck and lick it extensively,” he demanded, testing you. How far would you allow him to go? The imagination alone of your lips wrapped around his cock made him harden.

“Okay. But you won't cum in my mouth. I don't like swallowing your sperm. You can cum over my breasts…and don't hit my face!”

“With that I can deal,” Loki answered darkly.

You didn't like sucking cock at all and the last time you completely ruled it out. Not to talk about swallowing sperm. But it seemed possible to suck him, this handsome guy and you wondered why. You told him you wanted to try new things and so you wanted to give it a try.

You knelt between his thighs, unbuckled his belt and opened his trousers. You reached into his briefs and pulled out his dick along with his balls. Loki moaned quietly and you could just let out a small gasp when you saw his erection. You saw his cock for the first time tonight because the first time when he slept with you, he had blindfolded you before he got rid of his clothes. Loki was a bit bigger down there than the other men you had had sex with. And his cock was… beautiful, pretty even. Perfectly formed in length and thickness, his tip swollen and leaking pre-cum, the veins on the underside pulsating in anticipation, his balls heavy and hot. Your mouth watered and you couldn't wait to suckle him. You had never expected to think about a guy's cock like you did right here and now.

“Am I allowed to place my hands on your thighs?”

Loki hesitated for a moment before he permitted you to do so. If he lost control, nothing would be noticeable there for you. And he still wasn't sure if he was able to stand your touch. But he gave it a try.

“Yes,” he moaned, and you placed your hands there.

You lowered your head and licked a stripe from base to tip. Torturously slow. Once, twice, then you took his cock head gently into your mouth and let your tongue swirl over and around his sensitive tip. You released him with a plop and licked your lips. He tasted so good. Sweet and salty and you craved for more. You gave him a devouring look and turned your attention to his balls. With your hand, you gave him light strokes while you kissed and sucked his balls and when you bit them gently, Loki whimpered loudly. His cock got rock-hard, aching for your warm mouth. How could he even get harder than he already was?

His scent intoxicated you. The smell of musk and the natural scent of his skin, manly and heavy, awoke a kind of lust in your body that you didn't know you had inside of you. Unbridled, initial desire. You were dripping wet and you weren't sure if you were already soaking the floor with your juices.

His breathing became heavier, filled with whimpers and moans. Loki was so turned on that he nearly forgot to blindfold you.

“Should we get you more comfortable, Luke? Lift your ass for me,” you asked him quietly and pulled his trousers and his briefs completely down and took them off completely. While his ass wasn't placed back on the armchair again you took the chance and you caressed his buttocks and kneaded them firmly. Loki sat down again but now he rather laid in the armchair than sit on it so you were able to continue cupping his ass cheeks in your hands and kneading them tenderly. You started to lick his cock again and he gently blindfolded you with his tie.

You flattened your tongue and licked his tip like a popsicle, stimulating his frenulum tenderly but firmly, testing the waters of what he might like. You didn't want to hurt him. Your one hand fondled his balls, carefully and tenderly scratching over the skin. Loki moaned and sighed heavily, writhing under your merciless but delicious torture. You took his unbelievingly hard cock into your mouth again, hollowed your cheeks and started to suck the life out of him.

“Fuck…Sugar I can't…I can't take it…much longer,” he whimpered.

You sped up your pace, your head bobbing up and down in a steady rhythm, sucking and licking him until his eyes fluttered shut, his head leaning back against the armchair's backrest, his fingers clawing into the armrest. You felt him tensing up and shivers ran through his body and you were sure he would come soon. His arousal and writhing and the way he allowed you to own him in this moment made your cunt throbbing and dripping with need. You wanted to get off as well, you never felt so needy before. Never before was any other man able to do this to you.

“I'm…fuck…I'm coming…fuck…,” and he withdrew his cock from your mouth instantly, grabbed his cock and stroked himself two more times. The coil in his lower abdomen snapped and a mind-blowing orgasm washed over him, and he ejaculated in thick ropes all over your breasts. The sight of you blindfolded and letting him come all over your precious bosom doubled his satisfaction.

“Luke…please…” You didn't know what you were begging for but the feeling of his warm sperm running down your cleavage made your head spin. You still knelt between his legs, still blindfolded and dying because of arousal, your clit throbbing and yearning for attention. Loki came slowly down from his high, his cock still hard.

“Come here sweet thing,” and he grabbed you carefully by your upper arms and pulled you onto his lap.

“You took me so well, you're talented, sweet thing. You know exactly what you do, don't you? And now you will get off on my thigh, sweet girl. Want to ride my thigh, hm? Rub your needy clit over my leg and drench me with your arousal. Come, sweet thing, drive me wild…” he moaned lasciviously, guiding your hips when you began to gyrate them back and forth to get the friction to work yourself to much-needed relief. You placed your hands on the backrest of the armchair, your forehead close to his. You felt the warmth of an orgasm rising in your stomach and you moaned and whimpered breathlessly. It felt heavenly, he felt heavenly. And these feelings were all you had because you were still blindfolded. You were already on edge when Loki took one of your peaked nipples into his mouth, suckling and nipping it through the thin lace of your bra.

“Oh god…please…” you moaned. You needed to cum. Now. But Loki stopped your gyrating movements by holding your hips firmly.

“You will come around my cock, sweet thing. No fake orgasm this time, Sugar!”

“Close…I'm so close…please…”

“I know, I'll let you cum, be patient, sweet thing and don't move,” and you heard how he unfoiled a condom. Mere seconds later he lifted you from his thigh, shoved your lace thong aside and slid you carefully down onto his fully erect length, giving you enough time to accommodate his cock and get adjusted to him. He didn't want to hurt you. He would never forgive himself if he would cause you any kind of pain. You whimpered because of how deliciously he stretched and filled you and you were still in desperate need to cum.

“Are you okay, Sugar?” He asked quietly and concernedly. “Can I move?”

“Yes …yes please, I need you,” you answered desperately.

“Good girl, taking me so well. Fuck… you're so pretty…so tight…you've such a pretty cunt.”

Loki guided your movements, made you hop up and down and when you both had found a comfortable rhythm he thrust firmly upwards, faster, deeper, hitting your inner spot at a perfect angle. He took your nipple in his mouth again, nipping, sucking and licking it until it couldn't get any harder and changed to your other breast to torture that nipple in the same delicious way. At this point, you were a moaning, whimpering mess. You felt his cock throbbing inside of you, every vein and ridge massaging you straight towards your climax. It had never felt that good.

“Cum, cum all over my cock, show me how much you want it, Sugar. Scream for me!” And his one hand reached down to your throbbing clit and he pinched and rubbed your swollen bud purposefully. His thrusts became sloppier, he felt his own orgasm rising and he rubbed your clit faster than before.

“Cum…fuck…cum for me…now…” and right on cue you exploded. Your orgasm was intense and not only your cunt but also your whole body was convulsing and shaking and your toes curling.

“Good girl…you're such a…good girl.” Loki's abdominal muscles tensed up, his body shaking when he felt your walls clenching around his cock and it made him orgasm harder than before. You collapsed against each other, bathing in post-orgasmic bliss. This time you didn't fake it. This time you truly had an orgasm and it felt good, so damn good. For both of you.

When you came down from your highs you both chuckled in unison and Loki removed the blindfold from your eyes. They needed a moment to adjust to the dimmed lights of the hotel room again and you could swear there was a light shimmer of blue on Loki's skin. But then you were sure you had just imagined it and blamed the blindfolding for it.

“I'm sorry. I made a big mess out of you,” Loki chuckled.

“Don't worry about it, Luke Larsson. I'll take a shower after you've left. But we still have some time until midnight.” You released his cock, stood up from his lap and you instantly missed the warm feeling of him inside of you. You were still a little weak in your knees.

“Did you enjoy it this time, Sugar?” Loki asked you softly.

“The more important thing is you enjoyed it,” you answered him smilingly.

“That's not the answer to my question, sweets.”

“Why do men always need the confirmation that they were good and are a grenade in the bedroom department?” You contered sarcastically.

“That wasn't my question either. I don't need confirmation that…”

“You're being very self-confident, aren't you? Do we have a god-complex, Mr.Larsson?”

“Why do you have to destroy it, Sugar? I just wanted to know if you enjoyed it and if you're okay.” Loki sounded disappointed and sad and you instantly regretted your rude answer and your behaviour genuinely. You were afraid of your feelings again. You saw him heading for the bathroom and heard him opening the faucet of the sink. You followed him. He was cleaning himself, tossing the condom into the bin and preparing a washcloth with warm water. You stood next to him, facing him in the mirror.

“I'm sorry, Luke. I didn't intend to be mean. I did enjoy it. It felt good, really. I'm just not used to getting so much attention and care afterwards, you know. But please, Luke…don't catch feelings for me. I'm just your escort.” You smiled mildly at him. Your heart clenched when you saw how sad he looked at you. You liked him more than you were ready to admit.

“No worries about that. I won't catch feelings for you, Sugar.” A lie, a perfect lie from a perfect liar. That was what he always has been and always will be, a liar.

“I just wanted you to feel comfortable around me.” And he turned towards you, the washcloth in his hand. You wanted to take it out of his hand to clean your cleavage and stomach from his now sticky seed but he didn't give it to you.

“Let me do this, sweet thing. It's the one thing I'd like to do for you,” and he began to gently clean you. His actions were so soft and caring. You wished you could have this tenderness every day. But not with anyone, no, it had to be him.

'Don't fall in love with him, just don't, you foolish girl' you cursed inwardly.

“I destroyed your lingerie. I'm sorry for that. You looked so tempting and sexy in it, and it was wonderful to have sex with you dressed in this hot lace.”

“A bit kinky, hmm? Lingerie, a blindfold, commanding me…” you stated and smiled.

“Watch your mouth, sweet thing. Don't be a brat.”

“What if I'm bratty? Will you punish me next time?”

You both chuckled and looked into each other's eyes. There weren't only mischievous and lusty thoughts. There was something else. Sympathy, harmony, trust. You two didn't know how or why but you felt drawn to each other.

“Well, the biggest mess got cleaned,” Loki said after he finally cleaned you from his seed and smiled at you.

“Thank you! That was very sweet and thoughtful of you,” you said gratefully.

“My pleasure!" He answered with his deep voice, wrapping around you like a soft blanket. You wished you had a boyfriend like him. Attentive, affectionate and gentle. And not only in a sexual way. With a boyfriend like him, you surely haven't ended up here, as an escort with a man you liked more than you were allowed to like, not to talk about you weren't allowed to fall in love with. You made these rules yourself and you would never break them. Anyway, a man like him would never want to have someone like you as his partner in life. Why should he choose you when he could have any other woman who was smarter, more beautiful and more decent than you? Under different circumstances, you two might have had a chance but now your life was fucked up. You wished you would've met him before you became an escort but it was what it was and you couldn't turn back the time.

You walked back to the main room, took on your kimono and climbed into the bed. You curled up on one side and pulled the duvet over you.

“Are you okay, sweet thing?” Loki asked you softly when he found you lying in bed under the sheets when he returned to the main room as well, dressed in his briefs and his open shirt.

“Mhmh…,” you murmured sleepily. “I'm just tired.”

Loki climbed onto the bed, leaning his torso against the cushions on the headboard. You looked so innocent and cute with your head snuggled deeply into the fluffy pillows. He watched you dozing and he smiled lovingly at you.

“I'll stay until midnight if it's okay for you,” he whispered and you nodded slightly. It made him smile again. He hated cuddling after sex and cuddling without sex even more. But suddenly you came closer and in your sleepy state you draped your leg over his, curled your hand around his waist and your head snuggled into his chest as if he was a damn comfy pillow or a plushie. A sugar angel sleeping in the arms of a monster. He shouldn't enjoy it. He shouldn't touch you. His hands were the hands of a killer, a liar. Hands that fit easily around a gun or a neck. He shouldn't hold a precious woman like you in his embrace.

He wrapped his arm tightly around you and pulled you closer to his chest. You must've fallen asleep, your breathing became calm and deep. You felt so soft and warm and good in his arms and he stole a little kiss by pressing his lips softly on the top of your head. It wasn't a direct part of your face, was it? He closed his eyes for just one short moment because he had to leave soon but he wanted to enjoy every minute he had with you. Maybe aftercare wasn't as bad as he probably thought.

A loud banging at the hotel suite’s door and a loud man’s voice woke him up.

“Sugar? Sugar!” The banging became more violent. “Sugar, are you okay? Sugar, open the door, if not I'll have to break down the door.” It was Walker, deeply concerned because you hadn't been back by the limousine right in time. You also hadn't sent an emergency message. Loki shook you awake when he got aware that you both had fallen asleep.

“Sugar, wake up, Sugar…,” Loki tried to wake you up.

“I'm so tired…I just want…to sleep. Just… a few minutes…just a bit longer…,” you murmured, still sleepy when you heard the banging at the door.

“Sugar, I break the door open! Now!”

All of a sudden you were wide awake. You jumped out of the bed and ran to the door hurriedly. You flung the door open right in time before Walker would break it down.

“I'm okay, Walker, I'm okay,” you gasped in shock, breathing heavily. “Everything is fine,” you told Walker, appeasing.

“Are you sure?” Walker asked concernedly. He peeked into the suite and saw Loki getting dressed.

“Yes, I'm absolutely sure, Walker. I'm so sorry for frightening you but…we…we fell asleep. Mr.Larsson did nothing wrong, I assure you, he behaved decently,” you told Walker and he trusted you. You'd tell him if there was anything that wasn't okay for you. “Please give us a few minutes, we will just get ready,” you asked him.

“Okay, I'll wait for you by the limousine,” Walker answered, throwing a warning look at Loki, who didn't show any reaction towards Walker. You nodded once at Walker and closed the door, leaning against it and taking a deep breath.

“Didn't you tell me, you don't do aftercare?” you questioned Luke teasingly and slightly laughing.

“I did.”

“Do you know what it's called what you did for me in the bathroom and by lying in bed with me sleeping?”

Loki buttoned his shirt upwards, leaving the last three open, buckled his belt, put his waistcoat on, slid into his shoes and looked smilingly at you.

“You tell me,” he asked you and grabbed his jacket from the sofa and his tie from the armchair and draped them over his arm.

“The loveliest aftercare I've ever gotten. Thank you, Luke… also for this wonderful evening, the dress and…”

Loki walked towards you and cupped your head gently between his large hands. They were so soft and felt comfortably cool on your warm skin, that you had to suppress a shiver. He leaned down and pressed a tender, featherlight kiss to your forehead and you closed your eyes.

“No, Luke, please…please don't do that …,” you whispered with teary eyes.

“I know I'm not allowed to kiss your pretty face but I care about you and I want you to know that. I know you could call Walker immediately and tell him to beat me up and throw me out… but it's worth the risk.”

He leaned his forehead slightly against yours and his warm breath fanned over your face. And there it was again. The spicy aroma of something you couldn't specify mixed with his comforting scent of fresh cotton, sandalwood and orange blossoms.

“I just hope that all the other men you meet handle you with all the respect and care you deserve. Thank you for this wonderful evening and night, sweet thing. It was such a pleasure. I felt very comfortable with you. When can we meet again? What about tomorrow?” Loki asked, his voice dark and smooth. He was a picture of pure elegance and arrogance but also gentleness, and his eyes staring longingly at you while waiting for your answer. Would you ever be able to be without him?

“I'm sorry Luke. I already have appointments for the next three evenings.”

“Okay. Then I call the agency tomorrow and ask for another date with you. A club night? Dinner? Would you like that?” He asked you softly.

“Uh hmmh! Sounds good.” You seemed insecure and indifferent but he didn't ask you further.

“Good night, Sugar and take care of you.”

“Good night, Luke… and sleep well.”

Should you hug him? Should you tell him that he's the only one you were sleeping with? Did he already sense it? He had almost left the suite…

“Luke…”,you stopped him in his actions by calling his name and he turned around, facing you. You ran to him and fiercely flung your arms around his neck which obviously caught him off guard. He hugged you back, not knowing what to say.

“Luke Larsson, you might be the only one I take with me to this suite,” you whispered into his ear and for a brief moment you felt safe in the arms of a man who'll never love you back. “Say something …please say something,” you begged him and let go of him to look into his eyes.

He rubbed a thumb tenderly over your lips, his eyes teary.

“You shouldn't be an escort. You should leave the agency. You're too precious for that business. But if you'd do that, I'd never see you again. So I don't know what I should wish for. You being an escort so that I can still meet you but sharing you with other men or knowing you're safe and protected, away from that business but never be able to see you ever again. It both hurts, Sugar… and I know I've already let you come too close to my heart.”

“I can't quit this job, Luke. And maybe someone like you is the only reason that keeps me going. I'd love to meet you again next week. We could go to a nightclub, it doesn't have to be Vivian's Velvet. You can choose another one and afterwards you can have me again,” you offered him, your voice almost breaking. You better contain yourself and not show him that you don't want to let him go.

“In the beginning that was exactly what I didn't want and somehow you convinced me otherwise. You already know that I want to meet you again next week. You, and you alone decide what you want to do afterwards and please don't feel obliged to sleep with me. But you should also know that I'd never deny you. Good night, sweet thing. Promise me to get dressed now and let Walker drive you home. You need some sleep.”

“Promised,” you nodded. He was right. You were tired beyond belief.

When he finally had left, you opened your hair bun, got dressed in casual clothes and Walker drove you home. The whole time until you arrived at your apartment you held the wildflower bouquet in your hand, thinking of him.

“I'm sorry if I scared you, y/n but I was truly concerned.”

“It's okay, Walker, you just did your job. I should be sorry for frightening you… we just fell asleep, I was so tired.”

“Understandable, you are on the road seven days a week. You should take a break. You won't last forever.”

“I know Walker but I have no other choice,” you sighed.

“There's always a choice, y/n…and Mr Larsson likes you if not more,” and he grinned at you through the rear-view mirror, watching you gently touching the flowers Luke had given to you. You smiled tormented back at him.

“He doesn't know me, it's just my pretty shell he likes.”

“You might underestimate him. Sometimes you just have to ask for help and help will be given to you,” Walker told you wisely. Maybe he was right. If it just were that easy.

🌹🥂🌃🌹🥃🌃🌹🥂❤️🌃🌹🥃🌃🌹🥂🌃

Next chapter things will change 👀👀

Tag list:

@lokisprettygirl @faesimps @gruftiela @fandxmslxt69 @buttercupcookies-blog @chantsdemarins @fictive-sl0th @justjoanne242 @km-ffluv @stupidthoughtsinwriting @anukulee @lovingchoices14 @wheredafandomat @lokixryss @huntress-artemiss @smolvenger

#loki x female reader #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x reader fluff #loki x reader fic #loki x reader angst #loki x reader smut #loki laufeyson #loki x female reader smut #loki x female reader fluff #loki x female reader angst #loki x fem!reader #loki x y/n #loki x female reader au #Spotify

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xdjville · 6 months

Text

tinnitus

pairing: taeyong x gn!reader

genre: angst, hurt with no comfort

cw: none

word count: ~490

author's note: i'm sad so here's my first ever angsty piece (i think)! please be nice to the first born 🙏

the sound of door slamming echoed in taeyong's head as he stood in the middle of his living room, alone.

eyes not focused on anything in particular, he stared blankly into the void of the dimly lit room. the tinnitus in his ears was so overwhelmingly loud that it almost made his head spin, hindering all attempts to collect his thoughts and fathom the situation he found himself in.

his breaths were short and shallow, his heart racing, and taeyong thought he somehow might be drowning. or perhaps he hoped that's what was happening, and that this was all some sort of a dream and soon someone would soon carry him to the shore.

but there were no arms grasping his weak body and he didn't wake up on the sand, and that realisation forced him to clutch onto the backrest of his sofa as his knees lost all strength.

only then that he was finally able to move his gaze and see clearly again his eyes roamed around the room frantically in search of something. he didn't know what that something was, but he hoped for anything that would convince him that you were still there.

but he found nothing, only silent whispers of the wind coming through the left ajar windows, the echo of your voice, full of despair and anger he'd never realised you had, and this goddamn endless buzzing in his ears keeping him company in the desolation of his apartment.

but when taeyong shifted his weight to rest his hip on the cushion, arm getting too shaky to keep him from falling any longer, he caught a glimpse of something laying on the floor as it reflected the ceiling lights for a fraction of a second.

still not conscious enough to be able to move closer, he tried his best to make out the shape of the tiny object in the half-light, squinting his eyes as it contorted and morphed into something that perhaps could be recognised.

when the contour settled in the right place to reveal the item, taeyong's heart sank.

the silver ring shined softly against the dark wood, rhinestones flickering as if imitating shattered pieces of a promise left behind.

his vision became blurred by the tears welling in his eyes before he could take any more than a glimpse of the almost painfully familiar shape, his own maching piece of the jewelry burning hot against his ring finger.

his throat clenched so tight he chocked on his breath, sobs cut short to barely audible gasps. he fell to his knees, faltering under the weight of the shadows of memories as he suffocated on the bitter taste of the consequences of his actions lingering in the air.

at once, everything around him fell silent. the wind ceased to sough, your voice reverberating bewteen the walls quieted down, even the merciless tinnitus seemed to have left him.

and he was left all alone.

#taglist ➼♡ @bambisnc

©xdjville

#nct imagines #nct reactions #kpop imagines #kpop reactions #kpop scenarios #nct scenarios #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 angst #nct 127 taeyong #taeyong angst #taeyong imagines #nct angst #kpop angst

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ty-the-trainwreck · 1 year

Text

thinking about cowgirl!nancy and bartender!robin

(this was the product of me realizing that natalia and maya have photos of them wearing cowboy hats and im just)

( plus a little photo of what i think nancy’s pants would look like in this but if they were white)

robin works at a saloon, and one day nancy comes into town and it's not everyday that a woman comes riding in on a horse with her head held high and felt hat held even higher. robin tunes into the gossip circling around the saloon, even though the men insist that it's not gossip. no, that would be too dainty. too feminine. too queer.

the men say things like, "someone's got to show her what a woman's place is in the world." robin barely knows who this mysterious cowgirl is, but she's tremendously livid at each word that comes out of the crusty lips of those bacteria ridden men. she contemplates spitting in all of their beers, but decides to swap out her saliva for six tablespoons of black pepper. robin relishes in the way every man that had said a sour word wrinkle their nose and cough into their elbow aggressively.

eventually, robin gets to meet the mysterious woman.

she waltz into the saloon with her hands clutching her studded rhinestone belt, her black button up had the two top buttons undone and her white pants were tucked into her light brown cowboy boots.

robin was mesmerized.

the woman walked up towards robin, and she finally got to see her face. the woman had sharp blue eyes and an even sharper jawline. robin felt her knees liquify and she barely kept herself standing.

"you serve anything but rum here?"

oh god.

the woman had a southern accent.

"pardon?"

"i don't see one glas that isn't filled with rum."

"oh, yeah. we do, but nobody that visits this place has actual taste buds." robin tried her best to play it cool and not freak out about how attractive this woman was. "wanna take a seat?" she gestured to one of the barstools and took out a table wipe to start wiping down the bar. "gladly." the cowgirl said, her sentences seemed to be short and clipped, quiet compared to the hooting and hollering around the saloon.

"so, want anything to drink? or do you not have taste buds too?" she teased, stuffing the table wipe into her back pocket. the mysterious woman huffed out a laugh, shaking her head. "whiskey, please. i need some after my ride here."

"ah, so you have only lost a few of your taste buds then."

"bless your heart."

robin rolled her eyes with a smirk, turning around to grab a bottle of whiskey and pour it into a tall glass. she slid it towards the lady and watched as she picked the glass up and take a big swig. robin felt her heart beat a little faster as she witnessed the woman's throat bob and swallow all the whiskey. robin quickly redirected her gaze and stared down at the woman's hands instead, making robin even more pathetic that she already was.

she cleared her throat, blinking rapidly and stumbled on her words before she finally found something to say. "what brings you into town? we don't see cowgirls very often." the lady looked up with a piercing gaze. "you got a problem?" robin shook her head immediately. robin was too gay too have a problem with this fucking goddess.

"no! of course not, it's just nice to see someone that doesn't smell like they dived head first into a riverbank made of mud." the lady laughed, taking a smaller and less urgent sip of her whiskey. she savored the sip, swishing it in her mouth for a moment before swallowing and leaning forward. “care to tell me your name, pretty lady?” robin felt shivers shoot up her spine when she heard that southern drawl.

“robin buckley. what’s yours?”

“nancy. nancy wheeler.”

nancy.

“nancy.”

the name felt so good on her tongue.

“when do you get off work? i want to show you my horse.” the lady- nancy, questioned, her fingers traced the rim of the glass on the counter.

robin looked down at the movement, biting the inside of her cheek before replying. “well, in an hour. but i can leave early.”

jesus christ—

was that flirty?

oh my god she was flirting with this woman.

“you better, buckley.” nancy looked up at robin through her eyelids. the curly haired girl in-front of her fixed her hat, bumping it up a little so she could get a clearer look at robin.

robin gulped, walking backwards before bumping into the cabinets. she let out a string of curses that would make a sailor blush. she was embarrassing herself in front of a hot cowgirl!

she scrambled away and ignored the amused look on nancy’s face as she unbuttoned her black vest and straightened her blouse, making sure it wasn’t wrinkled before fixing her hair in the reflection of the window.

robin came back and nancy was behind the counter, pouring out her whiskey and rinsing it. “y’know you’re not allowed back here, right?” she snickered. nancy looked over at her, taking in the slight adjustments to robin’s outfit. “had to clean my glass.” she held up the glass and tapped it. robin reached for it and placed it one of the top cabinets. and she just now realized that nancy was about a few inches shorter than her.

nancy grabbed robin’s arm, tugging the girl into the direction of the doors to the saloon. they pushed open the wooden doors and robin winced at how bright the sun was. “god, the sun is usually down by the time i get off work.”

“couldn’t say the same for me. i need the sun to work so i can too.” nancy led robin to where a beige mustang with a black mane lapped at some water from a wooden trough.

nancy slid her hand off of robin’s arm and robin instantly missed the touch.

“this is my mare, barb.” robin nodded, watching as the horse lifted her head and bumped her nose into nancy’s chest. nancy hummed, running a hand down the horse’s snout before she turned back to robin. “wanna pet her? promise she don’t bite.”

“i want to..it’s just- i had an accident with a horse a few years ago. so i’m not the most trustworthy of horses.” robin watches the mare brush up against nancy, and she thinks back to her horse.

the horse had white and orange spots on it, robin had often referred to them as ‘freckles.’ since they looked like the ones on robin’s face. robin has rode that horse everywhere, wherever robin went, that horse was there with her. until one day, the horse had gotten spooked and bucked. flinging robin off and sending her straight into the ground.

the horse was taken away, and robin had never seen it again. her best friend, gone.

“that’s alright, she’s patient. she won’t push until you reach out first.” nancy reassured in a comforting voice. robin looked at nancy, the woman was so beautiful, and now robin had to deal with the fact that she was kind?

robin was going to fall in love.

“have you ever fallen off her?”

“a few times, yeah.”

“was it scary?”

“terrifying.”

robin looked at the horse in front of her, it blinked at robin with a strange sort of gentleness. she took a hesitant step forward, flinching a little as the mare let out a sigh. “easy…” nancy whispered, scratching behind the horse’s ear. “it’s alright, she’s giving you permission.” robin nodded, letting out a sigh as well before she left her hand up and her fingers were trembling.

it had been years since she had ever touched a horse. sure, robin was surrounded by horses everyday, but watching a horse shake the ground and witness it’s hooves banging against the ground like the dirt it galloped on was a drum and riding said horse was two different things.

yet, the way nancy soothed robin with her soft southern drawl had given her courage.

robin gently pressed her hand onto the mare’s muzzle. the horse closed it’s eyes, leaning into the touch and robin smiled a little. she was still hesitant as she slid her hand up the mare’s snout.

“you’re doing great.” nancy praised, and robin was thinking some extremely inappropriate thoughts as soon as the words left the woman’s mouth.

“can i ride her?” robin asked, her voice barely there. nancy looked a little surprise. “you sure?”

robin nodded, brushing the little white star on the mare’s forehead. nancy sighed a little. “how about this, i’ll let you hold on to me and i’ll take you somewhere we can watch the sunset.”

“trying to take me out on a date, are you wheeler?” robin teased, and nancy let out a laugh.

“i could be, only way to find out is jumping into the saddle.” nancy hoisted herself up and into the leather saddle, patting the spot behind her. robin placed her foot onto the stirrup and pushed up, taking a deep breath before she pushed up and swung her leg over and sat down on the saddle. “i forgot how hard it was to get onto a horse.” she huffed. “not hard when you adapt to always being in danger.”

“very true.”

nancy picked up the leather reigns, gripping them in her palms before she looked back at robin. “hold on.” robin nodded, taking her hands and placing them on nancy’s waist. she decided to pretend that she was not extremely attracted to this woman as she leaned forward a little and got to smell nancy’s hair.

they began to move, albeit slowly. but they were moving, robin was nervous but she trusted nancy to not kill her (trusting a stranger? that would usually be a death wish in the wild west) so she squeezed nancy’s waist a little.

nancy understood immediately, squeezing her calves and the mare picked up the pace. robin let out a tiny gasp as the horse transitioned into a fast trot. “you okay?” nancy asked, giving robin a concerned look before she quickly returned her gaze to the road ahead. “yeah, just a little nervous.” nancy nodded, and she turned them onto a dirt path.

after a few minutes, robin was more comfortable, and she squeezed nancy’s waist once more to signal that she was ready to pick up the speed. “get ready, when she gets going she gets going.” nancy chuckled, letting out another chuckle as robin wrapped her arms around her waist. “i swear wheeler, i will take the reigns myself if i have to.”

“yeah yeah, i hear you.”

the mare sped up and now they were on the edge of a canter and a gallop. robin let out a tiny scream as she looks down and saw how the ground was a blur under the horse’s hooves. “holy shit holy shit!” robin hollered and nancy let out a boisterous laugh in response. the two laughed as they slowly came to a stop and the scene before them was one of the most beautiful robin had seen in her life.

nancy had brought them to a plateu, the winding rocks were shaded an apricot orange as the sun was slowly making it’s descent down the sky. a creek was below them as well, the water a earthy green color as it flowed on by and into the distance.

robin slowly slid off the horse and stood off to the side, staring at the view and she was completely lost in the moment before nancy walked over and bumped their shoulders together.

“it’s nice, isn’t it?” nancy asked. even her felt hat had orange light rimming it’s edges. robin smiled and nodded. “yeah, it really is.” she wasn’t only talking about the view.

“i agree.”

they stood there in silence before nancy reached up, and adjusted her hat. and robin focused on the interesting pattern on where the rim was lifted a little. it was green and black, and the green looked like a handful of snakes had been let loose them frozen and flattened into the hat. robin wanted to touch it.

yes, robin knew that this could absolutely destroy this little thing her and nancy had going on, but she reached out and lifted the hat off the brunette’s head. nancy raised her eyebrows a little but let robin do so, and she smiled a little as robin placed the hat on her head and adjusted it a little.

“hey.”

silence.

“do i look good?”

“more than good, sweetheart.”

robin melted at the way nancy said her words in a slow voice, her words mixed together in the most perfect way and it was possibly the most alluring southern accent she had ever heard.

“you are aware of what it means when you take a cowboy’s hat, right?”

robin looked a little confused.

“no, i am not aware.”

the corners of nancy’s mouth perked up and she turned to robin completely.

“wear the hat ride the cowboy, buckley.”

—

(i am literally from the south but i know no southern sayings and stuff but i was feeling gay at 4 in the morning and wrote this)

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sl-newsie · 11 months

Text

I Will Always Love You (Dr. Spencer Reid x OC) *Halloween Special* 🎃

Summary: Rossi throws a Halloween party at his mansion for the team and some close friends, and Reid loves a certain costume a coworker’s wearing… maybe leading him to finally confess his feelings.

“So… what kind of costumes do we wear? Matching? Scary, funny…?” I ask.

“Whatever you feel comfortable with,” Rossi replies. “But I will ask if you can keep it down to PG13. I’m looking at you, Garcia.”

“I can’t believe my costume last year was deemed inappropriate!” The blonde agent complains from across the room.

“It is when you’re dressed as a playboy bunny and pretend-flirt with Morgan even more than usual,” Hotch says dryly.

She huffs. “I was staying in character! Halloween is when you can pretend to be someone else!”

“Yes but in this job we have to maintain somewhat professional, even if it’s at a party. So please follow the guidelines.”

I can’t believe I’m invited to an actual party! Throughout high school and college I was never involved with the popular kids, and had little friends to begin with. But ever since I started working in DC I’ve made lots of connections, with one being the one and only Agent Rossi from the BAU. He’s thrown a few get-togethers for the team, and this year I’ve been invited to an official Halloween party! And what’s best is that I’ll get to hang out with my coworkers outside of the work environment! I’m really looking forward to it, especially since Reid will be there. Call it cliché and pathetic but I’ve grown romantic feelings for the ingenious doctor, but no matter how hard I’ve tried I can’t get rid of them or gain the courage to tell him. It’s best to suppress them and hold onto the steady relationship we already have.

I pack up my things and start walking out, then Rossi calls: “You’re coming tonight, right Rita?”

“I’ll be there!”

I’ve already got a costume in the works, one I’ve been planning since June. It’s a bit of a stretch, but I guess I’ll have to see what happens…

3 hours later…

Reid’s POV

All the costumes so far have been awesome! I wish Halloween was more than once a year. Between the cool decorations and outfits, how can anyone not like it? This year I’ve chosen to go as Sherlock Holmes as a tribute to one of my favorite fictional detectives.

I keep looking around for Rita, almost disappointed that she isn’t here yet. I’d never say anything, but in the last few months she’s worked with us it’s been near impossible to not notice myself acting strange around her. Of course Morgan teases me about anything awkward I do, but even I have found myself acting strange around Rita. Increased heart rate, scattered thoughts, and the nagging feeling of wanting to make sure she’s doing ok. But isn’t that what any friend would do? Look out for one another?

I shake the confusing thoughts from my head and continue to look around. And next walks in- oh. Wow. Oh wow! An almost direct clone of Dolly Parton struts into the room, wearing a silver rhinestone suit, heeled boots, and clutching a white guitar. Who on Earth is that…?

“Hiya, darling!” She walks up to where I’m sitting and plops down next to me, and when I get a better look at her face it finally clicks.

“Rita? That’s you?” I gape.

“Sure is, Spencer!” She says in a practiced southern accent. “Dolly’s been a hero to me for a long time and I figured it’d be a fun costume. It took a while to put together, but I found…”

I try to keep up with what she’s saying, but my mind keeps wandering to how accurate her costume is. Her blonde hair is teased and piled into a giant updo, complete with some glitter sprinkled on it. And the suit fits her perfectly… it seems wrong to think like that, but I can’t help looking at how her chest sticks out. Has she always looked that way?

Thankfully Garcia shows up and starts asking the questions I’m too scared to ask.

Rita’s POV

Thank God Reid’s here, because so far I don’t know a single soul here. It’s nice to sit and hide in a corner to chat, and eventually more of the BAU members start to show. When Penelope sees us she makes a beeline over and starts gushing about our costumes.

“I love the Dolly getup! Are- are those real?” Penelope asks and gestures to my chest.

My face flushes red. Of course it would be Garcia to ask something so blunt. I’m not offended in the least, but I’ve always been insecure about my larger than normal bust. But that’s why Dolly’s been so inspirational, because she’s proud to be so outstanding.

“Yes, they’re real. And if you wanna joke about it then please ‘follow the guidelines,’” I mock Hotch’s instructions. “I am as God made me and I ain’t ashamed.”

Garcia smiles again and continues to talk about her costume, which is a giant cupcake. By now more people are starting to arrive and Garcia goes off to greet more guests just as JJ and Emily walk up to us. JJ has chosen a simple pumpkin shirt and top, while Prentiss is wearing a white dress complete with eerie doll makeup.

“You chose Annabelle?” JJ gives her a strange look.

“What can I say? My comfort films are weird.” Prentiss shrugs.

“I’m guessing you’re dressed up as Sherlock Holmes?” I finally ask the genius sitting in the chair behind me.

“Elementary, dear Rita. He’s one of my favorite literary characters.”

It’s strange. Reid keeps looking at me funny, then shifting his gaze to avoid my eyes. He’s normally not this scatterbrained.

“Oh that’s a dork-able, Reid the brainiac is dressed as a brainiac!” Morgan, wearing a skeleton costume, walks up and smirks. When he looks at me Morgan gets a confused look and I can tell he doesn’t recognize me. “And who might you be, Dolly?”

I stifle a laugh and exchange looks with Reid, who seems to wanna laugh just as much as I do.

“I’m surprised you ain’t noticed yet, Agent Morgan,” I say in my southern accent.

Just like Reid, Morgan’s face explodes in bewilderment and he gives me a second look-over.

“Wait, wait. You’re telling me that this gorgeous twin of Dolly Parton is our Rita?” He looks over at JJ and Prentiss, who start laughing. “Tell me I ain’t the only one who’s blown away! Damn, you look good in that! Nice costume!”

He gives me a high-five and goes off to find Garcia, and I notice in the corner of my eye that Reid’s stiffened up a bit, muttering an excuse I can barely hear and striding off before I can speak. What’s wrong with him?

Reid’s POV

When Morgan started praising Rita’s costume it felt as if my chest was being squeezed. I don’t know why. It’s as if every time I think about Rita my brain doesn’t think clearly, and I go through anger phases when I see someone else with her. Isn’t that normal friend behavior?

That’s when I make a new diagnosis: I have a crush on my coworker.

It’s something I’ve been avoiding, pushing away thinking I’d never have feelings for someone. With my job it’s too dangerous to have relationships, plus the fact that I’m an awkward nerd doesn’t help. Besides, a beautiful girl like Rita probably already has a boyfriend.

After Morgan’s off to find Garcia I quickly excuse myself, going off to the hors d'oeuvre table and finding a cocktail labeled ‘witch's brew.’ I’m not one for drinking, but I need something to clear my head.

“Reid, are you ok? You never drink.” Hotch walks up from behind.

What am I supposed to say? Tell my boss I’m in love with my coworker, something that’s thoroughly discussed as a workplace rule?

I give a shaking nod and put the glass to my lips. It’s not strong, but I can still feel the alcohol sending electricity down my throat. “Y-Yeah. Just a bit tired. Shouldn’t you be trick-or-treating with Jack?”

Hotch shakes his head. “He’s at a party with some friends from his school, so I got the night off. But don’t avoid the subject. You’re not tired. What’s really wrong, Reid?”

There’s no escaping it now.

“IjustfoundoutI’minlovewithRitaandI’mscaredshe’llhatemeandIdon’tlikefeelinglikethis!”

Everything comes out so fast. There’s so much I want to say. At first Hotch looks confused, but after having a minute to translate my gibberish he gets a somewhat amused look on his face.

“I know, Reid. We all do.”

His words leave my mouth gaping. “Y-You do? But- but why didn’t… how- why am I the only one who didn’t?”

“Because when it comes to social cues you’re not much of an expert,” Prentiss says as she joins us. “We’ve all seen how you’ve been acting. It’s cute! You and Rita make a great pair.”

I groan as I hold my head in my hands. “But I hate feeling like this! What if I screw up? What if somehow my job gets her in trouble? You remember what happened with Haley!”

Hotch’s face darkens a split-second, but instead of brooding he puts a hand on my shoulder. “Spencer, just because our job is dangerous doesn’t mean we can’t allow love into our lives. It’s not healthy.”

“And you deserve to have a loving girl like Rita,” Emily adds.

“But doesn’t she already have a boyfriend?” I ask uneasily.

She frowns. “No. Where’d you get that idea? Rita’s incredibly antisocial besides hanging out with us.”

How on Earth does Rita not have guys crawling over themselves just to talk to her?

By now Morgan and JJ have joined us as well.

“He’s confessed?” Morgan asks Prentiss and she shakes her head. “Reid, will you please just go and tell her? We’ve been waiting for a month! It’ll be a nice change to not have you giving me the murder look whenever I high-five your girl.”

The team ushers me away, so I can already tell there’s no going back now. Even if I don’t say anything, Penelope will tell Rita herself. I at least want this to be done on my terms.

I take a deep breath, then calmly walk back to the living room. I see Rossi chatting with some other guests and he gives me a wink. When I reach the doorway, Penelope passes me with an eye roll and points to the balcony.

“She’s out there. It’s about time! I can only distract her for so long! Now go get her, loverboy! Go go go!”

Ok, this is it.

Rita’s POV

For my first Halloween party I must say it’s… a bit boring. Sure I’ve gotten lots of compliments on my costume and been able to eat some good food. But without Reid the conversation’s shifted to JJ and Emily talking about some random guys that flirted with them at a bar last week, making me wish they’d stop bringing up romantic stuff. I’m not one for lovey-dovey talk, and with me being single it’s adding salt to the wound. Thank goodness they both go off to get a drink, but then Garcia pops over again and starts chatting about a new pair of shoes she found.

“Really? Some new Oxfords? Cool… Um, be right back. I need some air.”

Garcia gives me a wave and I quickly scoot out the side door to the balcony. It’s a chilly night, but my suit and wig keep me warm. There’s a sky full of bright stars and slight mist draping the landscape beneath me. It definitely feels like Halloween. I just wish I didn’t have to spend it the “grown-up” way. Right now I’d rather be back home, eating popcorn and watching Halloween. Anything but avoiding Spencer or having to listen to chats about love stuff.

“Mind some company?” A soft voice asks.

I grip my guitar and spin around, nearly chopping off Reid’s head. “Jesus, Spencer! Don’t sneak up on an FBI agent!” After seeing there’s no big danger I set my guitar down. “Sure, I guess? But why’d you leave?”

He leans over the railing and seems to think over his response. “I had an intention that I was needed elsewhere, and then the team gave me a case.”

My eyes widen. “You mean, like a profile case? Is someone in danger? Are we gonna have to leave-?”

Reid holds a hand up to quiet me, then with the other he takes my own hand. “It’s not a criminal profile. They gave me your case, Rita.” This leaves me even more confused, and almost don’t notice Spencer slowly leaning in closer. “There’s been something I can’t get out of my head, and you need to know. Now, if you don’t agree I’ll forget it but please don’t hate me. I- I…” He takes a deep breath and looks at me. “I’m in love with you, Rita.”

If it weren’t for the railing I think I’d fall, almost having to grab Spencer’s coat to avoid stumbling. This can’t be a joke… can it? Am I bold to assume that Spencer’s feelings mirror mine? What type of probability is that?

“Could’ve said something sooner,” I mutter just loud enough for him to hear.

His head perks up. “So- does that mean…?”

I throw my head back and laugh, nearly losing my wig. “Yes, Spencer! I’m in love with you too, and I could never ever hate you. But why not say anything until now?”

He nods his head side to side. “Well… I didn’t actually figure out I loved you until about 20 minutes ago. I- I’m good at profiling others, but not so good with my own emotions. I always thought that this job wouldn’t be a healthy way to keep a relationship, but the team agrees that we make a good pair- that is, if you want to?” He asks quickly.

I don’t answer right away and instead wrap my arms around him for a soft hug. “I’ve never been more sure of anything, Spencer. No unsub in the world could make me rethink that.”

He leans back with teary eyes. “Really? You’d put up with an awkward geek?”

His cute expression makes my heart melt. “You’re my awkward geek, Spencer. You never have to worry about disappointing me or putting me in danger. You being you is more than plenty. As the Dolly song goes, ‘I will always love you.’”

Spencer chokes back a sob and before he can get any more teary, I harness my courage and kiss his lips. This surprises both of us, but once we get past that we deepen the kiss. Once again I’m thankful for the railing because now we’re both leaning against it, and soon Spencer seems to grow just the tiniest bit desperate. We pull apart and he looks as if he’s about to beg me for more but is too afraid, so I save him the trouble.

“Wanna get outta here? I’ve got Halloween on 4K at home,” I smirk.

Reid grows a thankful smile. “Only if you’ll let me complain about the bad strategy choices the victims make.”

My own smile widens. “You do that too?”

Reid shrugs. “It’s kind of their own fault that they die! I mean, how could they not notice that someone was in the house?”

I take his hand and we make our way to the exit, but not before hearing a big celebration cheer from the team.

Happy Halloween, Spencer.

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