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ptergwen · 4 years

Text

on the dot

warnings: swearing, suggestive jokes, and the boys being a lil goofy

summary: the boys keep you entertained when tom is running late

a/n: this nasty stinky year ends today! finally y’all!! it sucked sm and a lot of stuff went wrong but i’ve enjoyed spending time with you lovely people, seriously you’ve all been such a light and i hope we bring it into 2021 :,) i love all of you tons, stay safe tonight and have fun <3

ten.

“he’s still not here?” you storm back into the room, looking between all the boys. “where the hell could he be?” harry only sips his drink. harrison stares up at the ceiling. sam offers a sad smile.

you thought by the time you finished your private freak out in the bathroom, tom would be home. home and ready for you to kiss and hug and welcome the new year with. he has ten more minutes to make it happen.

of course, you were disappointed he couldn’t be here for christmas. you still understood because it wasn’t his fault. there was scheduling and a whole bunch of other things keeping him in the states. you’d at least have new year’s eve together, and that was enough for you.

the universe had other plans. tom’s flight got delayed to the latest possible second, and it’s beyond either of your control now.

nine.

harrison puts a hand on your arm. “maybe he’s in the taxi. traffic and all that,” he leads you over to the couch, giving you a nudge to sit down. you do with crossed arms and pouted lips. “cheer up.” harry beams and sticks a party hat on your head. you’re not even bothering to strap it on. sam scoots closer to you in his spot.

“you have us,” he reminds you, smiling to get the message across. it’s nice of them to try and comfort you, but all you really want is tom. he’s the holland you’d rather be touching knees with. “thanks, guys. i just...” you let out a sigh. “tom was supposed to be my new year’s kiss.”

“well, we can’t help you with that,” harrison snickers and takes a seat on the arm of the couch. harry puts down his beer with a cheeky look. “tessa might be available.” groaning, you drop your head onto his shoulder. “shut up, i know it’s cheesy. we talked about it, though.”

tom better get here soon and back that up.

eight.

“what if you did it over, um, facetime?” sam suggests, stifling a laugh right after. these boys just can’t be serious. “i’m not making out with my phone in front of you guys,” you scoff and adjust your party hat that’s falling. “you’d do it if we left the room, then?” harry questions, harrison raising his eyebrows at you.

you lift your head off of harry so you can shoot him a glare. “no, you know what i mean. leave me alone.” your voice shakes on the last part. you’re starting to feel emotional about all of this. you wanted one night with your boyfriend who hasn’t been home in months, that was all. why couldn’t you get it?

the boys all coo at you in unison. it’s sort of sarcastically, mostly sympathetically. harrison reaches over and puts an arm around your shoulders. “he’ll be here, y/n/n. there’s still about...” he checks his watch on his other hand. his eyes go wide.

“seven minutes until midnight.” “jesus,” harry mutters to himself, picking his beer back up.

seven.

you’re debating whether or not you should text tom. maybe call? you haven’t heard from him in hours, which isn’t very promising. the boys are making too much noise to talk to him, actually. they’ve taken to blowing into their noisemakers to distract you.

the loud humming that comes from harrison’s is ear piercing. that’s partially because he’s holding it directly up to your ear. sam is using a handheld one, and harry is raising his fist in the air while he finishes off his drink. you love their spirit. you’ve run out of your own.

“come on, year’s almost over,” harrison says in an overly happy way. “let’s at least celebrate that.” “i’ll toast,” harry salutes him with his empty bottle. “you’re pissed, harry,” sam laughs and grabs it from him. you throw your head back on the cushion. “can time move any slower?”

six.

“i give up. i’m spending new year’s alone,” you throw your hands up in defeat. harry rolls his eyes in mock offense. “hey, you’ve had great company.” “she doesn’t want to hear it, div,” sam reaches behind you and flicks his brother’s head. it earns a quiet “ouch.” you’d normally laugh at their antics, only you don’t have it in you.

you might be acting a little dramatic, but you have the right to. tom’s kisses are everything. that, and you miss the hell out of him. he misses you ten times more. you know it because he’s made sure to tell you every day.

“tom’s coming, y/n. does it really matter if it’s a few minutes late?” harrison asks with a pat on your shoulder. “hours,” you correct him bitterly. he removes his hand before you break it. you turn to sam, who clenches his teeth. “your brother has terrible timing.” “you’ve only just figured that out?”

five.

harrison and sam have you playing some three way game of patty cake when the doorknob starts to move. you immediately snap your head up. is that...

“santa?” harry murmurs in his drunken state. “wrong holiday,” sam tells him. “that’s passed.” harrison chuckles at the conversation. “we should cut him off before-“

the door quickly swings open, a breathless but grinning tom behind it. “guess who?” he drops his bags and opens up his arms. your face lights up the most it has in too long. you run straight over to him. the boys watch on, waiting to say hi until after you two get time together.

“oh my god, you made it!” you giggle out, tom lifting you up by your waist. he secures his arms tightly around you and squeezes. “how’d you actually get here on time?” your voice is muffled by your face pressed into his shoulder. “i’ll always be here for you, angel,” tom assures you, shutting the door with his foot.

he kisses the top of your head. you can feel his lips curve into another smile. “in every way.” you put your arms around his neck, clasping your hands together. “you don’t understand how much i missed you.” you’re returning the smile. “i swear.”

“i promise, i missed you so much more.” he carefully sets you down and keeps his arms around your waist. the two of you exchange a look that says all the i love you’s you don’t currently have the time or privacy to.

“oi, where’s our big hello?” harry calls from the couch.

four.

you’re all squished onto the couch now. tom is sitting in your spot with you in his lap. the others strongly protested it, whining about how you’d go at it or worse. you ignored their complaints and happily took your place on tom’s thigh. your back is to him, so he has his chin on your shoulder to sneak glances at you.

“does anyone have a resolution?” harrison asks the group of you, eyes landing on his best friend. “me?” tom checks, tracing a finger up and down your side. “to take more breaks.” you like that one. you let him know by leaning into him more. “mine’s to move out,” harry remarks. his oldest brother gives him a warning look.

“all jokes. you two are adorable,” he gives you a thumbs up, shaking around his noisemaker again. “this is what i’ve left you with?” tom mumbles to you, fully aware the others can hear. you shake your head. “they terrorized me, tom.” sam is the one to interject.

“that’s rubbish. i cooked every meal you wanted, we-“ “they terrorized me,” you repeat, playfully this time. tom taps under your chin with two fingers. “mhm, sounds like it.”

three.

“do you think tessa would still do a kiss?” harrison asks harry, who cackles when he sees tom’s face. he has to blink a few times to process what was said. you smooth your thumb over the crease in his forehead.

“what did i tell you? they’re weird.” “they’re deranged,” tom leans into your touch. “i won’t let them near her.”

“i feel so... single,” harrison explains with a fake sniffle. he eyes the two of you. that makes tom pull you closer. “stay away from my girls.”

two.

“the moment we’ve been waiting for,” you move so you’re facing tom. “is about to happen.” you also happen to be straddling him so it’s possible. if the boys have anything to say, you won’t be listening. “our new year’s kiss,” he grins, his hands dropping down to your hips. “very big moment.”

one.

tom tilts his head up to you, running his tongue over his lower lip. your party hat is strapped on now. you move in closer until your noses are touching.

“missed this face,” he rasps and nudges your nose with his. “well, here it is,” you bring a hand up to the side of his neck. the boys are huddled in a circle with their party gear, so you have the couch to yourselves. harrison is getting ready to pop a bottle of champagne.

your not so perfect night ended up being better than any of you could’ve expected.

harrison checks his watch and waves a hand at everyone. “twelve, eleven,” he counts you in. “ten, nine, eight,” you all join, you turning your head to look at the others. tom peeks his head out from behind you. “seven, six,” harry eagerly holds out glasses for drinks. “five, four, three,” sam raises up his noisemaker.

“two, one! happy new year!” the champagne sprays everywhere while you turn back to tom.

you erupt in a big smile before he’s pulling you in. he finally presses his lips to yours, your arms going around his neck. it’s easy and soft and you fall right into your usual rhythm. his lips part for you, letting you deepen the kiss.

tom’s eyes are squeezed shut in focus, on you and how you taste like the same lip balm from all those months ago. one of his hands rests on your back to support you. you break away for all of two seconds to take a breath. you’re giggling, and so is tom. you connect your lips again without warning, tom still laughing into it.

“i love you so much,” you pull away to tell him quietly. tom tugs on the top of your party hat with a playful smirk. “i love you, y/n/n. happy new year, babe.” he gives you one more peck on the lips. you’re feeling generous and decide to return it, your kiss lingering a bit.

harry summons you two before it turns into another make out.

“drinks! we have drinks,” he holds his up for emphasis. harrison already poured yours, sam taking a sip of his own while they chat. you climb off of tom and offer him a hand. he gladly takes it, interlocking your fingers and getting up. the two of you walk over to the table hand in hand.

“thanks, bro. happy new year,” tom gives harrison a quick one armed hug and takes his drink. harrison hands you yours after. “thank you,” you take it and flash him a small smile. “for everything.” “anytime,” he pulls you in for a proper hug, tom hugging the twins.

you do the same, then the five of you sit at the table to drink and talk. when they get into a conversation about golf, tom eventually breaks off. he squeezes your knee to get your attention, which you raise a curious eyebrow at. he nods toward the couch.

“we’ll finish that later.”

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fic #tom holland x you #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker imagine #peter parker fic #peter parker x reader #tom holland writing #marvel

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siriushxney · 3 years

Note

Hiyoo

Can I please have a lando norris imagine where your relationship is secret because you work for mclaren but persons find out after a photographer posts a photo of you two hugging after his podium

➛ unwarranted pictures

— pairing : lando norris x reader

— note : I went for a more hidden type of love that was spotted in a moment of privacy type thing

you watched in glee as lando stepped onto the podium — a smile so large it looked like it hurt covering his face.

clapping and cheering along with the team, you couldn’t have been more proud of him in that moment.

walking down from his podium, the trophy in hand and hair weighed down from the champagne sprayed moments earlier, he jumped into his team — pats on his back and screams of congratulations greeting him.

it was moments like these that made you happy. that made you wish that you could just run up to him and give him the affection that was strictly private only.

as time went on, the team trickled further and further towards their section — many rushing to pack things up and others basking in their success today. however, lando stood near the privacy of mclaren’s motorhome with you held tightly in his arms.

“I’m so insanely proud of you, lando,” your voice was muffled as you spoke into his chest — the vibrations paired with your words bringing a smile to his face.

“thank you, love,” he planted one kiss you your head, making you bring your head up to look at him, before he planted another one onto your lips — his actions more passionate then they usually were during race weekends with the privacy the two of you had.

unaware of the camera snapping photos of you two, lips locked, and lovesick eyes.

—

‘lando norris pictured with mclaren worker at the side of mclaren’s motorhome’

“this isn’t good, is it.”

“technically no.”

turning slowly, you tried to make sense of his words. “technically? what do you mean by that?”

“I mean that yes, this is technically bad since we were told to keep it under wraps — but technically good at the same time because now,” he grasped your hands and pulled you to your feet. “I can hold your hand, hug, and kiss you all I want now.”

“zak isn’t going to be happy.”

“he loves us — the most he will do is give us the talk.”

#🖇.lando norris #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine

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ijustwant2write · 4 years

Text

Model Wife-Thomas Shelby x Reader

(GIF credit to @nofckingfighting)

(REQUESTS ARE OPEN AND I HAVE ALSO CREATED A PROMPT LIST HERE IF YOU WANT TO TAKE SOMETHING FROM THAT)

Masterlist

Requested by @justsimplyme93: ‘Hey! How are you? I read the last tommy shelby one you did and i love it. Could you do another arranged marriage with tommy where he still go’s to lizzie and the reader asks to speak with him.’

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Reader

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Cheating, sex, swearing, arguing slight violence

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sipping on my tea, I looked around at our guests in the house, all members of the ‘Grace Shelby Institute’. We had to keep up appearances, and although both Tommy and I hated socialising with people who used to turn their noses up at people like us, they were the ones providing the money. Normally, we would keep most events out of the house, but Tommy had pissed me off, and seeing as he was too busy to help organise it, I made all the arrangements; being petty was sometimes the only way I could get back at him.

“Mrs Shelby, what a lovely home you have! And the decor for today is just lovely.” an older, highly posh woman gushed to me.

I smiled.“Thank you. I am quite proud of myself.”

“I have not had the chance to speak with your husband yet. It seems he keeps vanishing into thin air.”

“Yes, he does have a habit of doing that.”

Knowing that there was no point in trying to track down Tommy, I suffered through an awfully dull conversation with the lady, having to disguise my boredom with polite smiles as more women joined us. They were all much older, I had seen a few young women here, all married to very rich men who were twice their own age; I suppose I couldn’t judge, it wasn’t like Tommy and I were actually in love.

“You know Mrs Shelby, I have always wondered how you met a man like Thomas Shelby.” one of the women said.

She was bold to say something like that, especially to me. I refrained from sighing as I started to recite the story Tommy and I made up.

“Well, it seems very cliche, I must say. We met when he was meeting with my father, obviously wanting to unite our businesses. I ended up being in the right place at the right time, we easily fell into a conversation with each other which was unfortunately interrupted by my father. Thomas was very confident to take me out to dinner, right in front of my father may I add! Surprisingly he was a charmer, and I guess we just fell in love along the way.”

The ladies all cooed, some covering their heart with their hand as if it were the most romantic thing they had ever heard. It was all bullshit. We had to make it as vague as possible, make sure that they had nothing more to gossip about. Both Tommy and I had been married before, they were our real loves; and both had been murdered by a rival, but who received more sympathy after they died? And who was called vicious, degrading names when she re-married to a wealthier, more powerful man? People of ‘society’ were disgusting.

“Finn,” I called out as I approached him, luckily escaping the women,“have you seen your brother?”

“Which one?” he smirked.

I smiled back, ruffling up his hair to annoy him.“The one I’m married to.”

He quickly smoothed it back down.“Not sure. Haven’t seen him in a while.”

“Alright, just keep an eye out for him, yeah?”

Although it wasn’t uncommon for Tommy to disappear (especially to avoid these groups of snobs), he had been gone for a while. He may have been frustrated by my choice of venue, but he would still inform me if he had to leave for business. This made me all the more suspicious.

Leaving the main room, I hastily walked down the halls, leaving the noise behind me. There was an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach, wishing that I didn't have an idea of where he could be...and who with. Brushing past staff carrying food and beverages, I made my way upstairs, checking our bedroom first. He was the lowest of low if he was up here; luckily, they hadn’t used this room. Checking through our bedrooms, it was only two doors down from our own when I heard heavy breathing. Taking a deep breath, I gripped onto the handle, bursting in and confirming my suspicions.

“If you’re almost finished, we have guests waiting for you downstairs.” I stated, averting my gaze away from the scene before me.

Lizzie had been bent over the bed, with her dress pulled up over her hips (how classy), and my husband right behind her. She bolted upright, shimmying her dress back down and pulling her underwear up; even after being caught in the act, she looked smug, head held high as she walked past me. Looking back at Tommy, he had an annoyed expression as he did up his trousers. I didn’t want to speak to him, but he called me back before I had a chance to leave.

“We need to speak about this.” he said.

“We do. But not now, not whilst I am hosting this event for the organisation you created for your dead wife.” I snapped, slamming the door shut behind me.

Luckily I had put a time limit on the event, and this time there was a genuine smile on my face as they all left. That was before I remembered what I had witnessed earlier. It was going to go down much messier than I first anticipated, especially since the tension between us had been building up after I caught them in the act. My footsteps were heavy on the way to Tommy’s office, not even bothering the knock before entering. In his usual spot at his desk, whiskey already poured, there was no reaction from him when he saw the fury in my eyes.

“Glad you’re settled for the evening.” I spat, hands on my hips as I stood opposite him.

“This is about earlier?” he coughed.

“What else would we talk about?”

“I’m guessing it has upset you.”

“Not for the reasons you’re thinking.”

He didn’t reply, instead lighting a cigarette.

“Tommy, I understand that there is that bullshit saying ‘all men have urges that need to be fulfilled’, but it doesn’t mean you can disrespect me in my own home.”

“Your home?”

“Yes, my home. I’m here a lot more than you are anyway. And of all the times to be fucking her, you chose the annual Grace Shelby Institute meet up?”

“Don’t say her name.” he mumbled.

I scoffed.“It’s the only way I can get your attention nowadays.”

Tommy raised from his chair, still smoking.“Attention? Since when have you ever wanted my attention?”

“We both knew that this marriage wasn’t based off of love, nor were we ever going to fall in love along the way. However, I have been nothing but a model wife to you. I keep up appearances on your behalf, I make up excuses for your disappearances, I also ensure that your reputation isn’t tarnished by people speaking about you behind your back! And if that doesn’t deserve some fucking respect then I don’t know what does! Also, don’t you think I miss the touch of a man? How many times have I come across men that have shamelessly flirted with me whilst you’re not around, and how easy would it have been to sneak away for just a moment to gain some satisfaction?!”

I could feel my face burning up as I ranted, hating that I wasn’t gaining any sort of reaction from him. Was he this blank with Grace? Was he this blank with Lizzie?

“So you’re asking me to stop seeing Lizzie?”

“I’m not asking you that, because even if I did, you would keep doing it anyway.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. I just want respect. I don’t deserve to be humiliated like this.”

“No one knows.”

“Your family does! And even if they didn’t, that means I don’t deserve respect?”

He sighed as he stubbed out his cigarette.“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You said it nevertheless.”

“What do you want me to do then?”

“Really Tommy? I want some common fucking decency.”

“Ask and you shall receive.”

I groaned, leaving before I said something I truly regretted. He was acting as if he didn’t give a shit (which he probably didn’t), which only angered me more. Who would want to be stuck in such a place? Letting out an angry scream, I picked up an expensive vase, raising it high above my head before throwing it on the floor with all my might. The pieces glided out across the hardwood floor, some spraying onto my shoes. A few servants rushed in, obviously alarmed by the noise. Instead of apologising, I marched past them, heading up the long stairs and to the bedroom; I would have preferred to grab the leftover bottles of champagne as a nightcap, but exhaustion from my anger would have to do.

Tommy still slept beside me that week, he still ate breakfast with me, sometimes dinner if he wasn't busy. He also tried to have normal, short conversations with me, though even when we glanced at each other, the tension was thick between us. It pissed me off that he was acting normal, and I knew that's why he was doing it...making me even more mad.

"I have a potential business partner coming here today." He informed me over breakfast.

"Why are they coming here?" I asked.

"I couldn't have a meeting elsewhere."

"I thought you said you don't like bringing business home...though come to think of it, you don't really do that either."

"Glad that's settled then."

I assumed that Tommy would want me out of the way when this 'partner' arrived. A good place to go was out to the stables, tend to the horses to take up time. However, I wasn't in the mood for riding or mucking out, instead opting to watch them be trained for racing. Leaning against a fence, I wasn't surprised that my mind was elsewhere, wondering why Tommy was still being so nice to me. We very rarely argued, mostly because neither of us wanted to face the problems at hand, especially when there were more pressing matters to deal with. But after yelling at him like I had, I expected some sort of silent treatment, or even for him to avoid me completely.

"Mrs Shelby?" a butler said from behind me. He continued as I turned around."Mr Shelby's meeting was to commence at twelve, but he is not here at present. However, his business partner has arrived. And..."

"And?"

"And Mr Shelby has asked that you keep him company whilst he is gone. He has assured me he shall be no longer than half an hour."

It was highly unusual for me to meet any of Tommy's associates. This meant that the man couldn't be any sort of threat, he wouldn't expose me like this. Following the butler back inside, I followed him to the parlour, preparing to act as a good host and a good wife.

"I'm sorry that my husband has kept you waiting, he's never been great with time keeping." I said as I walked in, the man having his back towards me.

As he turned around, my eyes widened, as did his.

"Christopher?!" I exclaimed.

"(Y/N)?!" He smiled, rushing towards me.

"Is that really you? What are you doing engaging in business with the Shelby's?"

"My firm is expanding, for some reason Thomas Shelby stepped forward and offered to become partners. I haven't heard about you for years!"

"Neither I about you. Ever since you moved away, we lost contact."

"And now you're the new Mrs Shelby. Bit risky isn't it?"

I laughed."Come sit down, u want to hear everything you have been doing since we last saw each other."

Christopher was a very old friend of mine. We had known each other since we were eighteen, becoming friends after our families were connected through business. We had been young people wanting to rebel, wanting to have fun; we were never in a relationship together, though we would sleep with each other, spend long nights out drinking with our friends. As a lot of my friends went off to get married to higher business men, he was still there, until I selfishly left him behind to marry my husband, the man I truly loved. I had loved Christopher, not so much as someone I wanted to spend my life with, though neither just a friend; it sounded more complicated that it was.

"You know, I always felt slightly bad for marrying and leaving you like that." I admitted.

"Only slightly?" he nudged me.

"It's not my fault I fell in love! We both said that we would never marry each other, it wasn't right."

"No, you are correct. Though, that didn't stop us doing things that couples do."

I giggled."And we did that a lot."

"I'm sure Mr Shelby keeps you busy."

"He would...if he was ever here. Though even if he was..."

"(Y/N)?"

"I've said too much already."

"Have the two of you ever...or haven't rather-"

"No we haven't. And I am telling you this in full secrecy, it must never leave your lips." I pointed a finger at him, becoming serious.

"I promise. I would never do anything to expose you like that."

"Thank you Christopher." I laid my hand on his thigh, thinking nothing of it until he placed his over mine.

Slipping away my hand, I looked away from him, feeling how intense our eye contact was becoming. It was stupid that my heart was beating faster, I was becoming hot under the collar over the tiniest amount of contact.

"I'm assuming your wife knows who you are making a deal with?" I said to start the conversation again.

"There is no Mrs in my life at the moment. I'm afraid work came first and well...there has never been much time."

"Oh Christopher, that's no excuse! Let me guess, you've lost your charm?"

"It's been working on you, hasn't it?"

He got me again. Glancing around, I saw no servants, though I wouldn't be surprised if they were eavesdropping. However, it was Tommy and I that employed them, if they wanted to lose their job, that would he the way to do it. Standing up, I gestured for Christopher to follow.

"We're going on a walk." I announced.

"What about your husband?"

"He will be ages before he gets here. And I'm allowed to show my old friend around the place."

We headed out of the front door, and without saying anything, I guided him down the path that led away from the house.

"(Y/N), I thought you were showing me around your home?" Christopher pointed out.

"I am. We're just starting at the beginning."

"What is that...hut?"

It was a small stone shed, one that would have been used to either keep guns or tools used to maintain the land, keep it tidy. Tommy had another one built closer, initially wanting to knock it down but soon forgetting about it. Now it was empty, the only things remaining being a desk and a chair. It was in front of the trees, slightly hidden by them. You would have to have a sharp eye to spot it, whether you were walking or driving by. Using my shoulder to budge it open, I stepped inside, closing the door after Christopher walked in.

"(Y/N), I'm not stupid, I know why we've come here." He said, staying close by me.

I hesitated to speak, knowing that I hadn't thought this through properly."Christopher... I wouldn't be doing this if-"

"Your husband is Thomas Shelby, this is dangerous for both of us."

"It isn't. He's allowed to go off and do what he wants, because he's Thomas fucking Shelby, and he's a man. Even if he found out about any of this, he wouldn't hurt someone if I asked him not to. He's good to me in that manner."

His hands came up to either side of my face."I'm worried about you, I've never seen you so..."

"Desperate?" I clung onto his jacket, pulling him closer.

"I couldn't believe it was you when you walked in. You're still as beautiful as you were when we were eighteen."

Although he was being a sweetheart and I hadn't received such compliments in a long time, I was inpatient. We both knew where this was headed, and it wasn't going to be as romantic or adventurous as it used to be.

Hungrily kissing me, his arms wrapped around my torso, reaching down to my arse as I pulled off his coat. Pulling away for a moment, he pushed me towards the desk, helping me scramble on top of it. My legs instantly spread as I ruffled up the bottom of my dress, using one hand to grab the back of his neck and kiss him again. I felt his hand slide up my thigh, gasping as he pulled my underwear aside. The sensation filling my body had been badly missed, and I felt myself writhing against his fingers. Leaning back against the wall, I moaned loudly, heavily breathing as I grinded my hips. He slowed down his movements, knowing how much it was frustrating me.

"Christopher..." I struggled to say."Fuck, please...don't stop."

He leaned in to my neck, sloppily missing it as he spoke in between."I loved teasing you like this."

I groaned as he removed his fingers, instantly reaching down to unbuckle his trousers. Before I could take a turn to torture him back, he pulled me off the desk, quickly turning me around and bending me over it. I yelped out in surprise, smiling at the thrill of it all. He tapped my legs apart, moving my skirts out of the way. I felt his skin on mine before he thrusted into me, making me cry out in pleasure. It didn't even matter if anyone could hear us, I hadn't fucked for God knows how long.

He was slow at first, building up the feeling that was in the pit of my stomach. I moaned out his name, reaching back to grab any piece of hm. He had a tight grip on my hips, especially as he started to quicken his pace. The noises escaping his mouth were somehow exciting me, I needed to feel and hear all of this. The pinching of skin from his hold didn't bother me, both of us shouting out each others names along with profanities before he came, but he kept going until I did too. With both of us finished and out of breath, Christopher gently collapsed over me.

"Fuck." I sighed as he pulled out.

Shakily straightening up, I made sure I was dressed correctly, kissing him gently one last time. My body couldn't believe what it had just gone through, and it already wanted more. Before we could say or do anything else, we heard the distant sound of a car, and it could only be headed this way.

"Shit." Christopher stressed, hastily getting dressed.

"It's OK! It'll be OK, Christopher!" I tried to calm him down.

"He's back already!"

"We'll head back and act like nothing happened. I was just walking around with you."

Making sure we both looked normal, we nervously made our way back to the house. My legs were still shaking as he speedily walked, but I said nothing, seeing the stress and fear plastered on his face.

"Ah, Mr Alexander, I see you have met my wife." Tommy was stood in the foyer, unnaturally smiling.

"We actually know each other. We grew up together." I explained, standing beside him.

Then it clicked.

"If you don't mind, I just need a quick word with my wife."

Christopher nodded, politely smiling at both of us before following the butler to Tommy's office. He turned to face me, casually putting his hands in his pockets.

"You invited him on purpose." I said.

"You might want to go lie down for a bit." He didn't say it maliciously, but I was still wary.

"Tommy, please don't hurt him. I initiated it, please don't-"

"I'm not going to do anything to him. He's done what I thought he would do."

"I'm confused. Why would you want him to sleep with me?"

"You said so yourself, why should it just be me doing what I want? You're Mrs fucking Shelby, you've got the power." He started to walk away, leaving me to still think about what he had done.

Still shaky but reeling from the events that unfolded, I ended up smiling."That scheming mother fucker."

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby one shot #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagines #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby one shot #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders one shot #bbc peaky blinders #Peaky Blinders bbc

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taylorinthetardis · 4 years

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Wallflowers - A Henry Cavill x Reader fic

So I did a thing! Rather than continue to work on my larger, more complicated Pride and Prejudice fic, I decided to make a fanfic out of the fantasy I had at work the other day!

There will most likely be a part two to this, I just thought I was at a good stopping point and wanted to see what you guys thought about it.

Full disclosure: I didn’t mean for this to whole ass turn into a Bath and Body Works ad, but it kinda did. For those of you reading in countries that do not have Bath and Body Works, its basically just a body and home care store. In the US their scents are legendary. Pretty much every young girl went through a BBW phase where that was all they used for soap and perfume. That all being said, in the interest of further disclosure and covering my ass, I own neither Bath and Body Works nor any of the trademarks on the scents listed herein. I also do not own Henry Cavill because owning human beings is a crime.

This is my first Henry fic so be gentle with me! It’s a bit longer than I had anticipated and un-beta’d.

Warnings: just a lot of fluff. some self-deprecation. loads of swearing. don’t know if I should warn for slight bashing of the religious but I will anyway so no one gets mad at me.

Wallflowers

It was shaping up to be another boring ass day at Bath and Body Works. I had started working here during the Pandemic after I was laid off from my job at the movie theatre. I had planned on it only being temporary, but even after things got better and I got my theatre job back, I decided to stick around. What can I say; a bitch is broke. Nothing wrong with double-dipping.

There was something about Sunday mornings in the mall. Probably because people around here still went to church in the mornings. Like it matters. Sunday mornings are always so slow, here and at the theatre, but the day always picks up after 1, when morning church services finish. It was me and Samantha up in the front room this morning, working out the leftover boxes from yesterday’s shipment. She was one of the first people I really bonded with here, both of us being super into both Marvel and DC, specifically Sebastian Stan and Henry Cavill. They had just started filming the next Superman movie and they were going to be shooting scenes up in Michigan again, like they had for Dawn of Justice.

“I’m just saying, we should really consider asking for a few days off and just going up there and scoping it out. I mean, it’s Henry fucking Cavill. He’s less than an hour away from us. Right now. Less than an hour. When is that ever gonna happen again? I can use some of my vacation time at the theatre, so at least I’m not missing out on money from them. It’ll be a blast. I mean, what’s the worst that can happen? We don’t see him? I mean at least we’d have tried. I’d rather try than stay down in stupid Ohio with the knowledge that he’s that close.”

“Do you really think Ann’s going to give us time off to stalk Superman?”

“We ain’t gonna tell her what it’s for! Just lie, c’mon now.” I laughed. I dropped a box of Gingham body cream into the understock drawer and broke the box down. Out of the corner of my eye I caught movement, oh goodie, a customer. Samantha was quicker to greet them.

“Welcome to Bath and Body… OH MY GOD!” I turned around and was met with the sight of none other than Henry fucking Cavill, sheepishly running his hand through his now jet-black curls, obviously embarrassed at having been recognized. Damn, am I glad I put make-up on this morning. Alright Y/N, this is your fucking chance. For once in your damn life, be fucking cool. You can do this. You look good, you smell like Champagne Toast, you’ve got this. I pulled my hair down from its messy bun and shook it out a bit before walking over to where Samantha was still trying to collect herself. The store radio started playing Halsey’s Bad at Love and I had to bite my lip to stop myself from bursting out laughing at the absurdity of the situation we were now in. Not five minutes ago we were talking about seeking him out and now here he was in all his brick-shithouse-ness. I looped my arm through Samantha’s in a show of support.

“What a wonderful coincidence! We were just talking about you and now here you are! It’s crazy how the universe works, isn’t it? I’m Y/N, this is Samantha; what can we help you with today, Henry?” I smiled my most adorable smile at him, the one that makes my little cheek dimple pop out, and, honestly, they both looked shocked. Samantha was clearly surprised that I was more capable of speech than she was, and to be honest so was I, and Henry seemed shocked that I would openly admit that we had been talking about him before he got there, which probably wasn’t a great thing to say, but I panicked.

“Well, I was told this was the best place to go for candles and air freshener-y type things. The house I’m renting just has this odd odour that I can’t get rid of. I’ve been airing it out during the day, all the windows open, and I come home and it still smells funky. I know I could just find a different place, but it’s close to a park and that’s been nice for Kal and I don’t want to make a fuss, so…” Henry sort of shrugged, the buttons on his plaid shirt straining with the movement of his broad shoulders, and gestured around the store as if to say “that’s why I’m here”.

“Well, you’ve definitely come to the right place. All of our home care is in the second room, grab a basket, I’m sure we can find you some scents you’ll like.” He walked over to the basket tower to grab one as a couple more customers walked in. Samantha nudged me towards the second room; I was going to have to handle Henry alone for now, it seemed. He followed me over to the Wallflower wall. “So, these are our Wallflowers. They’re sort of like the Glade Plug-ins, I don’t know if you’ve seen those, you plug this diffuser into any power outlet and screw the fragrance bulb in and it diffuses the scented oil into the room. They last for about a month or so. These’ll probably be the best option for you, well these and maybe a room spray or two to start with. The candles are good, but obviously the scent is gonna be strongest when they’re burning and it’s probably not a great idea to light a bunch of candles and then leave for the whole day.”

He chuckled. “No, I’d say you’re right about that. I definitely don’t want to burn the place to the ground. Are there any scents that you’d recommend?”

“Well, I mean, it obviously all depends on your personal preferences. I like sweet scents. I like my space to be smelling like a bakery or a candy shop at all times, so I tend to go for anything like that. We actually still have some of our holiday scents that we’re trying to get rid of and there’s this really great one in that line called Spiced Apple Toddy. It smells like apple pie. I love it. It’s only out during fall and winter so I stocked up. I need it all year long, honestly. I still have so many other scents at home, but like I’m probably never gonna get sick of it, for real, it smells so good. Or I might go every other month swapping between that and Black Cherry Merlot because that’s awesome too. And then there’s Champagne Toast, I mean, that one might be a bit too feminine for you, but I love it. It’s sweet and just a tiny bit citrusy. I can’t do any of the floral or like, outdoorsy scents, they set my allergies off. And honestly there’s some of these that I smell them and I’m like, who is putting this in their house? Like, what nutjob thinks this scent is good? How many people have senses of smell that are this screwed up?” At this point I was rambling, talking excitedly and with my hands, handing him testers to smell and trying to gauge his reactions to know what to hand him next. He didn’t have any bad reactions to anything I gave him until I handed him the tester for Fresh Balsam. His nose scrunched up in the most adorable way and he very carefully set the tester down on the counter as far from him as he could manage. He handled my word-vomit good-naturedly, with a small smile on his face, nodding and chuckling when he thought something I had said was funny. Our fingers brushed a few times as I handed him the testers and after the third time, I began to feel like it was deliberate on his part, but it couldn’t have been, could it? He couldn’t really be interested in me. He’s Henry Cavill. I’m just, well, I’m just me.

Me, with my two minimum wage jobs, still living with my parents, inching ever closer to 30 years old. Why would he want any of that? Why would he be interested in me physically either? I mean, he’s literally flawless and I’m short, overweight, I eat like shit, I don’t exercise, hell, I barely know how to put on make-up correctly. Yeah, I look good today, but that’s not par-for-the-course.

He put a few each of Cinnamon & Clove Buds, Black Cherry Merlot, Limoncello (for the bathrooms, he said), and Laundry Day (for the laundry room, obviously) in his basket along with enough of the plugs so he’d have one in each room. He also grabbed a Black Cherry Merlot and a Limoncello room spray off the shelf next to the Wallflower display before turning back to me. “So then, where do you keep this Spiced Apple Toddy that you like so much, or did you hide them so you could have them all to yourself?”

I chuckled nervously and ran my hand through my hair, sort of disbelieving that he was actually paying attention to what I had said. Boys never listen to me when I talk, I always have to repeat myself, but I guess that’s because I usually end up talking to the dumb ones. Henry’s not dumb. He really is just fucking perfect, isn’t he? Pretty and he listens? That shouldn’t be such a difficult combination to find, but for me it had been. “They’re on the table over here with the rest of our leftover Christmas stuff. Hopefully the tester is still there somewhere.” I put my hands in my apron pockets and I could feel the jolt of confidence I had had just minutes before leaving my body. His charm had worn me down, bringing me back to my normal, anxiety-ridden self. I caught the toe of my boot on the corner of one of the other tables as we walked towards the center of the room. I stumbled, but before I could fall his arm was already out to steady me, wrapping around my waist to keep me upright.

“Are you alright Y/N?” A look of genuine concern was on his face and I swear to God I swooned. Like, fuck, I just stubbed my stupid toe, it’s not that serious. I mean yeah, I stubbed my toe and then almost fell into a table covered with candles in glass holders, but like, I didn’t fall, you caught me, please stop looking at me like you care. You can’t give me that much hope. It isn’t fair. And goddamnit I love the way my name sounds coming out of your mouth. Like, fuck it’s never sounded so good. This isn’t fair, why is this happening?

“Yeah, Henry I’m fine, just a stubbed toe. Thank you for…you know.” I gestured down to his arm, which was still around my waist. The sound of me bumping into the table drew the attention of the rest of my co-workers, however, who were now coming out of their various positions to see what was going on and to make sure no one had broken anything. Samantha popped her head in from the front room and Kelynn and Mira came out from the cashwrap with Pilar and walked to the edge of the third room to peek in. All they saw was me, blushing profusely, with Henry Cavill’s beefy-ass arm still wrapped around my fucking waist. “Everything’s fine guys. I promise.”

“Holy shit, is that…”

“Mira!”

“But Kelynn that’s fucking Superman!”

“You can’t cuss in front of him Mira, he’s a customer!”

“Will you guys cut it out? You’re embarrassing us in front of the hunky British dude!”

“Hey, I’ve got an idea. How about we all pretend like this isn’t happening right now? Pilar can go back to the cashwrap, you two can go back to whatever it was you were doing, and I’ll go back to what I was doing, namely making a damn sale!” I extricated myself from Henry’s grasp so I could shoo them back towards the cashwrap. They turned and walked away, bewildered looks on their faces. I turned back to Henry who was shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable. He cleared his throat and ran his hand through his curls, leaving them messier than they were before. An errant one fell over his forehead and I wanted to brush it out of the way, but he just left it.

I walked over to the table that I was originally heading for and found the Spiced Apple Toddy Wallflowers. There wasn’t that many left, but there was still a tester. I grabbed it and spun around to bring it to him, assuming he hadn’t followed me, but as I turned, I found myself going face first into his massive chest. I put my unoccupied hand up to steady myself and pushed on his chest to force him back. He was just too close. Why was he so close? He opened his mouth to say something but I beat him to it. “Here. This is what I have in my bedroom right now, this is Spiced Apple Toddy.” Oh god, why did I say it like that? The one I have in my bedroom. Jesus Christ. He quirked his eyebrow at me and cocked his head to the side, smirking a little. Instead of taking the tester from me, he took my much smaller hand in his, guiding it up towards his face so the tester was close to his nose. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. A serene smile spread across his face and I felt my face get hotter. He opened his eyes, looking down into mine. Fuck I could drown in those ocean eyes.

“Oh, I like that very much. You were right. I think that one’s my favourite.”

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x reader #my first henry fic #fluff #unintentional bath and body works ad #be gentle

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charincharge · 4 years

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Cruel Summer, Part 6

cruel summer masterlist

AN: Today was ~dramatic~ -- I woke up to learn that someone was posting this fic on AO3 and passing it off as their own. It was a BUMMER, to say the least, and it really threw me off. I haven’t posted fic in a decade, and I was really using this as a fun way to remember how much I loved writing (since doing it professionally can seriously zap the fun out of it). And hearing that someone stole my work made me incredibly upset and feel generally violated. I know it’s just fic, but... I work hard to write it and don’t think it’s too much to ask to receive the credit for it? I hope this chapter doesn’t reflect that because I was really excited for this one! Anyway. TL;DR, I ended up creating an AO3 page, so no one can post FOR me moving forward. I’ve updated my Masterlist page accordingly. And please don’t plagiarize, guys, it’s not cool. Okay. Enough of that negativity. Let’s get back to the important things. Like Rowan.

Rain pelts against Rowan’s window, casting a dark, ominous hue over his bedroom. His first real day off from work, and it’s storming outside, naturally. He’d planned to take it easy and go to the beach, maybe go for a long run. But it looks like that’s not happening now. He knows he’s being punished. This is the universe’s way of intervening and letting him know how shitty he is. Rowan can’t shake the image of Aelin’s hurt face. It is seared into his brain. And there’s only one way to get it out.

Rowan lounges back into his pillows and opens his laptop before typing in Aelin Ashryver into his internet browser. Her Facebook profile pops up immediately, but it’s set to Friends Only, and Rowan definitely isn’t brave enough to add her as a friend. Her Instagram appears next, and Rowan nearly jumps for joy that it’s a public profile.

The first picture is of the back of her head, her blonde hair piled high on top of her head in a messy bun, with tendrils curling around the nape of her neck, overlooking her balcony and the view of the ocean beyond. She’s back, bitches the caption reads, and Rowan can’t help but chuckle. Next is Aelin with her entire family at the head of Ashryver Playland in a picturesque pose with the caption Favorite place with my favorite people (minus @dorhav118 who gets in TOMORROW!!!!). The corners of Rowan’s lips curl downward as his curiosity gets the better of him, and he clicks on Dorian’s profile.

Rowan rolls his eyes at Dorian’s bio: “Hot as a pistol, but cool inside.”

His heart tugs at seeing the first picture. It’s from the pool party the other day, when Aelin was still in her white dress. She’s laughing at something Dorian said, her eyes closed tightly, glass of champagne in her hand, while Dorian smizes into the camera. Reunited and it feels so good <3

“Who kicked your puppy?” Manon asks from the doorway, and Rowan slams his laptop shut.

“No one.”

A wicked grin appears on her face as she stalks into Rowan’s room and slides onto the bed next to him. “I have a pretty good idea.”

Rowan sighs as Manon reaches over and opens the laptop back up, her long nails clacking against the keyboard. “Just as I thought.” She looks Rowan over, from the bags under his eyes to his hair, messy from constantly running his hands through it. “We’re going out.”

Rowan looks out the window at the torrential downpour and gray skies. “Out? In that? Where?”

“I don’t know,” Manon admits, “But I’m not letting you mope and stalk Aelin all day. It’s pathetic, and below you, to be frank. There’s got to be something we can do in this godforsaken town when it rains.”

It turns out there’s not that many options for what to do when it rains in the small beach town. Mostly everything is outdoors or beach oriented. But Manon decides that the aquarium is a good indoor activity, and it happens to be next to a brewery – for when they get bored. The pair Uber there, not wanting to deal with the hassle of worrying about sobering up. If Rowan’s not allowed to mope and be pathetic at home, he’s going to do today right. And do it drunk.

Despite it being one of the few indoor activities available, the aquarium is fairly deserted when Manon and Rowan arrive. It’s dark and damp and cool and strangely soothing, and Rowan lets Manon lead the way. She heads immediately for the reptile room, thrilled to see the alligators and lizards and snakes. Somehow Rowan isn’t surprised by this development.

They branch off into a small Amazon Rainforest room, filled with frogs and fish and even more snakes on low hanging branches, and Rowan nearly jumps out of skin when a large bird caws in his direction.

“I fucking hate birds,” he grumbles as Manon cackles in delight. “Can’t we see… cuter animals? Like, turtles and seals or some shit?”

Manon rolls her eyes and leads him straight to the shark tank. It’s open, so they can lean over it and look at the giant creatures. Rowan grits his teeth, only slightly terrified at the image of the fin cutting through the surface of the water.

“You know what you’re feeling is totally false,” Manon comments casually.

“Huh?” Rowan says, trying to maintain his calm façade.

“Sharks aren’t predators of humans. That’s the Jaws effect in action. It completely changed our perception of sharks and actually sparked a hunting frenzy that has put sharks in danger, even though they were just an important part of the ecosystem. Fuck you, Spielberg.”

Manon purses her darkly painted lips and twirls her white blonde hair, leaning over the tank further. Rowan shakes his head at his roommate, who looks like she wants to reach into the water and pet the fucking things. He’s never seen her so affected before.

“Why are you like this?” he asks, and she laughs.

“You’re not thinking about her anymore, though, are you?”

Rowan flicks her off. “I wasn’t.”

“A few more rooms will get you right back to that terrified place and not thinking about her at all. Don’t you worry.” She winks and leads him into an incredibly dark room, which is only lit up with glowing jellyfish. Manon is right, and within a few minutes, Rowan is feeling calm again. He lets the dark and schools of weird underwater creatures soothe him, and after they finish at the aquarium, Rowan is grateful he let Manon drag him out of the house.

“Beer?” she asks, and Rowan nods readily.

“I think I earned it.”

“Shut up, you fucking loved it. Think we should get a fish tank?” she asks, and Rowan shakes his head immediately. Manon is strange enough without tending to creatures from the deep in their apartment.

They brave the rain, realizing they both forgot umbrellas, and make a mad dash down the street. Rain soaks Rowan’s shirt, but he feels light. They duck into the brewery, and Rowan shakes out his hair, spraying water all over Manon, like a wet dog. He’s never seen her look so horrified.

“You’re lucky I set my makeup, so it’s immoveable every day,” she says with narrowed eyes. “First round’s on you, asshole.”

Rowan orders them two beers fairly quickly, despite the brewery being packed with patrons (he guesses this is where everyone goes when it rains). But when he turns around to hand Manon her drink, he’s surprised to see her mid-conversation with the very last person he wants to see.

“Rowan!” Dorian calls him over with a wide smile, and Rowan grimaces as he joins them. “I was just introducing myself to your stunning roommate,” Dorian says, and Manon rolls her eyes. But Rowan knows she’s beaming internally with the praise. Manon knows she’s beautiful and doesn’t let anyone forget it, despite her lack of interest in men.

“Uh, hey, Dorian, right?” Rowan says, pretending like he wasn’t just browsing the man’s Instagram profile merely hours ago.

Dorian laughs heartily. “Rowan, come on. We’re friends. Any friend of Aelin’s is a friend of mine.” He grins again, and Rowan can’t help but stare at his incredibly white teeth. He wonders if he whitens them. He must, because no one’s teeth are that naturally white. Or straight.

“Come sit with us!” Dorian points to their table where Aelin sits with the same two people from last night.

“Sure!” Manon says, the same time Rowan says “NO!” emphatically.

“Come on,” Dorian pleads. “We have a big table, and the place is packed. You’ll be lucky to find standing room otherwise. Please, Aelin would be horrified if I let you leave without saying hi.”

Rowan’s stomach churns, but he feels trapped. He can’t say no. “Lead the way,” he says, and Dorian smiles another blinding smile.

“Great.”

He leads them to their table, and to say that Aelin looks shocked to see Rowan approach would be an understatement.

“Look who I found!” Dorian exclaims, gesturing to Rowan and Manon, who stand next to the table awkwardly. “Chaol, Nesryn – these are two of Aelin’s friends, Rowan and Manon.”

The brunette dude, Chaol, gives Rowan a tight smile and short head nod, but the woman, Nesryn, stands and shakes both their hands politely.

Rowan and Manon slide into the two empty seats, and of course Rowan is directly across from Aelin. She looks at him curiously as he takes a large sip of his beer.

“So, how do you know Aelin?” Chaol asks, breaking the awkward silence.

“Rowan works at the park,” Dorian explains. “And Chaol is Aelin’s ex-boyfriend and my other best friend,” Dorian chuckles.

“It’s not as awkward as it sounds,” Chaol says with a laugh.

Aelin squints her eyes and looks at Chaol. “Mmm… it kind of is.”

Manon snorts. “You’re a handful, aren’t you?” she says, leaning toward Aelin, and Aelin flips her golden hair over her shoulder and shrugs.

“Two handfuls, thank you very much,” she says and feels herself up, showing how her chest spills over her hand, too much for one to grasp fully.

“Aelin!” Chaol chides, and Rowan can feel heat creep up the back of his neck as he stares at Aelin’s ample cleavage as she lifts it up.

Dorian cackles, his laugh piercing through the room as he tips his head back. He reminds Rowan of Manon when he does it, so amused with others’ discomfort.

Rowan glances back at Aelin’s chest, and when he looks up, she’s staring back at him, one brow raised in question. He immediately finishes the rest of his beer, downing it in one gulp.

“I need more beer. Anyone else?” Rowan asks, and to his surprise, Chaol stands and offers to come with him.

The pair stand side by side at the bar, waiting for their drinks, and Rowan is unsure of what to say to his current crush’s former paramour.

“So…” Chaol begins, and Rowan cocks an eyebrow at him as he leans against the bar. “You were at The Mason Jar last night,” Chaol says, naming the dive bar where he’d met up with the guys the night prior. “Aelin booked it to the bar when she saw you,” Chaol continues. “You guys, like, a thing?” he asks, curiosity seeping through his anything but innocent question.

“What?” Rowan says, bowled over. “No. Uh. Not at all.” Rowan is more than flustered. “I thought she and Dorian were…”

And at that Chaol tips his head back and guffaws. A deep, full-body belly laugh, erupts from his mouth. “Dorian?” he gapes, his brown eyes wide with disbelief. “And Aelin?” He shakes his head. “No. No no no. Never.” Chaol pauses. “They kissed once when they were thirteen, but other than that. No. Dorian is her person. Which is why it could never work between us, even though we tried for five fucking years,” he sighs and scratches the back of his neck uncomfortably. “But, no. They’re definitely not.” Chaol looks at Rowan, and Rowan feels like he’s seeing through him completely. Chaol smiles softly. “You really thought? Hmmm.”

Rowan is stunned. Seriously stunned. He has no idea how to react. Or how to process this new information. Dorian and Aelin are not dating? They’re just… friends? So, Aelin is available? And has been flirting with Rowan for the past week, and Rowan just shot her down? Rowan rubs his forehead with his hand, which he thinks is the only thing stopping him from banging his head against the bar in shame. Rowan is an idiot.

An idiot who needs to apologize to Aelin. Immediately.

“This was, uh… enlightening,” Rowan says as he accepts his drink from the bartender, and Chaol can’t help but laugh again.

“Did you do something stupid?” he asks cheekily.

“So stupid,” Rowan says, shaking his head.

“Yeah, she was kind of in a mood after she came back from talking to you,” Chaol says, and Rowan groans. Chaol holds up his hands in surrender. “Just trying to help!”

Rowan turns to him fully and examines the brunette with his concerned brown eyes and has to ask, “Not to be rude, but why?”

“Because Aelin deserves to be happy,” he says resolutely. “And I kept her from being happy for a really long time because I’m a selfish bastard,”Chaol admits way too freely. “But, how could I not?”

“You still love her,” Rowan says, and Chaol shrugs.

“I think once you love Aelin you always love her. For better or worse.”

Rowan motions to the table. “I’m gonna…”

Chaol smirks. “Yeah, get to it.”

But back at the table, Aelin and Dorian are nowhere to be found. Manon sighs, obvious to Rowan’s distress.

“She went to sign up for karaoke.”

“Oh no…” Rowan groans.

“Oh, yes,” Aelin says, bounding back to the table, exuberant.

“Don’t worry. I signed you up, too, Rowan,” Dorian says with a grin.

Aelin frowns, her eyes filled with apology. “I told him not to.”

Dorian rolls his eyes. “And I told her that if Rowan wants to hang with us this summer, he’s gotta get initiated.”

“It’s fine,” Rowan says, smiling in what he hopes is a nice and not creepy way to Aelin. She looks momentarily confused, but she doesn’t have time to think about it because she’s called up to do her song with Dorian almost immediately.

The pair sing “Shallow” flawlessly. And now that Rowan knows they aren’t dating, he can see their friendship all too clearly. Aelin and Dorian love each other fiercely; their passion rages through everything they do, but it lacks a spark. It’s platonic, Rowan finally realizes. He’s been such a fucking fool.

Rowan’s name gets called next, and his stomach is is knots, wondering what song they’ve chosen for him. When he gets to the front, though, he nearly laughs. They’ve chosen a song he could sing with his eyes completely closed.

Shorty get down, good lord… baby’s got ‘em up all over town…

Strictly biz she don’t play around, cover much ground, got game by the pound

Getting paid is her forte

Each and every day, true player way

I can’t get her out of my mind

Think about the girl all the time…

He knows the song is comeuppance for calling Aelin friendly last night, but he crushes it nonetheless, singing his heart out, performing for the masses. When Rowan finishes, the crowds go wild, applauding like crazy.

He sees Aelin bolt from the table before he can get back off the stage, and decides to follow her. She heads down the long hall back to the bathrooms, and his long stride helps him catch up quickly.

“Aelin!” he shouts, and he’s grateful that she pauses, but her arms are crossed over her chest, a clear defensive stance that tells him to keep his distance.

“What?” she snips, obviously pissed. They haven’t actually interacted with each other since last night, and Rowan knows she has every right to be angry with him. “I thought you wanted nothing to do with me? What are you even doing here, Rowan?”

“I’m an idiot,” he blurts out, and he can see Aelin’s face morph from pissed to amused. She bites her lip to hold back her smile.

“I mean, I know that, but why do you think that?” she says, her blue gold eyes glowing with challenge. He takes a step closer to her, and she backs up until she can’t back up anymore, pressed against the side of the hall. He pauses his approach, not wanting to make her feel cornered. If she wants space between them, he’ll let her have space.

“I was so out of line last night,” Rowan apologizes. “You were right. You were just trying to be friendly. I was being a dick. I thought…” Rowan pauses. He doesn’t want to be this tongue tied, but she flusters him, and he can’t get anything out how he wants to. “It’s not harassment when I want to be touched. By you.”

Aelin’s eyes narrow. She looks suspicious as she examines him.

“I knew I was good at karaoke, but damn, I didn’t anticipate this kind of turnaround…” Aelin smirks and takes a breath, and Rowan risks taking another step forward. She holds up a hand and presses it against Rowan’s chest. He didn’t realize how close he’d gotten to her. Warmth from her palm seeps through his shirt, and he breathes heavily. She looks up into his eyes with curiosity.

“Seriously, what changed your mind?” she asks.

“If I say Chaol’s name right now it’s just going to make things weird,” Rowan says, dipping his head slightly, and he can’t help but notice her tilt her head up to him. He zeroes in on her lips, leaning down to get even closer.

“You’re right,” she says with a soft laugh. “You were still a jerk.” Her eyes flick to his lips, and Rowan darts his tongue out to wet them.

“I know,” he breathes softly. “And I mentioned I was an idiot, right?”

Aelin nods and leans in to close the gap between them, the charge, the magnetism between them now palpable, strumming through Rowan’s body, pulling him downward.

“Hey guysss,” Dorian drawls as he walks past them quickly, and Rowan straightens up suddenly. Aelin darts under his arm, freeing herself from being backed into the wall. He sees her take a large breath. “I was wondering where you’d gone.” Dorian looks between them, and then grabs his stomach. “I have to pee so bad. Don’t mind me!” He continues down the hall. “As you were!”

Rowan goes to finish his apology, but the moment is gone, and so is Aelin. He needs a moment to compose himself, and when he makes it back to the table, she’s already deep in conversation with Manon and Chaol and Nesryn about the latest karaoke performance. Apparently in his absence someone murdered “Bohemian Rhapsody” and not in a good way. But Aelin acknowledges Rowan’s presence with a flash of a smile, despite not breaking her conversation.

Manon side eyes Rowan suspiciously, and Rowan brushes her off. He’s not ready to talk about whatever just did or did not happen in that hallway.

Their chatter is aimless but pleasant as afternoon bleeds into evening, and eventually they all decide to disperse and head home. Rowan never gets a chance to speak to Aelin alone again, but when he and Manon are in their Uber heading home, his phone flashes with a Friend Request from Aelin Ashryver.

“Hmm,” Manon hums pointedly as Rowan bites back a smile. He spends the rest of the night in bed, scrolling through Aelin’s social media. As he’d originally planned to do with his day. Only now, he doesn’t feel as mopey or pathetic. He lets the rain, still relentless, lull him to sleep.

~*~*~*~*~*~

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lady-divine-writes · 4 years

Text

Klaine Advent Drabble 2020 - “Take One” (Rated PG13)

Summary: Embroiled in the aftermath of two very messy break-ups, Kurt and Blaine are preparing to film their first love scene together. But how do you pretend to be in love when your love life is falling apart?

It probably doesn't hurt to be in love with your co-star then. (1982 words)

Notes: Written for the @klaineadvent Drabble Challenge 2020 prompt 'grey'.

Read on AO3.

“Ooo, I get a limo this time,” Kurt mumbles, not nearly as impressed as he’s pretending to be. But he needs to keep up appearances. Even though it’s the literal buttcrack of dawn, he’s not alone. There are about thirty asshats, armed with cameras, camped out on his doorstep, climbing over each other to snap a candid of him for the gossip sites. A photo of him emerging from his townhouse fresh-faced and ready for another day on set will fetch an easy couple hundred.

But if he looks like he rolled out of bed, drank a bottle of whiskey for breakfast, then fell down a flight of stairs, landing face-first onto a mountain of cocaine - those pictures would fetch considerably more.

That’s what he gets for going through a horrendous break-up while having the nerve to be rich and famous.

Despite how he feels about his life at this moment, he went for the former, not the latter. He would never touch hard drugs, not for any reason, and he can't justify looking less than his best.

Like a good friend once told him - never let them see you sweat.

“Kurt! Kurt Hummel! Over here!” the pariahs start calling, some of them whistling for his attention like he’s a dog. “Hummel! Hey, Hummel!”

Hummel.

That’s the one that gets him, burrows into the roots of his teeth and makes his whole head pulsate. It keeps his feet moving when he might have stopped to exchange a polite hello. Who talks to people like that? When did it become acceptable to bellow out someone’s last name as a means of getting their attention? Is it too much to ask for the respect of at least shoving a ‘Mr.’ in front of it? Have these glorified stalkers forgotten that if it weren’t for him and stars like him the only jobs they could get would be snapping photos of families for minimum wage at Six Flags?

Ugh.

Too much thinking too early in the morning.

He could write an essay on how much he loathes pap culture, but today, Kurt can’t be bothered caring.

He slaps on a smile and waves, sliding his glasses down his nose only far enough so they can’t see how red his eyes are from crying.

“Oh, hello! I didn’t see you all here! It’s so nice of you to greet me at 5:30 on this fine winter morning! Oh, careful there. You spilled your coffee. And I think you just kicked that poor young man in the face.”

Kurt greets his guests this way every morning, killing them with kindness, as subtle an eff you as he can come up with when his brain cells have yet to kick in for the day.

Coffee. He needs coffee. About a gallon-and-a-half of it.

Kurt glides through the crowd, an angelfish among sharks, and comes out unscathed.

A man with dark hair and olive skin, wearing a fitted, black uniform tailored to within an inch of its life, opens the car door for Kurt as he approaches.

"Good morning, Mr. Hummel."

“Good morning, Harold. It's nice to see you.” Kurt slides into the car, thankful when the chauffeur shuts the door. He sinks into the leather seat and tosses his sunglasses aside. “God!" he moans, burying his face in his hands. "I don't want to do this! I want to stay home and eat ice cream! I don’t want to kiss anyone today!”

Blaine, who had been waiting quietly and wearing a sympathetic smile, frowns. “Gee. Thanks.”

Kurt's head snaps up, his face splotchy and red in seconds. “Blaine! I’m so sorry! I didn’t know you were …! That’s not what I meant!" He takes a deep breath in, lets it out slowly. "It's not you. I just don’t feel particularly romantic today.”

“It’s okay. I know what you mean. I feel the same way.”

Kurt squares Blaine with a stern look. “Gee. Thanks.”

Blaine ducks his eyes, his cheeks turning pink as he pours Kurt a glass of champagne. There’s always champagne, no matter what vehicle the studio sends to pick them up. But Kurt and Blaine never avail themselves to it.

Today, however, Kurt thinks as he accepts the flute Blaine offers and takes a sip, is an exception.

“I didn’t know Harold was picking you up first,” Kurt says, starting small talk to ease the tension. Kurt and Blaine don’t usually have trouble making small talk.

But, again, today is an exception.

“Well ...” Blaine clears his throat, seems embarrassed “... I was just … you know … a few blocks down the way.”

Kurt sits up further, leans forward with interest. “So you did it. You moved out.”

“Yup,” Blaine replies quietly. “I couldn’t … I just couldn’t stay. Not after …” He stops and sniffles, turning his head to hide eyes that must be as red as Kurt’s. Kurt doesn’t know.

He only ever notices how striking they are.

Kurt rests a comforting hand on Blaine’s knee. “I know.”

“Yeah,” Blaine says with a slightly bitter laugh. “So does the whole world. In fact, the photogs knew I was leaving before I knew. You should have seen it. I could barely get past them.”

Kurt pulls a box of tissues out of the side panel and offers one to Blaine. “They’re bottom feeders. Try to ignore them.”

“Easier said than done.”

“I know,” Kurt repeats, feeling exceptionally useless. He’s in the exact same boat, but his heart hurts more for Blaine.

Blaine doesn’t deserve what he's going through. He doesn’t deserve such a public break-up.

He doesn’t deserve having his name drug all over social media by an emotionally manipulative bastard.

Kurt gazes out the window at the sky above. The forecast said it would be clear and sunny today, but it’s cloudy and grey. It matches Kurt's mood. Everything is cloudy and grey.

Well, maybe not everything.

The champagne isn’t. It’s cool and refreshing, and the bubbles make his tongue tingle.

That helps.

And Blaine helps, too.

Even gloomy, melancholy Blaine helps.

Just being in Blaine's presence helps.

“Living in the public eye isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, huh?” Blaine asks, though it sounds as much like a statement to himself as a question for Kurt.

“Not on days like today. But that’s the trade-off for being a star, I guess.”

“Would you ever give it up?” Blaine takes a sip so slight it doesn’t lower the level of the liquid in his glass.

“I can’t say I would. You?”

“Nah. Acting has given me so many opportunities I could never have dreamed of. And all the great people I've met? I mean, this is what? The fifth film we’ve starred in together?”

“It is."

Blaine chuckles, shakes his head. "Some of them have been real winners."

"I know! The roles you get offered when you're just starting out are criminal! Let’s see, we’ve been rogue enemy agents from different factions …”

“High school frenemies …”

“Alien co-conspirators …”

“Jealous rivals …”

“And now … lovers.”

“Yes,” Blaine says bashfully. “And today …”

Kurt smiles. “We get together for the first time.”

Hearing Kurt say it makes Blaine’s heart race, his pulse thrumming so fast it disappears.

The day Blaine found out he’d gotten the role of Kurt’s love interest and not the ‘jealous ex’ (the role his agent originally pitched him for since they play adversaries so well) was a dream come true. The studio felt the two of them could take their insane sexual tension (the studio's words, not Blaine's, although he doesn't disagree) and use it to fuel the plot of their latest 'friends-to-lovers' rom-com.

Blaine has always wanted to be a leading man. Deep down, he prayed that his first time, he'd play opposite Kurt. Now that it has finally happened, the role of his dreams comes with the greatest perk in the universe - an intimate moment with Kurt.

In front of about three dozen crew members, but still.

It's Blaine's chance to indulge his crush, which he plans to savor since it may not come around again.

Not in the way Blaine wants.

As friendly as Kurt is to him, as flirty as he can be, Blaine doesn't know for sure whether Kurt shares his feelings.

“If you don't mind my asking, when did he tell you?” Blaine asks.

“He didn’t." Kurt snorts humorlessly. "I woke up, and he was gone. I thought he had left for work. He had a table reading at six that morning, so I wasn’t immediately suspicious. Not until I started noticing important things were missing - clothes, toiletries, his contact lenses, his laptop …”

"Did he tell you why he was leaving?"

Kurt chews his lower lip at the question he'd known was coming ... the answer he's debating whether or not to give. "Eventually." He glances up at Blaine, flashes a sly grin, and decides to go for broke. “He left because he thought I was falling in love with my co-star.”

"Really?" And just like that, Blaine Anderson dies, his heart shrinking into nothing and blowing away on the wind. "W-which one?" he asks, solely for conversation's sake.

This time, when Kurt snorts, clamping a hand over his mouth to keep from spraying champagne all over the interior of the limo, it's genuine. "You, you gumball!"

"Oh. Oh!" Blaine’s expression of shock is so endearing, Kurt can’t look at it too long. There's a glow about him. It's like staring into the sun. “That's ... that’s funny. My ex broke up with me for the same reason. Because of ... you. At least, that's the excuse he gave on Twitter ... and Instagram ... and Facebook. There were other things. Other men, too.” Blaine's glow dims as he talks about his ex. Their relationship, and separation, weren’t as civil as Kurt’s. In reality, trouble had been brewing behind the scenes for a while.

He’s glad they finally went their separate ways.

But it stings just the same, finding out that someone you once loved, who you thought loved you back, was using you for clout.

And in that, Blaine's ex was a better actor than Blaine ever was.

"That is funny. Not funny ha-ha. Just ... funny. Who would have thunk?" Kurt goes back to his glass of champagne, keeping an eye on Blaine above the rim.

Blaine glances out the window as the limo slows, approaching the gates to the studio lot. Kurt doesn't follow Blaine's gaze, but he doesn't need to.

He knows what Blaine sees by the way his face falls.

Blaine had hoped they could slip in quietly, but there's already a mob three feet deep waiting for them. The photographers and fans won't be able to see a thing through the car's windows. The tint on them is darker than dark. Still, the whole lot will be on high alert with them here.

Inevitably, a handful will slip in.

They may even find their way on set.

Blaine doesn't have the energy to deal with that.

Not today.

“How are we going to get through it?" Blaine asks. "Filming this scene? I mean, the timing is ... uncanny, to say the least.”

“Think of it this way …” Kurt slides across to Blaine’s side, sits as close as they're both comfortable with. Crooking a finger beneath his chin, Kurt draws Blaine's attention away from the gathering crowd and over to his eyes instead “… we get to spend the entire afternoon making each other feel better. That's how we're going to get through this. Agreed?”

Blaine's eyes lower, flicker to Kurt's lips unintentionally. When they travel back up, he notices Kurt's eyes do the same. He swallows hard. At this distance from Kurt, from his mouth, Blaine only has the wherewithal to say one word. He makes it count. "Agreed."

#klaine advent 2020 #klaine advent: grey #klaine fic #klaine fanfiction #klaine

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uswnt-owns-this-homo · 4 years

Text

Just Us (Kelley O’Hara x Reader)

There are many ways to kiss someone. Y/N would know. She’d done her fair share of kissing strangers, mostly in college, always before she’d met Kelley O’Hara.

Y/N had transferred to Stanford soccer in her sophomore year, the college calling to her, and her full ride opportunity heavily dealing with the move across the country. She was the newbie, the only sophomore on the team who didn’t know anyone. And Kelley had latched on to her. Talking to each other during practice, made easy by their shared forward position, turned into study dates, which turned into being roommates in their junior and senior years, which led to a budding relationship, which turned into both of them making the senior women’s national team.

Y/N POV:

We’ve done it. We’ve actually made it to the finals in the world cup. There’s only one game standing between us and a world cup win. We’re all in the hotel, eating breakfast the day of the game against the Netherlands. Kelley, the ‘kids’, and I are all sitting together. Kelley and I woke up early today to have a mini celebration, just the two of us. We had some fruit, coffee, and spent some time out on the hotel balcony. This day is one of the most important of our lives, not only Kelley and I, but everyone.

I take a small scoop out of my yogurt, see that Kells has managed to snag an orange flavored one, and swipe some out of her cup. She gives me a small smile and I wish that I could just kiss her without worrying about what the world would say. We’ve been dating since the middle of junior year, but haven’t come out to the public yet, wanting to be able to focus on our game and to take home the World Cup, without any ridicule or influence from the public. I wipe a bit of yogurt off my face and lean my head on Kelley’s shoulder.

We all finish eating and go upstairs to change into our warmup gear. Kelley and I head up to our room, riding the elevator with Sonny and Lindsey. We walk in and do our hair, put on the warm up gear, get our phones, earbuds, and gear, and head down to the bus. The team loads up the bus and I take a moment to smile and thank the bus driver, most of my teammates doing the same. I take a seat in the middle of the bus, grabbing a blanket from the front seat and patting the spot beside me for Kelley. She grins, takes a seat, and I spread the blanket over us. Preath takes a seat beside us and Kelley bumps my shoulder, nodding to where they’re mirroring our position, blanket, shoulders pressing together, and large grins covering their faces. I smile and nod at Tobin and Christen. Kelley takes out her phone and I take out my airpods. They automatically connect and I offer one of the buds to Kelley. She turns on her favorite pre-game playlist and I lean my head against the window, putting my legs out in the aisle as Kelley takes a seat between my legs.

We get to the stadium and I stretch my arms above my head as we all file out of the bus. We go to the locker rooms to quickly put on our shin guards and boots. Kelley and I both go to our side-by-side cubbies. I slide my shin guards in and tie my white and gold boots. Kelley finishes up tying her boots and we both turn to each other. We do our handshake, hopping around slightly and yelling before both falling silent, our arms propped up against the bench. I stare into her eyes, my arm trembling.

“Come on, babe, you know you want to give in.”

She snorts, her arm inching downward.

“Not a chance, sweetheart, we both know you’re going to lose,”

This goes on for about 3 minutes, the rest of the locker room ignoring us, used to our pre-game oddities that started when we played in college. I finally manage to force Kelley’s hand down. I jump up and yell.

“Take that, babey, winner for the 4th time in a row, that’s right!”

She shakes her head and we all head out to do warm ups as a team.

I watch from my spot on the bench as the team takes the field. Kelley is starting and I wish I could be out there with her, though I’ve been told I’ll be getting some minutes later on. The whistle blows and the team starts to play. There’s a hard hit against Kelley in the late minutes of the first half that has me out of my seat for a moment, but other than that there really isn’t much of the Netherlands in our box. When Ali is subbed in for Kelley I stand up, offering Kels my water bottle, which she takes with a grateful nod. We sit down and watch as our team continues to dominate the Netherland’s team, our shoulders pressed together and our heads leaned in close as we discuss the game. At the 87th minute I’m subbed in place of Megan. I stretch out my hamstring and get ready for the next start of play. The Netherlands player tosses the ball in and I’m immediately on the receiving player, forcing her to pass the ball. This breaks down and Chris quickly gets the ball, managing to sneak one to me on the 18, which I hit with my left foot and drive home, right past the Netherlands keeper. I let out a loud cheer, grabbing onto my jersey and almost ripping it, before Christen reaches me and grabs my hands.

“Now, y/n, we don’t need any ripped jerseys, no reason to scar anyone”

I groan and bury my hands in my face, smiling.

“Dude, that was one practice, one!”

She smiles and we set back up for kick off, focusing on keeping the game 2-0 for the next 2 minutes.

We hold off the Netherlands and the whistle blows. As soon as the ref reaches up to her face, I’m cheering and hugging Christen and Lindsey, and anyone else I can get my hands on. There are tears streaming down my face, but what can I say, we just won a fucking World Cup. I see Kelley and sprint to her. I’m so happy and overwhelmed that we look at each other, take a moment to nod, and the next thing I know I have my arms full of the flying squirrel. Her arms and legs are around my shoulders and torso, her face right next to mine. I hug her, spin around once or twice, and then I grab her neck, pulling her in desperately, trying to convey all the happiness, relief, and genuine love I feel. We kiss until Sonnett runs up, slapping both of us on the back.

“Guys, We Did It! We Won A Freakin’ World CUP!”

We both laugh and look at each other. I grab her hand and we go to celebrate with the rest of the team. Ali and Ash both look at us, nod, and continue to talk to Crystal and Broonie.

It feels like hours before we’re back in the locker room, which has been stocked with champagne. We all come running in and grabbing at the bottles. Someone shakes one and uncorks it, spraying alcohol everywhere. I grab two pairs of beer goggles, one for Kels and one for me. I also grab a couple of bottles, tucking them under my arm and trying to sort out where Kelley is in between all the twerking and spraying alcohol. I hear Ash yelling at her instagram followers and smile, waving my bottles and winking when she turns to camera in my direction. I find Kelley by Tobin and hand her the goggles. I lean in close to her ear and smile when she shivers.

“I’m gonna go chill on one of the benches, you have fun being a frat boy, I’ll see you on the bus?”

She nods and grins when I kiss her on the neck. I go find Christen and sit next to her, offering her a bottle of champagne and smiling when she declines it, just like she always does when someone offers her alcohol. I shrug and sit next to her, uncorking one bottle and taking a celebratory swig.

“So, how’s it feel to have another star under your belt, Chris?”

She grins and we spend the time in the locker room talking about the game, and staring at our respective partners. I watch Kelley dance around with Sonnett, Mal, and Rose, smiling and yelling.

Most people would be bothered by the fact that their girlfriend, who they just won a World Cup with, is partying instead of talking with them, but it’s always been that Kelley is the social one, the partyer, while I chill and get steadily drunker, until I join her as the party animal and frat daddy that the fans know her as. Besides, talking to Christen and getting wasted while she smiles at Tobin and talks about her past experiences isn’t too shabby either. We all spend some time in the locker room before we make our way to the bus, which is also filled with champagne and snacks. We all file in, me and Kelley grabbing our seats next to Preath. She’s swaying slightly and her words are noticeably slurred.

“Baaabe! We jus-wonaworldCup!”

I smile at Christen as she looks over.

“I know Kel, pretty exciting isn’t it?”

I put my arm around her shoulder and let her mumble excitedly in my ear, her head tucked underneath mine. We ride back to the hotel and I spend the whole time thinking about the win. A thought hits me as we go to walk off the bus and I reach out to stop Kelley.

“Babe, it doesn’t bother you that I kissed you when we won, right? I mean I basically outed us without your permission, oh god,”

Kelley just looks at me and holds my hand, raising it above her head and turning to Ash, who is of course documenting our walk of pride off the bus.

“I want every *hic* body to listen up! Now, this is my girlfriend, and I love her very much, and we just won a World Cup and she’s worried if I’m mad cause she kisses me! Well, I’m not! I’m proud of us, all of us, and I think that if my girlfriend wants to kiss me she should be able to! No fear, no worry, no anxiety or care over what anyone will think!”

As she finishes her mini rant she reaches up, grabs my face, and kisses me like we just won a World Cup. There are a couple of wolf whistles and I know this is going to be everywhere tomorrow, but we all file off of the bus and go up to our rooms to clean up a bit before we start to party. I lead Kelley up to our room, getting her a bottle of water and making her drink a bit before she gets in the shower. I wait for her to get out of the shower before I gently tuck her into bed.

“Night Kel, I’ll be in in a minute, I’m going to grab a shower,”

She waves and I chuckle as I gather my pj’s. I get a quick shower before coming out. I see Kelly completely starfished on the bed and laugh. I grab her arm and try to maneuver her without waking her up.

“Whas happenin’ babe, why’re ya movin’ aroun’ so much?”

“Sorry, just trying to move so I can come to bed, babe, night,”

She mutters something but wraps her arm around my waist and buries her head in my neck. I sigh and smile before falling asleep.

I wake up to snoring and our alarm blaring. I quickly shut it off and go about making Kelley and I coffee. I get everything brewing and go back to the bed. Kelley’s hair is insane, and her face is scrunched up from the sun that’s shining across her nose. I climb into the bed and gently kiss her nose, moving to her cheeks, and eventually making my way to her lips.

“Baaabe, it’s time to waaake upp,”

She groans and I smile.

“I have coffee and a hug if you get up, we have to get down to meet up with the team so we can go home Kell,”

She slowly wakes up and stretches before giving me a kiss. We slowly get ready, Kel obviously sporting a hangover. She grabs a tanktop with my last name on the back, some sweats, a pair of slides, and a baseball hat. We head downstairs and the team cheers as we get to the lobby for breakfast.

“There’s the love birds! Have either of y’all seen social media today?”

We both shake our heads and Ashlyn takes out her phone to show us the results of our impromptu kiss at the game. Most of the comments are positive, only a few negative people, and a few heartfelt messages saying how thankful they are that we decided to come out. I give Kelley a quick side hug and we split to get breakfast, Kelley covering food and me covering our second coffees of the day. We all eat and get on the bus, Kelley again picking a seat next to preath. We all get settled and Kelley lays her head on my shoulder, mirroring Tobin. I grin at Christen and get a text from Ashlyn.

Ash the Destroyer: Doesn’t it feel good to just kiss the girls we want to kiss?

I type out a quick reply and squeeze Kelley’s hand.

Y/N: Yeah, it feels pretty great. No more hiding, no more worries, just us.

#Kelly O'Hara Imagine

#USWNT Imagine

#Kelley O'Hara x reader

#Ashlyn Harris

#Kelley O'Hara

#USWNT

#Kelley O'Hara Imagine #uswnt imagine #Kelley O'Hara x reader #kelley o'hara #uswnt #ashlyn harris

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flutteringphalanges · 4 years

Photo

Caught in a Riptide

Summary: After the infamous Count Dracula is discovered and taken into custody by the Jonathan Harker Foundation, former nun and now guardian to her young niece, Zoe, Agatha Van Helsing is tasked with keeping tabs on the vampire after a mishap leads to his release into modern day society. Can Agatha remain levelheaded, or will fate turn her onto a new path?

Pairing: Dracula/Agatha Van Helsing

Rated: M

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: Happy Thanksgiving! I am thankful for each and every one of you! Here’s a token of my gratitude! Feedback/reblogs/hearts are greatly loved and appreciated! Love you guys! -Jen

Chapter Nine

At first, Agatha found herself questioning if she had heard the vampire right. That maybe the fumes brought on by the combination of countless mixed drinks and body sprays had gotten to her head. But when she stared down at the Count's large, outstretched hand. At his long, pointed nails. The former nun's ears had been working correctly.

"Dance?" She repeated, the word tasting odd on her tongue. "You want to dance with me?"

"Well surely you know how." The man smiled widely, taking her hand before she could pull away. "Come now, it isn't so hard. I'll show Waltz only has six steps."

If her lack of ballroom dancing wasn't enough, Agatha felt several pairs of eyes fixed on them as they moved about the floor out of tune to the techno music. Dracula, who had taken to humming his own song, didn't seem fazed at all by their audience. Blood rushed to the woman's cheeks, the embarrassment making the room feel so many degree hotter.

"You're blushing." The vampire noted, tugging his partner back to reality. "Might I inquire what about?"

"Surely you're observant enough to realize we're being watched." Agatha hissed under her breath, nearly tripping over Dracula's shoes. "Just a touch out of place."

"Oh, Agatha, you really shouldn't worry yourself about the judgement of others." He chuckled, gracefully gliding across the ground. "Do you know any of them?"

"Well…" She began to stumble. "Well, no...but that…"

"Then I see no issue." Dracula finished, cutting her off. "Relax, Agatha. Enjoy the night while it's young. Though I haven't known you for long, I can tell you need it."

The former nun frowned, but said nothing as the vampire spun her about on the dance floor. Soon the other patrons became a forethought as her eyes locked on to Dracula's. She found it odd how a bloodthirsty killer could be so delicate. So graceful. And as he dipped her, brutality masked by this gentlemanly cover, she found herself delving into conversation.

"So how do you know how to dance so well?" Agatha asked, surprised by how she had yet to trip and fall. He was quite the teacher, she'd give him that. "And saying it's due to your age doesn't count."

"A fair enough question." Dracula agreed. "I simply desired to learn. Everyone has a hobby or two they enjoy. Or an interest they wish to pick up. Dancing happened to be one of my more...socially acceptable ones." He grinned, clearly amused by his choice of words. "What about you, Agatha? Surely you have a guilty pleasure locked away in that treasure chest of a mind of yours."

She thought for a moment. "I can knit...sort of." When his left eyebrow cocked in interest, she continued. "I'm not very good at it and have only managed to somewhat make oven mits. But between my job and caring for Zoe, I don't have a lot of time to myself."

"Perhaps you could knit me a pair that I may use next time you come over for dinner." Dracula suggested lightly. "For business reasons, of course."

Agatha felt her cheeks burning again, but from a different fire this time. She looked away, avoiding the vampire's gaze as her eyes fell on a clock mounted on a nearby wall. A distraction. Sucking in a breath, the former nun pulled away.

"We should get going." She said quietly. "It's getting, well, later and I need to be getting home. Dr. Bloxham left me some paperwork to fill out and I'd like to get that done. She's very...particular when it comes to turning things in on time." A poor excuse, but Agatha hoped it would work.

"Of course." Dracula bowed his head smiling. "I've kept you out long enough, haven't I?"

"It's been a night." Agatha agreed, somewhat struggling to find the right words. "I think it's at an appropriate end." She offered him a small, awkward, but genuine smile. "Your lead?"

Frank jumped in surprise, his phone falling into his lap at the sound of Dracula lightly rapping on the car window. Quickly, he unlocked the car doors as the two adults slid in without a word. Peering into the rearview mirror, glasses sliding down onto his nose, Frank feigned a smile.

"Today went well I hope?" He asked, starting the engine. "No complaints on either end?"

"Oh, I think it was rather splendid." Dracula replied, looking over at Agatha. "Wouldn't you agree, Agatha?"

"I suppose both busy ends were held up to the bargain." She replied, leaning back in her seat. "I don't have anything negative to report back to Dr. Bloxham if that is what you're asking."

"Excellent!" The lawyer beamed. "I knew it was possible for you two to work things out. This is good. Very much so. And I know Dr. Bloxham will be just as pleased as I am."

Agatha said nothing, just merely stared out the window watching the street lamps speed by. She knew Dracula was watching her closely as they pulled up outside of her house. And it was no surprise that he too got out of the car when she did. Of course he'd walk her to the door. How polite of him.

"Don't forget your Champagne." The vampire smirked, handing over the bottle. "I spent a pretty penny on that."

"Thank you." They were the first two words to come to her mind. A phrase that she hoped would send him away. "Tonight was decent...have a good evening, Count Dracula."

"You as well, Agatha Van Helsing." He replied, his teeth glinting in the moonlight. "I look forward to seeing you again. Perhaps you can work on those knitting skills of yours and make me a lovely pair of oven mittens. I'm quite partial to red."

Agatha gave him a half hearted smile and turned away. She felt some relief in knowing he wouldn't follow her inside. At least she hoped Zoe's invitation would've expired by now. Stepping into her home, she locked the door behind her. It wasn't until Agatha heard the sound of Frank's car rumbling off into the distance did she exhale, shoulders relaxing.

"Hey, you okay?"

Jack stepped out of the kitchen and Agatha couldn't help but note the flecks of glitter that sparkled on his shirt. He offered her a genuine smile as he scrubbed at his hands with a rag. Clearly the craft had proved to be messier than the doctor intended. But cleaning was the least of worries on the woman's mind.

"Long night." She sighed, running a hand through her hair. With the other that clutched the alcohol, Agatha held it out towards Jack. "Drink?"

"I'm fine." He shook his head to which Agatha merely shrugged and headed towards the kitchen. He followed suit. "Was it really that bad?"

"We went out for dinner and then to an arcade." The former nun stated, digging through the cabinets before producing a glass. "An arcade, Jack." Exhaling, she poured until the cup was full before downing it. "And don't get me started on the night club. I agreed to watch the beast, not partake in a dance number with him."

"Wait, you actually danced with Dracula?! The Count Dracula?!"

Agatha tried to ignore the look of astonishment on Jack's face as she downed her second glass of Champagne. So much for not drinking. Perhaps telling him how her evening had gone hadn't been the best idea. Especially since she'd have to relive it tomorrow when Bloxham asked for the nitty gritty details. After the last bit of beige liquid passed through her lips, she set the cup down on the counter with a rough clink. Though she wouldn't admit it allowed, it wasn't what they did that bothered it. It was, in fact, how she felt afterwards. Good.

"That's what I said. I was caught off guard." Agatha stated, trying to fend off the young doctor as he took away her bottle. "Clearly I was not in the right state of mind to think for myself. Perhaps I'm coming down with something..."

"Well, at least nothing bad happened right?" The young man interjected, trying to lighten the mood. "No one died?"

"Just my ancestors rolling around in their graves." She snorted, letting out a humorless laugh as she shook her head. "I unintentionally went on a date with Count Dracula, didn't I? Or rather, I might as well have." Jack's lack of a response was a good enough of an answer as any. "Shit..."

"Well it's over now, right?" The man assured her. "Best put it behind you. You won't do yourself any good stressing over it." He smiled, motioning to his sparkling shirt. "Anyway, what do you think of my outfit? Zoe may have gone a little overboard with the glitter. I did my best to clean up what I could. I'm sorry for whatever random particles you come across for the next decade."

"As long as you had fun and she behaved." Agatha smiled softly. "I don't mind the occasional sparkle. This place needs to lighten up anyway." Glancing around, she folded her arms over her chest. "You're welcome to stay the night. I can pull out a blanket and some pillows. The couch isn't so bad."

"Thanks, but I'll be fine." Jack promised her with a wave of his hand. "There's some work I have sitting on my counter that I need to bring in tomorrow. If I don't, Bloxham will have my head. You know how she can be."

"Right." His friend nodded, chuckling under her breath. "Well, thank you a million times over again, Jack. I don't know what I'd do without you in my corner."

"Well, if I'm ever set up on a date with a vampire, I'm sure you can return the favor in some way." The man joked. "Have a good night, Agatha. Give Zoe my best when she wakes up tomorrow. I'll see you in the morning."

"Same to you, Jack." Agatha smiled. "Bright and early."

XXX

Agatha tried not to think about the previous night's events until she came across Bloxham and her henchman of sorts, Commander Irving, the next day. Doing her best to ignore the rather intimidating man in the corner, she sat down in front of her boss who'd taken to calmly sipping what appeared to be a cup of tea.

"Mr. Renfield informed me earlier that last night was successful." The head of the Harker Foundation commented, swiveling in her chair. "Were you able to gain anything useful from your time together?"

"He can't go in the sun and hates crosses, just as much as we already know." Agatha said, trying to refrain from using a harsh tone. "A rather pointless excursion."

"Nothing is pointless when it comes to Count Dracula." Bloxham replied curtly, setting her drink down. "Him opening up to you, though slight as it may appear, is just as big a goal as any. I'm impressed, Agatha. I wasn't expecting much from you...even though it is only common knowledge."

"I'm not sure what else I can offer at this point." Agatha replied, folding her arms over her chest. "Can I go or is there something pressing you need me to fulfill for you?"

Bloxham glanced over her shoulder at Irving before looking back to Agatha. "I suppose…" She stated thoughtfully. "For now. But keep your schedule free as much as you can. I cannot say when your services will be required."

"Right." The former nun muttered. "I'll be cancelling my tickets for leaving the country then." A snide remark that went unmentioned by Bloxham. "Thanks."

Agatha made sure to accidentally slam the door a little harder than needed when she left the office. Fury bubbled in her chest as Bloxham's words replayed in her mind. A pawn in a game. A puppet in a show. The woman has basically slapped a figurative ankle monitor on her. At least the anger gave her something to focus on to make the time go by faster.

It was lunchtime when the former nun's phone vibrated in her pocket. Taking it out, she frowned deeply when she noted the caller ID. Count Dracula.

"Last night was fun. I wanted to inquire if you'd be interested in scheduling another meeting. My place or yours?" -Dracula

Deciding to ignore it, Agatha shoved her cell back into her pants. Dracula was the last person she wanted to see right now. Part of her expected Bloxham to immediately summon her to her office, believing the vampire to use Frank to his advantage. But when that didn't happen and time rolled on, that concern began to push into the back of her mind.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're ignoring me. Not fun, Agatha. Not fun at all." -Dracula

Agatha groaned, annoyed by the text that had awoken her from her deep sleep. It had been three nights since the vampire's last text. Though despite the messages, neither Frank nor Bloxham had seemed to become involved yet. For whatever reason, Dracula hadn't used that lifeline to his advantage. Turning her phone off, the former nun shoved it into her dresser drawer and closed her eyes. Sleep was a bliss worth taking.

"Agatha, I do hope you are alright. I'm beginning to worry. Do respond. Should I have a welfare check done on you? Perhaps Frank would be of service." -Dracula

"I'll put you out of service." Agatha muttered to herself as she shoved her phone into her purse.

It was late evening now and she was just about to head home. She was tired, hungry, and just about done dealing with the Lord of Darkness. It'd been a week now. A long, paperwork filled one, and all she wanted to do was rest. Getting into her car, Agatha drove home, the moon well into the sky by the time she pulled into the driveway.

"Mrs. Avery?" Agatha called out as she entered the house. "Sorry I'm late, I got caught up at the office."

The house was dark which sent a tingle up the former nun's spine. In the distance, she could see a light coming from the living room. The slight hum from the television meeting her ears. Cautiously, she made her way down to the room wondering if all was well. What she saw made her stop cold in her tracks.

Zoe lay curled up peacefully on the couch, a blanket draped over her frame as she slept. But instead of the short, elderly woman sitting at her side, a tall, loaming man grinned at Agatha from his spot. Count Dracula brought a long, pointed finger to his lips and quietly shushed the former nun.

"Welcome home, Agatha."

#Dragatha #Dracula 2020 #Dracula #Agatha Van Helsing #Dracula x Agatha #Caught in a Riptide

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joonclouds · 4 years

Text

The Price Of A Wish | 1

The third time you meet Jung Hoseok, you realise the last ten years has done nothing to the way you were drawn to him, with a force as sure and inescapable as gravity.

CHAPTER INDEX

Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Idol!Hoseok, Chaebol!Reader, OT7 bangtan show up too, Slow Burn, Unrequited feelings, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Fluff, (we might include some other things later let’s see)

Warnings: None, but emphasis on the Slow in slow burn.

____________

The official opening night of your art conservatory marks your first independent venture from your family’s Aurarts Corporation. The press and public fawn over you, commending your initiative to increase representation opportunities for budding artists. You wanted this place to celebrate all types of art.

The opening ribbon is cut, champagne, popped. Compliments were given on the new space - one with high ceilings, a fully functional theatre, practice rooms. Crafting studios with expansive skylights and clean white walls wait to house artists and their masterpieces. Mirrors have been strategically placed to make the main hall and foyer look even bigger than it is.

The silver gown and warm smile you wear belies the eighty-hour work week you’ve had leading up to today and the way your feet scream in protest at the new satin Manolos that haven’t yet been seasoned by wear. Maybe you eat more than your fair share of tiny canapes, but you are the perfect hostess - you laugh, shake hands, exchange jokes - always sincere, never past the point of oversharing.

So yes, it’s an important night. It has to be perfect. But that isn’t why you’re nervous.

You feel a warm hand on your elbow and you’re pulled into a gentle hug. It startles you, but once you catch an eyeful of colourful prints that smell like a woody bergamot, you relax.

“Hey, ____.”

“Tae! I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Who will save you from all this social interaction otherwise?”

Mirroring Taehyung’s smile, you return his embrace. Though it’s not till you’re pulling away that you realise what’s different about him tonight.

“Your hair!” Your fingers come up to touch the strands at the nape of his neck which, previously bright blue, are now an ashy silver.

Taehyung grins. “You like? I did it to match your dress.”

The gray hair makes his skin glow.

“I love. It suits you.”

You give him an approving once over. Taehyung’s style is eclectic, to say the least. His hair colour changed depending on his mood, sometimes blue, sometimes pink. A few weeks ago, it was a fire-engine red. On most days, he chooses to dress in a mish-mash of designer jackets, some of which he’d taken a can of spray paint to, baggy cut clothing and odd sandals (rarely covered shoes). But that had never taken away from the fact that he was incredibly good looking - maybe even added to it, if that were possible.

Tonight he’s dashing, in a loose silk shirt with wild paisely patterns tucked into dress pants, and a smattering of silver and gold on his fingers and in his ears.

“Who knew Kim Taehyung actually owns proper shoes?”

He doesn’t say anything, just tilts his heel with a cheeky smile, showing you that he’s not actually wearing proper shoes, or even socks for that matter - just loafers that look like actual shoes in that they had no backing to cover the heel.

“Did you seriously wear bedroom slippers to my grand opening?”

Taehyung laughs and eyes your Manolos skeptically.

“They’re my best pair of Gucci loafers. If I’m going to have to endure all this small talk I’m going to do it comfortably.”

You groan quietly, shifting your weight to your other foot. “Don’t remind me. We’re not even a third through the night.”

Taehyung nabs two glasses of wine from a passing server and you accept one gratefully.

“Ugh - “ he pauses to take a big sip as he scans the crowd. “Remind me again why you invited half of the country to the opening?”

“Marketing says it’s good publicity, ecetera ecetera.” You take a substantial mouthful of wine yourself.

“That’s good publicity?” Taehyung tips his glass to point over your shoulder and you turn in its direction.

The both of you cringe visibly.

“Uh. She’s got a million followers on Instagram?”

He makes a small retching noise in the back of his throat. “She’s taking a duck face selfie in front of the - hey!”

Taehyung quickly gets the attention of a server and shoves him in selfie girl’s direction. “Tell her no flash photography, it’s a real Matisse, for fuck’s sakes.”

While Taehyung’s flagging down another server to refill his wineglass and muttering something about how can’t anyone have a shred of respectable gallery etiquette, you’re spacing out a bit.

The soft, unassuming lull of the string quartet sits underneath the rustling of expensive gowns and clinking of glasses. Anyone and everyone who was someone in the entertainment industry was extended an invitation. That tiny ball of anxiety still sits in the base of your gut. It’s like waiting in line, and it’s almost your turn - for what you’re not sure - but not quite yet. Your fingers pick at the thin seam of your dress.

“____.” It vaguely registers that this isn’t the first time Taehyung’s called your name.

You clear your throat quickly. “Sorry. I’m a little tired today. What was it?”

“When was the last time you ate? You better not say yesterday.”

“Don’t look at me like that. I ate.” Technically, not a lie. Stealing the canapes was considered eating.

Taehyung frowns, but he’s sufficiently appeased. “ As I was saying, I saw you chatting with President Kwon earlier. What’d you think of him?”

“I think - ” You suck in a breath through your teeth, taking a moment to find the right words. “He’s competent. Knows the ins and outs of the arts and entertainment businesses. He might be useful so let’s not rule him out yet.”

“Rule him out yet? He’s a big fish though.”

Your expression changes slightly - it’s still a smile, but Taehyung has known you long enough to be able to tell. Its what he likes to call your Politely Disgusted face.

“Like I said. Yet.” You emphasize. “While we were talking, I watched him hand his empty wineglass off to his wife instead of the wait staff. He’s definintely not being friendly to me because it’s his personality.”

He nods in understanding. You were quick on picking up little things like that - you had quite the talent for reading people. “He wants something from you.”

“Bingo. And when we find out what he wants, then we can really - “

A small change in the atmosphere makes you pause. Something’s different.

“_____?”

“Hold on. I’ll be back in a minute, I think someone’s here.” You murmur.

There’s a small hush about the air. It’s less conversation, heavier, quieter with a certain entrancing quality. Whatever it is makes you turn your head and take a few steps towards the main foyer, leaving Taehyung behind in a bit of a confused daze.

Without seeing, you know.

Of course he’s received an invite. But he’s a little late, having missed the opening ceremony. Systematically, you weave through the guests with murmured apologies, that tangle of anxiety bubbling over into something more - trepidation, anticipation, excitement… you can’t tell anymore.

You’re halfway to the main doors when you see him before he sees you.

He’s in a black suit - Dior, by the looks of the nondescript label on the jacket cuff. The bowtie has been forgone in favour of a matching silk neck scarf and the top two buttons of his white shirt have been left undone. His hair is styled such that errant pieces fall boyishly into his eyes as he nods politely to greet the attending press and guests.

Perchance, you catch a glimpse of your reflection in one of the mirrors - cheeks pink with a little flush, eyes wide and shining. It’s unlike you. There’s a tiny curl that’s escaped your bun, but you don’t reach up to smooth it back as you usually would. It looks quite charming, you think.

It can be quite a peculiar experience, to see someone after a long time.

The years make little changes to their appearance, the way they walk, talk, hold themselves, leaving only just enough familiarity for recognition. It’s like a weird sense of jamais vu, recalibrating your memory as you align the two faces - the one you knew, and the one that is.

One thing you know for sure. His face has always been smooth lines and pretty angles. Time has certainly taken those lines and angles, made them smoother, prettier. Made them breathtaking.

He spots you in the crowd threading through it to come stand in front of you. You’re taller now, and in your heels, you don’t have to look up much to meet his gaze. The mirth in his eyes is a little dimmer now, but it’s there and still the same.

“Hi, ____. It’s been a while.” He extends a hand with a smile and you vaguely register the sound of cameras clicking and flashes of light.

It’s not till he glances down almost imperceptibly that you realise your reaction has been left wanting for a second too long. Quickly sliding your hand into his, you smile and perform your part as best you can for the watching eyes that follow.

“Hi,” you breathe. He grips your hand firmly, warmly. “It’s good to see you.”

That short, polite moment is all you get before he’s swept away in the flow of greeting the other guests and influencers who clamber for a photo, but it leaves you with peculiar feeling. Like you’ve missed a step on the stairs and you’re paralysed in a hanging moment of falling and flying at the same time.

The third time you meet Jung Hoseok, you realise the last ten years has done nothing to the way you were drawn to him, with a force as sure and inescapable as gravity.

__________________

References: 190106 Hoseok For your enjoyment

PREV | NEXT

#joonclouds #POAW #hoseok #jung hoseok #hobi #hoseok fic #bts fic #hoseok fanfic

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tsohl · 4 years

Text

A bit of fun...

An Interview from village magazine. 2005

A model life

Monaghan-born Caitriona Balfe was recruited shaking a charity box outside a Dublin shopping centre. Now she is Ireland's most successful international model. Based in New York and the darling of some of the world's top designers, she talks to Ailbhe Jordan

It’s just after five on a Tuesday evening in Soho. Streams of harassed-looking people scurry in both directions along Spring Street, seeking escape from the mayhem of midweek Manhattan in the form of the nearest taxi or subway station.

Nobody but me seems to notice a tall, thin young woman leaning against the wall of a grey building. We have never met in person and a curtain of long, tousled brown hair obscures her face as she flicks through a notebook, but it’s definitely her.

Since Derek Daniels of Assets Modelling agency spotted her six years ago collecting money for charity outside the Swan Shopping Centre in Rathmines, Caitriona Balfe has quietly strutted her way to the upper echelons of the fashion industry.

Nineteen years old and intent on becoming an actress at the time, Balfe modelled part-time in Dublin for a year until a visiting scout from Ford Modelling agency asked her to work for them in Paris. She decided to take a year out from her drama course at the Dublin Institute of Technology to pursue the opportunity.

In her six years as a model, Balfe has strutted down the catwalk for every big name from Gucci to Marc Jacobs. Vogue are big fans too; the fashion bible has put her on the cover of its US, French, German, Spanish and Italian editions.

After Paris, Balfe moved to Milan, where she became the darling of Dolce & Gabanna, who still hire her to work exclusively at their spring and autumn shows. Three years ago, she moved to New York to work for US based Elite Modelling agency. One of her first castings was for Cuban-American designer Narciso Rodriguez, who was so impressed, he made her his muse.

Balfe is, without a doubt, the most successful international model Ireland has produced.

On this evening she looks up and smiles, revealing a heart-shaped face, with sharp, pixie-like features and bright blue eyes. Wearing not a scrap of makeup, she looks younger than her 26 years. Her complexion is pale, clear and spattered with light brown freckles.

She is around 5ft 10”, but seems smaller because of her narrow, thin frame. Dressed in a loose, taupe-colored top, skinny blue jeans that are not as tight as they should be and red flats, she personifies that casual glamour look to which all the downtown hipsters aspire.

She suggests we go to Balthazar, a French Bistro beloved of New York models and celebrities.

As we walk, she assumes a posture so elegant and so straight it looks as though she is leaning backwards slightly.

Balfe’s family comes from Tyvadet, a small town in Co Monaghan. Her accent is neutral from years of living abroad, but every now and then, the Monaghan dialect peeps through – when she says “cool”, for instance, which she says a lot.

Weekend reservations at Balthazar are nearly impossible to make if one is not famous and has not booked at least a couple of weeks in advance.

“Go on ahead,” she says, holding the door open. The hostess directs us to a small table at the window. Balfe glides into her booth without pushing the table out first. “I’m going to have some cake,” she says, lowering her voice.“I got my wisdom teeth out on Friday, so I’ve basically been eating soup all weekend,” she adds quickly, touching her jaws with both hands.

“I was supposed to go to LA today, but I cancelled that because my face was still a bit swollen.”

Conversations between any two people renting in New York City inevitably turn to apartments and – more importantly – locations. Balfe lives in Greenpoint, a trendy Polish neighbourhood in Brooklyn. “I was about three years in the city but I love Brooklyn,” she says.

“It’s just really cute. It’s kind of European, like most of the streets are all mom and pop stores, there’s not one McDonalds. They’ve got all cute little vegetable stores, there’s a meat market and a fish market.”

She pauses to take a sip of coffee.

“We’ve got the ground floor of a building. Its got like a back garden and a basement, which is really cool. My boyfriend has his studio in the basement.”

The boyfriend she refers to is Dave Milone, a guitarist with the band Radio4, who are releasing a new album in New York this week.

“I’ve been with him for three years, he’s from New Jersey,” she says rolling her eyes as New Yorkers often do at the mention of their neighbouring and, in their opinion, less cosmopolitan state.

“It’s a bit of a cliché, I know, a model and a rocker. It’s good though.”

At 26, Balfe has said she considers herself to be one of the “grannies” of the modeling industry.

“Of my five really close friends whom I started with, there’s only one whose still modeling,” she says.

“The rest have gone off to college or have real jobs. I still feel like I’m at college,” she says, stirring her coffee and putting the spoon down on the saucer with a loud clink.

“When I see some of these younger girls who are starting at 17 or so, it’s like being at school, you know. You’ve a bunch of girls who are like, teenagers and of course everyone’s like: ‘is she doing better than me?’ and all that. I was a little bit older when I started, I was 19 and I never really experienced that. I mean, you’re always going to come across a bitch but there’s nothing you can really do about that. I’m getting older now and it does feel weird when you come across someone who tries to intimidate you in that really high school way. It’s like: ‘why am I feeling insecure because of this?’ And it’s funny, because it’s all based on weight, it’s like: ‘you put on a few pounds,’ or something stupid.”

At this point the desserts arrive.

“I feel like the girls are getting very skinny again,” she says, following the movement of the plate with her eyes as the waitress places it in front of her.

“When I started it was like, a lot of the Brazilian girls were around, it was all about being voluptuous and I think in the last couple of seasons there’s been a lot of really, really skinny girls again. I mean, you can tell when somebody doesn’t eat, you can tell by the big rings under their eyes or when they’re kind of quiet, they’re whole personality is kind of...” she slouches down and drops her tongue out in a display of lifelessness.

She picks up her spoon and digs it into the cake, then turns the plate around and spears the scoop of vanilla ice-cream that is perched on top.

“I’ve always been thin, you know?” she says, while her mouth is full.

“My aunts and uncles will be like, ‘oh do you eat?’ but I’ve always been lucky that I can. I eat more than Dave. I go through very, very sporadic, once-in-a-blue-moon fits of going running and stuff, but I’m so lazy. When shows are coming up I just do some exercises at home and maybe not have so much chocolate cake the week before. A few more salads, that kind of thing.”

Next week, Balfe expects to be working in LA for a couple of days, from where she will fly to Miami for a photo shoot, before returning to New York on Sunday to do a shoot for Spanish Vogue.

“It sounds glamorous, it’s not though, it really isn’t,” she says, holding another spoonful of cake up to her lips.

“I am moving towards retirement now – from this,” she continues. “Every year I’m asked and I’m like, ‘oh another year or two.’ But, if I’m still doing this at the end of the next two years, somebody shoot me, please. I mean, it’s really good and it allows me to live a good life. I’m building a house in Monaghan, I can do stuff like that. I can set myself up for the future and stuff. But being an actress was the thing that I always wanted to do. Before I ever started modelling.”

Balfe has not yet found her perfect role, but played a convincing seductress in 2002 when she modelled for lingerie company Victoria’s Secret during their catwalk show, an annual TV spectacle that that has propelled models like Gisele Bundchen and Heidi Klum to international fame.

“Oh God, my poor Da,” she groans, cradling her head in her hands.

“I think it was the Sun or the Mirror back home had this headline: ‘Garda’s daughter goes und-y-cover.’ I wondered what I was doing in there, this pasty little Irish girl amongst all these Brazilian goddesses. I’d gotten a spray tan and they put full body make-up on me but I was 10 times whiter than anyone there. It took very little clothes and quite a lot of champagne to get through that one.”

She shakes her head, smiling at the memory. “Its funny you know? Normally when I’m out, I don’t really dress up. It’s amazing how people will absolutely not even notice you until they hear the word ‘model,’ and then they’re like: ‘Oh.’ And I’m like: ‘what?’ Two seconds ago, I was nothing, you know?”

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deaky-disco-queen · 5 years

Text

Joger Week - Day 3: Enemies to Lovers

A/N: I know Nothing About car racing except what’s left of waatching F1 with my dad About ten years ago so this is probably not accurate at all but I wanted to write it anyway.

+++

Roger snarled in frustration, pulling off his helmet and threw it to the ground angrily, Crystal would yell at him for it later but he couldn’t bring himself to care right now as he stomped past his boxing crew, ripping off his gloves.

He could see him. Just the next box over there was John Deacon, celebrating his win with his crew, all of them yelling and shouting and hugging him and Roger grinded his teeth hard enough he could already feel a headache coming.

He hated John Deacon. He hated him so much.

John had beaten him by the fraction of a second and Roger had never been so angry. He had won the past four races and a win today would have meant not only staying on top of the ranking but also extend his lead by a good amount. But John Deacon had ruined it and while he was still on top, John was right behind him and they only had a handful of more races this season.

With his luck, it would probably end up like last season and it would be a really close call. Last year, Roger had come out on top but Deacon had updated his crew and something had changed as his team worked much more smoothly. It could get really tough this year and Roger was angry about it.

“Hey, you spoiled brat! Do you think we have enough back up helmets for your hissy fits? Take better care of your equipment!”

Crystal threw a water bottle at him but Roger managed to catch it and flipped him off before drinking half of the bottle in big gulps. His eyes were drawn back to John and their eyes met.

He grinned- all smug and proud, that bastard- and Roger growled, turning away and chugging the rest of his water. The bottle was thrown into the trash with much more force than necessary.

Crystal showed up again with Roger’s helmet under his arm and a towel in one hand. He pushed it into his face and ignored the blond’s yelp as he rubbed his face down. Roger kicked at him and Crystal backed off, laughing and Roger swatted at him half-heartedly.

“Clean up! The trophy ceremony starts in five minutes!”

He scoffed but washed his face before making his way towards the podium. He was stopped several times by people who wanted to congratulate him and he put on his best fake smile because he was still so angry but he didn’t want to let out his bad mood at them. Especially the fans didn’t deserve that when they just asked for autographs or pictures.

Eventually, he made it to the podium where John and the third place, Tim Staffel, were waiting, talking animatedly with some other people Roger didn’t recognize.

They were ushered up their respective places and got their trophies under loud cheers and Roger was almost blinded by the camera flashes. And then it was time for Roger’s favorite part: spraying champagne everywhere.

It lifted his spirits momentarily as he was too busy getting getting the viewers and especially the big officials drenched. It was fun until he made his way back to the podium, thoroughly wet himself- thanks, Tim- where he was confronted by John. He was grinning, tooth gap visible and eyes crinkling and Roger’s smile froze.

He didn’t look smug now. That was the worst part. He was all proud and smug around Roger but at the ceremonies and the interviews he was always so genuinely happy and it made it hard being mad at him. Because Roger knew how it felt like.

Something crossed over John’s face and Roger was about to make a comment about it but then he grabbed his face and brought his champagne bottle to Roger’s mouth.

He had no idea what was happening but he could hear the people cheer and he just swallowed what John poured into his mouth, their eye contact never breaking.The whole thing lasted only a couple of seconds but it dumbfounded him enough that he stumbled backwards when John let go of him, his mouth full of champagne.

After the podium ceremony, Roger was ushered away by Crystal to a more secluded area for a round of interviews.

He managed to pull through them despite the fact that his head was still reeling and when Crystal showed up again to pull him aways, he was relieved. All he wanted was a shower and a nap.

After leading him towards the changing room, Crystal said his goodbyes and left him alone. For a moment, Roger played with the thought of taking a shower here but he knew once he got under the warm water he wouldn’t want fall asleep pretty soon.

With a sigh, he finally got out of his racing suit, dropping it to the floor and reached for his dark jeans. He slipped into a soft green sweatshirt and attempted to tame his hair but it was pretty useless.

He was just slipping into his boots when the door opened. He thought maybe it was someone from the crew who needed something or maybe an over enthusiastic reporter- it had happened before- but when he looked up, John Deacon was standing there.

He had changed, too, and was wearing a pair of light wash jeans and a loose, white button-down instead of his yellow racing suit. Roger blinked.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

Roger didn’t had the energy to have a fight with John right now but he could feel the irritation and anger underneath his exhaustion.

“You were good today.”

John leaned against the wall, arms crossed with a small smile on his face. Roger scoffed and stuffed his jacket that was still in his locker in his bag and zipped it up a little bit harsher than he probably should have.

“Thanks.” he sneered. “I try to be good at my job. It kind of got me here.”

He couldn’t believe the nerve of this guy! What was wrong with him that he just showed up in Roger’s changing room to make even more fun of him? He threw his bag over his shoulder and grabbed his racing suit to place it where the crew could pick it up for cleaning.

A warm hand on his arm stopped him and he yanked it free with a growl, swirling around angrily.

“What? Anything else? Want to make fun of me? I’m fucking tired, leave me alone, Deacon!”

John looked taken aback at that and Roger waited for a second just to see if he would say anything else but he didn’t and he stormed off then, rushing to the cab that has been called for him.

+++

Roger won the next two races. John won the race after that. Prenter won the fourth one and that was probably worse than losing against John.

He slammed the the door of his locker shut, flinching at the loud crash. It didn’t even stayed shut, just bounced right back open and Roger pushed it close again.

“Be careful, you’ll hurt yourself otherwise.”

Roger turned around and there was John again. He had left him alone after the little incident and Roger had been thankful for that even if it had weirded him out that John was doing nothing. Not even giving him one of his smirks when he caught Roger staring at him. He just did nothing. He acknowledged Roger but there was nothing of their usual rivalry. It had Roger on edge.

“What do you care?” he snapped.

John frowned and shook his head. He looked sweaty, his hair clinging to his temples. Roger grabbed his water bottle and pushed past him, back into the garage just to stop dead a couple of steps into it.

His crew wasn’t here. Usually, no matter how long Roger took to get changed, somebody was there for him to bid his farewell to, sometimes somebody still needed something from him but there was never nobody. He frowned as he had planned to use that to get rid of John.

“I don’t actually want to see you hurt, you know?”

John appeared at his side again and Roger rolled his eyes at him.

He felt himself getting irritated again. For weeks, he had left him alone. No jabs, no sneers, no smirks, no off-hand comments and now of all days, John decided to annoy him again. Roger didn’t understand him! He couldn’t wrap his head around anything John does! It wasn’t just his behaviour in the past weeks but the past years.

Both of them had started their career early and Roger faintly remember watching John’s first race at a go-kart track when he was about sixteen. Roger himself wanted to participate but couldn’t due to a broken arm. After that, they kept running into each other at races but never really talked until both of them got into professional racing and then- somehow- it had spiraled into their rivalry.

Roger wasn’t even sure who started it but the media ate it up and so nobody really discouraged it.

“Did you want anything?” Roger asked. “Because if not, I want to go back to my hotel room and take a nap.”

“You’re not even going to the party?”

Roger barked out a laugh and carded a hand through his hair. He heard John chuckle.

“And listen to Prenter bragging and being a general dick to anyone?”

“Isn’t he like that every day?”

He snorted, then sighed. John was staring at him and Roger frowned, not knowing what he was supposed to do. This wasn’t what they normally did. John licked his lips, his head angled slightly to the side and it felt like he was sizing him up. Roger straightened up, squaring his shoulders which only served to make him chuckle.

“Do you want to work out some anger?”

Roger blinked. John was still smiling.

+++

John pushed him up against the wall and Roger groaned, the sound muffled by John’s mouth. He whined and pulled him closer, slipping a leg in between his and grinned when he moaned and rocked up against him.

They grabbed, pushed and pulled at each other, stumbling through Roger’s hotel room towards the bed and losing their clothes in the progress.

This really wasn’t how Roger had thought his day would be going like this, especially not with John Deacon of all people but when John nipped his way down his neck, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He moaned and tangled his hand in his hair.

Their mouths found each other again, teeth clacking together and Roger swapped them around, effectively straddling John who let it happen with a grin and settled his hands on his hips.

“You’re gonna fuck me?” he panted and Roger nodded.

It surprised him, if he was honest, because he had thought there would be a bit of fighting over who gets to top but John seemed more than happy to bottom, asking him where he had lube and condoms and getting them.

Roger fingered him open thoroughly, fascinated by the way his face scrunched up in pleasure and the sounds he made. John was quiet in comparison to most of the people he had slept with but he realized he wasn’t bothered by it.

“Come on, Roger, get to it.”

“Getting impatient?”

John wrapped his legs around his waist and pulled him close, causing him to almost lose his balance. Roger rolled his eyes at him but ripped open the condom and pulled it on. John sighed happily when he sank into him and pulled him into another kiss.

He was a great kisser, Roger had to admit.

Once John gave him the okay to move, he set a hard and fast pace and John’s finger digged into the flesh of his shoulders in the best way. He leaned down again, muffling his moans against his lips.

+++

John left after they were done and they didn’t talk about it. Roger didn’t get upset anymore when John appeared in his changing room. He started showing up in John’s changing room, too.

#jogerweek2019 #joger #dealor #smut

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artificialqueens · 5 years

Text

Houroubing to Aruba, Chapter 4, (Branjie) - Blackhighheels

(read at AO3)

Chapter 4: You better catch me, bitch!

A loud groan, followed by a curse fills the penthouse and lets Jose know that Brock is up. He finds him sitting in bed, his head between his hands, eyes closed.

“Good morning sunshine!”

“Not so loud!” Another pitiful groan follows. “How are you up already? You had more to drink than me.”

“Puerto Rican alcohol tolerance… and also you old as fuck.” He smirks when Brock glares at him and decides that he should stop gloating and take care of his man instead. “Here, baby, open up,” he tells him and places two ibuprofen in his mouth before he hands him a bottle of water, which Brock empties in one go.

“Fuck, how much did we drink last night? And Marge and Magnus had the same… you think they’re still alive?”

“Met them when I went to get us some breakfast. They looked pretty alive, fresh and in colour to me. Told me to say hi to you and asked if we could repeat the night some time soon while we here.”

“Urgh! God no! I’m only drinking water for the rest of the stay.” Brock lets himself fall back, rolls onto his stomach and closes his eyes again.

“You want some coffee?”

“No.”

“Fruit salad?”

“No.”

“Then have some more water at least. Come on, twinkle toes.” Jose pats his butt lovingly.

“Fine,” Brock sighs, sits back up and accepts another small bottle of water. “What time is it?” he asks when he is done.

“Nearly noon. You should go shower, so we on time for our picnic extravaganza.” Brock makes a whining noise. “Or we can do it another day and you stay in bed?” Jose offers. And it’s his willingness to adjust the plans he was so looking forward to, that makes Brock finally get out of bed.

“No, we’re going. You already showered? Or do you wanna join me?”

“I’m gonna join you, but don’t think I don’t know you just want me with you so I can wash you and you can go on sleeping. I know your lazy ass when you hung over,” Jose teases, but goes ahead into the bathroom, starts the water and gets undressed while Brock makes a pitstop at the toilet before he joins him.

They both quickly brush their teeth before they step into the shower. Brock really feels more dead than alive while the warm water rains down on him. Jose soaps them both up and even washes his hair. “That’s what it gonna be like fifty years from now when I have to take care of you, boo?” There’s laughter in Jose’s voice before he tips Brock’s head back and rinses his hair out.

“Maybe it’ll be me taking care of you, who knows,” Brock replies and takes a towel of the rack. He places it on Jose’s head and rubs gently, then grabs another one and dries his own hair.

“Maybe,” Jose agrees after a while. The fact that Brock can even imagine them still being together so far in the future, old and wrinkly, does weird things to his chest, heart and stomach. He doesn’t burst into tears anymore now, like he did when Brock mentioned maybe getting married some time in the future, but it’s not something that he takes for granted either. Just a year ago this moment, heck even just this vacation together, was so far out of reach he couldn’t have dreamed it up. And now, here they are and Jose quickly pinches himself to make sure he is actually awake.

“What are you doing?” Brock asks him and must have seen it.

“Nothin,” he says quickly.

“Did you just pinch yourself?” Brock takes his arm and when Jose follows his eyes he can see the red mark clearly. “You did! Why?”

“I didn’t!” Jose lies and wraps the towel around his hips. The way Brock looks at him lets him know that he is aware of the lie, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead he pulls him close by his hips and kisses him.

“Good morning.” There is a gentle smile on his man’s face when they break apart, his arms stay wrapped around his waist.

“Morning,” Jose replies and puckers his lips a couple of times, asking for more kisses without words. Brock full-fills his wish and the pecks soon turn into a make-out session against the shower wall. “Had to make sure this was real and not a dream, you know, us talking about fifty years from now and all that,” Jose confesses when they stop.

“If your head felt like mine, you’d know it isn’t a dream,” Brock jokes, slaps his butt and steps out of the shower.

“As long as you don’t throw up, we good.”

They get ready as they do most mornings when they are both home. Brock gets dressed in the bedroom, while Jose runs back and forth between bathroom and bedroom, always forgetting something. When they are both finally dressed Jose douses himself in aftershave and cologne, while Brock uses deodorant and forgoes the shaving. Jose trims his stubble, combs his hair back and puts on his hat, after spraying it with even more cologne, while Brock steps outside on the balcony to smoke. By the time they are done it’s time to leave.

Henry hands them a backpack as well as a map, that Jose quickly passes on to Brock. Their way leads them along the beach, past palm trees, other hotels and resorts and a couple of fruit stands. The longer they walk the quieter it gets around them and by the time they reach their destination after about half an hour they are completely alone. They know they found their spot when they find a large, light blue picnic blanket with several pillows on top. A bottle of champagne in a cooler, two glasses and a picnic basket are also waiting for them underneath a divi tree on the beach. A large rock a couple of meters away makes the location secluded, not visible from the pathways and picture-perfect for a romantic picnic.

“One has to give it to Henry, he really knows what he’s doing. He must have prepared all this while we were walking here,” Brock says, takes off his shoes and sits down on the blanket.

“Knew Henry was our man for the job. What’s in there?” Jose asks and peeks into the basket. “Oh wow,” he says and then takes out one plate after another with different salads, fruits, dips, bread and small cakes. He spreads out the feast and checks the backpack they were given. Sure enough plates, cutlery, soft drinks and more can be found in it. Once everything is unpacked, Jose lies back, props his head up on his hand and gets comfortable. “You gonna feed me?” It’s meant as a joke, but Brock simply shrugs.

“What do you want?”

“Can you give me some bread, cheese and fruits?” Brock fills a plate with the requested items, but then continues to actually feed Jose. After a couple of bites they both have to laugh. “This shit sure looks more comfortable on TV.” With these words Jose sits back up and takes his plate from Brock so he can get himself something to eat.

“God, this is so good!” Brock moans once he has tried the food. “I really have to stop at the gym today. With all this delicious food I won’t fit into my costumes anymore otherwise.”

“I might join you, I could use a good work out as well. Otherwise I might lose my new flexibility,” Jose agrees. “But you shouldn’t worry about your weight, Brock. I think overall we both could use a couple of pounds more.”

“You remember my love handles when we first got together. I got so fat.”

“You weren’t fat! You put on happy weight because you were finally eating like a normal person and not skipping meals because of your anxiety. And I liked it. It was cute.” Jose smiles as he remembers the pictures from this time.

“It wasn’t cute.” Brock protests.

“Hey,” Jose asks and places a hand on Brock’s leg so he looks up. “It was cute, you were still hot and I liked it. Just accept it.”

“Fine,” Brock sighs and rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “But you always think I look cute. I could be Silky’s weight and you’d still call me cute.”

“Can you imagine?” Jose grins widely and then giggles. “But it would limit our love life, cause you sure as hell wouldn’t go on top anymore. You’d squash me like those play-doh bugs in the game.”

“Wait until I tell Silky that you just questioned his qualities as a lover.”

“Ho, I didn't…” Jose bristles, then stops. “Ok, maybe I did,” he chuckles and scoots back so his back is resting against the tree trunk. “Silky called me this morning while you were still asleep.” Jose becomes serious.

“Did something happen?” Brock moves closer to him and places a pillow in his lap so he can balance his plate on it.

“Not really. The usual. Complained about some idiots online, talked about all the partying he done and how he got hit on but then went home alone. Got real weird when I told him what a dope time we having.”

“I know I told you before and I know you don’t wanna hear it, but I think Reggie is jealous of you.”

“Why? If he wanna go on vacation he can.”

“Jose, look at it from his perspective. He went on Drag Race with a plan. He wanted to be the next sensation, the next Miss Vanjie. And you know I love him, but it backfired for him, even though Ru loved him. Gigs got canceled, fans were put off by his behaviour. In the end he doesn’t even win the money. And you, you came back, rocked the competition, got booked more than ever and have all these opportunities. And while we fucked it up for a while, in the end the fact still stands that we got each other out of drag race, not matter what else happens. Reggie wants all that: Money, admiration, fame, love. Ok, not necessarily in this order, but, you know. And you have it all."

"But he my best friend, Brock. He always has my back and he was there when you dumped my ass.”

“I don’t say that’s not true, I know he is. But sometimes, like, I don’t know. Sometimes the way he acts around me annoys me.” Brock is done with his plate and places it in the empty picnic basket.

“Like how?” Jose hands him his empty plate as well.

“You remember the stupid fight we had on tour?”

“Still burned into my brain, boo.”

“Before we finally talked when we got back, I talked to Steve, told him what was going on and asked him what I should do. And he, like, told me to accept that I am a control freak and that it will clash with your chaos and that all we could do was talk about it. He told me he’d fly in, if we didn’t resolve it and lock us in or something. He calmed me down and reminded me of all the fun we had on tour and how much we love each other.”

“Aw, I love Steve,” Jose coos and places his hand over his heart.

“I wasn’t there and I don’t know what Reggie said to you, but when I saw him again first time after our fight he basically told me, that, like, I should be grateful that you didn’t dump me, cause he would have done so. He made it sound like it was all my fault. Maybe he was just being shady, but it was all too fresh and I decided not to say anything to him because I didn’t want to fight.”

“He not your biggest fan no more, cause he had to listen to me cry one time too many after we ended. Then again when we were fucking around. He don’t understand why I loved you so much… love you so much, even after all the shit we did. He knows we both fucked up, but he didn’t see you cry. He never seen you, like I see you all the time, cause you always have your guard up when he around. He’s a shady bitch, you a shady bitch and he kinda don’t understand that you not like this with me.”

“You could be right. I never thought about it like that.” Brock contemplates it and lays down, between Jose’s legs, places his head on his chest. “When he’s around we’re usually going out partying or just don’t spend much time together. I don’t think I ever had a really deep talk with him about anything. I tried once or twice, but he was being so extra I just gave up.”

“Want me to talk to him?” Jose wraps his arms around his shoulders and holds him tight.

“I think I’ll try on my own first and if I don’t succeed… yeah. I’d love to be as close with Reggie as you are with Steve.”

“I love Steve,” Jose placed a kiss on Brock’s hair.

“Sorry, boo, he’s taken,” Brock chuckles.

“You such a dumb-ass sometimes.”

“Just sometimes?” Brock asks and strokes his nose over the exposed skin of Jose’s chest, kisses his collar bone, then his neck.

“Mmmh, rest of the time you alright,” Jose smirks before he leans down and seeks out Brock’s mouth with his. The kiss starts slow, but becomes deeper after a couple of minutes. To get more comfortable Jose slides down and rests his head on the pillow, before they continue their make-out session.

“Aren’t you glad right now I’m not heavier,” Brock mutters against his lips, then slips it back into Jose’s mouth before he can reply.

“Don’t care,” Jose says once he’s able to, then pulls Brock back down to him. Their tongues battle as they both breathe heavily. Brock slips one leg between Jose’s and starts moving his hips, grinding down on him, rubbing his growing erection against Jose’s thigh. Jo moves with him, moans loudly and grabs Brock’s ass with both hands so he can pull him even closer.

“God, Jo… fuck,” Brock moans and rips their lips apart to breathe, but doesn’t stop moving his hips.

“Brock… if we don’t stop I’m gonna come in my fuckin’ pants.” Jose replies, equally out of breath and horny as hell.

“Get rid of them then,” Brock orders and slips his own shorts down. They are made of a sweat material, so it’s a lot easier than taking off Jose’s tight jeans shorts. He manages in the end and Jose knows he is absolutely no help, squirming for as much skin contact as he can get. “Fuck, we need to get off this blanket or we’ll ruin it,” Brock remembers just before Jose finds his lips again.

“Shit!” Jose slumps down on the blanket. Then he remembers something and sits up. Quickly he digs through his fanny pack and takes out Brock’s wallet that he has in there. With a triumphant cry he holds up the condoms, throws the wallet down on the blanket. “Put it on,” he tells Brock as he pushes one of the squares in his hand.

“You serious?” Brock sniggers.

“Do I look like I’m joking? You know, neither of us is prepped and even a blow job would be too risky. We won’t go back with cum-stains on us or anything else.” When Brock takes too long Jose takes the condom back, rips the foil open and puts it on Brock himself. Then he lies back down, grabs the front of Brock’s shirt and pulls him back down between his legs, Brock’s arms coming to rest on each side of Jose’s head. This time their crotches touch directly, hard cock sliding against hard cock, the slickness of the condoms helping. They kiss deeply as they grind and rut against one another, Jose’s hands on Brock’s ass dictating the pace.

“Can't… this is not…can’t come like this,” Brock gasps after a while. They are both on the brink, but can’t make it over. And as nice as this is, they are still somehow in public and shouldn’t take unnecessary risk.

Jose slips a hand between them, takes both of their dicks in his hand and holds them closer, starts moving up and down. Bock keeps circling his hips, but it’s still not enough. Jose slips his other hand down as well and Brock has to lift his hips just a tad. He groans at the loss of contact. A second later he groans again, because his balls are being massaged gently. Now it’s enough! It only takes a couple of strokes and they both come; Brock with a gasp and Jose with a loud moan. Then they look at each other and start laughing, can’t believe what they just did.

“We losing it, toes. We can’t behave on a fucking public beach,” Jose states as he takes his condom off, ties it.

“I know. I can’t believe we just did that. We’re turning into horny teenagers.” Brock agrees and takes his condom off as well and places it in a paper napkin, then holds it out for Jose so he can place his there, too.

“We always horny, just not in public.” Jose pulls his shorts back up.

“God, I hope no one saw us.”

“I hope no one filmed us! Maybe this one of these places where some fucker is filming.”

“It would not make for a good porn movie. All one could see is my naked ass moving around and you had your hands there most of the time.”

“Then you better put your shorts back on before someone posts your ding-a-ling anyway.” Both keep laughing as Brock puts his shorts back on. When their eyes meet however they are right back where they started within seconds: Kissing each other silly on the blanket. This time Jose’s on top.

***

A large screen is set up on the beach, lanterns illuminate the huge round beach beds that are set up, one for each couple. Also each couple has a table and drinks are already waiting there for them. When asked both Jose and Brock chose beer, thinking it is a much safer choice than more champagne or cocktails. Brock takes a sip of his beer before he leans back against the cushions and Jose takes his own bottle with him as he snuggles up to his man.

“Have you seen this movie before?” he asks.

“Yes, I have, but way back when it came out. You?” Brock replies.

“Once during a movie night with friends at school, but I didn’t pay too much attention.”

“Too busy making out with your boyfriend?”

“No, girlfriend at the time,” Jose says and presses his lips against Brock’s cheek. “But I like making out with you wayyy more, even though you all scratchy right now.”

“You are not clean shaven either, papi,” Brock points out and Jose just chuckles and then takes a sip of his beer. Henry walks up to the screen, a microphone in hand.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’d like to welcome you to our weekly movie night under the stars. Today we will show "Notting Hill” staring Julia Roberts and Hugh Grant. I hope you enjoy the movie. Afterwards we all invite you to stay and dance away to the most romantic movie songs of all times. Thank you!“

"Oh, dance night. Think we can stay and watch these straight people get it on on the dance floor?” Jose tilts his head up to look at Brock.

“If you behave during the movie.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he pushes himself up in a sitting position and Brock flinches, because he uses his stomach to do so.

“It means: No indecent yelling when you don’t like something, no insults, no throwing something at the screen, no sucking noises, no kicking of other people’s seats and keep your hands out of my pants,” Brock lists the things Jose has actually done in the past when they were at the movie theater.

“You boring,” Jose huffs and pouts but then has to laugh. He knows he’s done all of the things Brock just listed. He lies back down in Brock’s arms and puckers his lips again to get another kiss before the movie starts.

Jose really does behave this time and even manages to whisper his comments at a volume so only Brock hears him.

Brock surprises him when he quietly mouths along the words of the theme song when the couple on screen kisses for the first time. “All day long I can hear people talking out loud. But when you hold me near you drown out the crowd. Try as they may they can never define what’s being said between your heart and mine. The smile on your face lets me know that you need me.”

“You bet!” Jose whispers back and lets his fingers find the patch of skin that is exposed at the top of Brock’s shirt.

“There’s a truth in your eyes saying you’ll never leave me.”

“Try and get rid of me.”

“The touch of your hand says you’ll catch me wherever I fall.”

“If I can hold your tall ass.” Brock gives him a look that says ‘really?!’

“You say it best,” Jose smiles widely at that, happy about the compliments. This is so romantic. “…when you say nothing at all.” Brock continues and tries to keep a straight face, but fails.

“Asshole!” Jose’s voice can be heard over the movie as he slaps Brock’s chest hard. Brock erupts in a fit of giggles, that Jose and some other people soon join.

***

They stay after the movie is over, because they spot Magnus and Margaret at a table and join them again. Brock tells the story of his hang-over and Jose recounts their day and their picnic trip, but leaves out the dirty details. A make-shift dance-floor has been set up in the sand and some couples sway to whatever cheesy songs the DJ plays for them.

“Oh, I wish I could dance like this.” Margaret gushes and watches the dancing couples enviously when an upbeat Salsa rhythm is played. None of the couples are particularly good and Jose wonders what some of them are even doing. There are only four people who know the correct steps and only two out of those are in rhythm. “I’ve always wanted to learn Salsa, but Magnus here is not a big dancer and also there’s not much of an opportunity where we are from.” Jose exchanges a look with Brock, then gets up from his chair.

“Senorita, may I have this dance?” he bows down in front of the elder woman and holds out his hand with a large smile.

“Oh, darling, really. I can’t dance Salsa.” She is hesitant.

“I’m gonna teach ya. Come on!” He insists and helps her up when she takes his hand. They kick off their shoes before he leads her to the dance floor in the sand. Slowly, he shows her the steps, then leads her through the moves.

“Darling, this is so fast,” she laughs when she stumbles again, but Jose keeps her upright.

“You can also fake it, Mary. Just swing your hips like this and shuffle your feet a bit,” he tells her and shows her how to move her hips the right way.

“Are you a professional dancer?” she laughs when she sees what he’s doing.

“Just Puerto-Rican,” he avoids answering the question directly and twirls her around. When the song ends, he carefully dips her back and they both laugh. Brock and Magnus applaud when they get back to the table.

“Did you see that Magnus? Your old wife knows how to dance Salsa!” Margaret is still out of breath as she sits down beside her husband.

“You looked good out there, papi,” Brock compliments and pecks Jose’s lips when he’s back in his seat.

“Coming from you, twinkle toes, that’s a real ass compliment. ” Jose feels really proud when he hears the praise and also sees it in Brock’s eyes. “He’s a ballerina,” Jose tells their new friends.

“Was… was a ballet dancer,” Brock laughs.

“Your feet are still fucked up, so I get to say "is”.“

"See, I told you,” Margaret tells her husband. “The first time we saw you, I told him that you had to have some ballet training because of the way you carry yourself."

"Nailed it!” Jose exclaims.

“And what do you think he does?” Brock asks curiously and points to Jose.

“Oh, that’s harder… I don’t know. Maybe something in showbiz? You said you’re from L.A. and there’s something about you… Jose, I think you belong on stage. I don’t know, if that really is your job, though or you’re like… an account by day, but you absolutely should be on stage.”

“You good. Real good,” Jose is genuinely impressed by her assessment.

“So you are? Am I right? Are you an actor?”

“That’s one way to look at it,” Brock sniggers.

“Bitch, you doing the same stupid shit as me, so stop laughing,” Jose swats at his chest.

“True,” Brock nods. “You got your phone here?”

“Yeah, need to take some cute ass pics of us. Why?”

“How about we show them? I’m sure you still have those videos of the tour saved.”

“You bet I do,” Jose says with pride, because the videos of him and Brock on stage together during their first tour are his favorite thing ever. He hands his phone to Brock, who unlocks it with his pin, then flips through the videos he has saved and throws him an incredulous look when he realises how many naked pics and videos of him Jose has saved up. Then he chooses a video of the two of them dancing to a Rihanna remix that features both the elegance and sluttiness of Brooke Lynn and the hood style and heart of Vanjie.

Brock moves his chair closer to their the elder couple while Jose gets up and stands behind them, so he can see the video as well.

“Oh my god! That’s you?” Margaret gasps when the camera zooms in on their faces and she realises what she is watching.

“Kind of,” Brock chuckles. “We’re professional drag queens and this is what we do for a living.”

“Unbelievable!” Magnus says. “Are you in Vegas or something? I’ve never seen anything like this!”

“You’re both so beautiful!”

“I used to be in a couple of Vegas shows. We also touring, did some Broadway and West end, TV shows. Brock is a host on a TV show in Canada… we kinda do it all for the money money money.”

“So, you are both dancers, just in women’s clothes. This is so good! Let us know if you ever come to Sweden and we will come and see your show!” Margaret is so enthusiastic about it she is basically vibrating in her chair.

“I think we have a show coming up in Stockholm. I’ll check it later and let you know tomorrow,” Brock promises.

“But if you are both dancers then why are you sitting here with us old folk and aren’t out there dancing?” Magnus asks.

“Dunno if all these straight couples would like us romancing it up on the dance floor,” Jose replies, uncharacteristically shy. He is usually never like this, but he is not home, he knows none of these people and he can’t remember when he was in an all straight environment for days the last time. Surely not since he moved out of his mother’s house at seventeen.

“Oh darling, if they do, just ignore them. Idiots can be found everywhere, even here in paradise,” Margaret turns around and pats his arm.

“You know what, Margaret is right,” Brock decides and gets up. “You wanna dance?” he asks Jose just as a new song comes on.

“Really?” Jose’s eyes widen.

“Really. Let’s go dance.”

“We’ve never danced together like this,” Jose says as they make their way to the beach dance-floor.

“Then that’s a good time for it. Question only is, if you gonna let me lead,” Brock smirks. He wraps his arms around Jose’s waist, while Jose’s wrap around his neck, his head resting on his shoulder and they start to sway to the song.

“J.Lo played this. It’s Maid in Manhattan.”

“What?” Brock doesn’t understand what he is taking about.

“The song, 'Fall again’ is from the movie 'Maid in Manhattan’ and J.Lo plays the lead.”

“You’re right. I love the movie. The kid is so cute.”

“And Ralph Fines is kinda hot in it.”

“Urgh… he can’t be hot in anything. He is Voldemort,” Brock scrunches up his face and Jose guffaws, then hides his face in Brock’s shoulder again.

“You can’t turn away, the past is said and done. I need us to carry on,” Jose mouths along with the words, the words spoken against Brock’s neck. When Jose looks up and smiles, he gets lost in Brock’s eyes and kisses him while they keep dancing.

They break apart with laughter when the next song starts and they both recognise it, like almost all other couples. Strangely most men flee the dance floor, while the women rush over to dance, singing along with the famous song.

“Can you do it?” Jose asks Brock mischievously and of course Brock knows what he’s talking about.

“Sure, we did similar stuff on tour all the time. And if we fall, at least it’s sand and not a hard stage floor,” Brock agrees.

“Let’s show these straight people how you do it,” Jose exclaims excitedly and they start re-enacting the choreography of Dirty Dancing’s 'Time of my life’- at least the parts they remember.

At first no one really takes notice of what they are doing. They scream the lyrics along with the rest of the people, goof off by twirling each other around and give each other exaggerated longing looks, before having a giggle fit. Then however Brock lifts Jose up and twirls him, just like in the movie and a circle forms around them. Aware of the audience they get a bit more serious about what they are doing and start the show for real.

“There’s no stage to jump off,” Brock laughs when he remembers what’s next.

“You can do it,” Jose laughs and watches when Brock jumps up and does the triple tour barefoot, in his shorts and T-shirt. The crows cheers when he lands. “That’s my ballerina!” Jose yells with glee and winks at Margaret and Magnus, who have joined the crowd watching them. Jose dances over to them and dances with Margaret again, while Brock dances with a couple of other women, until their eyes catch when they know the big moment is coming.

“You ready?” Brock yells over to him.

“You better catch me, bitch!” Jose yells back before he starts running, jumps and Brock holds him over his head in the iconic pose of the movie. “Yes! I’m flying!” Jo screams over the applause of the spectators. Brock nearly drops him because he starts laughing so hard. He manages to get him down safely and they exchange a couple of kisses between laughter and then simply goof around some more for the rest of the song.

When it ends and they leave the dance floor with Margaret and Magnus and walk back over to their table, they get stopped a couple of times and are complimented and praised and even get friendly pats on the backs from their volleyball buddies.

“Here,” Magnus says when they sit back down and hands Jose his cell phone. “I don’t know much, but I know you don’t need to unlock the phone to take pictures and videos. I hope I got it all.”

“You filmed our dance?” Brock exclaims happily, excited that they have this moment on camera.

“I hope so.” Jose checks his phone and clicks through the video. It’s all there. The whole dance.

“Magnus, I could kiss ya!” Magnus only taps his right cheek with one finger and Jose places a loud smooch on it. Then he watches the whole video, keeps replaying it and shows his favorite parts to Brock. “Hey, Brock?”

“Yes, Jose, you can upload the video on instagram with whatever crazy caption you’ve come up with. Don’t forget to tag me.”

“How did you…?” Jose is speechless.

“I know you, papi.” Brock chuckles and kisses him softly.

Ten minutes later two clips of the video are uploaded to Jose’s instagram account. Caption says: Miss Vanjie, Miss Brooke Lynn, Do a spin, do a dip, just jump on the dick. #nobodyputmytwinkletoesinthecorner #dirtydancingdonetheVanjieway #Brocktakin'metonewHytes

TBC

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #fluff #smut #drama #canon compliant #houroubing to aruba #blackhighheels

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ehstarwar · 4 years

Text

a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves (2/8)

It was… an awful abuse of friendship that would more than likely be refuted immediately and cause a riff in the friend group.

But…

It was Ben. He would do this for her. He made her promise him, anyways.

Rey holds up her end of the deal with Ben and asks him for help.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4K

Read on AO3

Notes: threw in a lil spice with this chapter to show my gratitude for how wonderful u all are

໒( ♥ ◡ ♥ )७

(also i'm shit at getting back to comments, but just know i will totes respond to you all and i would also die for all my commenters and kudos-ers. now back to ur regularly scheduled ABO)

Chapter 2: that breathes upon a bank of violets

Ben glared down at his now empty plate, while another champagne flute was placed before him. His mother continued to prattle on about her latest endeavors in the senate, but Ben was having a hard time focusing. He knew he should be listing to his mother; after everything he put her through, it was the least he could do, but his mind was elsewhere. Someplace not too far away, probably just waking up in a ratty old band t-shirt, smelling like all the good things in this world.

“… Then he told me that I was only four votes down when I actually thought I was three votes ahead, so if he hadn’t tried to make a pompous ass of himself, he probably would have won- Benjamin? Hello? Are you with me?” Leia waves a hand in front of his face, snapping him from a train of thought that was not suitable for Sunday brunch with his mother.

“What? Oh, sorry. You were talking about Senator Sion, I think?” Ben says. Leia side-eyes him, taking a sip of her mimosa.

“You’ve been distracted all morning and keep staring at me like you want to throw your eggs at my face. What’s going on?” She asks, motherly concern coloring her voice. Ben sighs, knowing that lying will only come back to bite him in the ass.

“You fought to end the suppressant mandate on omegas, what, a few months ago?” He asks, already knowing the answer.

“This is about politics?” She questions, giving him a disbelieving look.

“You realize that now insurance doesn’t have to cover suppressant coverage any more because of this, right?”

Leia sighs. “We knew it would be a side affect, that the lesser organizations would use it to capitalize off diminishing coverage. We weighed the risk and rewards and felt that it was still worth fighting for. We’re working with Planned Parenthood to be able to distribute suppressants to omegas who still want it, but it’s a war. Victories don’t always come easy.” Leia explains. Ben runs a hand through his hair.

“You don’t think the risk outweighs the reward? Omegas have a hard time getting good jobs with decent insurance, as is. If they can’t afford suppressants, it just makes their life harder.”

“All of this and more has been discussed with various political advisors who know quite a bit more than alphas like you and I, Ben. We made out decision on what to support. It would be hypocritical for us to tout that alphas don’t need to be on blockers but measly little omegas need suppressants. If you wanted to fight about political derivatives, we should have met in my office. No cutlery to throw at each other there,” She huffs.

When Ben stays silent, not knowing how to continue this conversation without turning it into a fight, Leia concedes.

“Did something happen? Do you know someone…?” She asks. Ben nods. “Who?”

“Rey,” He admits. Leia’s eyes go wide in understanding and she relaxes in her seat, inwardly pleased that she finally understands what’s going on.

“Rey is off suppressants because her insurance stopped covering them and now you having harder time concealing your feelings.” Bens’ eyes snapped up to his mother, before he began sputtering retorts.

“What are you- I don’t know- That’s not even, What? I don’t have feelings for Rey! It’s just… a problem and I know that I’m indirectly a cause of that and I feel bad. But not because I’m… I have… nothing. I feel bad for her, is all.” Leia just quietly laughed to herself, only fueling Bens’ discomfort.

“Oh, please, Ben! I used to have to beg you just to know your friends name. You and Tai were friends for six years before I even knew he existed! Then, you meet Rey and introduce her to me after a week of knowing her. A week, Ben!” Leia says.

Ben just continues to mutter intelligible things under his breath.

“It’s okay for you to like her, Ben. I’d be worried if you didn’t. She’s a great girl. The whole family loves her.” Leia’s attempts to comfort her son serve only to embarrass him further. Like Ben didn’t already have the less-than-inconspicuous seal of approval from Grandma Padmé, and the constant jibes from Uncle Luke about how Rey ‘balances’ Ben out’. He hates that he loves it so much. That he needs it at all.

“If I… If I say anything to her now, she’ll think it’s just because she’s not on suppressants. She’ll think of me as just another knot-driven alpha who forgot to take his blockers.” Ben’s quiet admission sobers his mother up for a moment.

“You’ll just have to convince her otherwise,” Leia presses, earning a humorless chuckle from Ben.

“And how do I do that? I’m not exactly the most eloquent when it comes to women…. or people in general, really.” His mother snorts.

“You think I don’t know that?”

He narrows his eyes, and Leia puts her hands up in surrender.

“You’ll just have to… be there. For her. Whatever she needs. That’s the best place to start.”

When the number flashes across Rey’s screen, she knows it means trouble. Because she hasn’t had enough of that lately, evidently.

Inspection today.

During normal work hours?

No. After.

Inspections take a lot of time. I can’t stay that late tonight.

No other option. Feel free to quit.

Rey feels her insides boil. Her boss, Plutt knows her situation (despite her many attempts to keep it from him) and knows that quitting isn’t an option. Her fist balls as the thinks of what ‘inspections’ entails.

Any normal work place with a proper Human Resources department would call it an employee evaluation, but not Plutt. No, his ‘inspection’ consist of going through all of the work Rey has done over the last few months, noting only the complaints of vehicle not properly fixed, unsatisfied customers who didn’t like that an omega was working on their stuff, and Plutt’s continued harassment of her character. It would break any normal person, even people stronger than she; but Rey wouldn’t be brought down by Trumps’ broke doppelgänger.

Rey wanted to quit, and she had typed up a two-week-notice more than once, but its not like she could easily find another job. An omega mechanic, with debt up to her ears, in the wrong part of the city wasn’t the most attractive to potential employers, and going without a job wasn’t an option. So she would endure the likely horrific forty minute attack on her person with a straight face, then treat herself to some of the half-priced sushi from the drugstore around the corner.

The most daunting of all this was the fact that she would be in Plutts’ office, alone, well into the evening. He’d never tried anything on her, but he did tout his alpha status around enough that he was very aware she was an omega.

And now, an omega without suppressants.

Rey thought of the pheromone sprays that she could take a few test sprays of, trying to put an alpha scent on her that would clog up the room and make Plutt want her out of there as soon as possible. But alpha sprays were hard to come by and usually did a piss-poor job of convincing others it was real. Only a real alpha scent would do the trick, and Rey’s lack of a love life gave her limited options.

Except, of course, for Ben.

His rich, thick, melt-in-you-mouth, alpha scent that could bring back an omega from the brink of death would be perfect. If it made Rey feel like she was wrapped up in a warm blanket for the rest of the day, that was just an added bonus.

But it’s not like she could ask Ben to do that. It was… an awful abuse of friendship that would more than likely be refuted immediately and cause a riff in the friend group.

But…

It was Ben. He would do this for her. He made her promise him, anyways. She texts him before she looses her nerve.

i have a favor to ask

Shoot.

it’s a big favor

…shoot?

you can say no if you want

i’d understand

Is everything okay? Are you in trouble?

Not trouble, per se, but a predicament

Rey, I’m worried. What’s going on?

u remember my boss Plutt? he wants to have an

inspection with me tonight and i’d be alone with him.

he’s an alpha and…

u know my situation

I’ll come stay with you during this inspection.

no, i don’t think that’d go well

Plutt can be… territorial

sometimes he’ll find a reason to refuse

service to an alpha

i don’t want him to hurt u

I’d rather he try and hurt me than hurt you.

I’ll be with you.

I will also help you look for a better job

with a better employer.

i appreciate you for offering to do that,

but i have an idea that could be better

and less likely to get us hurt

You quitting?

i think u should scent me

Um.

What?

scent me.

surely you’ve scented someone before

I know what scenting someone is.

It’s just…

a little intimate.

For people who aren’t dating.

yeah but we’ve know each other forever

i think it will be fine

that way i’d have your scent all over me at work

and Plutt will think i stink and cut the meeting short

that way he won’t try to hurt u and he

won’t try anything at the inspection!

its a win win

in my opinion

But you’d be covered in my scent.

yes benjamin that is precisely the point

You would have to smell me on you.

We would have to do this before

you went into work and you’d smell like me

until you could bathe.

i feel like ur not getting why im asking u

i WANT to smell like you

I don’t know if this is a good idea.

it is!

i’ll be able to keep my job and ward

off my creepy boss

don’t not do it because of me

if you don’t want to do it, i understand

but don’t say no because ur worried about me

i meant what i said when i told you i can take

care of myself

And I meant what I said when I

told you to ask me for help.

I just kind of assumed it would be for

literally anything else.

well

this is what im asking

Okay.

I’ll do it.

Reys’ palms were sweaty as she rode in the elevator up to Ben’s apartment. Part of her wanted to believe that she was nervous because she was dressed in greasy overalls that were two sizes too big for her, yet inside of a building where the median income was upwards of seven figures. It had a fucking bellman. With gloves.

She’d been here before, many times, but never on her way to work and never in anything less than her fanciest clothes. Rey knows Ben makes a lot of money, hotshot lawyer and all, and that he comes from money. But being inside of this building reminds her just what a difference of worlds they come from. And also that she’s asked someone who can afford to live here to do something a little scandalous.

It’s not that she was nervous about smelling like him; that part she was looking forward to. It’s the actual act of scenting. Ben wasn’t editorializing when he said it was intimate. Scenting was a step down from a make out session, but not by much. Rey wishes the thought of doing this with Ben didn’t send a fresh wave of slick between her thighs. He would be able to smell her. He would never say anything, never want to embarrass her that way, but he would know.

She tries not to think of that when she knocks on his door. It swings open moments later, to a frazzled looking Ben. He’s dressed for work, fancy slacks and crisp button down, and the stark reminder rings in her head again. She is also assaulted by how good he smells. It takes her a minute before she can speak.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” They stand in the doorway for an awkward second before Ben realizes he’s taking up the whole doorway and moves to let her in. Rey walks inside, instantly putting her ratty backpack on the ground by his couch. They say nothing to each other, just stare, waiting for the other to speak.

“This is weird,” Rey states. Not that it needs stating. “I feel bad, now. For having asked you. I shouldn’t have put this on you.” She sees him take a gulp before talking.

“I told you I’d help you if you needed it,” He reminds her.

“I don’t think you had this in mind when you offered.”

“Not really. But I offered, so I’ll help. On one condition.” Rey cocks her head, narrowing her eyes at him.

“What?”

“The minute you find another job, a better job, you will leave this one. The minute, Rey.”

It’s not what she was expecting him to say. But he wouldn’t be Ben if he did everything she suspects. She’s also not suspecting him to give such a command. A real one, alpha voice and all. It makes her shiver.

“I will,” She squeaks out, unable to say anything else.

“Good.” His posture relaxes a bit and the wave of anger she felt the beginnings of, go away. They’re left standing together, silently. “So… how do you want to do this?” Ben asks.

“Um… I just figured we could hug? For like, a while. Being in you space is good because your scent will stick to my clothes too, so it doesn’t have to get so… touchy, if you don’t want.”

His jaw works.

“You think hugging will suffice?”

Rey shrugs.

“Its better than nothing. I don’t want to make you more uncomfortable than I already have.”

“If we’re going to do this, I think we should be through. I don’t want you to have to go through this for nothing.”

Rey wants to say that just being able to smell him at all is reward enough, but there wasn’t time for that discussion.

“Okay… so I’ll just…” She points to the barstool at his kitchen island, walks over to it and sits down. “If I’m on your things, it’s better. Sticks more.” She doesn’t know if its creeks in the building or a very low whine that Ben emits, but she ignores it.

He walks over to her, now seated on the stool, looking her up and down. Rey feels like she’s being appraised and really regrets her decision not to have washed her work clothes before coming over. His gaze is hot, and Rey thinks she’s panting harder with every step he makes towards her.

“You’ll tell me if it’s too much. You’ll tell me to stop if you need me to.” Ben is between her legs now, having opened on the own volition. Rey manages to nod, and that’s enough for Ben. His hand comes to cup her jaw, and she instinctively leans into it. Her head lolls to the side, in his palm, as his face comes down to her neck. His nose rubs along her jaw, and she can feel his lips as they skirt along her pulse point. His other hand rest on the counter behind her, effectively trapping her in.

Rey feels like putty. Ben’s scent is strong from across the room, but in her personal space? It’s suffocating. Her eyes close as she focuses all her attention on the way she can feel his stubble scrape along the sensitive skin of her under-jaw, and feels the faint pressure of his nose passing along her scent glands. He works himself slowly, leaving no skin untraced, before moving to the other side. He maneuvers her head to his other hand, before mirroring the same position they were in just a moment ago. She is glad she choose to sit; her knees would be useless.

His movements become more sure, tracing harder, and making Rey let out the most pathetic whimper she’s ever heard. Embarrassment instantly floods over her body, but before she can apologize, Ben growls. Literally growls.

Suddenly his body is flush with hers, her thighs resting on the side of his hips. She feels his hand that isn’t holding her head move to grip her waist, digging his fingertips into the jean material covering her. She doesn’t realize her hands have worked their way to his abdominal muscles until she feels her hands tightly wind his shirt.

His mouth traces along her scent glands, opening slightly, and she can feel his heavy breath on her skin. The first trace of his tongue on her glands makes Rey cry out, and involuntarily cant her hips into his. She feels his tongue, slick and hot, licking her then. Lavishing her glands in his saliva that made her head spin. Her heart beat was pounding, her ears rushing with blood. She could feel every part of him, his tongue, his hands, his lips, his hips. The growing hardness in his pants was pressed into her stomach as his hips rocked slightly in time with hers.

When Rey snaps back into reality, she sees where this is going. And even though it physically pains her to stop him, she knows she has to.

“Ben…” She whispers, his mouth still moving against her skin. “Ben,” She tries, voice a little surer now. He emits a low whine, making her stomach clench. Rey weaves her hand onto the side of his face before calling out again. “Ben.”

He stills then, body still flush against her, but mouth closed. She felt him pull back, not removing his hands, only lifting his torso so that they were looking at each other. His pupils are blown wide open, black covering the usual honeyed brown. His chest is heaving with his breath, and his mouth is slightly parted as he sucks in air.

Rey feels something cool along her chin and realizes she’s been drooling, sliver running down her mouth in a thoroughly undignified manner. Her fingers quickly go to wipe it away and rub it into her clothes, but Ben takes her hand, covered in drool and sticks it into his mouth.

His eyes close as she feels his tongue suck of any of the cool wetness, replacing it with saliva of his own. Rey keens and clenches her core. His tongue works around each digit, encircling all her fingers with his tongue. When Ben finishes his assault, he pulls her hand out of his mouth, but keeps it against his lips. His eyes are still closed as she feels the air from his nose one the wet surface of her hand.

Rey doesn’t dare move. She couldn’t if she wanted to. Ben is all around her, still between her legs, and she knows movement will mean brushing against the thickness she felt in his pants. A tickling sensation in her spine tells her that she doesn’t want to move. That beside this alpha is where she belongs and where she’ll be happy and where alpha will provide and-

It’s a lot.

“Let me walk you to work.” Bens’ words are low, and send vibrations through her hand as he speaks, eyes still shut.

“What?” Rey is still a little breathless, but shock colors her voice.

“I don’t think… I’m having a hard time… I can’t not be around you, right now. If I let you leave right now…” She feels the shiver that runs down his spine, “It wouldn’t be good. Especially since I know where you’re going.”

Rey can’t speak. She knew that alphas had a hard time letting go of omegas, even just for a few hours, but she’d always assumed that was for people who were mated. Not them, not after one scenting session, intensity notwithstanding. Rey gulps as she tries to find her voice.

“Okay… but we’ll stop a block away from the shop. I don’t want you to get into a territory fight with Plutt. I couldn’t…” bare to watch you get hurt. And I’m afraid I’d like it too much if you hurt him.

“Don’t say another alphas name, right now… please.” His voice is pained and she can see the clenching in his jaw. She mumbles sorry’s as her thumb begins to trace his strong chin.

When his eyes slowly reopen, they’re back to normal, the warm tones causing Rey to release a sigh of relief. They slowly detangle, and Rey tries to pretend she doesn’t see the bulge still in his crotch, and hopes that he couldn’t tell just how slick she had gotten. Rey excuses herself to the bathroom to clean up and give each of them a minute to collect themselves.

She tries to wipe up the slick that ruined her underwear before splashing cool water on her still reddened cheeks. When she exits the bathroom, Ben is still close. It must be apart of the alpha sensation, being unable to part with their mate after being so… intimate. It warms parts of Rey that she didn’t even know existed.

They are silent nearly the whole way there, but Ben is right next to her the whole way. He is never more than a breath away from Rey, unintentionally shielding her from the others they pass along the way. She can still feel him, the confusing mix of pheromones he’s giving off. There is only one she recognizes above all else: arousal.

She knows they’re a block away from work, not by the street corner, but the way Bens’ head snaps up when even the hint of Plutt makes itself known. After spending the whole morning inundated with Bens’ delicious smell, it nearly makes Rey retch. She feels Ben still at the opening of an alleyway and her body stops without her control. She looks back up at him, seeing the steely way his eyes rake over the street. He is unhappy and she doesn’t like it.

“What’s wrong?” She asks.

“You shouldn’t work here. It’s a bad place. I don’t want you here.” She knows its his alpha talking. That Ben wouldn’t be this controlling, overbearing man, but it makes her mad nonetheless.

“You can’t control where I work, Ben. I’m sorry you don’t like it, but it’s my choice. Now, thank you for… doing what you did, but I can handle it from here.” Rey goes to walk off, but Ben stops her. His hand comes out to grip hers, not in a tight, jerking way, but in a soft way that that makes it hard to refuse.

“I’m sorry… you’re right.” His eyes are downcast, but he keeps his hand on hers. She feels a little guilty for snapping at him; after all, she’s the reason he’s experiencing these emotions.

“It’s okay… I’m sorry, too.”

They stand there for a moment, knowing that this is making them both late, but neither of them having the heart to move.

“We have to go to work now,” Rey says quietly. Ben nods. “Can I… talk to you, later?” She asks.

“Of course,” He breathes. Rey lets their hands drop and goes to turn to work, but Ben calls out for her.

“Rey, please be safe. I need you to be safe.”

Rey should be more used to his intensity by now, but it still makes her shiver.

“I will.”

come say hi on twitter!

#this will probs not cause rey to go into a reactive heat #that would just be silly #reylo #ben solo #kylo ren #rey #rey x ben #rey x kylo ren #adam driver #daisy ridley #fan fiction #sw #star wars #my work #ao3 #appihtg

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dreamyboystyles · 6 years

Text

Ethereally Dazzling

She spins around ready to respond with a smart remark when her voice catches in her throat at the sight of the man behind her. Chocolate curls adorning a beautifully chiseled face and arms that could crush skulls if they wanted to. Perfectly pink lips turned upwards in a smirk directed at her. There was a sparkle to his body that she could not put a finger to but knew was more than spray body glitter. She takes a moment to collect her thoughts before she blurts out something embarrassing about his glowing green eyes.

Harry is a God crashing Y/N’s Greek themed castle party. Part 1 *unedited*

Lying her body across her soft canopy bed she stared at the ceiling covered in satin creating a cloudy illusion against the blue paint. Nothing made y/n feel more ethereal than being wrapped in silk and satin Whether it be satin pajamas or silk sheets she lived in silk and satin everything. Y/N had lived quite a privileged life so far and she couldn’t help but release a happy sigh at the thought of how lucky and fortunate she was to live the lavish life she did. Usually people who were well off spent their money and time traveling and partying on boats, and yes Y/N had her fair share of yacht parties and travels but she had already seen most of what she wanted to see. At least materialistically. Y/N always wondered about things left unseen and the small crevices in the universe that held the sweetest secrets. She didn’t necessarily care for the seven wonders of the world, she was looking for her own seven wonders. She wanted to live in the times before her and experience the art and the culture and the magic that was. To put it short and sweet, Y/N dreamed of being a walking renaissance painting.

So instead of boat parties and beach houses, Y/N threw castle parties of her greatest fantasies. Each party was always themed after a great period in history. She had parties themed of different aspects of the renaissance and of the enlightenment periods. She had parties of the middle ages, and parties of times of Roman empires. Sometimes the themes repeated but she couldn’t care, she loved the exhilarating feeling she got from traveling back in time even if it was brief. Her next party however, was something she’d never done before. She knew Greek themed parties were a thing, but she didn’t want your basic toga party with leaf crowns no, Y/N wanted to see Mount Olympus brought to life. For once she wanted to be the goddess marble statues were made of. She wanted to be the inspiration for the pieces of art that would be passed down and appreciated through centuries. And sure, maybe it wasn’t real and it was only a fantasy, but that was where Y/N lived her happiest most self-loving self.

So there lay Y/N wrapped in a glorious gown made of lace and chiffon. A long slim off the shoulder champagne colored chiffon base with lace detailing at the hem and waistline that moved up towards the bust. Multi sized crystals embellished into the neckline and trickled down towards the waist. The same pattern following down the quarter length sleeves. At the hem the embellishments sized smaller to larger the lower you went. Y/N didn’t believe in much, but she did believe that somewhere out there Aphrodite stared down with jealousy at her appearance. If she didn’t know any better, it was a tough battle in looks between the two.

Apollo didn’t like to spend too much time meddling in mortal affairs. He’d seen what that did to most of his relatives and he figured he’d save himself the trouble. However today he’d happen to be tying up some loose strings for his sister -which didn’t happen often but even Artemis found herself caught in some trouble sometimes as well- when he heard rave about a huge Olympian party. This at first confused him because he hadn’t received word of any party from any relatives. Then he wondered how in the world the mortals knew what the Gods had planned for the evening. And that was when it hit him, no Olympian was throwing a party, it was just another measly mortal affair. At first mortal culture used to offend him, the togas and the leaves and in a sense, the appropriation of it all. He found it a little insulting that they reduced their power and glory. But he came to realize humans were pesky in all other ways not just this one. For the most part Apollo stayed clear. But something about this particular event was drawing him in. Perhaps the promise of bringing Olympus to life seemed intriguing. He figured while he was down here he could go for a laugh and entertainment. So Apollo made his way towards the castle everyone was raving on about.

Y/N’s party was in full swing. Her vision had come to life in a damn near perfect way. From the tall white marble pillars to the golden flecks of light here and there, to even the lightly glimmering table cloth sashes. The food looks delicious displayed on golden platters and wine distributed through golden chalices. She was living an absolute dream and all the guests could not help but marvel at the sight of her. Some people even bold enough to call her Aphrodite. She knew she was no Aphrodite, she was ethereal on her own standards not another’s.

Apollo’s head was spinning. He kept hearing Aphrodite’s name being called out but she was nowhere to be found. He looked around trying to see if he’d spot any of his relatives but was coming up empty. These people are sure to feel Aphrodite’s wrath if they’re carelessly throwing out her name the way they are. He thought. His eyes wandered left and right trying to see if he’d see this creature they’d honored with the Goddess of Beauty’s name. Finally after hearing the name be called out again, his eyes landed on the lucky woman. Suddenly he understood the comparison. This woman was one of the most alluring mortals he’d ever seen. Her chocolate brown tresses of hair bounced with every laugh and head turn. Her smile shined brighter than any he’d seen before. There was a particular gleam in her eyes that promised mischief and wonder and excitement all at once. Carefully observing her he’d imagine the rage of envy Aphrodite was sure to feel if she ever crossed her path, and for this mortal woman’s sake he hoped that never happened. That promise her eyes held pulled him close. So as soon as he spots her removing herself from the crowd and headed out towards the garden, he makes his way after her.

She couldn't handle all this attention. The party wasn’t about her, it was about bringing an experience to life. Nobody wanted to talk to her about her appreciation of the ancient Greek culture that created the vision for this night. And if she heard a single person call her Aphrodite one more time she was sure to snap. She makes her way out towards the garden away from the crowd drunk on the fairly expensive wine. I guess her dream of a real life Greek party had come to life. Half of the people in there were already drunk beyond reason dancing around half naked. She didn’t expect to be followed out so she nearly jumps out of her skin when she hears a low voice behind her.

“You know, if Aphrodite were here I’m sure she’d have turned you into a beast by now” the voice chuckled.

“I guess I should consider myself lucky she isn’t here” she laughs a little breathlessly. He mimics her giggle and moves forward.

“May I take a seat? Wouldn’t want a beautiful woman out here all on her own” he says gesturing towards the space on the bench she’s sat on. She tilts her head pondering whether she should trust this gorgeous stranger. Banking on the universe blessing her luck she moves the bit of her dress taking up the space.

“Go ahead” she mumbles watching as he moves forward again to take the seat. “I”m Y/N, what’s your name?” she extends a hand towards him.

He pauses for a second staring at the hand in front of her wondering what name to give this beautiful strange girl.

“My name’s Harry” he smiles taking her hand and lifting it up to his mouth to press a kiss. He sees a blush creep up her neck and tint her cheeks pink. He smirks once again.

“Well Harry, I don’t know if it’s the wine or the lights but you are dazzling” she blurts out eyes widening not believing the words that came out of her mouth.

woooooooo I kept my word that I would post it by Sunday ! I hope you enjoyed this piece I’ve loved writing and exploring it and am looking forward to continuing the next parts! Feedback is oh so welcome and I do wanna add a lil smut action somewhere so let me know what you wanna see in the next parts! Thanks for reading <333333

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