#it's actually impressive that he's not just wearing cargo pants and a t-shirt

[prolix-yuy]

Simulated

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader Actress

Summary: You're a professional, which is why a sex scene with Dieter Bravo will be no problem at all. Now you just have to convince yourself to believe it.  

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, descriptions of male and female bodies, simulated sex, grinding, fantasizing about sex, anxiety, lil bit of size kink, probably incorrect method for filming sex scenes but I'm using what I know and making up the rest. Don't do this for real, this is fantasy and Dieter is a filthy boy.

Notes: This leapt out of my brain and was enabled by the Discord besties. Dieter brainrot is setting back in but I doubt anyone's complaining. This may be the sexiest thing I've ever written without actual sex happening, but you all can be the judge of that.

Cross-posted on AO3

Midnight Alley Masterlist

Trembling on the verge of passing out is not how you wanted your first time in Dieter Bravo’s arms to be, but no amount of reprimands to your rebelling body have worked. 

It’s not him, far from it. Dieter had been nothing but gentlemanly since you came in for scene blocking. The director offered to have stand-ins while they adjusted lighting and staged the shots, but you boldly offered to come in anyways. It wasn’t your first shoot, but it was your first sex scene, and you wanted to impress the director with your no-nonsense attitude about it. 

All that confidence flew out the window when you came face to face with your scene partner, Dieter Bravo. Well aware of his aloof playboy nature, you didn’t expect his handshake to be so warm, the quirk of his smile to make your heart flutter, or for him to smell so strongly of eucalyptus. Apparently his agent mentioned you would be there for staging, and he decided to come in to test your chemistry. No issues there, your curious eyes roaming over his wrinkled cargo pants and threadbare sweater. He could be wearing nothing and you’d still melt into a puddle. Which, shockingly, wouldn’t be that far in the future.

Calm down, girl. Be professional.

To be fair, Dieter is fucking gorgeous, even under the bloodshot eyes and air of annoyance. His curls are even softer looking in person, heavy shoulders stretching his t-shirts and bulky forearms complimenting his thick thighs. Even the little pooch of a tummy makes you salivate. While your friends drool over Tom Hiddleston or Harry Styles, your heart beats fast for men who can crush you under their bulk. “Weighted blanket boys,” you like to call them, and Dieter wholly falls into that category. 

Which is why when you got the casting call for a bit part in the crime drama Midnight Alley, which Dieter had been co-starring in for three seasons, you leapt at the opportunity. Even if you didn’t get to share a scene, at least you could catch a glimpse, maybe say hello. That was surely worth the long hours. His proclivities for casual sex definitely didn’t fit into that plan. No sir. Definitely not.

It all became real when you got the pages. Your character was a one night stand, relegated to three scenes - the bar where you make eyes across a crowd, the tasteful sex scene (though only barely - tv ratings have really changed in the last twenty years), and the morning after when he leaves to go to a crime scene. The “gaze across the smoky dance floor” was easy enough; anyone with half a brain and a pulse would blush at Dieter’s intense stare, raised eyebrow, and sly grin, a signature of his questionable character. It raises goosebumps down your arms, his parted lips and the slip of his pink tongue resting just inside, the crinkle of his eyes when he knows he’s got you. If a man ever gave you that look you’d be in his bed in moments. 

Scratch that. Not just any man. Dieter’s the only one who could pull that off.

The blocking should have evened out your nerves, and in the moment you believed it did. Dieter was an absolute gentleman, even warmer than you hoped, as you waited to be called on set.

“Ever done a scene like this before?”

“First time. Can you tell?”

He thumbed through his thicker script.

“Wasn’t going to make you more nervous by pointing it out. But yes.”

You blew out a puff of air, making Dieter smirk even more as you crinkled your sheets.

“How do we…?”

“You know the direction?”

“Yeah, it seems…straightforward.”

“Well, today we’re just going to do the major movements - positions, angles, you know - and while they mark focus and shine a light directly up my asshole, we can talk.”

A burst of giggles pulled a wider smile onto his face, waiting for you to calm yourself.

“What do we talk about?”

“What’s comfortable for you. What would pull you out of the scene. What you’re open to. You’re our guest after all.”

So your afternoon was spent pantomiming the sex acts written for you and…talking. Which wasn’t supposed to be sexy, or like two hours of incredibly hot foreplay, but your body apparently didn’t get the memo.

“Anything you really don’t want me to touch? Besides the obvious,” Dieter asked, coming down from his hands to his elbows by your face. The tip of his nose brushed briefly against yours. A hairlight shifted in your periphery.

“My ribs are pretty ticklish,” you admitted, nodding to the assistant director Ramona when she moved on to the next setup. Scooping his hands behind your back, Dieter pulled you on top, showing how to sit a little further up on his stomach to fake the grinding. Unfortunately, the plush flesh against your core didn’t help with the ache.

“Here’s okay?” he asked, wrapping his hands just under your breasts, the tips of his thumbs barely grazing the swell. You nodded, body getting jolted again when the director Adiel asked for Dieter to scoot up the bed a few inches.

“My, uh…” you said, then stopped as you lost confidence. Dieter took his hands off your chest and laced them on his own. He looked up at you expectantly. “My…nipples are really sensitive, so I know I’ll have pasties on and everything, but, it’s like, uncomfortable if they get touched certain ways. So I just wanted to…warn you of that. It shouldn’t be a problem, just, ah, you know, just in case.” Your throat closed up, embarrassment at even saying anything crushing your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

“Thanks for telling me, I appreciate it.” Dieter patted your thigh and his smile was a little more tender than before. 

God, he really looked good underneath you.

“My skin’s sensitive too, scratches show up really clearly on it and it pisses off the cinematographer. So that’s the only thing we’ll have to watch out for there.” The shuffle of changing positions interrupts your conversation until you’re on your stomach with him pressed against your back.

“Sorry if I pop one too, it’s kind of par for the course with these. I’m good at keeping it under control for the most part.” You giggle into the pillow as he hovers over you. 

“My biggest advice?” Dieter murmurs, mouth close to your ear. You hum into the pillow. “Let yourself have fun. It’s not gonna feel natural, but that doesn’t mean it’s gotta feel cold. You won’t offend me if you go off script. I might too, if it feels right. If we’re having fun, the audience will too.”

The weight of his body bearing down on you drives any more anxieties out of your blissed-out brain.

The day of the sex scene comes quicker than you’d like, and the tender crush you’d been nursing for Dieter has become a panicked bird inside your ribcage. You’d spent the hours before preparing, mentally and physically with an indulgent morning routine, but nothing can stop your nerves when Dieter catches sight of you and gives a little wave. He’s in jeans and a black button-up, hair being artfully styled but sunglasses still on. One knee bounces in the chair but otherwise he looks cool as a cucumber. 

The sliver of golden chest you peep through the neck of his shirt sends you scurrying to your dressing room.

Everything leading up to the moment you step on set is distraction. Chatting with makeup, hair, props, with the fucking boom operator who looks just as confused as you are that you’re asking about good places to eat in the area. You talk with the intimacy coordinator, who gives you final notes on the scene. (“If Dieter makes you uncomfortable at all you give me The Eyes and I’ll correct him. No questions asked. I’ve worked with him for years, and I will cuss him out to his face.”) Eventually there’s no one left, and you’re standing alone clutching a water bottle to your chest when Dieter sidles up.

“Nervous?”

You almost jump out of your bathrobe. Which would suck because all you had on was a dark lace lingerie set, pair of pasties and the strange modesty patch protecting your lady bits. Sometimes seeing the behind-the-scenes really did erase the movie magic.

“Yeah, sorry. It’s a little more real now than the rehearsal,” you sigh, and Dieter’s bray of a laugh actually calms you. He puts a hand on your back and rubs firm, soothing circles that bring your heart back into an acceptable rhythm.

“You’ll do fine. And I’ve done this…eh, probably more times than it’s polite to mention. You’re in good hands.” He pulls off his sunglasses, treating you to rich brown eyes you could lose yourself in if you weren’t a professional, goddammit. 

“Close the set, please!” Ramona calls out, and the nonessential crew files out until it’s just you and Dieter and about eight other people who will be watching you writhe and moan. Taking in a deep breath and letting it out loudly, you shake your limbs and metaphorically gird your loins (since they already are pretty girded).

“Can I have actors on set please?” You stride up to the bed with as much confidence as you can muster, Dieter strolling up behind you. Now that he’s close he smells like fresh cotton and spice, a sharp shift from the earthier scents you’d been experiencing. Even a hint of mint from his breath, suddenly thankful you’d brushed and mouthwashed twice. 

“Positions for Scene 17.”

Yes, the first shot. Dieter would be hovering over you, kissing you as he pulls his shirt off. You would be in your bra and panties, slivers of your body visible in the frame but Dieter’s broad chest and unbuttoned waistband on display. Sliding the bathrobe off and placing it off camera, you arrange your limbs on the bed, hands shaking just a little now. Dieter stands at the foot, and if you weren’t about to simulate sex you’d swear he was devouring you with his heavy gaze.

Just getting into character. Breathe.

“Roll sound.”

“Speed.”

“Scene 17a, take one. Roll camera.”

“Rolling.”

“...Action.”

As the set drops to silence, you watch Dieter change from the slightly aloof but sympathetic actor to a brooding morally gray detective needing to bury his failures in a soft body. Despite your coaching, your eyes widen at the set of his jaw, how dark his eyes become when he wrenches off the offending button-up. He sinks to his knees between your thighs and hovers over you, hands pushed into the mattress on either side of your head. 

“Be good for me, yeah?” he husks, deeper and full of gravel. You nod, and he descends to crush your lips together. He urges your mouth open and works your lips together, but his tongue stays obediently behind his teeth. 

Fuck, for a second you forgot you were acting.

His hips dip, denim scraping along the inside of your thighs. He parts from your mouth with a gasp, forehead coming down to press against yours. He takes a deep breath, then…

“Cut! Reset.”

You blink slowly, Dieter already lifting back up to stand at the foot of the bed, rebuttoning his shirt. 

“Any notes?” he asks, voice so calm and clear you snap back to the reality of the situation. 

“When you’re kissing, pull her thighs up around you,” Adam says, Dieter’s head swiveling back.

“That all right by you?” he asks, smoothing the shirt on his skin. 

“Yeah, yeah, absolutely,” you answer, trying not to croak out the words. It was just the first take, it’s fine that you’re a little off-kilter. It would be easier by the second one.

It was not. Not by the third either, still swimming in the heady arousal that wafts from Dieter’s commanding presence. The director complimented how you clutched at his shoulders when he squeezed your thighs, which you tried to pass off as purposeful rather than hanging on for dear life. You were doomed, you’d bitten off more than you could chew and you were going to mess up this role and had no idea how to stop it.

Three more scenes to go.

You take a lap as they reposition the cameras, flip-flops slapping against the concrete floors of the soundstage as you debate if you have enough time to rub one out before going back, just to take the edge off.

“Actors back on set!”

Dammit.

Scene 18 has you riding Dieter, his hands guiding you until he bares his teeth (your signal to move with him) and rolls you on your back to pound you into the mattress. The lingerie is gone now, the cool air of the soundstage caressing over curves of your body that most people rarely see. Dieter averts his eyes when you disrobe, and carefully arranges himself below you. You’re feeling more centered, straddling Dieter with a little less fire burning between your legs, but your troubles take a sharp turn.

“Lean forward a little more, you’re half out of the shot.”

“A little faster.”

“Put your hand on his stomach about ten seconds in.”

“Never mind, back to how we had it before.”

“No, we said no hand, remember?”

“Do you need a break?”

Your body shakes after take 6, half from the exhaustion of lifting up on your knees over and over, your toes starting to go numb, and half with anxiety over forgetting another cue, or missing another note. The smile you keep shooting the director is getting strained, and mortifying tears start to prick your eyes. Dieter is watching your face closely, and with a pointed look at Ramona she calls a brief break. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, guiding you off his lap to sit on the edge of the bed. You cross your arms over your chest, and he reaches over to give you your robe. Draping his own over his lap, he strokes that soothing pattern of circles over your back as you shake your head.

“Sorry, it felt so easy in rehearsal, I’m having like, a weird lockup right now,” you stammer out.

“It’s okay,” he says, “I know what it is.” You look up at him with more desperation in your eyes than you mean. He nods sympathetically.

“It’s the cock sock, isn’t it?” 

He delivers the line completely deadpan. The shock of the phrase, plus the serious set of his brow, makes hysterical laughter burst from your lips. You bury your face in your hands and shake as Dieter’s deep chuckles tickle into your ear.

“That’s better, just need to get a little of that tension out,” he soothes, meeting your eyes with a charming smile. If only this could be a real moment, not something looked on by several men and women drinking coffees. Dieter seems like the kind of partner who would always make you comfortable, and seen, and absolutely satisfied.

That last thought tingles the baby hairs on the back of your neck as you move back into position. Straddling Dieter once again, the ridiculous genital covering out of sight, he grips your shoulders.

“Okay, let’s get back into character here, yeah? Remember your motivation?”

You nod. Not that the scene really needed a deep backstory, but you’d decided you were blowing off steam after a rough few days at work and an ex texting you to get back together. Dieter was mysterious, exciting, so different from your past boyfriends, and when he met your eyes across the room all you wanted was for him to wash the bad taste of their memories out. 

“Got it? Good. Here’s mine,” he says, leaning up while the last few preparations finish around you. Lips to your ear, he whispers only for you. 

“Another dead end, another long day, and I want something to distract me. I’ve got my eye on my usual type, but then I see you. You stand out in the crowd, bold, confident. You hold my stare, challenge me. I thought I wanted something easy, something mindless, but looking at you, I changed my mind. I wanted something with substance, someone to give as good as she gets, and I know you’ll give me even better. My cock got hard just looking at you, you’re fucking perfect. And then when you let me buy you a drink and you criticized my whiskey choice, I wanted to bend you over the bar right there. So I’m taking you home to bury my troubles, but you can surprise me as many more times as you like. I like to be surprised. I want you to take me as much as I’m taking you.”

Dieter lies back with a hell of a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

“Action!”

Your body moves with an ease that had been eluding you, liquid rolls as you take your time riding him. His hands come up to your hips, urging you faster, and instead you grind down on him, pressing your hands into his chest and pinning him into the bed. You’re not supposed to be fighting him, but it feels so right to arch and rock harder into him. His bare legs flex against your ass, meeting your hips with his thrusts. You can imagine how good he’d feel if you weren’t faking this, how his powerful thrusts would hit your g-spot. His hand cups the back of your neck, teeth bared in warning as he rolls you onto your back. 

“You’re so sexy,” he growls in your ear, hooking your legs around his waist and smacking his hips into yours. The impact is softer than it looks, aided by your moans and writhing beneath him. He goes for a handful more thrusts before “Cut!” is shouted again.

“There we go! I like the improv, can we do just one more for coverage?” Ramona says, giving you an approving smile when you immediately get into position. 

“I could go all night,” Dieter shoots back, earning an eye roll from half the crew and a dry mouth from you when he flicks his gaze back and winks. 

The second take flows even better, your bodies finally speaking to each other. Dieter palms your ass, you slow your hips. He urges you to go faster, you grind down on him. He grits his teeth as you push his chest, nails just about to bite into the supple flesh. His eyes capture yours over and over, and the hunger inside them is some damn good acting. 

The cues, the flip, and you’re on your back again, but this time Dieter drops his head to cover your breast with his hot mouth. You arch, a strangled gasp as you wait for his tongue, his teeth, but he works his jaw against the flesh and nothing more.

Fuck, you want something more.

When he pops his mouth off he resumes the script, thrusting frantically into you but with more force this time, even an edge of desperation. You meet his energy, throwing your head back and letting him yank you against him over and over. The slap, the friction, this gorgeous man before you all makes slick weep from your untouched cunt, clit aching for the act you’re simulating.

“Cut! Excellent, really good work guys, you’re hitting your groove here. Let’s move on to 19.”

Dieter stays above you for a few seconds more, your chests heaving. The lust bleeds away to a soft smile as he pats your side.

“Good work, you take direction really well.”

You bite your tongue to stop yourself from saying, “Just from you.”

You take one more walk around the soundstage to try and calm your rebellious body, but the moment you see Dieter again, kneeling in the bed with the blankets bunched in front of his hips, it’s all dashed away. Even his respectful touches as he guides you to your stomach, checking in if you’re comfortable, all burn across your skin. You just need to get through this scene.

“Action!”

This is indeed the finale. Dieter would finish above you, pounding into you from behind. You were supposed to lie there and take it, let him cuss and choke into the back of your shoulder before his breathing slows and you cut to the next morning. You could do that. You totally could. Most men you’ve been with hump you into the bed like this and it does very little for you. This would be fine.

The moment Dieter starts rutting against your ass you know you’re done for. You’re too worked up, and the position lightly teases your nipples. A wrinkle of blanket rubs against your mound just enough to relieve your clit, and while you know you should stop you can’t help but grind into the bed just enough to light up your nerves. Dieter hovers above you, thick forearms planted by your shoulders as he hisses and grunts his way to a fake climax. You press back against him, giving your own satisfied smile as he drops his forehead between your shoulders and rolls his hips again. 

“Not bad, can we go one more time?”

Shit. You’d hoped that would be enough, arousal rising dangerously between your thighs. Rearranging the sheets to deny you pleasure, you catch Dieter slumping to one side and watching you. It’s intense, being in his stare, but also warming and protective. When you lie back on your stomach and give him a nod that you’re ready, he leans down and whispers in your ear.

“If you want it, you can have it. I won’t tell anyone. You take it when it comes.”

You barely get a moment of shock before the cameras are rolling and the scene begins again. Did Dieter just…insinuate that he’d cover for you if you came? The thought makes wetness gush between your thighs, now lacking the friction you were relishing in earlier. The need aching in your cunt makes you roll your hips back against Dieter, a strained “fuck” spitting through his teeth. He grabs your hips and guides you against his narrow ones, not quite hitting where you want but the snap and slap of him against you still works you up more than it should. You cry out, bury your face in the pillow, fist the blankets as he chases his release. The practiced groan signals the end, this time his cheek pressing against your back and a kiss dotting your spine. 

Thank God. You were finally in the clear.

“I think we need one more, guys. I want a little more…intimacy this time. You both okay with that?”

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

“I don’t…” you started to protest until Dieter’s hand finds its way to the back of your neck.

“I think you can do it. I know you can. One more time?” he asks, but in his eyes is a promise that makes you nod, even against your better judgment.

This time I’ll make you cum.

Dieter changes tactics when the cameras roll. He starts off fast, yanking you back against him. Sitting up on his heels he arches you off the bed with his expansive hands. His thighs cage you in, squeezing tight. Something thick and soft slides against your ass, and you realize Dieter is hard behind you, cock still wrapped up but the weight of it against you obvious. You want him between your legs, fat head sliding over your clit, but you let him adjust you to exactly where he wants. 

With Dieter’s guidance you rock and writhe against him, drips of praise reaching your ears. With a deeply groaned, “Fuck, baby,” he folds over you, stomach pressing into your back. His fingers lace with your own, hugging you to his chest as he pumps his hips in long strokes. His cock nudges your lower back, little gasps keening out. He noses your cheek and guides you to turn your face to the camera. 

“This okay?” he mouths into your ear and you let out a, “Yes, please,” loud enough to mean anything for the camera. You slide a hand into his hair, gripping the thick curls to a stuttered sigh of pleasure. The pressure and motion finally gives you the stimulation you need, and it’s barely any time before your orgasm barrels to the forefront. You tighten your grip on Dieter’s large hand and school your face just enough to not look like you’re cumming through the hottest scene you will ever act in.

“That’s it, take it, take it baby, you’re doing so well, fucking god, look at you,” Dieter groans into your ear. He presses you deeper into the mattress, muting the uncontrollable bucking of your hips for the camera. Teeth scrape along your jaw in tender nips as he stutters to his fake finish, a guttural groan and relaxing of his body signaling the end of the scene. But Dieter lifts up on one elbow and pinches your chin between two fingers, turning your face to his. He looks at you like a mystery to be solved, like a gift, and then kisses you, slow and indulgent.

“Cut! Excellent, loved the ad libbing Dee, but you gotta stop saying fuck, we’ll have to cut that out,” the director says. Dieter laughs against your back, and the warmth of his skin makes you want to melt into the bed and never leave. 

“You doing okay?” he asks, lifting up off you and tugging both your bathrobes over to give you some modesty. He fists his own over his swollen erection, a little pink high in his cheeks and sweat along his hairline.

“Yeah, perfect, absolutely,” you say lightly, legs wobbling when you try to stand up. His eyes drag over you, a prideful smile playing on his lips as you try to cover up your dazed affect. “One more scene?” you say brightly.

“Yeah,” he says, distracted. “One more scene.”

The final shot of your day is the following morning, soft yellow light traded for the cool blue of daylight streaming in. You’re facing away from the camera, Dieter waking and looking over at your naked shoulder. He sits up and strokes along the curve of your waist, making you sigh in your sleep. He watches you with a mix of regret and resolution, kisses your shoulder, and gets out of bed.

The scene is done in one take. You wish it took all day.

The end of the shoot is quiet, taking off makeup and getting back into your public clothes. You strain to hear someone coming to your dressing room, a certain wild-haired brown-eyed man giving you a sendoff. A kind word, a piece of advice, you’d take anything. But he doesn’t come, and you leave the soundstage with your check and thanks and promises of references. 

The drive back to your apartment is quiet, music even feeling too loud for the moment. Weaving through LA traffic, the moments of your day slip through your mind like silk ribbons.

You suppose this is what meeting your heroes is like. A moment in the sunlight of their presence, then back to the real world of auditions and day jobs and hoping your parents never see this particular part of your portfolio. The dishes need washing, calls need to be made, and you have to go on with your life. It was an excellent experience, albeit a slightly inappropriate one. But if that’s the worst you got up to with Dieter then it was fairly tame.

The fleeting thought of what you’d actually hoped you’d get up to with Dieter comes and leaves without incident. 

By the time you get home you’re planning what casting call you’d go to tomorrow, making your grocery list, and considering if you can get away without doing laundry tonight. Which is why you walk past the bouquet of flowers in the atrium without checking who it’s for. Waiting for the elevator, however, curiosity gets the better of you and you peek at the card.

Your name. It’s your name on the perfectly imperfect bouquet of garden roses and eucalyptus. You’re opening the card as your cell phone vibrates in your pocket. Fishing it out, you greet the Midnight Alley casting agent on the other end.

“Are you open to a semi-recurring role?” 

“W-what?”

“Yeah, the director and AD were really impressed with your chemistry with Bravo. They’ve been trying to write him a love interest in the show, but he’s turned down all the potential actresses and guest stars. No chemistry, bad chemistry, whatever, but the point is he asked for them to consider you.”

Your hands shake, the clean white card pinched between your fingers.

I think we can do better together than that. Dinner?

-DB

“What do you think?”

Your heart flutters as you set it free.

“When can I start?”

END

[pedrostylez]

How The Crow Flies: pt. 1

Javier Peña x fem!reader x Frankie Morales crossover

Word count: 5.7k

Chapter Summary: Introduction into the HTCF world, Peña is a menace

Chapter Warnings and Disclaimers: 18+ only. I am not responsible for what you read on the internet. You have been warned! Locations and descriptions of places may be inaccurate in comparison to each story (Narcos and Triple Frontier). Timelines are obviously different between the two stories, so we are going to meet in the middle and say we are in the early 2000s. These are not necessarily canon characters in regard to how they act, how they treat people, and their current relationships. mean!Javier, violence, dubcon, SMUT!!!!!, anger, fighting, PTSD, mentions of rape, derogatory use of slut, whore, and the like

Please support by commenting, sending me respectful thoughts, and reblogging. I appreciate every single one of you!

Taglist: @thevoiceinyourheadx @suzdin @survivingandenduring @bariskaplans @inept-the-magnificent @casa-boiardi (please let me know if I missed anyone that was interested or if you would like to be added)

You used to be new to Colombia. 

You had never really thought you would be invited to the Embassy as a guest DEA agent, struggling to pull your bag through the airport with your purse in your other hand, but you’d made it-and the heat was different from Miami heat. 

But you had worked hard in Florida, stopping drugs from passing through the border, starting your career in the mail office, and working your way up. 

You stood on the docks of Miami undercover so many times that you were considered the local siren, stopping drug mules in their tracks just to talk to you, only to find out that you were there to bust them. 

Your coworkers, male and female alike were proud of you, happy for you. You had been blessed with people who surrounded you and were supportive. 

When you got to Colombia it was like you were back at square one. 

Your boss, the well-known Javier Peña, had a stick up his ass. 

“Would you give these to Noonan?” Peña had swept by, plopping papers on your desk before trying to run further away. 

You stopped him, holding out your hand and wrapping your fingers around his suit sleeve. “Sorry, sir. But what are they?”

“You don’t need to know that.” He scoffed, pulling his arm from your grasp. “You’re sitting in one of my agent’s chairs, and I need you to bring that to Noonan as soon as you’re done setting up her computer.”

You scoffed back, standing up and placing a hand on your hip. His eyes followed your hand, eyebrows raised in interest until you said your name. “I am the agent that sits at this desk, Peña.”

“My apologies.” He said quietly with no hint of actual remorse. “Still, please bring that to Noonan. Our new employee meeting starts in five minutes.”

You immediately regretted wearing the pencil skirt, thinking it would be a good first impression as if that was the reason that Javier Peña had mistaken you. From then on you wore cargo pants and a fitted t-shirt, like the rest of the team, arguing with your boss at every corner. 

“I told you to stay here. And what did you do? You fucking went out there anyways.” Peña had this thing about slamming the door to make a point, even though everyone could clearly see into his office where you were standing, arms crossed, eyes rolling toward the ceiling. 

“Jason said he needed help. I helped him.” Standing your ground came naturally, and Peña clearly hated it. He wanted you to bend over backward for him, just like Jason, and just like David.

“You don’t need to help him by getting yourself killed.” Peña gritted out, turning to you before sitting at his desk.

A quick mumble came out of your mouth, “Would rather do that than push your pencils around like some secretary.”

“Are you going to hold that against me for the rest of the time you’re here? Because if that’s the case then maybe you should go back to Miami.” He was back standing, pointing at you and what he assumed was the general direction of Florida. Sweat beaded at his hairline, eyes dark with annoyance. 

“I’m not holding anything against you, boss.” You snark, twisting around to the door to look out into the bullpen, where everyone is pretending to not watch. “Are we all done here?” 

Peña was quick to brush you off after staring, motioning at the door resting his hands on his hips, and pacing behind his desk. 

But then after a successful mission, Peña brought you and the others out for drinks. A Friday celebration for “catching the bad guys” as Jason had always said, downing the free beer that his boss provided. 

You were all for taking advantage of Peña’s money if he was going to pay for drinks. Quick to order tequila sodas, letting them slide down your throat like water and sway back and forth as you spoke with office staff and the other agents. 

You avoided Peña like the plague. Any time you turned your head you saw his back towards you, speaking to any girl he could find that wasn’t part of the team he was paying for. 

One too many tequila sodas had you stumbling to the bathroom, struggling with the button of your pants, and taking much longer than you had the last time you went. You were thinking that it is about time to take yourself home, walk down the sidewalk for some fresh air, and then hail a cab, but when you finally manage to get out of the bathroom of this bar, your coworkers are filing out. 

“Where are y’all going?” You slur to Jason who is holding the door open for one of the archive girls. It’s like he doesn’t even hear you, stepping through the door wrapping his arm around her shoulder, and whispering in her ear. 

You mumble out a few curse words, turning toward the bar counter where that same head that you had been staring at all night is now facing you. His eyes are watchful, glass to his pouted lips as he takes a sip of what looks to be whiskey. “You want water?”

“Another tequila would be nice.” You perk up, slouching into the seat next to him with hooded eyes. In the back of your mind, you’re aware that you will be having a hangover tomorrow but don’t care enough to stop it. 

Peña motions at the bartender, nodding at you to indicate that you would like another drink. He takes a beat before saying, “So, you still mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you.” You hiccup, furrowing your brow as the bartender sets a glass in front of you. You take a sip, noticing that there is no fizz, and know immediately that you’ve been cut off. “Damn, he gave me a water.”

He chuckles, draining his glass and turning fully towards you. His eyes scan behind you and the surrounding area before settling on your face. “I shouldn’t have assumed you were Noonan’s secretary.” 

“No, you shouldn’t have.” You sigh, taking another sip of the water. You’re suddenly extremely thirsty. 

Peña waits for you to say more, but shakes his head when you begin tapping your fingers against the counter. “I’m trying to apologize.” He huffs out, resting his head on one hand, propped against the bar. 

“You are?” You laugh, pushing the glass of water away. “I didn’t hear one.”

“I wasn’t thinking, that day I walked in and asked you to go to Noonan.” He sighs, explaining himself. Still not an apology. “I’ve been under a lot of pressure to get this right this time, and I was told I was having a female agent added to my team that had done great things in Miami but didn’t know anything beyond your name.”

You shrug, sliding off your seat. “Okay, boss. No big deal. It was months ago.” You give in, thinking it’s about time to walk home. 

When you stumble away from Peña, he reaches for your arm to hold you up, hissing out between his teeth. “You need a ride home.”

“No, I’m fine.” His hand is warm at your elbow, seeping through his skin to yours so quickly that you break out in a shiver. You attempt to yank your arm away, but his grip is firm and guiding. 

If he notices you trying to pull away from him or the shiver, he doesn’t say anything. “Wasn’t asking.” 

You think you roll your eyes, but you’re not too sure based on how the room is moving around you. “Haven’t you drunk too?” Your hand twists out to grip his shoulder, too dizzy to be pulling away now. 

“Not as much as you.” He mumbles with a short chuckle, guiding you to the door after slipping the bartender some bills. You aren’t sure how much he’s paid, but you think it’s a lot based on how happy the guy looks. 

The typically humid air is crisp against your skin as you step out, and you can’t help but curl your fingers into the sleeve of his shirt. The noises around you feel muffled, and when you turn to Peña he’s already looking at you expectantly. “What?”

He huffs out his nose, trying to keep his composure. “Where do you live? In the same block as the other agents or somewhere else?”

You shake your head, confused by his question but tell him your address anyways. “I can make it home–”

“No.” He cuts you off, lightly pressing into the small of your back to lead you toward his Jeep. “You’ve had more to drink than others, and I need you to be ready by Monday.”

“Oh, I’m definitely calling in sick Monday.” You hiccup, grabbing onto the handle of his car as you hop into the passenger seat.

Peña walks around to the driver's side, sliding in and watching you as you buckle in clumsily. “Don’t get sick in my car.”

“No promises.” You mumble, laying your head back against the headrest and shutting your eyes as he pulls away from the curb. The drive feels familiar, turning at the right moments, and the hum of his car seems to have you slipping into sleep. 

You didn’t realize you had fallen asleep until Peña’s warm hand was on your elbow again, shaking it gently. “Hey, you awake?”

You startle, sitting up straight and looking out the windshield before flashing your eyes over to him, glancing down at his fingers drifting over your elbow in soothing circles. You clear your throat, reaching for his door handle. “Yeah, sorry.”

“S’alright.” He reaches for his own door, gets out, and walks around the front of the car to where you are stumbling toward your door. “Where’s your key?” You mumble incoherently, reaching into your pocket and dangling the key in front of him for a moment before he snatches it out of your hand and into the lock. “Let me make sure you don’t get sick all over yourself.”

“I’m not even that drunk.” You scoff, brushing past him to the bathroom. You are mostly just dizzy, a nasty side effect of tequila that you’ve never been able to curb. “Since you invited yourself in, there’s soda in the fridge.” You clip from your mirror, reaching for a washing rag and turning on the water. 

“What, no beer?” He calls, chuckling quietly before you hear the sound of the fridge opening, his footsteps going quiet when he gets back to your living room and sits on the couch. 

When you’ve finished scrubbing your face, you step back into the living room and see Peña with his soda half tilted up, glancing at you and down to your coffee table where a glass of water is waiting. “Thanks, boss.” You mumble, sitting on the other side of the couch and taking a sip. 

He nods, eyeing you quietly before setting the half-empty bottle in front of him. “Javi is fine.” 

You quirk your eyebrow at him, humming to yourself before taking another sip. “Are we getting personal now?”

Peña squints at you, pursing his lips to hide a smile that seems to be growing on his lips. “Only if you tell me something personal.” 

You scoff, setting down your glass and leaning back. The air conditioner in your apartment is only in the bedroom, leaking out into the rest of the living space slowly and heavily along the ground. Your toes are cold, realizing suddenly that you have taken off your shoes and it seems like Peña did as well, his toes wiggling under his socks. “Something personal? What do you want to know?”

He shrugs. “Anything. I don’t know much about you at all besides that you worked your way up in a field that isn’t kind to women, and moved here from Miami on recommendation from Noonan to help catch the Cali cartel.” 

You tilt your head over to him to watch him, his arm flexing as he reaches for his soda again. You feel this sudden urge to lean forward and touch his arm– “I hate the heat.” You blurt, stopping yourself from reaching for him as he looks at you inquisitively. “I-I grew up in Utica, New York. Love the snow.”

He smiles, nodding his head. “Why did you go to Miami, if you hate the heat?”

You shrug. “Wanted to be different.” You laugh to yourself, leaning forward again for your glass. “Couldn’t stand staying in the same town, or just moving to the next city over like all my friends did.”

As you’re talking your hand knocks the glass off the coffee table, water spilling over your feet and onto the carpet. You jump, leaning toward Peña to lift your feet off the floor before they get wet, but you aren’t quick enough. “S’alright. Let me get a towel.” He says quietly, grabbing the glass from the floor and his soda before heading to the kitchen. 

When he returns with a kitchen towel that you think was hanging on the oven’s handle, you don’t expect him to sit so close and wrap his hand around your calf and lift it onto his lap. He wipes at your feet gently, hand still holding you steady as he glances up at you. “Texas.” He clears his throat, looking unsure before he continues. “I grew up in Texas. The heat was different than here, but…I’ve never seen snow.”

You smirk, watching as he slows his movements and rubs his thumb along your calf. “You’d probably hate it like everyone does.”

You both stare at each other, not sure if you should pull your leg away, ask him to leave and thank him for the ride, or see where this goes. 

You start to pull away, realizing that this is your boss for fucks sake when he tightens his grip. “I’ve always wanted to see snow on Christmas. With the lights and real snowmen…” He pauses, leaning forward and flicking his gaze to your mouth. “I don’t think I would hate it.”

You gasp when his hand slides up your leg to behind your knee, pulling you closer and over his lap more. “Peña–”

“Javi.” He breathes, taking a deep breath that expands his chest and has the buttons straining under the pressure. “I-it’s Javi.”

Your head is swimming with the feeling of his hand on you, over and over, looking from his parted mouth to his eyes. His pupils dilate, his hand tightening around you in anticipation as you start to lean forward. 

Your eyelashes flutter, closing for a moment before opening them again and finding your nose brushing against his, his eyes cast down to watch you ponder the next best move. “Javi,” You whisper hoarsely, swearing you can taste the mix of whiskey and soda in his mouth from how he lets his bottom lip run against yours. “You’re my boss.”

He nods quickly, the bridge of his nose running against yours as he takes a deep breath. “I know.”

It’s only another split second before you make the decision, tilting your chin towards him and sealing your mouth to his. 

He groans, wrapping his hand around the back of your head and into your hair to hold you to him. He swirls his tongue with yours, eager and ready to have you against him and not moving away to take a breath. 

He pulls you closer, bracketing his own hips with your thighs, digging his fingers into your hips to hold you against him. When you begin rolling your center against his, your jeans in the way of each other, he holds you firm. “Don’t do that.” He swallows, shaking his head and looking up at you. “Unless you want me to fuck you right now.”

On wobbly legs you stand, pushing away from him enough that you can reach for the button of your pants, sliding the material down your thighs. You break out in a shiver, forgetting how heavy the air feels right now. 

Javi reaches out with one hand, running his fingers down the side of your thigh before leaning forward to wrap his hand fully around you. His other hand is expertly undoing his own jeans, eyes on you, and a smirk rising on his face. “Needy, aren’t you?”

Biting your lip has little effect on your ability to keep your noises at bay, a groan coming out of your mouth as his fingers grip into the plush skin on your ass. “You’re just as bad.”

“Oh really?” He laughs, pulling you to your previous position hovering over him. “Work for it then.” 

Your thoughts stutter, furrowing your brow as you shakily bring a hand down to the opening of his pants. Gently wrapping your fingers around him, jeans halfway down his thighs already and not a pair of boxers in sight, you swear your mouth begins to water. You glance back up to his face, his knowing wink giving you pause. “What do you want me to do?”

He tilts his head, a small smile rising before he licks his lower lip. “Don’t just stare at it, ride it.”

You gasp at how quickly he reaches forward and slides your panties to the side. His finger glides at your center, opening you up to feel how slick you’ve gotten for him. He groans, satisfied with what he finds as he holds the fabric with his thumb, his other hand roughly guiding you by the hip to sit lower. 

The head of his cock presses into you in one instant, and in the next, you’re fully seated on top of him. Thighs tight, a sheen of sweat covering your forehead, you whine at the feeling of him inside you. He shushes you, bringing one bruising hand up from your hip to your face, moving your hair out of your eyes. “I know, Hermosa. Too big for you, huh?” You nod, feeling faint as you shut your eyes for a moment. He taps roughly with two fingers on your cheek.  “Easy now, don’t lose focus.”

Your eyes snap open as he shifts his hips up, his hair at the base of his shaft rubbing against your clit. He begins thrusting, holding you steady by where his hand is placed on your cheek, digging into the hair at the nape of your neck. Your mouth opens, slack-jawed at the feeling of him thrusting up into you. 

“That’s it.” He growls, pulling your head back tighter. “Just like that.” He pistons up, leaning further back on your couch and pulling you away from him so he can better get a view of you. You’re taking it, turned on, and pretty sure you’re ruining his jeans in the process. 

He doesn’t last long, and neither do you. His words, forced through his teeth and puffing breaths spur you on to the finish line, his own orgasm leaving a mess on your underwear and stomach. He pulls out quickly, hurriedly rubbing at himself with your slick covering him before closing his eyes and moaning as ropes of his spend stick to you. 

Standing on shaking legs, you walk toward your bathroom, grabbing a towel and wiping yourself off before looking in the mirror briefly. You look like you’ve been fucked-hair a nest on your head, your underwear wet. When you step back out toward the living room, ready to offer him a towel or the shower, you stop dead in your tracks when you don’t see him immediately. 

Confused, you step into the kitchen, looking around briefly before stepping back into your living room. The soda is half gone on your coffee table, and the kitchen towel that he brought is tossed haphazardly on the couch. You look toward your front door and notice his boots are gone just as the lights from a car shine through your window. Peña had just fucked you and ditched. 

It hadn’t really been a surprise to you that Peña wanted to pretend like nothing had happened. Just a quick fuck, and nothing serious-you could handle that. Peña must have thought you would be beating down his door because he avoided you for two full weeks before reappearing in the office at the same time you were there. 

You had continued on; business as usual. 

It surprised Peña so much that when you had gone into his office to give him reports to review and then left soon after, he was at your apartment that night asking what your issue was. 

“It was a one-time thing.” Peña was circling your island, rubbing at his jaw and eyeing you every once in a while. 

“I figured.” You roll your eyes, leaning against the doorway. “Do you have something you need me to do, related to our job? Because if not, can you just leave?”

“Was I more hammered than I thought?” He questioned, looking at you incredulously. “I swear you came.”

“I did.” You confirm. 

“Then, how are you…are you not? I don’t-” he growled frustrated, running his hands through his hair. 

“I’m not obsessed with you. Is that what you’re asking?” You laugh, shaking your head. “We were drunk, we fucked. You’re my boss, I’m your employee. Let’s just move on. Now will you leave?” 

“I don’t want you to be obsessed with me.” He says quietly, face going red with embarrassment. 

“Great, I’m not.” You shrug, tapping your fingers against your pant leg. 

He stares at you, grinding his teeth before he steps toward where you appear relaxed. He’s silent as he reaches out, running the back of his finger against your exposed arm. You shiver, rolling your eyes at how he smiles. 

You tilt your head at him, asking with your eyes what are you doing? As he shrugs, he kneels in front of you, hands coming up to hover over your pants. “Let me feel you, hermosa.”

You and Peña continued like this, back and forth for weeks. He would eye you a certain way after berating you in his office as code to meet in the archives. 

You would say something snarky with Jason and David looking on, and he would show up at your apartment later that night. 

Or sometimes, you both would stay late, working until you couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore to then look up and see Peña still sitting at his desk in a similar state as you were. He would sigh heavily, call you into his office, and tell you to go home like everyone else had. 

You never did. 

This seemed to be the most stable thing in your life, even though you and Peña were not an item, and adamantly told each other so when he was deep inside you or when your throat was constricting around him. 

You thought everything was routine at this point-yeah, you fucked your boss, and you still argued with him, but the job wasn’t bad. You were making headway into things that Peña and your team worked on extensively to get to the bottom of the cartel. And when you were having another meeting with Peña, Jason, and David, you were shocked to find out that Peña had a new job for you. 

“I need you to go into the jungle.” He said, looking directly at you with a pinched mouth. 

You stared at him, trying to assess what that exactly meant as Jason and David stared between the two of you. “And do what, exactly?” You question, flicking your eyes over him. 

“I need intel on Gabriel Loreas. He is an upcoming drug dealer that is supposed to be the local cops' responsibility.” He says quickly, flipping through the file on his desk before leaning back and crossing his feet. 

“So why have her go out there?” Jason questions quietly, concern covering his face. 

Peña’s eyes flash in anger, raking over Jason. “Because I don’t trust the locals to not screw me over in the end. And…we have a mole.” David and Jason begin bickering, Peña cutting them off. “I need someone that can infiltrate his home without causing suspicion.”

“And why can’t that be one of us? No offense,” David turns apologetically to you. “But it’s extremely dangerous to be doing that alone.”

Peña rolls his neck, trying to hold his temper. “His security guards are looking for…working girls.”

It’s silent in the office as Jason and David look toward you, bug-eyed and scared. You take a deep breath, chuckling quietly. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Peña freezes, eyes widening briefly before leaning forward. “Now, listen–”

“You want me to whore myself out? For your little side mission? Like I’m some piece of meat?” Your voice is increasing in volume, Jason wincing at the sound of you wobbling through the last few words. He knew how you felt being used as bait while in Miami, and now it seemed to be happening all over again. 

“Everyone out.” Peña glared at Jason and David, waiting for them to file out of his office, and shut the door tightly behind them. 

When his eyes find you, he stays frozen while you remain stoic. He takes a deep breath, cursing under his breath briefly. “I need you to help me out, here.”

You attempt to not scoff. “Why the fuck should I be doing anything you say?”

“You don’t have to actually do anything.” He’s earnest, stepping closer to you while one hand rests on his hip. 

You can’t help the emotion lacing your voice. “You’re kidding.” Shaking your head, you open your arms wide. “How do you expect me to get anywhere without actually offering up anything?”

He growls in irritation, taking another step toward you. “I just need you to stakeout-talk to the men that come back into town, and get a feel for it. When things get heavier we will send Jason and David out.”

You stare at Peña for another minute, waiting to see if he flinches. If you can see the shift, the change of mind. When you don’t, you sigh. “I’m taking the rest of the day off.”

It’s like a blow to the chest as he steps back. “What?”

“You heard me.” You snarl, opening the door so Jason and David can hear your announcement as well. 

As you step out, not waiting to see if Peña has anything else to say, Jason follows you to the elevator. “I’ll talk to him, don’t–”

“It’s fine, Jason.” You sigh, shaking your head. “I just need to get in the right mindset. Don’t worry about it; I don’t want you telling Peña anything.”

He shuffles, holding the elevator open. “Are you sure? He’s such a hard ass to you, maybe if I tell him what you told me he would change up his plans…”

You give him a forced smile, grabbing his wrist and pulling it out of the way. “It’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As the elevator door slides closed with a small wave from Jason, you see Peña’s eyes watching, assessing the interaction. As the door shuts, you take a deep breath and exhale, trying to recenter yourself before stepping into the parking garage. 

You had an inkling of who it would be when you heard a knock on your door a few hours later. You sit on your couch, silent as you wait, and hope that Peña will just walk away. He will understand that you need space. 

You had already cried the minute you stepped over the threshold, feeling that pit in your stomach that you always got when you stepped out onto the docks in Miami. How hands and lips felt against your heated skin where you didn’t want them–

“Hermosa,” Peña calls through your door, jiggling the handle to test if it is locked. “I know you’re there. Let me in.”

You sigh again, waiting for another knock before slinking over to the door and quietly unlocking the deadbolt. He hears it, pushing open the door quickly after and coming face to face with you. 

He huffs, kicking the door shut and shrugging out of his suit jacket. “Were you not going to let me in?”

“No.” You say quietly, sitting on your couch and back down to the book you have bookmarked with a receipt from the corner store. 

He’s silent, standing above you while you refuse to make eye contact. He’s waiting for you to break, but you’re too tired to. When he finally caves, you try to control your lips from ticking up in the corners. “I really need this, hermosa.”

You pick at your fingernails, patiently waiting. 

He sighs again. “There’s a lot of money on the line. Like, millions, if what I’ve been told is correct. The local guys, they’re getting paid on the side by this guy and I need someone in there.”

He’s pacing now, back and forth in front of your coffee table. 

You break your silence, leaning back and crossing your arms. “What’s in it for me?”

Peña pauses, turning to you. He looks flustered, hands having run through his hair by how it sticks out away from the side of his head. “Cash. Cold, hard cash.” 

You chuckle, shaking your head. “So, I will really be a whore then, won’t I?”

He frowns, shaking his head. “No, I don’t want you doing that.” He stretches his neck, clicking his tongue in disgust. “You just, pretend. Don’t do anything crazy–”

You feel anger bubble up inside, over your tongue, and spitting out at him. “You don’t fucking get it, do you?” 

He freezes, shocked in front of you. 

“I don’t get to just say no. I have to be stronger to say no. I have to be strapped to say no. I have to be cute enough to say no. I can’t just not do something once I’ve pretended to offer those things, Javi. These aren’t college boys trying to not catch a rape charge.”

He waits, biting the inside of his mouth as he grows more frustrated. He must know you’re right, must understand what he’s asking you to do. “I won’t let them.” He says quietly, flicking his gaze up to yours. “You have my word, hermosa.”

“I can’t trust that.” You feel worn and tired of the argument. You’ve resigned to the fact that you will have to do this if you plan on keeping your job, and you do plan on it. “I’ll do what you ask of me. It’s my job.”

“I won’t let them touch you.” He growls, reaching forward and squeezing your arms so tightly you squeak. “You’re not going to get hurt in this. I won’t allow it.”

It’s pitiful, really, how you want to laugh in his face. He doesn’t understand, because he’s a man. No matter his reputation with working girls, he doesn’t know. You attempt to pull away from him, but his fingers dig harder into your skin. “Go home, Peña.”

He clicks his tongue at you, tilting his head as if to threaten you. “What happened to Javi, bonita?”

You go to protest, trying and failing again to pull away as he pushes you toward your couch. You clumsily sit back, frowning at him. “I’ll do the job. It’s fine–”

“Lay back.” He barks, kneeling in front of you, his fingers working quickly at the button of your pants. 

You shake your head, resting your hand over his in a silent question. 

He ignores you, pulling the waistline over your hips and down your thighs, underwear soon following as cool air wicks over your skin. You shiver, the contact of his warm fingers, calloused over and rough, over your skin has your legs relaxing wide. 

He lifts one leg easily over his shoulder, smirking when his eyes land on your center. Without further warning, his tongue swipes up your folds, spreading you wide with a groan. “I can’t stop wanting this.”

You throw your head back, unsure if what he said was meant for himself or for you. Words are stuck in your throat, fingers wrapped tightly in his hair, and pulling as his tongue swirls over your clit and down to your center. You want to tell him to keep going, to make you come, but you’re afraid that if you voice your want he will retreat from you. 

One hand squeezes into the skin of your thigh resting on his shoulder, his other working the buttons of his shirt open before coming to your entrance with a sigh. He lets his tongue rest there for a moment, pressing in with the tip and letting you contract around him.  

Javi pulls away, muttering under his breath as he slides one finger into you, a quick “Fuck, so wet for me.” before wrapping his lips around your clit again. 

You swear he would be laughing at you for how quickly you crumbled to his touch if he wasn’t busy with his mouth around you. “Please, I–”

Another smirk appears as he pulls away, curling his fingers inside you to search for that spot he has found again and again. “I won’t let you come,” He breathes, pressing a kiss to your shaking thigh. “Unless you agree to the job.”

You huff, breaths labored and your stomach tightens. “I already agreed.”

“Nuh-uh, mean it hermosa.” He nips your skin, chuckling as your hips jump in an attempt to get away, only pressing his fingers deeper. “Be my little slut, and I’ll share the cash with you.”

You close your eyes to try to focus, his fingers pressing, pressing, pressing against that spot inside of you that he has an obsession with, holding your breath. It’s overwhelming, the pressure in your core building and overheating. 

Sweat pools in the dip of your collarbone, the shirt you still have on soaking it up as you pull on his hair again. “Yes, yes–fuck. I’ll do it.” 

Javi hums, leaning forward again to press his lips to your center, his tongue and fingers working in tandem as a wave of ecstasy crashes over your skin. 

You’re floating, feeling him slow between your legs and breathe against your skin. He says something you can’t really hear, gently setting your leg down on the floor before adjusting himself. A pointed look is thrown your way, your furrowed brow indicating that you didn’t hear him. 

He shakes his head, wiping at his mustache for a moment. “Stakeout starts next week.”

[pomefioredove]

CONGRATULATIONS ONCE AGAIN!!! 🥳🥳

i just saw that your matchups were open so i’d like to put in a request for a romantic and platonic matchup? if that’s okay of course! my only ask is that you don’t include rook, trey, sebek, jack, or ace in the possibilities please <3

personality | shy in public, but at home i become more outgoing and goofy! i feel most comfortable with my family and close friends when out in public and when i’m with them i become more confident! i also tease and make fun of people if i’m close to them because i feel like being able to be playfully mean to someone is a form of trust (at least for me) because otherwise i’m a shy/awkward mess. i’ve also been told i’m very loyal to the people i’m close to. i would say a downside to me is that it’s easy for me to get frustrated/mad if i don’t get something right or something goes terribly wrong. being wrong makes me embarrassed so that’s why i get frustrated with it. but also, i can’t stay mad for long lmao. i tend to calm down really fast

appearance | “5’3” to “5’4” in height! i have mid-length hair with bangs, styled into a wolf cut! i dye my hair a lot and right now it’s a blue and purple split, but soon it’ll be pink and black! and lastly, i have blue eyes!

style | my style is more simple, but it tends to lean on the grunge side. i don’t accessorize a lot because to me comfort >>> everything else lmao. so it usually leads to me wearing a t-shirt, cargo pants/jean shorts, and a jacket.

hobbies | archery, drawing, writing, reading, collecting, gaming, frisbee

likes | rain, vampires, green, victorian aesthetics, ancient history, roses, cats

dislikes | bugs (any bugs), lightening, loud noises, crowds

extras | my personality type is istp! zodiac is pisces!

random fact | not a good cook or baker! not necessarily the putting in the oven part, but the mixing ingredients part. it’s easy for me to get different instructions confused with one another.

sorry if this is a lot! thank you for doing this for your followers! <3

I match you with 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥 𝐕𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫

The First Impression:

Jamil has always had an eye for the shy and meek. Not just because Kalim is the exact opposite of that, but because he understands. Whereas the average person could easily overlook a quiet type, Jamil knows that there's always more than meets the eye.

Why He Fell:

And he's right; of course. While you're quite restrained and polite in social settings, your true personality shines through behind closed doors.

What Jamil finds most enthralling, perhaps, is your confidence. He doesn't have to bow down to you, or pretend to be incompetent for the sake of your ego. In fact, he actually quite likes your tendency to tease, because he knows he can tease right back without consequence. You two get pretty competitive with it, actually.

The Relationship:

If you had asked Jamil the type of person he imagined himself with before he met you, his honest answer would be someone who'd let him be in charge.

Obviously, that's a stupid answer, and as much becomes apparent with you. Your almost competitively playful spirit is encouraging for him, he actually enjoys bantering, and the fact that he doesn't have to pretend to be weak around you is really all he could ask for. You really bring out the most authentic sides of each other.

Jamil likes knowing how you tick, and he may even let you understand a little more of him, too. He knows how to calm you down when you're frustrated, and he's endlessly patient with you in the kitchen (he WILL teach you how to cook. he insists it's a necessary life skill).

just don't expect him to help you with bugs. you'll need a third party for that

[amukmuk]

From the cliche prompt list - I'm going to save you from the terrible date. (I think that one jumped out at me thanks to the most recent chapter of One Day lol)

Ahhh! I love this prompt!!

Based in the One Day AU :3

From this prompt list

Ahsoka nods along to Derek's seemingly never ending monologue. It's honestly impressive, she doesn't know if it is nerves or what, but she swears he hasn't taken a breath since they've sat down. She's trying so hard to be an attentive listener, but even then she can't help but wonder what Rex would think of the place. The ambiance is expensive in a cheap sort of way--like the owners are trying to pass off subpar Italian as the best in town.

"Here is the veggie lasagna," the waitress says politely handing Ahsoka her plate, "and the chicken parm. Anything else I can get you folks?"

"No, I think we're okay," Ahsoka smiles.

"Actually can I get some ketchup? Whenever you have a moment," Derek smiles. He has a nice smile, Ahsoka can say that much about him, but even then she can't help her own grimace. Ketchup? Really?

The waitress sweeps away and Derek offers Ahsoka a bashful smile. "I just really love chicken tenders and chicken parm the best way to get that at an Italian restaurant."

"We could have gone somewhere else," Ahsoka says and cuts into her rather small portion of vegetable lasagna. She will definitely be hitting up a drive through after this. If she does, she'll call Rex on her way home and asks what he wants from the burger joint. She checks the time on her phone carefully balanced in her lap. He should just be getting off work. "I'm sorry," Ahsoka says, cutting Derek off mid-excuse for his 'youthful palate'. "Can you excuse me for just a moment?"

"Of course. Take your time."

She gets up from the table and makes her way to the ladies room. As soon as she is locked away in a stall, she pulls up her chat with Rex.

SOS

Everything okay? His response is instant and it makes chest warm.

I'm having an awful time

... I would like to take this moment to remind you that it was your idea that we 'get back out there'

But this guy is an actual man child. He still lives with his mom.

Nothing wrong with living with your mom

Rex. He ordered the chicken parm because there weren't any chicken nuggets on the menu. Save me. Please.

What do you need?

Call me on my signal? Pretend to be my sick brother.

Copy

With a smile curving her lips for the first time this evening, Ahsoka maneuvers her way back to the table. As she sits she sends a quick message to Rex.

"Anyway, so I was saying," Derek continues, dabbing sweat from his mile-long forehead.

Ahsoka's phone rings. "Oh. I'm so sorry, I need to take this. It's my brother." She swipes 'accept' on the phone and puts it up to her ear. "Hey, everything okay?"

Rex coughs dramatically into the receiver and she has to hold her phone away a little. "Ahsoka. Help. I'm dying."

"Rex, I'm kinda on a date right now," she says and mouths an apology to Derek.

"But I'm dying. Don't let me die alone. I can see my ancestors in the light beyond." The sarcasm is dripping from his tone and she has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing out right.

"Are you sure you need me?"

"More than anything," he murmurs, tone as warm as honey.

"Okay. I'll be there as soon as I can," she pauses. "I love you."

"Love you, too. See you soon."

She puts her phone in her purse and gives Derek a small smile. "I'm so sorry, my brother."

"Sounds serious. Is he okay?"

"I'm sure he's just being dramatic, but it's best that I go and check it out." She tosses a few bills on the table. "Thanks again. It was lovely meeting you."

"Likewise," he says around a big bite of chicken.

Ahsoka doesn't look back.

~

She lets herself into Rex's house balancing a tray of drinks and two fast-food bags. Lucky, his golden retriever, bounces up to greet her. "Hey Lucky," she smiles. "Rexy home?"

"I better never hear you call me that ever again," Rex says, standing in the doorway to his kitchen, dish towel in his hands.

Ahsoka smiles at the sight of him. He's still in his uniform, a navy CFD t-shirt and navy cargo pants, but instead of his boots he wears grey knit socks. "I come baring gifts," she smiles holding up the bags.

Rex tosses the towel over his shoulder and moves to help her. "Date was really that bad, huh?"

"He wasn't a creep, thank god, but I just... I don't know, I guess I'm just looking for someone who can keep up with me." They sit on his couch and Lucky curls up on her feet.

"Sorry it didn't work out. If it's any consolation, you look great."

She smiles and tosses a braid of her shoulder. "I know."

They eat in silence and Ahsoka relishes in it. After a night of being talked at, the peaceful quiet that settles between her and Rex is like a balm. She knows no one else with whom she can share silence. In fact, she knows few people who can do anything that Rex does. He knows everything about her. He anticipates her moves before she acts. He always knows--

"Something on your mind?" he asks, balling up his napkin and tossing it in the box that held his burger.

He always knows when something is bothering her.

"Just thinking," she sighs and tosses a fry to Lucky.

"Anything I can help with?"

She looks up and over at him and it's like seeing him for the first time. His warm, honey gaze. The scar on his chin, the way his lips are held ever so slightly in a frown. His broad shoulders and narrow waist. The way his hands are folded neatly on his knees.

"I love you," she whispers.

His eyes widen and he sits back a little, no longer bending to catch her downward gaze. "I love you, too," he says. "You know that."

"No, I mean." She huffs and looks down. This is stupid. There's no way he loves her like that. She was his CO. They've been friends since they were children. He probably still sees the little girl on the playground. He probably--

"Hey, 'Soka, what's going on?" he shuffles closer and grabs her hand.

"Remember how I said we should 'get out there'?" she croaks and rubs her fingers across his knuckles, warm and rough.

"Yeah?"

"I... I don't really want to do that."

He's silent for a second and rasps. "Good... yeah, uh, that's good."

She looks up at him. "Why?"

"Because... I... Fuck I'm not good at this." And he surges forward. Her cheeks are held in his hands and his lips are on hers. He's kissing her. He's kissing her and it's amazing and she's so shocked that she's not kissing him back. He starts to pull away and she chases his embrace. She pushes forward and kisses him in earnest, eager and wanting.

They break apart when breathing becomes necessary and even then, they keep their foreheads pressed together.

"I don't want to date anyone else," Ahsoka confesses. Rex runs his hand over her braids and cups her chin. "I want you."

"Good," he whispers and presses a chaste kiss to her lips. "Because I don't want anyone else, either. Just you. Always you."

She kisses him again and again and again.

[the8gates]

Burnouts: Part Seven

Word Count: 7.5k

Warning(s): Angst, Alcohol use

Atsuko Kamiyama is 19 years old with no clear direction in life. For now, she's content working at her father's comic book shop while he tours the world promoting his novel. Knee deep in the in-between, she finds herself hooking up with her best-friend, Obito, more often than she should. In a small town, there isn't much to do besides get high, host the weekly Trivia Night at the shop, and fool around.

Maybe it's a rut. But some realizations about herself and the introduction of Kakashi Hatake into her life will make sure she's not stuck running in circles for long.

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - AO3 - Part Eight

“I’m gonna have to borrow something of yours to wear… what theme are you doing? BBL baddie? Sexy e-girl? I can also pull off a more goth look if that’s what you’re into now… lots of black clothes in here.”

Anko mused, flipping through the clothing hanging in Atsuko’s closet. Atsuko quirked a brow from her position cross legged on the bed, a small mirror in her hand as she worked on dabbing creamy foundation into her skin. 

“What the fuck is a ‘BBL baddie’?”

Atsuko asked, only for Anko to wave a dismissive hand in her direction.

“Doesn't matter. All of your clothes are more… urban.”

She stated, picking out a few hanging items and tossing them on the foot of her bed as she decided on what to wear. Atsuko couldn’t exactly argue with that. Her wardrobe consisted mostly of hoodies, cargo pants, t-shirts and sweatpants. In fact, she couldn’t recall the last time she’d put actual effort into dressing up for a party. Most of the time, she and Obito went together and she would just wear whatever was available. Usually one of his shirts and a pair of jeans. There was never any need to impress anyone with her clothes. Because she’d already spent the entire day with the only person she wanted to impress. 

“I can work with it though. There are a couple sexy items in here.”

Anko continued, digging through one of her dresser drawers until she clicked her tongue in victory, pulling out a pair of black fishnet leggings. 

“Ah-ha! See.”

She triumphed, but Atsuko’s face had heated up the instant she’d seen the material. Those had never been meant to wear out of the house. She’d bought them because… 

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Anko huffed, holding up the leggings for inspection and turning them around with an exasperated expression. The criss-crossed string had been pulled apart, a massive hole ripped right in the crotch area of the leggings. Atsuko gave her sister an apologetic, embarrassed, smile, throwing in a shrug for good measure. 

“They’re clean… Just didn’t want to throw them away. Obito, uh… he liked them.”

She stuttered out, drawing a scoff from Anko as she tossed the fabric down on the mattress. 

“Yeah, obviously.”

Anko sighed, turning back around to continue rummaging through Atsuko’s drawers. She turned her attention back to the mirror in her hand, patting across her skin with a makeup sponge that was definitely due for a cleaning. Looking back on the things they’d done together, Atsuko wondered how this fight and these feelings hadn’t come up sooner. She’d bought lingerie, like those leggings, just because she knew Obito would like them. That definitely crossed the line past casual hookup. He’d done things like that for her too. Testing out kinks and going out of his usual comfort zone to try new things. People who were just friends didn’t do stuff like that. 

“Okay, I thought I could work with what you have… but, seriously, Atsuko. You dress like a twelve year old skater boy from the nineties. Don’t you have anything fun? Sexy? Party clothes?”

Anko questioned, turning her exasperate expression back in Atsuko’s direction. She frowned, glancing down at the foot of the bed where nearly her entire wardrobe was piled. That too had been a style she’d picked up from Obito. Not that she hadn’t made it her own. It was also comfortable and mildly stylish. She did have a few items like Anko was suggesting, but she wasn’t sure any of them would really be appropriate for the occasion.

“I don’t know about all of that, Anko. It’s just gonna be my friends. I don’t really think I need to-“

Atsuko started to say, but her sister was quick to cut her off, moving forward to kneel on the mattress. 

“Oh, come on! Don’t you want to wear something hot when you see Obito again? I mean, men think with their dicks. That’s a scientific fact.”

Anko explained, drawing a short chuckle from Atsuko. 

“So, if you show up in something so unbelievably sexy he can’t tear his eyes away from you… then, your apology is only going to go that much smoother.”

She rationalized, but Atsuko was still on the fence, her face screwing up in thought as she considered the prospect. 

“Besides, I’m trying to get laid. But it’s not like I can show up in a mini skirt and heels if you’re dressed like some Kurt Cobain cosplayer.”

Anko finished, dropping her hands down against her thighs in frustration. Atsuko chuckled again, chewing her bottom lip in thought. It would be fun to dress up for once. And, Anko was right about Obito. If she looked irresistible, then things would go better when she apologized. That thought still made her stomach churn. 

She was nervous about seeing him tonight. Of course she was. But, there was also an underlying hope in her chest that she hadn’t felt for a long time. If she could show him that she was truly sorry and that she was ready to move on with him, she couldn’t really imagine a setting where he would deny her. He loved her, and she was ready to love him too… Even if the very idea terrified her. He was worth it. So, she peaked up a Anko, nodding in the direction of the closet. 

“There’s a box in there with all of my dresses and other stuff…”

She suggested, a soft smile tugging at her lips when Anko’s eyes lit up and she immediately moved back to the closet. She dug around for a moment before sliding out a big moving box, ripping the top open, a mischievous smile spreading across her face. 

“Now that’s what I was looking for.”

——————————————————

In the end, Anko had convinced Atsuko to wear a black mesh top with black stars on it that she’d bought on a whim after seeing an ad on some social media site. She layered it over a black, strapless, bralette, allowing Anko to dig through pieces of cheap jewelry she owned until Atsuko was ‘properly accessorized’. Though, to maintain some of her original style, she still wore a pair of high waisted black cargo pants and her old tennis shoes. Anko herself had managed to find the mini skirt she’d been alluding to earlier in the conversation. Though Atsuko couldn’t recall when she’d even come to own the high waisted piece of material with a drawstring that ran up the top of her thigh to her hip. She’d matched it with cropped white spaghetti strap shirt and several layers of gold costume jewelry. Atsuko had to admit that they both looked good, but as they were getting ready to leave her fathers home, she stopped for a moment to look herself over in the full body mirror in her bedroom. 

She observed her reflection, tousling a few of the wild curls on her head and further smudging out the eyeliner on her lower lash line with her finger. Pouting her burgundy tinted lips and tapping them with her ring finger to make sure the liquid lipstick was dry. 

“Here. Pre-game.”

Anko suddenly said as she entered the bedroom, clutching a bottle of vodka from Atsuko’s stash in one hand and two shot glasses in the other. 

“Are shots really a pre-game drink?”

Atsuko asked as her sister twisted the top off of the clear bottle. She threw Atsuko an exasperated expression. 

“They are if you aren’t a pussy.”

She retorted, and Atsuko shrugged as Anko poured the shots on her nightstand. Atsuko tossed her drink back without issue, but Anko hissed at the burn. Atsuko let out a scoff as she gathered her purse, phone, and keys from the bed. 

“Tch. Who’s the pussy now?”

Atsuko teased, already heading out of her room and towards the staircase to the main floor when Anko started shouting obscenities at her back. 

When they climbed out of the Uber at Deidara’s house, Atsuko quickly realized that she had been wrong about her earlier statement. She’d told Anko that it was just going to be her friends. Probably a pretty low-key event. But, that was clearly not the case. The party was absolutely in full swing. There were tons of cars in the driveway and multiple people on the lawn, standing and talking or emptying their stomachs into Deidara’s mothers rose bushes. She could see the LED lights shining through the windows on the front of the house and the deep bass of some rap song damn near rattled the earth the closer they got to the front door. A combination of excitement and anxiety swirled in Atsuko’s stomach, her eyes wide as she realized the scope of this party. 

Anko opened the front door to reveal an even more tantalizing scene. The living room was filled with people. Dancing and talking in big groups as the brightly colored lights flashed around them. She wasn’t sure how long the party had been going on, but the house was already pretty trashed. Tables and chairs covered in plastic, red, cups and their spilled contents. Glitter and confetti littered the floor and she wondered what exactly they’d missed already. Past the living room and through the wide archway into the dining room, she recognized some of her friends. Yahiko, Nagato, Konan, Kisame and Hidan were all surrounding a beer pong table. Cheering and laughing as ping pong balls bounced. Then, she realized that the two competitors at the table were Obito and Deidara. 

God, he looked gorgeous. Smiling wide and pumping his fist in victory when he landed a shot against the blonde haired boy. She watched, mesmerized, as he pinched his pink tongue between his teeth, dark eyes narrowing while he lined up his next shot. Her heart fell to her stomach at the distance between them, anxiety filling every inch of her body until her palms were sweating. Then, a wave of anger at herself for being so nervous and weak. 

She gripped Anko’s wrist in a panic, pulling her sister to the den on the other side of the entrance foyer. 

“Hey! Slow your roll, yanking me around like that.”

Anko huffed, rubbing her wrist with her other hand when Atsuko released her grip. The den wasn’t as populated as the main living area and dining room. In fact, the small room just off of the kitchen seemed to be where people were going to crash. Faces she didn’t recognize were strewn across the loveseats in the room, and even more people were slumped against nearby walls as they charged their phones or simply took a break. It was quieter, but the sound of loud chatter coming from the swinging door to the kitchen reminded her of where they were. 

“I need a drink. Or five.”

Atsuko stated, offering no other explanation to Anko as she moved through the den towards the kitchen door. Her sister followed fast on her heels, voicing her excitement at the prospect of more drinks. Atsuko pushed the door open with a huff, narrowing in on the island in the kitchen as she ignored every presence in the room. Again, she was greeted by several red plastic cups, stains and liquids of all colors littering the counter top. But, on instinct, she found what she was looking for in an instant, snatching a bottle of vodka and a lightly used shot glass from the mess on the counter. She managed to get two shots down, back to back, before someone placed a hand on her shoulder as she wiped her mouth and debated pouring a third. 

“Atsuko?”

Shisui questioned, some confusion in his tone. Her eyes immediately pulled up from the bottle in her hand, seeing that Anko was on the other side of the kitchen, pouring some concoction of liquor and overly sweet pre-made mixer into a red cup. Some guy was leaned against the counter next to her, arms crossed over his chest as he spoke to her. That was quick. Then, the hand was leaving her shoulder and she was turning towards the second oldest Uchiha brother with an awkward smile. 

“Hey…”

She answered, settling the glass bottle back on the counter top. Shisui was younger than Obito, but she’d regrettably forgotten that he was also in Deidara’s graduating class… Of course he would be here too. He tilted his head to the side, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“I thought you were sick? So sick you couldn’t even show up to Trivia Night.”

He pointed out, and she nodded slowly, eyes filtering back to Anko. Now, she and the guy were readily chatting and flirting. Too consumed with her own personal mission to save Atsuko from this conversation. 

“Uh… yeah, yeah I was. But I woke up this morning and felt better. Weird virus or something.”

She stated, the empty shot glass still clutched in her clammy fist. Shisui narrowed his wide eyes at her, glancing over his shoulder for a moment towards the other door in the kitchen that lead to the dining room. Where, Atsuko suddenly remembered, Obito was partaking in a rousing game of beer pong. 

“Obito know you’re here?”

He asked, and she cringed involuntarily, immediately caving and turning back to pour herself another shot. So, he knew too. Of course he did. Shisui and Obito got on each others nerves, but they were brothers. They talked about everything. 

“No. And I don’t… just, uh… I’m here for Deidara.”

Atsuko stuttered out, her hand trembling slightly as she poured the drink, spilling some of the vodka on the already sticky counter top. 

“Right…”

He muttered, watching over her shoulder as she downed another drink. The liquor was already starting to warm her insides, the familiar taste of the vodka holding the promise of calm. She let out a sigh through her nose, focusing on the thudding of bass in the floors and the muffled sounds of some Drake song seeping through the walls.

“Look, Obito hasn’t really said anything to anyone about what happened… But, I mean, I know. He just hasn’t told me the specifics. And there’s something you should know-“

Shisui started to say, but Atsuko shook her head before he could continue. She really didn’t want to have this conversation with him right now. She’d retreated into the kitchen to prepare herself. Was downing liquor too quickly in an attempt to steel her nerves before she did what she knew she had to. And he was encroaching upon that. Being weirdly serious. 

“I know, I know. I really hurt him and he’s been fucked up these past couple of weeks. You don’t have to tell me that, I feel bad enough as it is.”

Atsuko eked out, teeth clenching together as her head began to swim just a bit. Her heart was pounding in her chest, swallowing thickly against the remaining burning taste of the liquor. But she was going to apologize to him tonight. At some point. And everything would be okay again. She’d finally get to reach out and cradle his jaw in her hands like she’d wanted to in recent months. Kiss him sweetly and admire his beauty without feeling the need to look away to maintain some twisted sense of… professionalism? That wasn’t the right word… 

“No, I mean, yeah, but there’s something-“

Shisui started to say, but he was being cut off again as the door that connected the kitchen to the dining room swung open. Gai entered the kitchen with all of the flare he could manage, eyes immediately falling to Atsuko as she stared in shock. Then, he was crossing the space with his arms stretched wide. 

“Atsuko! We didn’t think you were going to make it!”

He cheered, flashing a blinding smile as he side stepped Shisui and enveloped her in a tight hug before she could even react. She gasped, the uneasy feeling in her stomach slowly fading at the sight of a friend she hadn’t hurt or put in an uncomfortable position. He lifted her feet from the ground, swinging her back and forth, and she let out a surprised giggle when he lowered her back to her feet. 

“Well, I’m here…”

She tried to brush off his comment, but Gai dropped his large hands to her shoulders in a devastating grip, bending forward to be eye level with her as he fixed her with a serious expression, eyes narrowed in suspicion. 

“Are you feeling better? You should not have felt pressured to join us tonight! Deidara would have surely understood if you were still sick.”

Gai scolded, but she shook her head, the smile on her face uneasy and natural at the same time. 

“No, no, I’m fine, Gai. I feel much better. Thank you for asking.”

She assured, withstanding his assessing gaze for a moment more before he decided he accepted her answer, pulling away with a friendly pat to her shoulder. That’s when she noticed that his tan cheeks were covered in a slight blush, the tip of his nose red from the drinks he’d likely consumed before she arrived. 

“That is good to hear! Why don’t you come with me? Say hi to everyone! We’ve all been so concerned for your health!”

He goaded, an insisting hand already wrapping around her wrist as he tugged her through the kitchen and towards the door that would lead them to the dining room. Her eyes widened, and she tried to wiggle out of his grasp while remaining polite in declining his request. But it was too late. Gai had pushed the door open and yanked her through to the area where the game of beer pong was being held. A few people cheered her name, some stray claps erupting from the group of her friends that were surrounding the table. Her wide eyes filtered around the table, trying to get a headcount. Kurenai, Asuma, Genma, Kisame, Sasori, Deidara, and finally… Obito. 

He was standing at one end of the long card table, a ping pong ball pinched between his middle finger and his thumb, clearly ready to bounce the plastic. But their eyes met, and they both froze. Despite Gai’s tugging on her wrist and despite the fact that Deidara was yelling at Obito to take his turn already. For a moment, the song playing from the speakers in the nearby room was unrecognizable as all of her senses honed in on his face. Those dark eyes, pulled wide in shock. His pretty mouth dropped open ever so slightly as the inner part of his sharp eyebrows hooked upwards. 

Seeing him again for the first time in two weeks after that horrible fight… she thought she would feel sick. Sad. Hurt. However, she felt none of those things in the moment. The overwhelming desire to move close to him filled her stomach with an unbearable fire. Her arms longed to wrap around his torso, her cheek suddenly felt cold without the heat of his chest to warm it. In fact, it was nearly impossible to describe the way her entire body flooded with need. Like the feeling of holding back tears, but in every muscle she had. Desperate and raw. Scary. 

Then, he was tearing his eyes away from her, looking back across the table as Deidara shouted at him. With the connection broken, all of the sounds came flooding back. Her body felt foreign for a moment, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as she tried to re-center. But before she could do anything more or think about seeing Obito again, Gai was pulling her towards where Asuma, Kurenai, and Genma were standing. Loudly recapping Friday’s Trivia Night to her as she struggled to keep up. 

———————————————————

The rest of the night was a blur. Atsuko hadn’t seen Anko since the party started, save for a few glances across a room to see her sister dancing or talking to yet another guy. Gai had talked excitedly to her for a while, holding her hostage in the conversation, even if she really wasn’t sure where she would have rather been. After that, Obito had been gone from the dining room and she’d been sucked into a conversation with Deidara about his acceptance to art school. That had actually kept her mind off of Obito for a while, truly happy for her friend and getting drunk off of his excitement. Or, maybe she had just gotten drunk from the never empty cup that had found its way to her hand. 

After that, she’d ended up in the kitchen again for a while. Drinking and talking to Kisame, Hidan, and, oddly enough, Konan. The liquor soothed her nerves, smoothing over her brain and making all of the bad memories and feelings slip away. Hell, it even made Hidan bearable. Funny. 

“Did you all see who else showed up?”

Hidan asked, raising his cup to his lips with an upwards quirk of his eyebrows. Kisame sighed gently, nodding as he turned around to grab a slice of pizza from the counter behind him. 

“Yeah. I saw her.”

He huffed, the irritation in his voice causing Atsuko to furrow her brow in confusion, eyes scanning the bustling area around where they were huddled in the kitchen. She hadn’t seen anyone outside of her friend group that she would recognize. But it seemed like Hidan and Kisame disliked whoever this mystery girl was. 

“Who?”

She asked, and Konan hopped up to sit on the counter, crossing her fishnet clad legs as her arms crossed under her chest. 

“Rin. She hung out with us in school until her and Obito broke up… some people still don’t like her.”

Konan explained, though it wasn’t necessary. Atsuko knew all about Rin. Or at least what Obito had told her. She’d been Obito’s girlfriend for two years while they were in high school. She was well integrated into their little group of misfits and, from the way Obito had told the story, things were fine between them. That was until their junior year started and Rin was moved to a different Chemistry class from Obito. Apparently, she and Kakashi had been made partners on almost every project and had begun texting outside of school. Obito had been a little worried, but Rin had simply stated they were just working on homework together. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Rin had stopped responding to Obito’s texts. Started avoiding him at school and hanging out with Kakashi and his friends. A couple days after that change happened, she’d sent him a single text. Stating that she didn’t want to be with him anymore. Obito had tried to get her to talk things out, but she’d blocked him on all social media immediately after sending the message. A week later, Kisame had shown him that she’d posted a photo on her snapchat story of her and Kakashi kissing. 

So, why the hell she’d shown up to this party, Atsuko couldn’t grasp. Even if her brain wasn’t delayed by liquor, it would have been a conundrum.

“You say that like you don’t hate her guts.”

Hidan posed, taking Atsuko’s cup when she shook it in his direction. He turned to the side and immediately began pouring her another drink. With a little liquor in his system, he was actually a lot calmer and not as combative. And Konan was more talkative and willing to leave Yahiko’s side. Konan shrugged, picking at her leggings with her black nails. 

“I don’t. I think that whole situation was stupid. The poor girl didn’t know what she wanted. And it didn’t feel right that we all had to stop talking to her afterwards. It’s not like all of us were dating her.”

Konan defended, running her hands down her short skirt to get the material to lay flat. Atsuko noticed that she did that a lot. Fidgeted and picked at things when she talked. 

“She always got on my nerves. Too… preppy and uppity. The bitch made her choice anyway when she started hanging around Kakashi and them. Like she was too good for us.”

Hidan replied, handing Atsuko her freshly made drink without any fanfare. She sipped her drink, eyebrows still furrowed in thought. Again, the topic of conversation made her stomach churn. She’d essentially done the same thing to Obito… but it appeared that no one knew about their falling out. Except for Shisui and Sasuke. But, unlike Rin, Atsuko was going to make things right. She was going to apologize and fix this and own up to her shit. She was just waiting for the right moment. Surprisingly, Kisame hummed in agreement to Hidan’s assessment. 

“We didn’t have to stop to talking to her. But what she did to Obito was wrong and he was our friend first.”

Kisame added, and Konan shrugged again, but this time with more acceptance. Atusko had remained quiet during the discussion, a mixture of guilt and anger building in her stomach. But then Hidan was turning his attention to her, a shit eating grin on his face. 

“You gonna fight her? Ya know, a little cat fight because she hurt your man? Cause if you are, let me know first so I can get my phone out.”

Hidan teased, the predatory lilt in his voice unmistakable. But Atsuko was full of liquor and the comment didn’t rub her the wrong way like it would have if she were sober. Instead, the thought made her chuckle and shake her head. 

“No… I mean, why would she even be here?”

Atsuko changed the topic quickly, not feeling right in passing judgement on the girl who’d fallen into the same trap she had. Even if the thought of Rin hurting Obito made her blood boil, she knew it was hypocritical. 

“Who the hell knows. Deidara probably invited her or something. He’s a pussy.”

Hidan offered, causing Kisame to roll his eyes and shake his head. 

“He’s sentimental. Can’t really fault him for wanting to let an old friend know that he got into his dream school and that he was throwing a party to celebrate. She was the only person who actually liked his art back then.”

Kisame corrected, drawing a snort from Hidan and a giggle from Konan. For a few more minutes, they chatted about Deidara and his acceptance into art school. It helped lighten the mood but after the conversation about Rin, but Atsuko still felt that gnawing dread slowly settle back into her stomach. After seeing Obito for a brief moment in the dinning room, she’d tried her best to relax and calm down before approaching him. And it had worked thus far. A combination of liquor and seeing her friends again after a while settling her nerves and making her feel at ease. But she knew what needed to be done… 

Then, just like the universe knew she needed a sign, she caught sight of Obito. He walked into the kitchen, smiling as he laughed at something she hadn’t heard or seen, heading straight for the island counter top to refill his drink. That’s when he picked his head up and caught her line of sight. The smile left his face immediately, but Atsuko offered him a sad one, nodding her head in the direction of the other door to the kitchen, the one that led to the den. For a second, he simply stared at her. Kisame and Hidan were arguing about the results of some big basketball game from the week prior, drawing a few arid giggles from Konan as their conversation heated up. They wouldn’t notice if she slipped away. So, when Obito nodded and grabbed his cup, only to head in the direction of the door to the den, she ducked her head and followed him. 

Despite the liquor and socializing calming her nerves, her heart was pounding in her chest. Lungs failing her as she drew in a shaky inhale and fingers twitching as she gripped her plastic cup with a little more force. But it was best to move forward. Rip the band-aid off. The sooner she got this over with, the sooner things could go back to normal… After she’d crossed the kitchen, she let out a deep exhale, steadying her shoulders before pushing the door open. 

Obito was standing against one of the walls, leaned back with his arms crossed over his chest as he stared down into his cup. His pointed eyebrows were drawn down and his lips were pulled into a deep frown. He was upset, but just the sight of him made her heart surge. The music was quieter in here, like it had been earlier, but there were still people littered around the room. A group of four people chatting in the corner, and a few people tethered to the wall by their phone chargers. She approached him slowly, and when he raised his head to look at her, her heart damn near broke. He looked so hurt. Eyes tired and sad, barely having the strength to look at her. But she swallowed the lump in her throat. 

“Hey…”

She greeted, voice shaky and soft. Obito gave a curt nod, dropping his eyes away from her again.

“Hey.”

He replied, an awkward silence falling between them as Atsuko struggled to figure out where to start. She glanced around the room again, gnawing on her bottom lip.

“Can we talk somewhere else?“

She asked, and he picked up his head to look around the room, debating for a moment before giving her a nod. Then he was pushing himself away from the wall, leading her to the other side of the den towards the staircase directly across from the front door. She followed him up the stairs, dodging a few stragglers who’d made their way to the top floor to makeout or pass out. Eventually, they ended up outside of Deidara’s bedroom. Obito gave the closed door a gentle knock and when no one said it was occupied, he pushed it open and they slipped inside. 

The music was almost non existent in here, muffled by severals walls and doors. And Atsuko quickly found the silence and darkness suffocating. Her hand flew around, searching for a light switch and flicking it on when she’d found it. She’d been to Deidara’s house once or twice, but just to pick him up and she’d never made it beyond the front porch before tonight. When the overhead light came on, she had to adjust to the brightness, but when she did she smiled at the sight in front of her. 

It was everything she would have expected. A messy full sized bed covered in decorative pillows and lush blankets. A massive easel sat in the middle of his room, with a canvas covered in a tarp and the floor underneath it protected by a sheet of paint covered plastic. Several of his art pieces were hung on the walls. Some large canvases and some just small pieces of paper. Portraits and landscapes. She even spotted several drawings of his friends. One small sketch of Konan, though her features were exaggerated and large. A painting of Hidan, grinning wildly with a blood splatter across his face, like some kind fo deranged villain in an anime. She noticed another one too. A black charcoal sketch of her and Obito, both of them seated against some wall, leaning against one another with bright smiles. It was based off of a picture she was familiar with and Deidara had probably spent a lot of time staring at the image on her Instagram page. 

She smiled, tilting her head to the side as she looked around the room, stepping past Obito to get a better look at the charcoal drawing. He approached from behind her, letting out an amused huff. 

“It’s sweet… that he draws us.”

Atsuko mused, and Obito hummed from behind her, the tenderness of the discovery being shattered by the reality of why they’d come up here in the first place. Her smile faded and she turned around to face him, only to see he was moving to sit on the foot of Deidara’s bed. 

“Were you really sick?”

He asked, breaking the silence and drawing a sigh from Atsuko. She shook her head, glancing down at her shoes. 

“No, not really…”

She answered, and Obito sighed as well, shuffling on the bed. 

“You really need to make sure you’re taking your meds, Atsuko. Seriously, if you don’t take better care of yourself-.”

He started to scold, but Atsuko cut him off with a chuckle, pulling her head up to look at him. He always wore the exact same face when this topic came up. Eyebrows pinched together in anger, mouth pressed into a thin line. 

“After all of those horrible things I said you… you’re still worried about my mental health?”

She questioned, and Obito groaned, bringing his hands up to scrub over his face in exasperation. 

“Of course I am. I care about you. You’re my… friend.”

He replied, and she grimaced slightly, nodding as she crossed the room to sit next to him on the foot of the bed. Friend… that word was starting to hurt her too. 

“I’m okay now… Anko helped me… and I didn’t pull you aside to talk about that. I wanted to talk to you because… I’m sorry, Obito. For the things I said and the way I reacted. For Kakashi. You didn’t deserve any of that.”

She choked out, finding it easier to talk to him like this when she didn’t have to watch his face for reactions. She looked down at her pants, picking at a piece of lint as she figured out what she wanted to say next. 

“I didn’t… when I kissed Kakashi, it just happened. It was stupid and it didn’t last long because… because he said something and it made me think of you. And all of the sudden, it all felt so wrong. Because he wasn’t you.”

Atsuko added, shrugging as the words left her a little dumbfounded, even now. She heard Obito’s breath hitch from beside her and she knew she really couldn’t look at him now. Not with what she needed to say next. 

“And when you said that to me… that you loved me. It scared me. Because… I don’t really know why. Maybe it’s because I don’t think I deserve it. Or maybe it’s because I’m afraid to be vulnerable.”

She continued, choking up at several points when her body reacted to what she was saying out loud. Her breath catching in her throat a couple times as the anxiety tried to stop her from speaking, but she choked it down, swallowing against the hesitance. 

“But these past two weeks… not seeing you or talking to you. It’s been really hard. And I can’t ever apologize enough for what I said but I think… I think I know now. And I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it but, I just wanted to say that I lo-“

Atsuko stuttered out, finding her confidence again by the end of her little speech. She was going to say it. She was going to say she loved him too and all of this would work out. They would kiss, maybe cry a little, and make up. Then he would come home with her and warm her bed for the first night in weeks. They’d wake up in the morning and she’d be able to admire his sleeping face without feeling bad about it. She would kiss him awake and they would have breakfast together and everything would be beautiful. The thought of all of those promised moments is what spurred her on and forced her to admit what she’d been feeling. 

But Obito stopped her before she could get the words out. 

“Atsuko, I’m seeing someone else.”

Obito said, spewing the words out with a sternness she thought he only reserved for his rowdy friend group. It took a moment for her to process what he’d said, sitting in quiet shock as her own admittance died in her throat. Then, her body went cold and she pulled her head up, jerking to the side to look at his profile. Search his face for any hint of teasing or dishonesty. But he was simply staring straight ahead, his hands clasped together in his lap and jaw tense. 

“What?”

She asked, more so in reaction to what he’d said than seeking an actual explanation. Obito unclasped his hands, smoothing them along his jeans as he let out an annoyed sigh. 

“I’m talking to someone.”

He repeated, finally turning his eyes to meet hers. Atsuko’s face was screwed up in confusion and pain, and after a moment of locking gazes, Obito was standing up from the bed in a fit of anger. 

“Oh, don’t look at me like that!”

He accused, and Atsuko could only let out a disbelieving scoff, head turning to follow him as he paced around the room. 

“Like what?”

She questioned, and he gestured towards her. 

“Like I just kicked your puppy. Like I’m the bad guy now! Like all of this is my fault.”

He huffed, ranting and raving but still not explaining anything at all. Atsuko simply stared up at him, heart in her throat as her body truly prevented her from speaking. When she didn’t respond, Obito ran his fingers back through his dark hair with an exaggerated sigh. 

“I just… after our fight, I didn’t want to go anywhere or do anything. But we were still in Suna and I didn’t want the guys to be bummed out, so I did anyway. I went out to get drunk and just… forget about it for a while. And then I… well I ran into Rin.”

He finally started to explain and Atsuko let out a scoff at that, dropping her eyes to her lap as pieces of the puzzle started to click into place. What Shisui was trying to warn her about earlier. Why Rin was at this party. She shook her head in disbelief. 

“She… I was drunk. I told her about what happened and she… she helped me. Made me feel better. And we just spent the rest of the trip together. Hanging out. Fooling around. It just… it all clicked, Atsuko. I don’t know how else to describe it. I thought it was so weird running into her like that. That we both just happened to be at the same place at the same time and… we kept talking after I got back and you ghosted me.”

Obito continued, speaking so fast she was having a hard time keeping up. But she got the picture. He’d run into his old high school girlfriend right after their fight and it had been fucking kismet. Slowly, her senses started to come back and the anger that was swelling inside her was due to break through. Two weeks. Two fucking weeks after he’d said that he loved her and he was already moving on. All she could do was shake her head, tongue pressing into her cheek as she tried to keep herself quiet. 

“I figured you were just going to do the same. Thought maybe you’d shacked up with Kakashi or something-“

He started to say, but that seemed to be her breaking point. She jerked her head up to fix him with a glare. 

“Fuck you, Obito. You really thought that was the reason I was missing work and not talking to anyone. Because I was laid up with Kakashi? You said you loved me! And that’s what you thought I would do after that?”

She spat out, standing from the bed in the same flurry he had earlier. Her knees shook and her head spun for a second, but she managed to stay upright, fists curling at her side. 

“I didn’t know what to think after you blew up on me like that! And I felt bad about it at first. I was gonna come home and tell you the truth and try to… fix this. But you were already gone and you weren’t answering my calls. You left that money and Sasuke told me about the conversation you had with him at the comic shop and I just thought… I don’t know. I thought it was really over.”

He finished with a sigh, dropping his shoulders forward in defeat, voice falling sad by the end. But Atsuko was fuming at this point, shaking her head and turning around to leave the room. 

“Well it sure as hell is now.”

She answered, but he grabbed her wrist before she could leave, forcing her to stop. And god just the feeling of his fingers against her skin made her heart stutter. Made the tears she’d been fighting well in her eyes. But she refused to look at him. 

“Atsuko… I really did… I thought I loved you. But Rin she helped me understand that… maybe I was just lonely and confused and trying to label something I didn’t understand. What I feel for her, it’s different-”

Obito said, trying his hardest to explain what had changed so quickly. But him talking about Rin in that light was like throwing salt on an open wound. Atsuko jerked her wrist free from his grip, spinning around her heel as she brought her palms up, shoving his chest harshly. Obito simply stood and took the blow, swaying slightly as he stared down at her. 

“I don’t give a fuck about Rin or what magical bullshit you feel for her! You told me you loved me, Obito! And granted, I didn’t react the way I should have and, even now, I’m sorry for that. But it didn’t even take you a full two weeks to move on? Hell, really, it didn’t even take you a day since you’ve been talking to her since our fight. While I laid in bed and cried myself sick-!”

She ranted, placing several half hearted smacks to his chest in the process. Obito simply stood and took the words, head hung low. That was until her last sentence. He cut her off then, grabbing her wrists in both hands to stop her weak blows to his chest. 

“That is not my fault, Atsuko. If you hadn’t reacted the way you did we could have worked it out. It’s not my fault that you reacted like that and then spent a week feeling guilty. Because that’s what it was. You felt guilty because you knew you were in the wrong.”

He huffed out, the grip on her wrists tightening as the tears finally broke through and spilled down her cheeks. It felt like he was punching her in the stomach over and over again. Her bottom lip trembled as all of the wind was taken out of her sails. In the end, it was all her fault. If she hadn’t kissed Kakashi. If she hadn’t freaked out when Obito said he loved her. If she’d just admitted the truth to herself a little sooner. Without tearing her eyes away from him, she muttered out her reply. 

“You’re right. I was wrong and I’m sorry. But… Sasuke said that you’d said you wanted to marry me, Obito. And it took me a long time to realize it but I… dammit, I love you too.”

Atsuko admitted, voice cracking as she choked the words out. At the admittance, Obito’s eyes screwed shut and his face twisted up in pain. Like she’d landed a blow against him as well. For a moment, there was silence. The thudding of the bass from the party happening downstairs combined with the alcohol in her system and all of these devastating emotions made her head spin. She was so angry and hurt that she couldn’t make heads or tails of anything she was feeling. Mostly, she felt empty. Gutted. And when Obito opened his eyes to look down at her, the dark eyes she’d spent years admiring didn’t hold the same sparkle. Instead, he just looked tired. 

“You don’t… you might think you do now. But you don’t love me.”

He replied, dealing the final blow in the chaotic quietness of Deidara’s bedroom. Her heart ached and she fell quiet, staring up at him in utter defeat. Obito released his grip on her wrists and moved around her with a sigh. She heard the bedroom door open behind her, and he lingered for a moment. Both of them too destroyed to say anything further. When it was clear that neither of them could manage to speak, she heard him shuffle again and the soft thud of the door shutting closed behind him. And all she could do was stare at the charcoal drawing on the wall across from her. 

-------------------------------------------

Taglist: @iamliacamila​ @actual-spawn-of-satan​

[winterswrandomness]

okay last one- may not get around to drawing this one for a While and i know i haven’t been on the origins server in ages but- outfits for osmp cobalt, osmp ro and if you’re up for it osmp grape? the iconic trio (i’ll send it to them if you want)

OOOOOOO YES YES YES

I Adore them yes yes yes

alright, here we go!!!! SO

I would like to preface this by saying, don't feel obligated to draw anything, it's not expected but it is always fun when it happens! plus I already love coming up with outfits, as an absolute nerd for the aesthetics of fashion. also feel free to send these to Grape if you wanna! I really don't mind either way!

OKAY OKAY SO SO SO I think we will go in order, so that means we start with o!Cobalt! I feel like he'd wear like hmmm something comfy but easy to move around in. so he's lumberjack, which means probably doing something that allows for the motions needed to do wood chopping! nothing too restricted I imagine, especially since the outfit you gave him is pretty loose and a bit ragged, which gives a nod to what choices o!Cobalt may make. okay okay so I think he would wear a sort of poncho garments, with holes for the arms. this is to keep the cloak look, and to allow for better mobility! maybe a kinda tight collar that's just a bit looser than hugging the neck, so that leaves and twigs and stuff don't fall into his shirt as easy. Maybe it's made of leather, something that'll last well and is protective enough against stuff like weather and mobs! I think there would be slits in the back, from the hem and up just above the wings. actually hmmm maybe ditch the arm holes and maybe there's 4 slits, two on front and two on back. Think fringe, if fringe were the entire garment and only had 4 segments. Maybe we make it not leather, maybe something similar to what raincoats are made of, or like those clear umbrellas. I think he'd wear comfy pants, like cargo pants or something. he doesn't seem the type to wear shorts. what if he wears booty shorts over leggings or something /j (or worse, over jeans)

I think he's wear like comfy pants, yeah! also hmmm maybe layer shirts. the only question is if he does it backwards or not. button up over t-shirt, or t-shirt over button up? hmmmmmmmmmm okay okay so I definitely wanna keep cape stuff, because what if that helps him feel more secure? gotta consider that type or stuff

I think he gets comfortable jeans OR OR ZIPPER PANTS OR SECRET PANTS secret pants. it's basically super baggy pants that flow like a skirt, they have good air circulation, AND THEY'RE PANTS NO ONE EXPECTS THE PANTS!! Anyway maybe hmmm okay you know those pants that are like kinda baggy and then sinch at the hem? those. baggy pants that sinch at the hems just above the ankles. I think he gets boots! like heavy duty work boots, wouldn't want a branch or block of deepslate breaking his foot. okay I think. hmmmm. thick socks. don't want blisters! (also big chunky boots make for a good shape in silhouette that I like. in this instance, the boots definitely aren't inspired by how I only ever saw you as walking boots due to Invisible and me toggling off all armour except others' shoes. definitely not.)

OSMP COBALT

- gloves. gloves for sure.

- I definitely get the impression he'd wanna cover up, so maybe like loose long sleeve shirt BUT IT HAS STRIPES tasteful stripes like Frisk and Chara from undertale! I feel like a dark blue loose shirt with thick tan stripes and smaller lighter blue stripes that border the tan ones. So a sweater, like a crewneck one!

- heavy duty boots, kinda a light brown! dark laces I'd think. oh yeah look, he has shoes now!! also thick socks like nice wooly ones

- okay so. I know I was all over the place with the pants, but. high waisted pants that go over the boots. like open leg ones, think bell bottom pants but Much Less Bell. like it's loose enough to fall over the boots and they end at about the ankle, but tight enough so fabric isn't flailing everywhere and bothering movement.

- and his outerwear. I'm- cloaks are difficult in this moment because you need to allow for movement n stuff so!! I think it's be lots longer in the back, and it's a sort of 3/4 circle thing. so it falls over the wings, still with slits in the back to allow for movement, and there's arm holes positioned so that the whole forearm is sticking out at a time, ish. Feel free to ask for a diagram or drawing if you are confused on this part, because it is Complicated in my mind. it also clasps at one of the front shoulders!

- and let's not forget! his necklace :D

Okay so I know I said we're going in order but I have IDEAS for o!Grape

so so I watched this video today of an athletics coach + fashion designer talking about a work out skort they made and let me tell you I was thinking about that as soon as I was writing because I feel like it'd fit o!Grape so well since Grape themselves has said that they were going kinda for like a sexy fairy or something, I kinda forget

so!! I think workout skort, which is basically what you're thinking; it's a skirt and shorts all in one. an athletic one is made of a more stretchy material to allow for better movement, and IT TWIRLS because it's a SKIRT TOO!!! so I think o!Grape would have that, in a sort of lavender colour and then I think for a shirt like a tight sort of cropped tank top with criss cross straps around the shoulders. so the straps go in Xs!! ooooh and maybe a sheer material for sleeves!! like a nice flowy material, something light in colour. actually hmm I feel like that shirt in green, and then puff the sleeves!! like gather them at the ends and then bam! puffy sleeves!!! a sheer airy material, maybe with small polka dots that are a similar colour, but aren't like "hey look at me specifically!!" and the polka dots are on the sleeves and around the collar as a small detail specifically for the sheer material. and maybe, maybe Grape is the one with botty shorts and leggings. or maybe shorts and sort of biking shorts! I feel like green shirt kinda dark dull purple shorts would work well, and the shorts would match their wings. I feel like hmmmm sandals that wind up the leg would look cool. like silver sandal looking shoes that sort of go up to just below the knee, kinda looking like vines. I definitely like that idea for the shoes, I'm just a bit unsure for the rest of the outfit

I definitely like the green puff sleeves midcut shirt, and then maybe we go back to the workout skort idea

OSMP GRAPE

- so!! that green shirt we were just talking about, yes. I think the sleeves are sheer, then you have the main section of fabric and I think the back is open if their wings are attached to them (like a loser, imagine your wings not being magic and going through fabric /j) but if they're like Ro's then fill the back and on the front and back is the sheer fabeic, which link up to a fabric collar around the neck. Then there's open patches at the shoulder (good ol cold shoulder neckline!! I love them) and then the raw edges and sealed with fabric. and let's not forget the texturing on the sheer fabric, the only kinda visible polka dots! the gathered sleeves go to the wrists, where they end in purple flowers to help accent the wings

- green workout skort!! convenient for spinning and jumping and flying and everything else in between. I also think a nice blue layer, so it's a double layered workout skort, and it'd help tie into OSMP Grape's eyes without detracting from them

- silver sandals that are like vines, with purple flowers growing along them! I wanted to keep all the purple around the hands and feet that Grape's skin has because I think the purple accents are so cute and work really well

Alright. Okay. Time for my girl!! En's not really a girl, in fact ein doesn't even really have a gender unless en stole one recently. OKAY OKAY SO

I think hmmm. Well en's an explorer, and needs eir spyglass! so en definitely keeps that on the leather strap and wears it across eir shoulders. honestly it may be cute to give them little sunglasses, like big rose coloured round ones! (that definitely doesn't allude to potential lore wink wonk)

So they have the bright electric blue eyes that are meant to seem like they glow even if they don't, and they cannot wear silver or iron because it Hurts and gives them a bad headache if they're around it long enough. like if they have a piece of iron near their face long enough, I imagine it'd be really irritating because it'd give them a pounding enough headache to floor them. anyway I think they'd keep the golden accessories and knick knacks stuff, like their cloak clasp

I feel like maybe bandaged hands and then overtop, thick fabric gloves. This is so they can actually craft iron things without getting burned! I think they'd be the type to wear skirts. maybe they have a really long cloak/shawl/poncho that goes below their knees, and then they have a short skirt to run around in. or maybe they're the one with the shorts and leggings. okay maybe poncho cape shawl thing goes to right about their knees and then they have shorts underneath. and maybe we ditch the goggles for this look, if they have the glasses? hmmmm

OSMP RO

- so, shorts and really fucking long socks that can be rolled up to go under the shorts hems!! the socks would probably be a bit thick, so they can walk around with okay cushioning considering the "I don't have shoes" situation

- I think they do have pink glasses, just tucked away in a pocket somewhere. it's like a momento of the past. and spyglass!! it's under the cape cloak thing, in case en ever needs to take off the layer. it's more convenient. I also think beridding the goggles would give more focus to their eyes

- the cloak still has the gold clasp, and it's less worn from use. It's a different cloak. I think this one would be brown!

- I think their long socks are black to match their hair. when the cloak is entirely blocking their torso, they're a sandwich of black-brown-black!

- I think they'd have blue shorts. I dunno why, but if we were using modern clothes I think they would have like light blue denim shorts.

- bandages on eir hands! it leaves the fingers free but does cover most of the forearm and wrists. then they carry better gloves, full ones, to put on when they're handling iron!

- I think they still have a sweater, and maybe it's a dark blue this time. kinda like one of the lighter shades of the cloak on my actual skin!

[sweatersarecomfyy]

Stuck In a Blizzard

(Bucky x Reader)

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: Bucky and reader get stuck in a blizzard on the way back from the mission. Reader tries to save face by not letting on how cold they are which ends in comforting fluff and a doting Bucky. 

A/N: This is pure self-indulgent fluff. I have a midterm tomorrow, and of course I procrastinated by polishing this one-shot. Also it has already started snowing where I live.  As always, the reader is kept as non-descript as possible. Literally corn-ball central, it’s just to make you feel all warm and cozy inside. 

It was so cold.

Not cold in the cute ‘curl up with a book and drink cocoa’ way.

It was below freezing, fight for survival, limbs numb, exhausted cold. Even worse than that, we hadn’t been prepared for it. The mission had gone fine, but the weather had taken a nasty turn so that there was no way of flying back. We had barely made it to the safe house and when we got out of the jet, it was blizzarding so much that we couldn’t see.

As we rushed in and slammed the door shut, the flakes didn’t even melt on the doormat.

I stomped my feet, trying to get some feeling back into them. It didn’t do anything. I shivered in my less-than-ideal jacket, and dropped my bag. “Is there a heater?”

Bucky was across the room fiddling with a fuse box. He flipped one of them and some lights came on. It had a cozy-looking interior despite the frigid air. He flipped another one, but the heater gave a couple weak thrums and then stopped. He chuckled, “I guess not.”

I walked over to the fireplace. There was a sizeable stack of firewood and some matches. “I guess we’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way. I knelt down and stacked the firewood like a log cabin. The wood must have been exceptionally dry, because it lit up quickly and the fire became steady.

I shrugged off my now damp jacket and hung it on a chair. I wished it was dry so that I could still wear it. Despite the fire the air was still freezing. I searched my bag in the hope of finding another layer, but it was mostly mission gear and pajamas.

Bucky was making an inventory of the cupboards and everything else. “Well, there is plenty of food, dry stuff, and bars. We won’t starve.” He was wearing his cargo pants and t-shirt, and not shivering at all.

“Aren’t you cold?”

He smiled, “Nope, perks of the super serum I guess.”

The clothes I was wearing were damp as well and I was trying not to show how much I was shivering. I was usually great in the cold. My parents had always called me ‘polar-bear’ because of how much I liked the snow, but this was another level. “I’m going to change,” I said automatically.

He nodded at me and started looking through his bag as well.

Luckily my pjs were sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt, but it still wasn’t adequate. I put all the socks I had brought with me on. We had been able to wash up at a location the day before, so nothing smelled too bad.

I was alone, with Bucky, in a cabin in the middle of a storm. I blushed at the prospect of having to share a room with him, but was very worried at the prospect of him seeing me as weak. I had always been tough on missions. I could fight through pain, I could hike when I was exhausted, and I could outsmart almost any enemy battle plan, but I couldn’t control the chattering of my teeth or the numbness spreading through my fingers and toes. With anyone else I may have let down my guard, but with Bucky, I didn’t want to. He was my superior officer, he was my friend too, but non-work excursions didn’t generally require feats of strength and showing your mettle. I didn’t have to worry about looking tough at the movies or having food. This was my first time as a second on a mission—just him and me—we had done group missions before, but I wanted a chance to prove myself. Even then, I liked him; liked him, liked him, and I didn’t want him to think any less of me. I was determined. It was just one night.

When I got out of the bathroom, Bucky had changed as well. He was sitting on the couch with a blanket that I saw he had gotten from an open chest at the foot of the bed. He was messing with the communicators. “No signal right now, we will have to wait for the storm to die down. Hopefully Tony won’t worry too much about you.”

I smiled, confused, “What do you mean?”

“Well, he’s not going to worry about me. He doesn’t like me.” He chuckled.

I chuckled with him, but argued back. “If he’s worried about me more than you it would be that I’m not a super-soldier, just a regular human.”

He frowned slightly, though I wasn’t sure why.

There were three other blankets in the chest. I spread two of them out on the bed and wrapped one around myself. I sat on the couch in front of the fire and started gnawing on a very cold protein bar.

Bucky did the same thing, staring into the flames. “You ok?” he asked suddenly.

I turned towards him and there was a concerned look wrinkling his brow. I smiled, trying to suppress my shivering again, “Yeah, I’m good.” The fire wasn’t doing anything to quell the chill. “I’m just tired I guess.”

He nodded, “You can have the bed, I can take the couch.” He said, he still looked concerned.

I didn’t sleep at all that night. I was afraid that if I did, I would freeze and not be able to wake up. I’m sure I was exaggerating, but my body simply would not let me sleep.

I was exhausted.

///

In the morning, the blizzard was still raging. The only reason I could tell it was morning was because Bucky got up, looked out the window and swore.

“What time is it?” I asked, still huddled under the blankets in bed.

“It’s 8AM, not that anyone could tell that from the amount of snow out there.”

I groaned, and got out of bed, joining him at the window to look outside. I pulled the blanket closer around me. The shivering was starting to make me crazy. I was tired and I wanted to cry, but I pulled myself away and made another fire. I sat myself down on the rug right in front of it.

Bucky came and sat next to me. “You sleep alright?” he asked.

“Yeah, good,” I lied halfheartedly. I probably looked a mess, but I hoped he would somehow not notice. He looked refreshed. He was still wearing that t-shirt and looked as though he was as comfortable as he would be on a balmy spring day.

“Ever been in a blizzard before?” he asked.

I shook my head, “I love the snow, usually.” I laughed shortly, “I love playing in the snow and everything, but I’ve never been in a blizzard, or at least nothing this bad.”

“Did you get snow growing up?”

I nodded, “Yeah, we would get a good amount of snow where I lived. Everyone always was bothered by it, but I actually always looked forward to it.”

“So you’re a little polar-bear,” he nudged me with his elbow playfully.

“Yeah,” I tried to smile with his teasing.

We found a set of cards and played for a while in front of the fire, chatting. The stove still worked, and Bucky managed to boil some water so we could have cup noodles and hot chocolate. We even found some old Disney tapes and a VCR and watched Mulan and The Lion King. I know Bucky had seen some Disney movies before, cause I made him watch some, but we hadn’t gotten around to these ones and it was adorable to see him laugh and be surprised at the stories, he almost seemed like a child again. I even saw him wipe away a tear during the Lion King.

I almost felt warm. Almost. I kept the blanket wrapped around me the whole day and tried to stay as close to the fire as possible. We didn’t have a temperature reading, but I was sure it was still far below zero as when I had seen it the day before in the jet.

I didn’t feel great. My body was so exhausted from the mission and not sleeping, and it was wavering under the stress of being cold, but I was trying to save face. I felt my eyes close a couple of times during the movie, and in our last game of cards I couldn’t seem to pay attention. I felt like crying, but I wouldn’t.

“Are you doing alright?”

My eyes snapped up to Bucky, what did he see? “Yeah, why?” I made an effort to smile.

“You just seem a little unfocused.”

I nodded, “Yeah, I’m all good.”

He didn’t look convinced, “You know you can tell me if something is wrong, right?”

“I know,” I tried not to make eye contact with him, his asking made tears start to prick at my eyes. I was just so exhausted.

“You did really well on the mission, if that’s what you’re worried about. I know I don’t say a lot of stuff like that, but you did do really well.”

“Thanks, I’m fine, really.”

He was silent for a moment, I looked at my hand of cards, not wanting to look at him.

“I,” he sighed, “I—Can you let me know what’s on your mind? I just have a feeling that you’re not telling me something.”

I couldn’t stop the tears from running down my face. I tried to wipe them away, and he noticed.

“Hey, hey—” he scooted toward me on the floor and set his hand on my knee, “It’s ok, just tell me what’s up.”

I sniffed, oh goodness, I could slap myself. I was sniffing. “I’m just—just so—cold,” I lamely half-stuttered, half-shivered.” I wiped more tears away, “I didn’t want you to judge me.”

“For being cold?”

I couldn’t look him in the face, I shook my head, “For being weak.”

“I don’t think you’re weak—but why—why would I think your being cold made you weak?”

I shrugged, “I dunno.” I sniffed again, wiped at my nose and eyes again, trying to stop my body shaking from sobs and shivering.

“Oh hon, no,” He pushed some hair back from my face, “I don’t think you’re weak. I chose you to be second on this mission because I think you’re the opposite of that. We work well together, and you always persevere, even when things get tough.”

I stifled another sob, “I know, but now—”

“You can’t control the weather doll.”

“I’ve been through so much worse though, and then this gets me,” I gestured to the cold, “And I just wanted to impress you and I didn’t want to complain,” I sniffed again, “And I’m just so tired and I can’t think. And now I’m crying.” I gave a dry laugh.

“How did you actually sleep last night?”

He was still close to me with his hand resting on my knee, I didn’t look at him. “Terribly.”

“You should have told me.” He said gently.

I looked up at him and gave a faltering smile, “Well it’s not like there was that much you could do about it either.”

He wiped some tears from my cheek, and I felt my face grow warm from the contact.

“You still could have told me, we’re partners we need to be honest with each other, and I think there is something I could have done.” The look on his face was so gentle and kind that I felt my chest blooming with a different type of warmth.

I wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but in one fluid movement he had pulled me into his lap and stood up. I gave a small noise of surprise, and was so startled that my arms automatically wrapped around him as was lifted into the air.

“Bucky—” I started.

He walked to the bed, “You need sleep, and you need heat.”

“Uh—”

“We’re going to cuddle,” he stated simply. He set me down and pulled back the covers, settling in next to me.

“Oh, um, you don’t need—”

“I’m lead on the mission, right? That means I need to take care of you.”

“Bucky—”

He pulled the covers over us and wrapped his arms around me, tucking my head into the crook of his neck. He gave a relaxed sigh, “Are you comfortable?”

I nodded into his chest.

“Good.”

“Bucky, thank you, but you really don’t need to do this.”

I felt his nose graze the top of my hair, “If I didn’t want to do this, I wouldn’t be doing this. If you’re uncomfortable, I’ll go. I just thought you might need some extra body heat.”

Honestly, it felt heavenly. He was so warm. I felt my shivering start to subside as soon as he had pulled the covers over us. I didn’t ever want him to leave.

“You’re so warm,” I mumbled, feeling myself start to drift off.

I felt his chest rumble as he chuckled, “I tend to run hot.”

I don’t know if it was my vulnerable sleepy mind, or a streak of bravery, but I heard myself say: “Yeah you do,” in an obviously playful voice.

My eyes shot open after I heard myself, and I found myself looking at a smirking Bucky.

“I—I don’t, I’m sorry—” I stuttered, then I groaned, and tried to turn away from him.

He laughed at me, “Oh no you don’t,” he kept me from turning over, pulling me tighter to his body, “Do you have something you want to say to me?”

I heard the smirk in his voice, and didn’t dare look at him, instead covering my face in my hands, “No?”

“I think you do,” He insisted.

“It’s ok, you can let me freeze now.”

He laughed again and pried my hands from my face, “Hey, you don’t get to get out of an explanation.”

I hid my face as much as possible in the pillow.

“We’re partners, right? We need to be honest.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, just stop making fun—I’m so tired.”

He laughed, but not an unkind laugh, “I’m not making fun, I’m just wondering. Is it possible you said that cause you like me? Doll?”

I let myself look into his face. Although I knew he was amused by the situation, his eyes and voice were sincere, he actually wanted to know. I nodded, twice, slowly. I looked away again and became even more aware of his arms around me, and his body pressed next to mine. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—didn���t know how to—it’s just that we’re friends and you’re my superior—and I’m just—just—"

I was cut off as he tilted my face towards his with one of his hands, and kissed me. I let out a breath of surprise, but his hands threaded through my hair, keeping his lips on mine, and I kissed him back. My brain seemed to have short-circuited and my whole body was suddenly filled with warmth. I wasn’t shivering from the cold anymore.

He pulled away, and I tried to follow with a noise of complaint, but I opened my eyes. I have never received a look like the look he gave me before. It was so full of love an adoration that I was taken aback. He loved me, just as I loved him, and he didn’t have to say anything for me to know, but he did anyway.

“I should have told you sooner,” he said, “I’m such a coward, you’re the brave one. I love you, I love you so, so much.”

I smiled, and brushed some hair behind his ear, “I love you too Bucky, so, so much.”

He gave me another kiss, just as passionate, but shorter. “You still need sleep,” he noted, and pulled me as close as possible, and allowing me to rest in his warmth.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “A little Race.”

So this is a little story setting up for some stuff in the future.

A few of you on the discord server mentioned an interest in learning more about the criminal element within my universe as well as a couple other ideas which I would love to incorporate, so I hope you like where this is going :)

Adam turned heads as he walked through the station. Glowing, grungy neon lights lit him up from either side though the forest of bodies parted before him like a sea. Everyone here looked more than a little unnerved at his presence, and hurriedly scampered away into the dark allies upon the station.

It wasn’t a big place, A trading hub  not so far from the metallic belt, so many of these people probably weren't here for illegal reasons, but based on his time getting to know the criminal underbelly of the universe, he also knew the station’s real reputation. And he knew the man he was looking for was likely to be here. 

He would have disguised himself as Kell, but thought better of it. He wanted to keep that disguise in his arsenal if he ever had to go undercover again, and this wasn’t a moment  he needed to be undercover.

Behind him Sunny walked at his shoulder, holding her pearlescent spear in one hand.

She really made an impression on people these days, and he found it more than useful to have a saint on his side.

He walked down the hallway through a set of doors and then into a wide cargo bay. Someone was playing rap music somewhere, and he could hear it echoing  off the rough metal. Graffiti tagged the walls on almost every surface, including the floor, and the rattle of metal on metal drowned out whatever lyrics there might have been. He stepped further into the room as out of place as he had ever been.

Adam had never been involved in criminal affairs. Beside his brief stint as Kell and his  accidental time in the Turma Prison, he had been a straight arrow all his life. He had never done drugs, never stolen anything, never been arrested. And it certainly didn’t help that he had to run here from an appointment with Admiral kelly, and so was still wearing his UNSC uniform, which was pristinely pressed, light grey  and caused him to stand out like a drop of white paint against a black background.

The music crew louder as he stepped inside.

The room was full of shuttles, or some of them were shuttles and others were more accurately jets. Some of them were old, held together by paint and duct tape, while others glowed sleek with outlandish new paint jobs that included skulls and flames and chains. A group of men and women sat off to one side. The women wore very little, just string bikini tops and cut off jean shorts. One of the women, with long dark hair tied back in a ponytail was wearing jeans and a spoked leather jacket.

A lot of the men wore baggy pants tank tops, with lines of tattoos crawling up their arms and necks.

Similar looking people loitered around the ships tinkering with the engines and polishing surfaces already too shiny to need polishing.

The  woman was the first to see him, sitting up straight with the rattle of leather and spikes, “You don’t have any business here, Get out.”

That caused the others to turn and look, and the group of people bristled like an angry dog, forming into a tight group shoulders wide, arms out chests puffed up.

Adam stopped a few feet away.

“I want to speak with the man called Donovan Red.”

“Ol Donni ain’t here.” One of the men said, spitting onto the floor, “New git!”

“I know he’s here. His ship is parked in the hanger on deck E.”

A couple more men had wandered up to join, and he spotted the tell tale sign of weapons shoved hastily into their pants.

He held his hands out to the sides, “Listen, I just want to talk.”

“Then come  back with a warrant, pig.” ONe of them snapped. The guy was an ugly looking thug with a completely shaved head and bare chest. He had a pot belly from drinking, but he still had one of the girls hanging off his arm shying behind him from for protection.:

He sighed, “I’m not here to talk with him about any of his activities as legal or illegal as they may be. I’m not interested in what he does or who he does it with. I am here to ask him a favor.”

There was a shift about the room, and the woman from before stood up resting a hand on her hip, “The golden boy of the UNSC wants a favor from old Donni.” She barked a laugh and the men and women behind her laughed too.

“”In your dreams, boy.”

The group turned laughing and he felt his insides churn a bit with rage. He went to take a step forward but took a deep breath and stopped, “He will want to reconsider.” they ignored him, “If he does me a favor that means I owe him, Think about that, one of the most powerful men in the GA or the UNSC and I will owe him a favor.” he raised his voice, “Your boss would have to be pretty stupid to avoid an offer like that.”

There was a pause around the room, and then Adam felt something cold press up against his temple, “And you have to be pretty stupid to call him stupid.”

Adam turned his head just slightly feeling the barrel of the gun pressed below his ear.

As he moved the gun moved. Sunny hadn’t bothered to deal with the guy, and he knew why almost immediately.

WIth one lightning fast move he reached up and slapped the gun out of the man's sloppy grip. It clattered to the floor and went spinning away under one of the shuttles. Adam then stepped back and elbowed the man in the face. The man staggered back and Adam finished him off with a kick to the sternum that sent him flying back into  a barrel, which tipped over with an echoing thud and rolled slowly away.

He turned back to the others who were hastily reaching for their weapons, “The next person who points a gun at me is getting a spear through the throat.” Sunny stepped forward with a hungry look on her face.

The group paused, “You’re UNSC, you can’t do that.”

HE crossed his arms, “I won't be doing anything, but I can’t guarantee that my partner here won’t.” 

There was a pause in  the room as everyone nervously looked between each other.

“Why don’t we all just calm down.” The voice echoed in from the back, and the entire group turned to see a man walk up through the isel.

Donovan Red was shorter than Adam had expected, but still fit. He wore a tight black T shirt that bulged around his biceps, and when he walked he walked with the confidence of a man not used to being out of control.

The man walked right up to him, unperturbed by their height difference  slowly looking him up and then down. 

“You shouldn’t have come here, Cinderella.”

Adam raised an eyebrow, “Cinderella/”

The man shrugged, “Yeah, you got that vibe, all dressed up like a princess.” He nodded to Sunny, “And hanging out with woodland creatures.”

Sunny did not look amused, 

“Actually that would be snow white, or sleeping beauty, as I recall Cinderella only talked to mice.”

The man snorted, “My apologies for now knowing my princesses better, Cinder-ellla.”

Adam didn’t respond, didn’t back up. Instead he inched forward so he was towering over the man, “Look I’m not here to bother you or your men-”

“Too late for that don’t you think, princess.”

The men and women behind him laughed.

Adam sighed, “If you will let me finish. I assume that you got off your ass and came over here because you heard what I was saying to your cronies?”

Adam stood his ground as the entire group inched in. It was partly out of show, and partly because he knew sunny and him together could take this crowd easy.

Red looked up at him with his head tilted to one side, “Tell you what.”

He stepped back and turned to look at his men, “I’ll talk to you about your little favor, but-” He held up a finger, “Only if you prove yourself worthy of my time.”

Adam sighed. This was going to be good.

“And how, exactly do I do that.”

“Simple,” The man said with a smirk, “You just have to win a little race.”

***

Eris looked up at the pictures on the wall. There were a lot of them to choose from, and she spent some time wandering around the living room looking up at all the images. She knew these people, or at least it felt like she did.. Through Adam’s memories she knew Martha: intelligent and protective, Jim: strong and loyal, Maya: sweet and adventurous, Jeremy: friendly and changeable, Davide: perfect and charming, Thomas: a general hot mess, but someone who cared deeply about things.

She remembered all of them, but at the same time that felt like invading their privacy. 

They didn’t know her, so it wasn’t fair of her to claim to know them.

She sensed someone behind her and turned to find Martha looking up at the pictures with her. She pointed up at one and Eris followed, “that was last christmas together before Adam went to space.” She sighed and shook her head, “A lot has changed since then.”

Jim followed behind and held out a cup, “Can you eat human food? Sorry if you can’t I just assumed.”

She took the cup, “No its ok, myst of my  insides are human.” She had taken off her hoodie and now let it rest on the back of Martha’s rocking chair.

Jim went to stand next to his wife and looked Eris over with his head slightly tilted.

Eris hid behind her long dark hair, hair that reached past her butt. She wore it long, not only to hid behind, but because she thought it might help to cover the starborn ribbons which trailed from her back.

“You know what Martha, she looks a lot like Maya doesn’t she.”

Martha turned to look and Eris shuffled her feet, “You know what, I didn’t see it before but she does. She elbowed him, definitely has the Vir family nose.”

He grunted, “Be glad she got the nose and not the ears.”

Martha motioned her to take a seat, “Why don’t you sit down and tel lus what brings you all across the galaxy.”

Eris sat shyly on the edge of her seat nervously running her hands through her hair.

“Well….. um , nothing really it’s jus that. I had been taking care of the other hybrids and…. And well I kind of got burnt out and couldn’t do it anymore, so I…. wanted to start living for myself you know?”

The two humans nodded sagely

“But I didn’t know where to start. So I thought I would get to know my roots a bit better. I am half human….. Well DNA says a little bit more than half human, so I thought I might start with you.  Iwanted ;to see Adam, but he seems to be gone, and I can’t reach him.”

Martha nodded, “It has been harder and harder lately especially after.”

Eris’s eyes widened as she read the thoughts forming in the woman’s mind, “Someone is trying to kill him!”

The two paused, but then got back into stride without so much as a look between each other. Eris kicked herself. People always hated being around her when they knew she could read minds. 

Here she was driving people away again.

“Yes…. someone has attempted to kill him in the past. We aren’t sure if it will happen again, but we dor worry about him.”

Eris felt her insides go cold, she could feel it through the mental link to his parents, and she could feel it inside herself as well.

Adam Vir couldn’t die, not before she got to know him better, and certainly not if it was going to hurt his parents, who were some f the nicest people she had ever met.

She had to do something.

[ladykissingfish]

Highschool with the Akatsuki

*Modern-Day*

Hidan

Behavioral nightmare. Fidgets, drops things, disrupts others’ work, talks during study/quiet times. Has to be constantly reprimanded for his inappropriate jokes and foul language. Sent to the principal‘s office so much that he was asked his opinion when the man was choosing new carpeting. Most of his friends are exactly like him, so if they’re in the same class they have to be seated clear across the room from each other. Can be a good student when he TRIES; but doesn’t see the point in trying, so will just barely be passing his classes with C’s and D’s. Skinny jeans and Vans with open flannel shirts over white or black tank. Wears a necklace with strange symbol on it, when asked what it represents he’ll say “my religion” but won’t elaborate. In the bathroom between every class grabbing “a quick smoke”. Dyed his hair silver as a joke in the 6th grade, has kept it that way ever since.

Kakuzu

As serious as a heart attack, no matter the situation. Incredibly tall and with a stern face; is almost always mistaken for being the teacher by new kids. Has an impressive collection of “old-man” sweaters. The stingiest guy alive with a buck; will actually make you hand-write him an IOU slip over borrowing 50 cents for the vending machine. Decent in all subjects but a star in Economics. Has one or two “friends” but doesn’t seem particularly close to them (or anyone else for that matter). Doesn’t talk a lot in class but when he does it’s usually because he disagrees with a point the teacher is making, and he isn’t afraid to debate him or her until he’s acknowledged as being correct.

Deidara

Deidara is one of those people who needs constant stimulation to keep him engaged in whatever’s going on. Since school tends to involve a lot of tedious repetition, paying attention in class isn’t something he’s the best at. Most likely to “finish up” his homework assignments five minutes before class starts. Grades tend to fall in the B-/C+ range. The type to always pick a seat that’s in the back of the room and/or closest to the window. Has a sketchbook that he carries around with him wherever he goes. Style consists of ripped jeans over fishnets, combat boots, fingerless gloves, band t-shirts and oversized pullover hoodies. Super-long hair tied back in ponytail. One of the first (and only) people at school to *openly* identify as pansexual; gets asked out a lot but always declines everyone because dating “would interfere with his artistic process”. Doesn’t speak a lot in class unless the topic particularly interests him, in which case he will ramble on and on until politely stopped by the teacher. His table at lunch will always be full because others are drawn to his energy and charisma. The art room is his home away from home; on a first-name basis with the instructor.

Sasori

The smart, quiet kid. Tends to keep to himself and always appears to be in his own little world. Doesn’t ever seem to be paying attention in class, but when the teacher randomly calls on him, he has the right answer every single time. Always gets A’s but will get upset over a “low A” (in the 90-94% range). A good budgeter of time and will usually manage to get most of his homework done at lunch or during study hall. Has a (small) core group of friends and not looking to add to it anytime soon. Wears a lot of khakis and long-sleeved shirts or sweaters (even in the summer). Because of his organizational skills, technical mind, and proficiency in using tools, he excels in woodshop; often informally used by the teacher as an “assistant” to help other students with their projects. Absolutely hates gym (his small stature and delicate nature make physical exertion difficult for him); this will be the only class he doesn’t try for an A in, as he skips it as often as possible.

Itachi

Dear God, the girls ((and quite a few guys)) are crazy over this boy. Is thought of as being brooding, and mysterious ... and gut-wrenchingly handsome. Very quiet, rarely speaks in class, but when he DOES, it’s always something deep and profound. Top student grade-wise. Long dark hair and soulful eyes. Style is all black, distressed baggy pants with chains, long-sleeved band or anime shirts, boots, fishnet gloves, heavy silver bracelets and rings. Is polite to everyone but only has a handful of actual friends. Submits poems and short stories anonymously to the school paper; always gets published. Is occasionally persuaded by his teachers to volunteer as a student tutor; line will be literally out the door from people seeking his “help”. Has friends in the drama club so will go to every single school play to be supportive, even if all friend did was lighting or scenery.

Kisame

Tall and athletic; captain of the swim team. Isn’t the most handsome guy but popular because of his personality. Not really the best student, but keeps his grades up enough to be able to keep playing sports. Sweatpants, Nikes, and Letterman’s jacket. The type to step in when he sees somebody getting bullied. Has a secret love for Orchestra music and likes to sit outside the band room when it’s members have rehearsals. Friends with/friendly to absolutely everybody. Will go through more than one tray at lunch. Shines the brightest during gym class. Also a surprisingly good cook; will voluntarily take Home Economics as an elective and be one of the best bakers in the class.

Obito

Known around school as “that one guy with the mask”. Was apparently in a bad accident as a child that left the side of his face heavily scarred; adopted the practice of wearing solid-color face masks to cover damage. Teachers are made aware of his situation so no one ever tries to make him take it off; although he will do so at lunch, at a table of his close friends. Smart and articulate, everyone turns to look at him when he speaks in class. Tall and moves quickly (and silently); nobody ever knows he’s there until he’s right behind them. Dark jeans, boots and will always wear a leather jacket or trench coat, even on ridiculously hot days. Doesn’t laugh a lot but when he does, the sound of it could make anyone fall in love. A big eater of sweets; will always have some kind of candy on him that he will quietly slip beneath the mask and eat during class. When caught by teacher, will claim he had low blood sugar, and because he’s a good student otherwise he won’t be questioned further on it. The type to, at the beginning of the school year, sign up for a ton of after-school clubs, stay in them for a week, decide they’re boring, and duck out.

Zetsu

Oddball kid who sits by himself and talks to himself more than seems normal. Teachers have learned early on not to call on him in class, because he’ll just sit there and give them a silent, intent stare until they move on to someone else. Surprisingly good grades despite never talking/participating. Wears cargo shorts, T-shirts and sandals with socks, no matter the weather. Always goes outside in-between class periods; sometimes misses class altogether just to nap under a tree with his face in the sun. Eventually founds and is “captain” of the school’s gardening club; not many members but the ones that do join are very environmentally conscious, modern-day “hippies”.

Pein

Legitimately has like, 9000 piercings. There’s not an inch of this guys face that doesn’t have a shiny silver stud in it. Red and black seem to be the only colors in his wardrobe; lots of button-up shirts and zip hoodies. Has a ridiculously deep voice and is always super-intense, even when just hanging out with friends. In group projects, he’s always very quickly designated as the Leader. In his group of friends, it’s clear he’s the Leader. Not the best grades but above-average. Spends a lot of time with the blue-haired girl; it’s always rumored that they’re dating although both parties have claimed to be “just friends”. A terrifyingly persuasive arguer; joins and becomes star of the debate team within a week. The type to ask a very deep, pointed question during class and change the entire course of the teacher’s lecture.

Konan

The type to have a lot of close male friends but almost zero female ones. Tends to be the “mom” amongst her group. Excellent student, always the top marks in her class. A lot of admirers but always politely turns down potential suitors. Some piercings but nothing very extravagant. The school used to have a very strict rule about dying one’s hair “wild colors”, but she dyed hers blue and led a successful protest regarding freedom of expression. Her favorite class is literature, especially when they get to the Greek Mythology and Shakespeare units. Does origami as a hobby; when bored in class will sit and tear up bits of paper or napkins and create gorgeous little flowers. Clean and organized in every aspect EXCEPT for her locker, which is a (legendary) jumbled and unholy catastrophe.

[thegoldielocks28]

“SO… you think I’m hot?” - Mathilda and Sergei~

Title: “you think I'm hot” Pairing: Mathilda Alster and Sergei Petrov/Spencer Petrov AN: Written for a writing challenge, for Syfien. Nothing more than a soft moment for the cute couple ~ Hopefully it makes sense ;D

The sun is bright against the almost cloudless sky on this hot summer's day. The humidity makes the heat feel hotter than it actually is, and most people out and about carry either electrical hand-fans or more traditional paddle-fans while crowding the soft drink vending machines that conveniently seem to be just about everywhere.

Japan´s summers are something else.

Mathilda has always been a spring and summer person, enjoying how good weather allows her to dress in some of her favorite clothes more comfortably. Shorts, skirts, blouses and cute tops. Even dresses at times. Today, she's even wearing a big hat, shielding her face from the direct sun. Her pale cheeks are decorated with light freckles, dots that in her case only appear in summer. The summer back home in the UK is a lot milder than those here in Asia, but she can't say she misses the wind or common and heavy rain that much.

Mathilda`s plans are a bit different today. Hence her being slightly dressed up. After several nights of little sleep, and several days when she lost her words upon just seeing him, she managed to ask her crush if he wanted to spend some time together. Just her and him.

They already have, several times, met up by coincidence in the hotel-like apartment building rented for them during a long season of blading. For example while making tea in the shared kitchen. Making small meals. Sitting on the sofa, reading. Watching the matches on TV after they happened. Together with their fellow bladers, teams and friends.

Lately, … ending up staying in the joined area late until they were almost alone, or the only ones left.

Mathilda´s freckled cheeks turn a shade pink upon thinking of her date. Looking at her wristwatch she realizes she´s early, like she always is when nervous. Being late would leave a bad impression now, wouldn't it? The pink haired woman spends about 10 minutes gazing at people, meeting the eyes of polite fans a few times. Apparently, she's quite popular in Japan.

There he is.

Sergei.

Mathilda shifts so she´s facing him. Pale, tall and handsome. Dirty blond short hair. Strong nose and jaw. The heat seems to have made the Russian have to drop the vest he is always wearing, and today he has just a pair of cargo pants, a nicely fit black t-shirt and boots. Revealing his strong chest, and arms. The man is still fully clothed but the sight of him has her skin turn hot. Many seem to assume the tallest member of the Russian team looks least good, but… Mathilda´s eyes has never strayed, even if her attraction to him also didn't start with the way he looked in the first place.

“Hello.” Mathilda can't help but smile widely, then tries to calm herself down. “Hey.” Sergei answers, his voice deep and calm. Those steel grey eyes of his move over Mathilda. Just like she is used to seeing him with his vest, and hat, he is used to her own “battle gear”. Not a soft colored summer outfit, and just a little bit more effort with her hair and make up. All thanks to Julia. It's not like Mathilda doesn't care about those things, it's that she has always been someone who enjoys being without products as well. Mathilda likes being pretty, and Julia has helped her find a style that suits her well. Not as strong as Julia´s often so red and full lips.

“Let´s…” Mathilda starts, she needs to step up since she was the one to ask him out to hang out. “Start walking, the place I mentioned, is a bit further ahead.”

It's a nice summer's day. Birds chirp. Breeze is lovely. Mathilda is so happy she gets to spend today with her crush. Happy to realize they have actually gotten that far from being strangers, to having plans together like this. For a long while she had thought she wouldn't be able to pull it off but as always she didn't let her shyness stop her from at least trying. And there by her side is Sergei. The gentle giant.

The ones who are less happy about their growing friendship are people she could worry about later.

However, things change drastically just over a few minutes. Mathilda notices mid-sentence that something is wrong. Eyes darting up at the much taller man by her side only to get that gut feeling affirmed. Sergei has a queasy look on his face, and his forehead seems damp of sweat. He's squinting against the strong rays of the sun.

“Are you ok?” She tilts her head, looking up at him.

Sergei avoids looking at her. “Hm.” He makes a sound through lips pressed together. “You look… paler than normal.” Mathilda continues. “My body feels… heavy.” Sergei grumbles. “My head… “

“Did you get something to drink before this..?” Sergei looks at her. “No.”

Mathilda´s expression turns more concerned. Especially when guilt washes over her. She had asked Sergei to hang out with her outside in this hot weather that's so unlike what he's used to. Not considerate at all. All she had done was walk ahead chatting because of her nerves, while Sergei had been feeling ill.

If Sergei fainted here, or fainted anywhere, Mathilda would not be able to catch and support him properly because of his size. The man would hit the concrete ground and get hurt no matter if she just stood there, or had him fall over her as she tried to hold him. The mental image of the Russian falling backwards and hitting his head makes Mathilda´s throat go dry. Skull cracked open. Blood. Mathilda forces herself to stop thinking about that.

She extends her hand, and even if holding hands with him would normally make her a nervous mess, she takes his bigger one in hers and tugs at it.

“There's a bench over there..”

Sergei looks at her in silence for a long moment, as if it takes longer for him to register what she is saying in this heat, before he shifts his body and allows her to pull him along. Slow steps. A low, drawn out sound leaves Sergei´s lips as he lowers himself down on the bench. In the shade, it's still hot, but a clear difference from before. Mathilda´s eyes rest on his face for one long moment before she turns away.

“I´ll be back soon, promise.”

Mathilda jogs over to the vending machine closest to them, across the street, and digs in her pockets for some Japanese yen coins. Luckily, she has enough for drinks and after a bit of struggle to understand which drinks are cold and which are hot she manages to buy cans of cold bubble water. Both for Sergei. The moment she returns to Sergei´s side she hands him one of the bottles.

Sergei accepts the bottle, unscrews it and drinks almost greedily. Water running down the side of his mouth, down his jaw and onto that black t-shirt. Mathilda sits down by his side while trying to not seem too worried, even if her emotions are easy to read on her face. Sitting is better than her walking about.

After a moment of slow silence Sergei speaks up. “I am sorry, Mathilda.” His voice is tired. “I think I won't make it to the shop in this heat.”

Mathilda can hear in his voice that he had thought about what to say for a while. Nodding her head, she agrees, she understands. “Let's rest a bit then I will walk you back.” She says, wanting to know Sergei will be alright. After a moment of silence the girl nudges Sergei at his side before she gestures to her lap.

“What..?”

Mathilda´s cheeks turn pink. “One time offer… you know?”

Sergei´s eyes soften ever so slightly as he understands just what she is offering him. The gesture seems to make him feel a bit self-conscious, but not out of dislike. Perhaps because this is a first.

“...I am sweaty.” He says, voice low, as if it is the last negative point he can find.

“I don't mind.” Mathilda says patiently with a slight shrug of her shoulders.

Even if her heart is beating really loudly in her chest she knows this isn't something to get excited for. Sergei feels sick, and needs to rest. If she can offer him some calm and comfort she´d be happy to.

Awkwardly, Sergei lowers his body onto the bench. His head soon rests in Mathilda´s lap. It's obvious this makes the man self-conscious, but after a few moments pass, he exhales deeply and his body grows heavier against her as he relaxes.

Could he have been worried about putting his weight on her?

Up this close, Mathilda notices just how grey his blue eyes really are. Almost silver, steel. His hair is on the border of being brown, dark dirty blonde. A strong jaw, big defined nose and thin pale lips. Those eyes close, as if the moment got too intimate, and Mathilda lets out a soft huff of a giggle.

He even has long eyelashes.

Mathilda is unaware of the slight wetness moving down the side of her face as they sit together so closely. She's getting a bit sweaty as well.

“You're hot.” His words are low, deep.

The way Sergei´s voice breaks the silence has her flinch, just a little bit. Mathilda feels a hot wave of emotion wash over her as she realizes what he just told her. Sergei´s cold, steel gray eyes, looks a bit confused at Mathilda´s reaction. Meeting his eyes, she realizes he wasn't trying to hit on her.

Maybe he had meant to say “warm.”

Mathilda blinks, luckily not feeling too bad about the mistake, and decides to lighten the mood. “So… I am hot..?” She chuckles quietly, reaching for the second bottle of water to help herself to some. Being a native speaker of English, she can understand how some would mistake words like that, having a second meaning appear out of mistake. The way Sergei looks at her was out of concern, not out of something else. “Hot” and “warm” can mean similar things, yet have different meanings in different situations.

“I mean…” Sergei must have realized his mistake. “You look… very warm too.”

At that, Mathilda can't help but let her smile grow wider and warmer as she looks down at the man resting in her lap. Her painted nails softly move into his short hair as she strokes him. Trying her best to make him relax, and feel better. How lovely it´d be if… they could do this in different circumstances. Resting together. Mathilda´s smile fades a little, and her lips turn playful.

“...I'd be ok with you thinking I'm hot.”

[erin-bo-berin]

Adventurous

MASTERLIST

This was an anon request for a fic where Spencer is dating and avid outdoorsman and she takes him camping. Bless you for whoever requested this cause I had such a blast writing this one and could imagine perfectly poor Spencer struggling. But, it all works out in the end. ;) Happy reading!

Many thanks to my brainstorming buddy Mandy over at @multifandommandy​ for coming up with the no sleeping bag scenario, leading to the smut. It was definitely perfect for the fic and humorous enough to fit in with the rest of Spencer’s struggles.

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: M (smut)

Word Count: 5,191

“I can’t believe it. Spencer Reid camping?”

Luke’s loud laughter filled the bullpen as Spencer's mock glare was shot his way.

“Why is that so funny?” he asked.

“Well for one, I never thought you to be the outdoorsy type. Two, do you even own anything that isn’t a suit or work clothes? Three, it’s just fucking funny,” Luke smirked.

“Are you gonna help me or not?” Spencer sighed, exasperated, “I don’t want to look like a complete idiot in front of Y/N.”

“Dude. Your girlfriend is the avid outdoorsy one. Why don’t you ask her?”

“Because,” Spencer whined, “I want to impress her. Nature isn’t my thing.”

“How well we know,” Garcia mumbled as she passed the two men, picking up part of the conversation on her way by.

Spencer stared after her, open mouthed and turned back to Luke with a desperate look.

“Okay, okay. Take her bird watching, you know all about everything, you can talk about birds. Build a fire, set up a tent, go fishing, make s’mores, go hiking with her. You’re smart, I’m sure you’ll figure it all out.”

Luke patted Spencer’s chest as he walked off, leaving Spencer mystified. He exhaled deeply. 

Camping couldn’t be that bad, could it?

•

You were so excited when Spencer had agreed to go camping with you. 

Camping was something special you had done with your family ever since you were a child and you were anticipating sharing the fun of it with your longtime boyfriend.

The two of you had arrived at the camping grounds early in the morning so you could set up your camp and get started exploring. Spencer had been chatting the entire way and still continued to as he helped you carry the majority of the things.

“We can go fishing, hiking, birdwatching and make s’mores,” he rambled on.

You couldn’t help but smile. It warmed your heart to know he was excited about camping and you couldn’t help the huge, goofy grin on your face as you gazed up at him while he talked.

“Easy there Spence, we’ve got all weekend,” you chuckled.

“Sorry,” he flushed, “I’m just excited.”

“I’m glad,” you said honestly.

You took a look at his attire for the hundredth time that morning.

“I have to say, I didn’t even realize you owned pants that weren’t part of a suit.”

He was wearing what looked like cargo pants, but in a jogger pants style. With a tie and an elastic waist, it was like the best of pants and sweatpants in one. He was wearing a simple t-shirt with it and hiking boots. It had to be the most un-Spencer like outfit you’d ever seen him wear, but he pulled it off well. He looked like a normal, rugged, outdoorsman and you couldn’t help but feel proud.

“Yeah, I might’ve had to buy some new pants,” he said and then added, “And shoes.”

You smiled, amused, before speaking again.

“I figured we could get the tent and our camp set up and then go for a hike, maybe do some fishing then figure it out from there.”

“Sounds good.”

Twenty minutes later, you’d arrived at the perfect spot to set up camp.

You set down your own backpack and the mini cooler you’d brought, full of ice and bottles of water. Spencer set down his armload of things and automatically got to work.

“Spence, I can set up the tent, don’t worry. I’ve done it so much, I could do it in my sleep,” you chuckled.

“No, it’s okay. I got this.”

He’d cleared the area of sticks and rocks, laying down the ground cloth of the tent. You stood back, impressed that he knew what to do without being told.

He did good inserting the tent poles into the frame, but it went downhill after that. You pressed your lips together trying to hold back your giggles as he fought with the tent covered poles. He was trying to raise the tent and set it in place, but it just wasn’t working.

Every time he thought that he’d got it right and it would stay, the tent would collapse again. He huffed, trying again, only to have the same result.

“This looked a lot easier in the book,” he mumbled to himself.

You watched with growing amusement.

“You need some help babe?”

“No, no I got this!” he called, continuing his fight with the tent.

It wasn’t until he landed in a heap of tent and poles that he sighed resignedly.

“Okay, I need help.”

You couldn’t hold back your laughter anymore as you helped him up and assisted him in raising the tent into place, telling him why his attempts were failing.

“I totally knew that,” he waved it off, cheeks turning a tad pink.

With help from him, you hammered the pegs in the ground to secure it safely and attached the rain fly just in case it rained.

“There we go.”

You grinned triumphantly, setting your bags in the tent for safe keeping.

“You ready to go hiking?”

“Already? It’s barely 9 am.”

”But it’s also so pretty around this time and it’s a beautiful day. Besides,” you paused and smirked, 

“It takes a lot to keep up with me.”

“Tell me about it,” he mumbled, purposely grabbing your arm as you were about to walk past him to retrieve your backpack.

He pulled you in his lap and you squealed momentarily. He smiled and kissed you gently before letting you go. You chuckled and stood again to gather your backpacks.

“Grab us a couple granola bars and bottles of water, please?” you called to him.

“Sure thing.”

Once your backpacks were filled with the necessities, you both took off for your hike.

“So which trail do you want to take?” Spencer asked, peering back at you, looking at the map.

“Uh, well I was going to suggest the beginner’s one for you since-”

“No, don’t worry! I got this.” He pretended to flex, “Let’s do, this one.”

He pointed to the middle trail, the intermediate one.

“Spence, you sure? That’s the more challenging one. It’s totally okay for us to do the easy one.”

He scoffed.

“How hard can it be?”

•

“Just to clarify, I was an idiot half an hour ago when I questioned you,” Spencer panted, sweat dripping down his face.

“Are you alright?” you asked, worried, stopping to let him catch up.

“Oh yeah! Totally fine! I could walk a couple of miles more.”

His shirt was stuck to his chest from all the sweating he was doing and he was out of breath. He was most definitely not fine.

“Come on, what are you waiting for slow poke? Let’s go!”

He was walking backwards, still facing you as he advanced more up the trail.

“You know we can stop if you- Spencer!”

You were in mid-sentence when you saw his foot step on an unsuspecting rock and his arms shoot out, trying to catch his balance as he fell backwards with a yelp. 

You winced, running over to him, offering your hand to help him up.

“You okay?”

You brushed the dirt off his clothes and inspected him closely for any scrapes or cuts. Your eyes flicked up to his hair and you stifled a giggle.

“What?”

“You have some leaves stuck in your hair,” you snickered, reaching upwards to pick them out of his messy curls.

He groaned.

“I’m okay. Just a bruised ego. I think it would be a great time to take a break though.”

You agreed and the two of you settled on a large rock just off the trail. You tossed him a bottle of water which he guzzled greedily.

“We can head back after we rest and try some fishing in the nearby stream.”

“I think I’d be better at fishing than hiking,” he chuckled, setting his bottle of water next to him.

You looked around at the scenery, smiling.

“I just love the smell of nature and fresh air. Plus the scenery is so beautiful.”

“It is,” he agreed, watching a bird fly overhead.

“Do you know what that is?” he asked, pointing to a bird sitting on a nearby branch.

“A bird?” you questioned, confused.

“Besides that, smartass.”

You almost choked on your sip of water. It was rarely Spencer cussed, but his sarcastic remark was so funny you half choked, half spurt water everywhere from laughing. He gave you a huge grin in result, the sun shining bright on his face, making his hazel eyes appear even more green than they normally did.

“I meant what kind of bird,” he reiterated.

“No, I can’t say I do.”

“Well that one is a belted kingfisher.”

“Oh really?” you quirked an eyebrow.

“Mhm. You know how most male birds are prettier than their female counterparts?”

You nodded.

“The males of these species are the ones with the duller colors and the females have the brighter, prettier feathers.”

You heard a familiar hollow sound.

“Ah, that little guy over there,” Spencer pointed to a faraway tree, “Is a red-headed woodpecker.”

“I was going to say that definitely sounded like a woodpecker,” you commented.

“And there is a blue jay. They can range from lavender blue to mid-blue. They like to store nuts like squirrels.”

“Can’t say I blame the squirrels. If their families are anything like you, they’d have to hide their food like I do to keep you out of it.”

He rolled his eyes, but gave you a smile.

“Come on big guy,” you patted his thigh, “Let’s go fishing.”

•

“I thought you said this was easy,” Spencer huffed, messing with his fishing line.

“Well it is for me,” you shrugged. 

“Well that explains it all,” he grunted.

“Here,” you chuckled, helping him tie the hook on his line.

“Now, all you do is hook the bait—no live bait here, you won’t be catching me touching anything that wiggles—then throw your line back and into the water and wait.”

“Oh that’s all I do, huh?”

You watched as he fumbled with his fishing line, but finally managed to get it in the water. 

“See? Not so hard. Now, we wait.”

“Why don’t we see who can catch the bigger fish, why don’t we?” Spencer smirked.

“Oh you are so on, Reid.”

Spencer grinned, determined to actually be good at something on this camping trip if it killed him.

-

A lot of waiting ensued.

“Are these fish sleeping or something?” Spencer complained.

“I didn’t say fishing happened quickly,” you pointed out, “Sometimes it just takes a bit for them to start biting.”

It was just then that Spencer’s line tightened.

“Wait, I think I got something!”

He attempted to try reeling it in and once again struggled. You threw your own rod down, to assist him, but it seemed to be stuck or he’d caught a really large fish.

“Why is it so hard to reel in?” he grunted, pulling the rod back as you tried to reel in the fish, “Maybe I’ll win after all!”

He sounded so proud. That is until the item broke the surface of the water and his face dropped.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said.

“Well Spence, congrats. You just caught yourself a nice boot.”

“Who the hell throws a boot in the water anyway?”

You were biting your lip hard to keep from laughing, but he saw your expression.

“Okay, laugh it up.”

Your laughter burst from you and you patted his arm.

“Don’t worry babe, I’m sure it was just a fluke.”

You kissed his cheek sweetly, causing him to smile.

If only he could catch a fish, Spencer thought, just one little one to impress her.

After an hour, the two of you had had little luck. You did end up catching a decent sized fish, much to Spencer’s dismay.

As you always did with your family, you threw it back so it could continue to have a good life. Those were the words you’d said once as a child while fishing and it ended up becoming the rule of fishing when it came to your family’s fishing trips.

You could tell Spencer seemed a bit bummed, but you didn’t say anything, just in case it might upset him more.

“What now?” you asked.

“Well it’s past noon, so why don’t we head back to camp and eat lunch and rest?” he suggested.

You agreed, your muscles beginning to ache.

“Tired?” he asked, peering over at you.

“A little.”

“You up for playing some cards?” he raised an eyebrow.

“I’m in.”

•

You and Spencer sat in your tent, resting from the days’ activities and playing Uno. You never realized how competitive you were when playing any card game until you started dating him. He always seemed to win every kind of game. Whether it was Uno, Go Fish, Poker, you recalled him even winning a game of Old Maid once. The boy was just that good.

You sat down a draw four card making him groan.

“Pay back!” you grinned mischievously.

He’d thrown one your way earlier, just when you thought you were about to win.

“You may be from Vegas, but that doesn’t mean you can win every card game,” you smirked, as he drew his four new cards.

“You were saying?” 

He laid down a skip card, making you grimace. Obviously since your turn was skipped, it was his again. Next, he laid down a wild card, declaring he was changing the card to red.

You mumbled under your breath as you drew another card, a blue. No luck.

When it came his turn, a red draw two came your way. Suddenly it was like your hands were doubled with cards, the opposite of what it had been just moments before.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Immensely.”

His turn. Another skip. Once again, he laid one more card down. He was down to one.

“Uno,” he smirked.

“You’re not gonna win this easily, Reid.”

You placed a blue seven over his red seven, changing the color, thinking it was to your benefit.

“Oh well, thanks sweetheart,” he grinned as he placed his blue card on the pile.

“You’re joking,” you gaped at him wide mouthed, “Unbelievable.”

He chuckled, kissing your head as he stood from the ground.

“It’s starting to get dark. Should we start a fire soon?”

“Yeah, let me just pick up and I’ll go get it started,” you said, gathering the cards to put back in their Ziploc baggie.

“No worries, I can do it,” he offered, smiling.

“You sure?”

You peered up at him doubtfully.

“How hard can it be?”

-

Turns out, much to Spencer’s dismay, it was harder than he thought.

All the reading beforehand hadn’t prepared him for just how tricky it actually was to start a fire. He was sweating and his hair was sticking to his forehead. Wiping a hand over his forehead, he leaned down to try again.

“Spence, what are you doing?” you asked

His tongue poked out the corner of his mouth as he concentrated, willing sparks to come from the wood.

“Making a fire,” he grunted.

“Babe.”

He looked back to see a small smile on your face. You held up the bag of tinder you’d brought from home, to get the fire started.

“I already brought the tinder, we just need to get some kindling like tree branches and sticks then some firewood for it and then I can just light it with the lighter I brought. No biggie.”

“Oh, right,” his face flushed pink once again, “Totally knew that.”

You chuckled.

“Come on my little mountain man, let’s get to work.”

-

After a half hour, the campfire was coming to life and you sat near it, trying to take the chill off that nightfall had brought.

Spencer joined you, wrapping a blanket around you. You smiled at him, pecking his cheek.

“Wanna roast some marshmallows and have some s’mores?” you asked.

“Um, I’ve actually never done that or even had a s’more before,” he grinned sheepishly.

“Oh man. You’re in for a treat then.”

You stood, clutching the blanket around you as you dashed to the tent to grab the ingredients from your bags.

You came back, handing him the items along with a couple of paper plates.

“Here, you get out the graham crackers and the chocolate squares and I’ll go get some sticks for us to roast the marshmallows on.”

He did as he was told and you returned with the sticks to see he’d laid out the graham crackers enough to make two at first, a couple of squares of chocolate on one side.

“I’m impressed,” you commented.

“Hey, I said I’ve never had one, not that I didn’t know how to make them,” Spencer chuckled.

You stuck the ends of the sticks in the fire to sterilize them before sticking a marshmallow on the end of each one.

“Now, all you have to do is stick it close to the flame like this. But not too close. You don’t want to burn it. Then you just simply rotate it, to toast it on all sides. Simple.”

You turn to see Spencer just staring at you blankly.

“Yeah, you lost me.”

You giggled, putting your hands on his stick helping him rotate it, to get the perfect toast.

“You know, to any onlookers, this could potentially look incredibly phallic,” he muttered.

“Spencer!” you hit his arm playfully, causing him to chuckle.

He was a genius, but he could also be a dirty genius, surprisingly enough.

“Now, see? The perfect marshmallow.”

You pulled the stick back for it to cool a second before you popped it off with your fingers, feeding it to him.

“So, what do you think?”

“Wow, that’s actually really good,” he smiled.

“Oh just wait until you taste the s’more then.”

When you’d both successfully toasted more marshmallows, you assembled your s’mores, tapping each of yours together in a cheers before taking a bite.

You grinned big at the childlike wonder on his face after his first bite. You knew chocolate and marshmallow were all over your mouth and chin, but you didn’t care. All you cared about was how amazed he seemed to be at a simple s’more.

He ended up eating three more.

•

With stomachs full of marshmallows and s’mores, you and Spencer laid on the blanket, looking up at the night stars.

Lightning bugs—or fireflies as Spencer kept arguing were their actual name—flew by occasionally, lighting the dark just a smidge with their small spark of light.

“See? That constellation right there is the Big Dipper and that right there is the Little Dipper. Also known as Ursa Major and Ursa Minor,” Spencer pointed out.

“Somehow it doesn’t surprise me that you know that.”

“Technically I know a lot of things.”

“That’s definitely true. Probably more than I could even begin to understand.” 

“Which makes it more fun to teach you,” he smiled.

You looked up at the sky, amazed at its beauty.

“I can’t believe how beautiful it is,” you murmured

“You know, I could say the same about you,” Spencer said, head turning to look at you.

You blushed, the compliment warming your heart, no matter how corny it was.

“Thank you for coming with me on this trip,” you said, appreciatively, “I know it’s not exactly your thing, but I’ve had a lot of fun being with you.”

Spencer looked troubled and sat up, his brows furrowing.

“What is it?” you asked, worried, sitting up as well.

“It’s just-” 

He ran a hand through his hair, turning to look at you.

“I wanted so badly to impress you but all I’ve done all day is make a fool out of myself. I just wanted you to think I could be capable of doing these things, but I sucked at them all.”

You smiled a little.

“Yeah, you did,” you rushed to finish your statement before he could interject, “But that’s perfectly okay. I’m flattered that you wanted to make a good impression. It was so incredibly sweet of you, Spence. But I don’t love you any less just because you don’t love the outdoors as much as me or aren’t as good at outdoor activities. That’s like me trying to profile a criminal or trying to create a geographic profile. I’d be horrible at those things.”

He laughed, his beautiful smile on full display as he nodded, agreeing with you.

“I’m just glad you came in general. And I want you to have fun as well.”

“I have been,” he smiled down at you, “Because I’ve been with you.”

His lips captured yours in a tender kiss before pulling away, circling his arms around you. 

You rested your head on his shoulder, stargazing until your eyes became heavy. You soon found yourself dozing on his shoulder.

“Hey, let’s go to bed, hmm?” he whispered, gently stirring you.

You nodded, standing to pick up the food and blanket while Spencer put out the fire. You headed to the tent, putting things away while he finished up around the campfire.

You were laying out your sleeping bag and preparing to lay down when Spencer finally joined you, zipping the tent closed behind him. He paused, eyeing you and your sleeping bag for a moment, an embarrassed expression crossing his features.

“What’s wrong? You can wait and lay out your sleeping bag later if you aren’t tired yet.”

He hemmed and hawed before finally spitting out what he was trying to say.

“I uh, didn’t exactly bring a sleeping bag.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded.

“You do know a sleeping bag is an essential when it comes to camping right?” 

You pressed your lips together, having a difficult time trying to hold back your giggles at his expense.

“I didn’t say I was good at this camping thing,” he grumbled.

You shook your head, smiling.

“Just be glad I always pack a double sleeping bag. Singles are too claustrophobic for my taste.”

You opened up the opposite side of it for him to climb in.

“It might be a bit of a tight fit, but we can make it work.”

He slid in next to you, planting a kiss on your cheek.

“Thank you for putting up with me.”

“I wouldn’t get any laughs if I didn’t,” you retorted, squealing when he tossed his pillow at you.

“I’m just kidding!” you laughed.

He smiled, retrieving his pillow and putting it back into place at the head of the sleeping bag before pulling you against him. An arm draped around your waist.

“Night, Y/N.”

“Night, Spence.”

•

You thought you’d drift right off, but surprisingly sleep didn’t come easily. You shifted your position multiple times with no luck.

You swore Spencer was asleep too, at least it sounded like it by his deep, even breaths, but apparently he wasn’t.

You were just drifting off when you felt a familiar jab against the back of your thigh. 

“Uh Spencer?”

“I know,” he mumbled, “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice. All your shifting wasn’t really helping the uh, situation. I’m sorry,” he winced.

You turned to face him, eyebrow quirked.

“I can help,” you said, nonchalantly, already sitting up.

“No, Y/N, don’t worry, I can- I mean you’re tired and-”

But you didn’t listen to his protests. You’d already straddled his legs, your fingers unbuttoning his pants.

“Spence,” you said, serious, “After all the trouble you went to try and impress me today. The least I can do is give you a little something.”

His breath hitched as he watched you pull the zipper of his pants down agonizingly slow, his tongue wetting his lips in a quick movement. His chest heaved just the slightest and you already knew he was anticipating what was coming.

Your mouth met his, the kiss starting off innocent enough but turning fiery rather quickly. The thought of doing something like this in a tent was kinda sexy to you. 

His tongue twirled with yours before running over your bottom lip, his teeth biting gently into it as you pulled away, a small whimper coming from him. His semi arousal from earlier was now full blown, you could feel it from where you were sitting on his lap.

Just to torment him a little, you grinded against the bulge in his pants, your clothed core still rubbing against him just right to make you moan right along with him.

You situated yourself where you were level with his crotch as you pulled his pants down his hips, far enough out of the way to forget about them. The same followed with his underwear until he was left exposed to you, hard and throbbing.

Your hand slowly enclosed around him, taking your time as each finger made contact as it curled inwards, touching his cock.

“For fucks sake Y/N, turtles move faster than this,” he groaned.

“I mean I could just leave you to your own hand,” you shrugged, pulling your hand away, acting like you were going to move off of him.

“No, please,” he grabbed your wrist, trying to bring it back to his erection.

“I thought you’d see it my way,” you smirked.

You leaned down, your tongue licking a stripe up his cock, his hips jerking at the movement. Instead of more teasing, you switched it up, taking as much of him as you could in your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks as you sucked, your head bobbing.

“Oh my god,” he groaned, “Yes, baby, yes.”

Your hand occupied the rest of him that your mouth didn’t, alternating your pressure and speed as your tongue swirled around him, stopping long enough to flick over his head, driving him wild.

You felt his hand gripping your hair and you peered up to see him watching you, his teeth bearing down on his bottom teeth, hard. 

You sucked harder, willing to give him all he wanted for the lengths he went for you.

“Y/N, shit,” he moaned, his hand finding your shoulder, trying to push you back.

Before you could ask what was wrong, he’d reached for you, pulling your body closer to his.

He mumbled against your lips before kissing you.

“I’d rather cum inside you.”

His hands clawed at the unnecessary material on your lower body, trying to rid of it as fast as he could. His want was overpowering his ability to think clearly, you could tell.

You pushed your pants down and he aided you in kicking them off your legs. Your lips didn’t part from his the entire time.

You’re pretty sure your entire body trembled when you felt his fingertips graze over your soaked core through the satin of your panties.

You anxiously pushed them down, Spencer helping you rid of it the rest of the way.

You couldn’t quite remember how you two managed to get to this point of intimacy in a tent, but suddenly it didn’t seem all that important. All you could focus on was having him inside of you as soon as possible.

Your knees rested on either of his sides and you reached down between you two, guiding him in as you slid down on him, a whimper coming from your throat at just how good he felt, filling you to the hilt.

You hovered over him, your hair creating a curtain around the both of you as you moved on him. Your hands cupped his face, kissing him passionately, occasional moans mixing with your kisses.

His hands were situated on your sides in a constant push and pull of your body, aiding in your own movements. 

You broke the kiss long enough for a loud moan to fill the tent as your body moved roughly with his.

“Sp-Spence,” you stammered, your eyes screwing shut at the intensity of your pleasure.

You tried your best to try and focus on him. Besides, it was him you wanted to give the most pleasure to, especially after his commitment to this camping trip, but you found it hard to focus. He had that effect on you. When he was buried inside of you, your mind went hazier than a thick fog.

Your bodies moved in a hasty, lust filled frenzy, each of his thrusts hitting a sweet spot deep within you just enough to send you writhing. You inadvertently tightened around him, causing a deep, guttural moan to sound from Spencer.

“Shiiiit,” he gritted out, hips thrusting upwards erratically.

His sudden thrust elicited a sharp gaspy moan from you. Your eyes locked on his, your pants just about matching his. Other than your heavy breathing and the sounds of your moving bodies, your sounds of pleasure were pretty mild. 

His lips found your jaw, sucking on it lightly before trailing kisses toward your ear where he bit your earlobe gently.

“We’re...in...a tent. Be as loud as you fucking want,” he half panted, half growled in your ear.

Your jaw dropped as if his words electrified you, sending shock waves to your core and a high pitched moan from your throat. The build up of your orgasm was coiled in the pit of your stomach. Just like a snake, ready to strike, you could feel the fingers of your ecstasy ready to grab you and pull you under.

With a loud moan of his name, you were coming apart above him, quite loudly too, might you add.

You caught a look of Spencer watching you, the darkness not entirely shadowing your features as he made you come undone. 

He swallowed hard, his own orgasm coming quickly. You could tell by his body language and grinded your hips down on him as you thrust, your own orgasm causing you to inadvertently clench and unclench around him.

Spencer was soon to follow, spiraling down the rabbit hole of his own bliss. Your hand gripped the edge of the sleeping bag as you both rode out the remnants of your orgasms. 

Your bodies slowed then finally stilled as your lips moved against his at a much slower pace. This was the, soft, sweet, post-coital type of kiss. You let it linger for a second then you pulled back, opening your eyes to smile lazily at him.

The effects of the post-coital bliss were still evident on his face. The dreamy look etched in his features, the sleepy look of his beautiful hazel eyes and the smile of happiness on his naturally pink tinted lips.

He pushed your hair back, tucking it behind your hair as he licked his lips.

“I love you, Y/N.”

You responded with your love for him too, with a shy smile as he kissed your nose.

“Do me a favor?”

“Of course, anything.”

“Make sure to invite me on your next camping trip. I could always use some more practice at sex in a tent.”

You hit his chest making him roar with laughter as you climbed to your side of the sleeping bag, a smile on your face.

“Goodnight, Spencer.”

Tag List: @dreatine​ @reid-187​ @groovyreid​ @reidslibra​ @suvikamahes98blr​ @fuckthealarm​ @whatspunispun​ @iamburdened​ @cindywayne​ @thomasfoockinshelby​ @tinyminy88​ @theitcaramelchick​ @missprettyboy​ @hushlilbabydoll​ @sammy-jo1977​ @theonlyone-meeeee​ @haileymorelikestupid​ @lemonypink​ @multifandommandy​ @teamkiall​

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Imagine

Erik and Reader are best friends and Reader is the best freaky love for Erik but he doesn’t know how freaky she is. He finds out when he sees her at a heels class dancing to Beyoncé- Rocket.

“Deep down, everyone doubts themselves. Sometimes, I think I’m not good enough but at the end of the day I know I’m the fucking shit. I pray you quit overthinking, replaying failed scenarios, feeding self doubt & seeing the good in everyone but yourself you deserve more, ma.”

He passes Y/N the blunt, licking his full lips with a quick swipe of his tongue, and showing off his gold canines. Taking a puff of weed, Y/N watches Erik scratch the side of his defined torso over a tattoo that says Fuck Reality in that cursive lettering she loved to see. He yawns, blinking his sleepy eyes a few times before looking over at Y/N. She couldn’t help but look at his face.

“Make yourself a priority, Y/N. For real. Stop settling for these toxic lame ass niggas. When you meet a real nigga you gon’ realize you was never asking for too much.”

Y/N passed the blunt back to Erik while staring out of his bedroom window from his king sized bed. She knew her worth, she really did, but she always ended up going back to the same fuck boys.

“You’re too fine to be giving all your time and energy into him. Too fine. My bestfriend needs to know her worth. You looking at me like that but I’m being honest, shit, when was the last time you felt appreciated? When was the last time a nigga did something for you and didn’t expect something in return? Called to check up on you? Texted you back? Ate your pussy because he knows you had a rough week and you just need your pussy ate? Some good sex? When?”

Her carefree bestfriend with his tapered dreads and full beard and mustache. His sincere whiskey colored eyes and messy brows that he always talked with. Raising them, creasing them. He smooths a hand down his solid and sculpted chest before resting that hand over his abs. The gold rings on his fingers against his brown skin was just as beautiful as the sun setting before them.

“I can’t remember. I’m embarrassed to say,” Y/N finally speaks. She heaved a sigh, unzipping her velour pink hoodie, a white form-fitting shirt underneath, “I know I deserve more. Ugh, now I’m going to be single and lonely for Valentine’s.”

Erik sat up on his elbows, the hue of the sunset against his russet skin, “I’m your valentine now. i’ll be there at 10pm climbing through your bedroom window with flowers. Dahlias right? Cool, I’ll see you later tonight?” Erik gave Y/N a teasing smile. She knew he was trying to make her feel better but it didn’t change the fact that it sounded so...honest? Like he wanted to do and say that.

“Scary movies and chill? That romantic movie shit is played out. We can snuggle close with some popcorn with Freddy Kruger on the screen.”

“Your obsession with 80s slasher movies is amazing,” Y/N laughs, “Why must you mix Valentine’s with blood and gore, Erik?”

“Why not? Instead of bleeding your heart out because you’re heart broken, you can watch a heart actually bleeding out,” Erik chuckles before he ashes out the blunt in his ceramic ashtray that Y/N made for him with 4/20 carved into it.

“Should I dress up?” Y/N played along.

“Just keep those same straight backs in your hair and wear those little stripe linen shorts that make your ass look nice. Oh, and that mini white T-shirt that says Daddy on it in pink letters. Can’t forget the mix match ankle socks either.”

“You can wear a durag with a pair of grey sweatpants and a black T-shirt. The ones you wear that’s all loose fitting on you because you refuse to wear a tighter one? Yeah, and a pair of Vans.”

“What time for our little date, ma?”

“8. And don’t be late either.”

“To a date with you? Never.”

“Okay, I have a question,” Y/N turns towards him, “what’s your idea of a perfect night with your girl?”

“Hmm,” Erik rolled his moistened lips in deep thought, “Dick rubs and intellectual conversations. Head in a comfortable bed. Falling asleep with my head laying on her crotch so I can just pull her panties to the side and eat her pussy. Honestly, give pleasure by just being there. We don’t even have to talk or fuck. Presence is just comforting.”

“That sounds amazing,” Y/N never had those things but that’s what her bestfriend likes? She wished she had that same treatment.

“Those chill, nice nights with someone you feel comfortable with.” Erik spoke in a low tone while twirling a single loc, “I crave that.”

“I know, ugh, me too, Erik,” Y/N laid back against the bed, “I have to go to class today.”

Erik gave her a questioning look, “What class?”

Y/N turned around to lay on her belly, “A heels class. Remember I was telling you that I started doing this like a month ago?”

“Shorty, I have other things going on with me right now I didn’t focus on that,” Erik gives her a sad look, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’ve been working on a routine. I think I have it down. It’s gonna be real sexy.”

“Sexy? Who you tryna impress with this class?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Y/N teased.

“Ah, man. That ain’t fair, ma. I’m your bestie.”

“You are but I don’t need to tell you my business,” Y/N rolls her eyes into her head.

“It’s cool, cuz I’m coming there with you.”

Y/N’s face flushed.

“What? I can’t come-“

“NO.”

She didn’t want Erik to watch her dance. Being surrounded by those women made her feel like she was in her room dancing in the mirror. They all connected because they related to each other. If Erik came there she would probably mess up her routine since he would definitely be watching her move. It was a heels choreography class and Erik is a man, he’s going to watch. Y/N wore either a pair of black high crotch panties with fishnets and a cropped t shirt or a form fitting leotard with black sheer stockings. Six inch heels on her feet with a skinny heel since she’s gotten better. Popping her ass and hitting splits to the music. Erik never saw her like that. What would he say and do when he did?

“It really ain’t that deep, ma,” Erik jokes because Y/N was spaced out, “I promise I won’t laugh at you. I don’t have shit else to do but sit around so let me come with you.”

Y/N pondered while staring down at her hands before heaving a sigh of defeat, “okay. You can come.”

“I knew you would say yes,” Erik gave her a half smirk, “You can’t tell me no even if you tried.”

“Don’t embarrass me in there, Erik,” Y/N spoke to him with a warning in her voice. She knew he could be silly and fuck with her but when she danced, it was her time to shine.

“Teh, girl, you really think I would do that?”

Erik got closer to Y/N, leaning on his elbows while his face got closer to hers, “I’ll be on the side lines cheering you on. I promise, okay?”

Y/N looked up into his eyes, giving Erik a weird look before turning away from him, “Okay.”

He was acting very...strange. Not like his usual self but Y/N could be overthinking it. She sat up on her knees, lifting off the bed to put her sneakers back on before picking up her velour jacket and her PINK gym bag that carried all of the things she needed for class.

“Put on a shirt and come on, Erik.” She picked up a shirt that was wrinkled and balled up on the floor before throwing it at him, “I’m not trying to be late!”

“Calm that shit the fuck down, Y/N. Don’t give me attitude before I really make you late for this class.”

—————————-

“You calm down yet?” Erik asks Y/N while following behind her to the dance studio that held her heels class. The closer they walked, the more Erik could hear the deep base to the sensual music that vibrates the walls. He’d sit back and watch a bunch of women shake their ass in heels. Erik looked at his bestfriend walking ahead of him as she lead the way with a sway of her hips. Those tantalizing hips. Erik looked up at the back of her head as if she had eyes back their and could see him checking her out. He couldn’t help himself. Like he said back in his room, she’s too fine.

“Are you going to behave?” She looked back at him over her shoulder with a brow raised, “Well? Are you?”

“Yes ma’am,” Erik said with a husky voice, “whatever you say.”

Y/N rolled her eyes before making a left turn, opening the double doors to a dimly lit studio with a pink neon sign of a woman in heels that read dance. A few chairs rested in the corner of the room, mirrors were placed on one side of the wall so that the ladies could watch themselves. A guy stood off to the side in deep conversation with a short plump girl about 5’ 3 dressed in a mesh leotard with red fishnets and heels. He was fumbling with a camcorder that Erik assumes is used to record the ladies do their routines. On the polished hardwood floor, directly in the middle, were all the ladies doing stretches. Some were down in a split stretching out their legs, others were bending over to touch their toes, stretching out their backs. Erik recognized the music. It sounded like Teyana Taylor & Kehlani- Morning.

“Okay, I gotta get myself changed, I’ll be back, alright?” Y/N spoke with a whisper to him.

“Yeah, I’ll be over here,” Erik pointed to a black chair with a leather cushion to sit on.

“Cool,” Y/N gave Erik a silly smile before walking away, waving to a few ladies as she made her way over to the dressing room. Erik rested his hands in the pockets of his black cargo pants that he wore. The wrinkled shirt wasn’t the shirt he had on. He was wearing a muscle tee with the sides cut really low, giving you a view of his muscles and scars along his ribs down to his hips. Black boots on his feet and gold around his neck and on his fingers. Erik scratches his scruffy facial hair while looking around the class. When he did this, eyes were on him, wondering who this handsome guy was that came with Y/N. He entertained their looks for a minute before taking his phone out of his pocket to scroll through pointless apps.

“Oooo, Y/N, what routine are we gonna start out with today, honey?” A tall mocha skinned girl with a large curly bush and a black catsuit on asked. Erik looked up at the mention of her name. His eyes seemed to widen and gawk at Y/N. Erik was in a state of stupor. Stupefied but mesmerized at the same time.

“I have something I’ve been working on all week but that can wait for tomorrow. I gotta have a guy to do the lap dance with. When is Montell coming back?”

“Girl, why use Montell when you can use him?” The tall chick pointed at Erik. Erik looks over at Y/N, watching her eyes grow wide.

“Erik? No,” Y/N laughs, “He’s just here to watch until I’m done.”

The chubby chick that was talking to the camera guy came over to intrude, “Isn’t that your boyfriend though?”

“No. He’s my bestfriend and he’s just going to watch.”

“Well, can I use him for my routine then? I put a little something something together to Ciara- Body Party and I need a nigga to pop this ass on. He so cute, Y/N. Hi bestfriend!” The pretty chubby girl waved at Erik who returned the wave with a smile on his full lips.

“He is cute. How can you just be friends with that?”

“Dominique,” Y/N was referring to the taller chick, “Erica,” She looked over at the short plump girl, “I’m using him for my routine.” Y/N spoke with finality. Wasn’t no chick in that class gonna put ass on him if it wasn’t her.

“Oh? Why the change of heart?” Dominique folded her arms while giving Y/N a sassy smile. Y/N didn’t say a word as she walked away, looking over at Erik before sticking her tongue out at him. He was in a fit of laughter, clutching his chest and everything.

Y/N was dressed in a black thong with sheer black stockings that had tiny rhinestones on it, a tiny black and gold wrap top that made her breast sit high and black stilettos on her feet. All that ass out and bouncing each time she walked. Erik knew his bestfriend has body but damn, he never saw her like this. Y/N was fumbling with a wall audio system that was installed to play throughout the studio. She found the song she wanted, pausing it, then grabbing a chair to bring in the center of the dance floor. The other ladies crowded around and the camera guy set up so that it was facing her. Y/N then walked over to Erik, a roll of her eyes while trying to fight a smile. She got down in front of him in a squat, talking closely with him. Erik leaned forward on his elbows to hear her.

“Okay, so I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that but,” She sighed, “I’m gonna need you for my routine.”

“Hmm,” Erik smirked, “What I gotta do?”

Y/N licked her lips, “All you gotta do is sit in that chair for me. You’ll be in that chair while I do all the work, alright?”

“Let me ask you something,” Erik narrowed his eyes, “Why did you change your mind so quick?”

Y/N rolled her eyes away from him before kissing her teeth, “You gonna do that for me, or what?”

“You ain’t off the hook, ma,” Erik stood up, while looking down at Y/N who was still in a squat position while staring up the valley of his body to connect with his eyes, “You gon’ tell me after this class.”

“Whatever,” Y/N finally got up, grabbing Erik’s hand with force, walking him to the middle of the dance floor. He wasn’t nervous one bit. He wanted to see what his bestie could do.

“Sit.” She instructed, earning oooo’s and ahhhh’s from the ladies around them. Erik raises his brows at her before taking his seat real slow, legs wide and one arm stretched over the back of the chair. He motioned with his head for Y/N to get started, his eyes intense and heated. Y/N motioned for one of the girls she started the class with to play her song.

Beyoncé- Rocket began to play.

Let me sit this ass

On you

Y/N sat down real slow on Erik while looking back at him. She wound her hips, back arching and ass moving up the length of his crotch nice and gently. She did a spin on his lap, her leg going up and over his head so she could straddle him. Her hands grabbed at his shoulders before pulling on his shirt to bring him closer to her. She made him watch her while her hips moved over him. Erik has to hold onto the sides of the chair.

Show you how I feel

Let me take this off

Will you watch me

Yes, mass appeal

Don't take your eyes

Don't take your eyes off it

Watch it, babe

If you like

You can touch me baby

Do you

Do you wanna touch me baby, ooh

Grab a hold, don't let go

Let me know

That you

Ready (ready)

Erik looked at her with eyes so deeply filled with desire there was no denying his attraction to his bestfriend. Y/N held those eyes with her low ones, before grabbing his jaw to tease him. She almost touched his lips with hers but she pulled away before Erik could even get a taste.

I just wanna show you now

Slow it down

Go around

You rock hard

Y/N stood up, getting down on her knees in front of Erik while running a hand from his chest down to his crotch that was indeed rock hard.

I rock steady

She bounced up and down in a squat to demonstrate how steady she would rock on that hard dick. A few chicks wolf whistled at that, cheering her on.

And rock right up to the side of my mountain

Climb until you reach my peak baby, peak babe, peak

And reach right into the bottom of my fountain

Y/N pats her kitty kat to indicate where that fountain he needed to find was.

I wanna play in your deep baby, your deep baby, deep

Then dip me under where you can feel my river flowing and flow

Y/N went back on the floor, her legs coming all the way up to rest on each side of her head. She was open like the peace sign. Her hands ran up her body, eyes still on Erik to show him that she was nothing to play with. He gave her a sly smirk that showed off a single dimple. So this how she got down? She danced all freaky like this? Showing him where she wanted him to go with his hardness?

Hold me 'til I scream for air to breathe

She grabs her neck, body arching from the floor. Erik could feel his dick growing stiffer.

And wash me over until my well runs dry

Send all your sins all over me, babe, me baby, me

Rock it…

Y/N got up from the floor, swaying her hips. She stared into the camera, moving in those heels like she was wearing a pair of sneakers. Erik didn’t know she was this flexible. When she arched her back to pop her ass, getting into a split stance while running her hand on her crotch he wanted to lift from that chair, pick her up, and hold the back of her neck while making her pop her ass on his hard crotch. He had to have restraint because this is her routine but FUCKKK, was it hard.

Rock it 'til waterfalls

Rock it 'til waterfalls

Rock it 'til waterfalls

Bathe in these waterfalls

She grinned her hips into the floor before bringing her legs up from behind, her heels almost touching the back of her head before rolling over to lift a single leg in the air, grinding her hips forward. She was showing him what that body could do. She was showing him exactly how freaky his bestfriend could be.

I do it like it's my profession

I gotta make a confession

I'm proud of all this bass

When you put it in your face

She stood, arching forward, and grabbing her ankles while looking back at Erik. Her ass popped and swayed from side to side.

By the way, if you need a personal trainer or a therapist

I can be a piece of sunshine, inner peace, entertainer

Anything else that you may read between the lines

You and I create rockets and waterfalls

“YES HUNTY!” One of them yelled out while snapping their fingers.

“THATS IT Y/N!”

Erik nods his head in approval. He found himself rocking to the beat while tapping a single foot and grinding his hips in the chair. She rode that song with so much ease. Beyoncé’s voice mixed with her sensual moves had everyone in that room watching in complete silence now. The song played on and then that’s when it became really intense...

I can't help but love the way we make love

Daddy, daddy

Ooh child, ooh now

Yes, Lord, damn baby

She was going crazy. Popping her ass, arching her back, looking at Erik with her mouth hanging open. Swinging her head from side to side, running her hands over her breasts before jiggling them. That continuous Daddy, Daddy, has Erik losing his mind. The self control was unraveling.

You driving me cray, cray, yeah

You ain't right for doing it to me like that daddy

Y/N crawled towards him. She was staring at him like she wanted to rip his clothes off and show some attention to the hard dick that she felt growing in his pants. When she made it over to him, she got into a handstand, her legs widening into a split, before descending back on him, her legs wrapping around his waist while Erik pulled her forward with his hands on her hips.

Even though

I've been a bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, bad girl

Y/N bends her body back while grinding on him so hard and forceful that Erik couldn’t help but to grind up into her on that chair. His hips were lifting from the chair.

Tell me what you're gonna do about that

He wanted to do something right fucking now. Y/N was driving him crazy. His growls and moans were trapped in his throat because of everyone surrounding him.

Punish me please

Punish me please

Daddy what you're going to do with all of this

Ass

Y/N turns around, her ass rubbing along his chest. Erik moves his hands down her back before slapping her ass, causing Y/N to gasp and everyone around them to cheer and clap.

All up in your face, yeah

Hell yeah

Love me so deep

Ooh my shit's so good it ain't even right

This shit wasn’t fair. She bounced on his lap in a continuous rhythm to the freaky beat. Since she wanted to give him a little lap dance to this beat she was definitely going to fuck him to this song. Bestie or not.

I know I'm right

Hell yeah you the shit

That's why you're my equivalent

So sexy

To Erik’s disappointment, Y/N got up from his lap, circling him in the chair before standing behind him. She lowered her arms over his shoulders from behind, taking her fingers to drag his muscle tee up to reveal his chiseled body. Abs flexed, skin so smooth even with the raised scars, her nails clawing lightly at his ripped abs all the way up to his chest. Her lips lightly touched the side of neck, giving him a lick there while the song faded out. The room erupted with applause at her routine. Y/N wrapped her arms around Erik’s neck, rocking him back and forth with a big smile on her face. Erik grabs her arms, holding them with a grin on his lips. Y/N did her thing.

“Girllllllllllll,” Dominique shouted while coming over to hug Y/N, “You had your bestfriend ready to hop off this chair and handle you, girl.”

“Oh? Really?” Y/N spoke into Erik’s ear before giving him a quick peck on the cheek, “I’m sorry I put this ass on you and you couldn’t do anything about it.”

Erik clenched his jaw. She only fueled him more.

“Nothing to say? Hmm?” She dragged on.

Erik looked up at her with a tilt of his head. She knew those hard domineering eyes meant one thing and one thing only: she was going to get it for sure. He had something for her after this class.

[rose-tarts-and-angel-hearts]

Twisted Wonderland OCs; Ignatius Aquarii and Kelly Linette

{Art Credit: Pic crew}

Twisted from Maui from Moana

Name: Ignatius Aquarii

Name meaning: Ignatius; Means fiery one, I chose this name for him as Maui’s name meant “the god of fire” so I tried to choose a name somewhat similar ( hopefully)  Aquarii; I took Ignatius’s surname from one of the brightest stars in his zodiac sign; Aquarius, the star’s full name is ‘beta Aquarii’ 

 Age: 16 

Birthday: February 9  

Star sign: Aquarius 

Myers Briggs Personality Type: ESTP- A

Alinement: Chaotic good 

Gender: Male  

Height: 184cm (6ft)

Hair Color: White  #ffffff  with strands of very pale blue hair  #ebebff

Eye Colour: Very light blue  #94caff

Dominate Hand: Ambidextrous

Homeland: Land of Pyroxene   

Species: Human

School: Noble Swan University

Dorm: Riffmond

Year: 1st

Occupation: Student 

Club: Basketball club 

Best Subject:  Practical magic

Favorite Food: Sashimi, Unagi (freshwater eel), roast or fried chicken

Least Favorite Food: Fried Eggs 

Likes: tattoos, The beach, Telling/ Boasting about his achievements.

Dislikes: People who don’t walk the talk ( In other words, People who does not do what one said one could do, or would do, not just making empty promises. ), nagging

Hobby: Surfing, Playing the guitar, DJ’ing

Talents: Shadow puppets,  Arcade games, Lock picking

Unique Magic: ink world

Ignatius has the ability to send people into an ‘ink world’  in their minds, which leaves them in a vulnerable and dazed state. To explain in detail, the person Ignatius uses his unique magic on, turns unresponsive as if they are in a trance. ( For example In the song “ You’re welcome” Moana was in a different (?) world in her head while her body was spun into a cave so that Maui could steal her boat. )

Appearance

Ignatius is Tall and pretty muscular, with naturally tanned skin. He has light cyan-ish eyes that are slightly pointed and upturned, his hair is white with strands of very pale blue hair, that is brushed back, he has a short blue braid hanging down the right side of his face. Ignatius has many ear piercings and Tattoos, ( on his upper body, neck, chest, arms ) he proudly displays them by wearing a black singlet, and an unbuttoned white collared shirt that is slightly pulled down to show off the tattoos he got on his shoulder. He wears black cargo pants that are secured with a black belt  and are tucked into military boots. His purple dorm ribbon is tied on one of the belt loops (?). He also dons many silver rings and an enchanted charm bracelet made by Kelly. 

Personality

Ignatius gives off a rather..hmm what’s that word...oh oh! F-boy impression, as he’s always teasing and seems to not be serious about anything, but he’s actually quite a sweetheart, going out of his way to help people he considers friends, though he may be quite mischievous and tactless. Ignatius is rather boastful and egotistical, which would usually lead people like him into trouble since he’s a quite rash person,  but he doesn’t get into physical fights, he usually uses his unique magic to just embarrass the person in some way. Though Ignatius make act like a dumb dumb sometimes, he’s actually really smart, both street smart and academically, in terms of grades he comes in fourth place in his level. He can be rather perceptive too and will show care and concern for those he cares about, but mostly prefers to keep things fast-paced and silly rather than emotional or serious. 

Backstory

Ignatius’s mother remarried a wealthy business man a few years after Ignatius was born. ( Ignatius’s father passed away before he was born) As Ignatius’s step-father didn’t have any kids of his own, he doted a lot on Ignatius, thus spoiling him a lot. Ever since Ignatius was young he showed a lot of potential and talent of being a good wizard, thus receiving a lot of praise from his parents, teachers, and friends. This soon got to his head, and he became very arrogant and disrespectful towards people he considered ‘lower’ than himself, he lost a lot of friends in the process, and was out casted by most of them. At first Ignatius  acted like he was fine with people ignoring him, though he actually felt a bit lonely inside. Soon he grew tired of people out casting him but was too prideful to apologize, so he decided to play truant, his mindset was changed after meeting an ‘angel’ during one of his escapes.

Trivia

-Ignatius is ambidextrous but prefers to use his left hand.

-He has 10 ear piercings in total, and over 16 tattoos

-He got his first tattoo at 13 years old ( His mother screamed at him when she found out )

-He has 1 ‘magic tattoo’ on his arm of a mini him, Ignatius will ‘activate’ mini Ignatius to dance and perform on the other tattoos he has to entertain people.

-Kelly used to be the one who’ll braid his hair but since they’re in different dorms, he recently learned to do it himself.

-Ignatius is horrible at cooking thus he hates fried eggs as he doesn’t know how to control the heat, so his eggs always end up burnt.

-Ignatius would be in Scarabia if he went to NRC

{ART CREDIT: top-left to right; Drawing done by me ( I know it sucks..sorry for scaring your eyes), Picture from V roid Mobile, Picture from Pic crew. Middle-Left to right; Yerenica from seduce the villain’s father ( I thought they looked pretty similar! Hence why I used her photo here.), Kelly’s uniform link here!, Yerenica, Bottom-Left to right; V roid mobile, Yerenica, V roid mobile}

Name: Kelly Linette 

Name meaning: Kelly; Means warrior or Bright minded ( In Kelly’s case I wanted to utilize both meanings in her name, As I wanted her to be both smart and strong, someone who does not give up easily, and uses her wit and intelligence to solve problems.)   Linette; Means pretty one. The name is also derived from a songbird, the Linnet. ( I wanted to use this as her surname as I wanted her to be pretty  I wanted this to symbolize how she’s good at singing, like how linnet birds are known for their melodious voices.)

Age: 15 (She’s a year younger as she skipped a level/grade)

Myers Briggs Personality Type: ENFJ- T

Alinement: Neutral Good

Gender: Female

Height: 147 cm ( 4′10ft  ) 

Hair Color:  Very pale pink  #ffe9f0

Eye colour: Very light Cyan  #87d6eb

Dominate Hand: Right

Homeland: Empire of Fortune 

Species: Human

School: Noble Swan University

Dorm: Briable

Year: 1st

Occupation: Student, famous singer

Club: Board Game Club

Best Subject: Magical Enchantments 

Favorite Food:  Strawberry and Milk Kakigori  , Spicy food

Least Favorite Food: Cilantro

Likes: Winning, free time

Dislikes: Disappointing others/letting people down, People who shrink away from their responsibilities.

Hobby: Making enchanted Charm bracelets, exercising  

Talents: Singing, weight lifting, reading and manipulating people

Unique Magic: Lucky Stars 

Kelly’s Unique Magic is called “Lucky Stars”. This ability gives her an automatic and continuous supply of good luck, she’s able to use this ability by saying  “ Star light, star bright, The first star I see tonight; I wish I may, I wish I might, Have the wish I wish tonight” , whenever she recites this things will always turn in her favor, be it a test or a battle, her wishes will always come true, she is able to project this into her charm bracelets, though it’s not as effective and acts more like warding charm, she’s only able to use her unique magic for a total of 40 minutes in a day, as it takes a lot of magic and effort to keep it up.

Appearance

Kelly is short and petite, with a very fair complexion. She has long pastel pink hair that is styled in a half-up do tied with her dorm ribbon, her hair ends below her butt. She has big doe like eyes that are a pale cyan, which are framed by long and thick eyelashes.(very pretty! I wanna be pretty too~~) She has a very innocent doll-like appearance. She wears grey checkered uniform ( uniform in the picture! but the skirt ends around her mid-thigh) with a ribbon of her dorm colour, tied around her collar and is secured with a white and gold brooch, she wears black mary jane shoes with lacey white ankle socks.  She has a very ethereal-angel-ish vibe overall. 

Personality

Kelly is very kind and understanding person, accepting everyone as they are and doesn’t judge anyone, she’s a passionate altruist, warm and selfless, sometimes even to a fault. However, Kelly is quite manipulative, she’s gifted in people reading and is natural-born leader, full of passion, charismatic charm and a natural confidence that begets influence, she isn’t always manipulating people to hurt them or for personal gain, she simply wants people to do more or better because it will benefit them or help them realize some potential. She’s likeable and trustworthy and, as a result, others are generally compelled to listen and follow her. Though Kelly can and will purposely manipulate those who treat her friends badly. Kelly has good control of her behavior and words, but she will purposely snap to those who try to use her or her friends, before simply covering up her actions with her silver tongue. “ Can’t you put on a better show for me? pretty please!” * Smiles cutely*  Despite having a natural confidence, she defines her self-esteem by whether she’s are able to live up to others’ ideals, so she’s quite insecure, always wondering about what she could’ve done better. If she fails to meet a goal or people’s expectations of her, her self-confidence will undoubtedly plummet.

Backstory

Kelly came from quite a normal family, if having renowned parents were considered normal at least, her father was a famous fashion designer and her mother, a world-wide known actress, both ‘fell in love’ after Kelly’s mother was scouted as the main model for her father’s brand.  Since Kelly’s parents were very prominent people in the entertainment world, she been in the spotlight since she was born. As both of Kelly’s parents were workaholics, she was often brought along business trips and photoshoots, she was famous among scouters for her beauty and sweet voice, thus it wasn’t long before Kelly herself was offered contracts. One of her contracts required her to go to the Land of Pyroxene for an advertisement, where she met a peculiar boy.

Trivia

- Kelly has a insanely high spice tolerance, she can probably eat a Carolina reaper like it’s a snack.

- Kelly doesn’t know how to use social media so she doesn’t have a magicam account...(yet)

- 1st in her grade for studies. 

- Kelly has wavy hair that tangles easily, it may look super soft to run your fingers through-and it is-only if you can get through the knots first.

- Kelly is very innocent she doesn’t understand about  *cough reproduction cough* 

- Isn’t educated in the way of memes, trends, vines, slang.

- Kelly is gifted in singing, but she’s horrible with music instruments.

- Known as the ‘Angel’ in NSU.

- F e n c i n g 

- Kelly may be small in size, but she’s surprisingly strong! She could probably carry Jack around all day if she wanted to.

-Puppy dog eyes 24/7

- Kelly sucks at computer games or any online game.

@twistinghearts   @nobleswansong​ ( Hehe! I was anon who asked if I could tag you! I hope these OCs aren’t made super badly...)

[ryttu3k]

Outfit references for Night Road. Because the official courier’s outfit is a mood and I want one.

"Just get me a jumpsuit. Or something out of a Goodwill donation bag." I don't need Prince Lettow's charity.

Alexander bites his lip, since those weren't his instructions. But when you insist, he disappears and returns a few minutes later with a coverall. A patch on it says Doug. He also gives you a JanSport bag with work boots, socks, and a Casio G-Shock. It seems Prince Lettow believes no vampire should be without a watch.

It's not glamorous, but at least you don't feel beholden.

Something tough and functional for the road: a black leather jacket and engineer boots.

You flip through the options until you find a black leather jacket with just enough wear that you don't look like a poser. The engineer boots are big, heavy, and probably out of fashion, but you don't care. You even have a military surplus duffel bag for your courier work. Black jeans and a pack of T-shirts in black, white, gray, and red complete the ensemble. You also find a scratched up Panerai Luminor (a fake, obviously) in a wide cuff band of black leather

What if I need to go clubbing? I need streetwear so I don't look like an old man with a young man's face.

You were a little too young for the punk scene when you were alive, and now you're old enough that you're starting to worry about looking like a fossil. You still remember some of the Banu Haqim you knew when you were first Embraced, the neonates who still wore leisure suits. The Second Inquisition probably took care of them.

So, no goth, no punk, no Edwardian steampunk costumes. You flip through the clothes until you find some actually modern streetwear: gray hoodie, nylon pants, Adidas. A shell jacket in case it gets cold, and a nylon messenger bag. You check yourself in the mirror. You look normal. You look like a living person—good. Living people don't wear watches as often as they used to, but you've never been surprised by a sunrise yet and you plan to keep it that way; a Nixon Regulus completes the ensemble.

I need to look like a professional for my job. Office casual isn't fashionable but it is invisible.

As a courier, you're in and out of industrial parks, office complexes, high-end restaurants and bars all night long. You can't dress to impress—only to blend in. You grab some gray button-downs, a pair of cotton trousers, and some chukka boots. A leather messenger bag can hold your deliveries. Functional, invisible. A black pea coat is a concession to style; a forgettable Daniel Wellington watch a concession to your fear of the sunrise.

I want the official courier's outfit: Member's Only jacket, driving gloves.

It's important to look the part. No one wants their semi-criminal vampire courier pulling up in a Pickle Rick T-shirt and cargo pants. You quickly find cap toe boots and driving gloves in your size, then expand from there: jeans, aloha shirt, and—after quite a bit of hunting—a white silk screen jacket with an eagle on the back. Cool—even if it looks a bit like Lettow's eagle. You even find an old suitcase for transporting your cargo, and a knockoff Tissot Heritage 1948 that fits right below your glove.

Is it too much? Not yet. You check the pockets of the jacket and find a gold Zippo in the shape of a snake and a pair of knockoff Maui Jim driving sunglasses. Now it's too much.

Can't go wrong with the classics: I find something black, formal, and elegant.

The Camarilla looks unkindly on vampires who dress like Elvira, Mistress of the Dark, but what's the point of being dead if you can't look the part? Next to the rack of cheerfully-colored outfits is an old plastic bin. You pop it open to reveal…here we go. Here are clothes for dead people.

You immediately grab the ankle-length black frock coat and shake out the cobwebs, then scoop up some silver jewelry that matches the coat's buttons. The shoebox with the jewelry also contains an antique pocket watch with a chain. You take timekeeping seriously and can't afford any old junk, but when you turn the little silver key, the watch's mechanism ticks smoothly.

The poet's blouses are a bit much, but you find dress shirts in white, gray, absinthe-green, and bruise-purple. And you have a selection of black slacks, a full mourning dress, or black or gray skirts you can match with the tops for a more modern look, depending on your mood.

There's also an old doctor's bag in worn black leather, which is better than a cheap backpack for carrying parcels. The plastic box doesn't have footwear, but you find a pair of black boots in your size: double monk straps with silver clasps. Perfect. You're ready to hit the road…or play nice with the other monsters upstairs in Elysium.

-

(In order: survivalist Rook, image-conscious Vane, hot mess Pyre, no one is wearing office casual, dramatic Celeste, and Toreador Luka, who has apparently gone “fuck the Masquerade I have an a e s t h e t i c to maintain”. Vane also has the fancy suit from Covenant.)

[temperancejones]

Some Kind of Curse- Chapter Four

But that all got thrown aside when he hears some movement coming from the house's garage as well as some muffled voices. Sighing, Danny quickly musters up the courage to head to the garage and arrest the possible intruders and give 'em hell, jersey style- maybe bust 'em up a little bit. He wasn't sure who would be stupid enough to trespass on a crime scene, let alone one that was investigated one of HPD's most respected and decorated officers. Danny tiptoes over to the garage door and lets out a puff of air before popping open the door and yelling at the intruders to put their hands up. Little did he know that he would be met with a man who would flip his life upside down. After a brief yelling match, mostly to see who has the most authority in the room, the intruder identifies himself as Lieutennant Commander Steve McGarrett. Once they look at eachother's ID's and lower their weapons, Danny sighs and looks at the man. "look, I'm so sorry for your loss, but you can be here, this is an active crime scene." Danny explains, sliding his gun back in his holster and slipping his ID back in his pocket. Steve does the same thing, but once he's done, he crosses his arms at the shorter Detective, looking a little amused. "doesn't look very active to me. Kris you can come out now." Steve says over his shoulder.

A woman slowly rises up from behind the car parked in the garage with her hands up. As a matter of fact, she only has her right hand up, as her left one is in a sling. Danny immediately assumes that the woman is Kris McGarrett, the daughter of John McGarrett. Her and Steve must be trying to investigate the murder of their father as well.

"Look guys, I can't share any information about your father's investigation. This is an HPD case, I'm sure you understand. But I'm going to have to ask you to leave." Danny tells the McGarretts, who only smile a little bit; Danny knows that they are definitely up to something now.

Kris walks around the car and stands next to Steve, who is now "Detective, were you aware that Hesse had an accomplice? He left behind a boot print and a mark from his laptop on our father's desk. We know this because our father hated technology." Kris says to Danny, which causes him to look at her fully for the first time. Despite her smart-ass/know it all manner of speech, most likely out of habit from her military background, Danny does have to admit that she is quite beautiful.

Kris is probably half a foot taller than him, and very lean; her muscular figure alone is enough to intimidate anyone who would approach her. It's easy to tell that she is definitely a soldier of some sort. Currently dressed in skinny tank cargo pants, a plain red v-neck and a pair of black runners, Kris looks like she is ready to ship out on another mission, or just switch into SEAL mode to get Danny out of hers and Steve's hair. Her brown hair is tucked neatly behind her ears, lining up perfectly with her jaw, all the way around her head. Not a single hair is out of place, which is something that is expected for someone as highly decorated in the Navy and Military as her. Danny is quick to admit that Kris is a beautiful woman, but he has a gut feeling that he will never truly get to know her. Just based off his first impression of her, Danny knows that Kris is Command material down to her bones. It almost makes him shiver when he thinks about what she would be like if she were ever crossed by someone- surely, you would be attending their funeral a few days later.

A loud clanking noise snaps Danny out of his thoughts, now drawing his attention to Steve, who is dressed almost identically to his sister, except he is in a pair of clunky cargo boots, and he is also wearing an open button up t-shirt, which still makes him look like a military man. Danny sighs once he notices what Steve is doing and puts a hand on his hip. "and you can leave the box. That is evidence!" Danny says in an annoyed tone, feeling really ticked off that someone could peg him as that stupid.

Steve scowls and picks up the box and turns to Danny. "we came with it." Steve says quickly, and then tries to walk by Danny. Trying not to roll his eyes, Danny puts up a hand to stop him. "No, you did not. I can see the dust void on the counter! What's in the box that's got you all hot and bothered, hey?" Danny grills Steve, which only makes him smirk in response.

Danny shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath, now knowing that these McGarretts are going to be a real pain in his ass throughout this case. He hopes that by some miracle, he can solve this case, but deep down, he knows it's going to be damn near impossible, especially if he has John McGarrett's children working against him trying to solve it as well.

"How long have you been with Honolulu PD, Detective?" Kris asks, hoping to deflect and change the subject so her and Steve can make it out of the house without getting arrested. At this rate, they're going to have to pull a lot of strings and get some favours paid back to them if they're going to get blocked on the investigation and its leads as much as Detective Williams is doing to them right now.

Danny looks taken aback that someone would ask that. Was it really that obvious that he was fresh out of Jersey? "that's none of your business. What are you, Barbara Walters?" Danny asks in annoyance now.

Steve switches the box in his hands and points at Danny. "Actually, it is when you're investigating our father's murder." He says matter-of-factly, which makes Danny roll his eyes.

"Right. That is what I'm doing. Now, the sooner you two leave, the sooner I can get back to it. so please," Danny says, directing his hands to the door. Steve and Kris smile and try to leave, but Steve still refuses to put the box down.

"Leave the box or get arrested." Danny states in a disappointed tone, hoping that the threat of incarceration will knock some sense into the siblings.

Steve hands off the toolbox to Kris, who tries not to look confused at what her brother is doing now. Steve puffs out his chest, suddenly super confident about something, which worries Danny- he knows that Steve is about to either do something really stupid, or something really smart, and either way, it's going to piss Danny off.

"alright. You gonna call for backup?" Steve asks, and pulls his phone out of his side pocket. Danny sighs and rolls his eyes. "an ambulance." He mutters, seriously debating on shooting the twins who won't give it up and leave.

Smirking, Steve takes out the governor's card from his pocket and dials the number, immediately asking for governor Jameson. When the Governor's voice is heard by both Kris and Danny, Danny's hands fly up in the air in disbelief; who the hell has the governor on speed dial? And, who the hell thinks that they can undermine him like this?

Steve turns and looks Danny in the eyes, smiling now. "governor, we'll take the job. We'll run your taskforce. We will transfer to the reserves right away and-" Steve says into the phone with a touch of cockiness in his voice.

Kris shakes her head at the theatrics of her brother. Detective Williams looks like he's about to run across the room and tackle Steve because he's so angry at him.

"Right here? Okay. I, Steven J. McGarrett, do solemnly declare upon my honor and conscience to act at all times to the best of my abilities and knowledge in a manner befitting an officer of the law... thank you, Governor... yes. We will be right there." Steve says, and then hangs up. He smiles at Danny and grabs the toolbox back from Kris. Now it's our crime scene, Governors orders." Steve says in a chipper tone and walks out of the Garage. Kris grabs the tiger from the bench and follows him out, still shaking her head a little bit, mostly because she's trying not to laugh.

Danny uses a lot of self-restraint to not just wring both of the McGarretts by the neck as he walks past them and out of the house. He makes sure to slam the doors on his Mustang, so they know how pissed off he is. As soon as he is on the street, he punches the steering wheel a few times to make sure he doesn't spontaneously combust, and then dials his captain to ask him what the hell he should do now.

Now alone in the house, Steve and Kris walk into the kitchen. They both put the toolbox and tiger on the island and stand across from each other. Kris leans against the counter and looks at Steve, who is still riding his adrenaline rush from the confrontation with Detective Williams in the garage.

"So, I guess were staying for a bit, huh?" Kris chuckles.

Steve nods. "Let's try and use all the resources we have on the island to catch Hesse. If we don't have him in six months, we will reactivate and hunt him down with Naval intelligence, yeah?" he suggests.

Kris shrugs. "sure, why not. We've probably burnt out most of our resources in the Navy and Military, so this will be a good thing, I think."

Steve walks over to his sister, grinning. He claps her on the (good) arm, and says to her "that's the spirit, sis. Now come on, we gotta go meet the governor at the supreme court building."

Kris chuckles and follows her brother out of the house and to the car. It looks like they're definitely staying around for a while now, Kris thinks to herself, feeling a little bit worried about what life will be like back on the island.

[willow-salix]

This Isolation Island update idea was dreamt up after a conversation with @the-lady-razorsharp and @olliepig. I also feel like it's calling out a lot of us, especially @gumnut-logic. This is Isolation after dark, we've left the pg13 world a little.

Day 51 of Isolation on Tracy island and I’d grown so bored that I'd resorted to desperate measures. I spent the entire morning, and part of the afternoon catching up on the fan mail posts that the boys didn't know they had, on a forum they didn't know existed. Well, it wasn't like they were going to do it. 

“Virgil's favourite colour?” I asked myself, tapping away on my laptop. "Gotta be green, I mean…" I lifted my head to seek him out. "Virg! What's your favourite colour?" 

“Green,” he answered instantly. That's one thing i love about that boy, he hardly ever questions my random outbursts.

I nodded and moved on to the next. "Alan's favourite food…does anything count?" I mumbled under my breath. "He's not hard to please...no, they want a real answer from him…Allie? What would you say is your favourite food?”

“Mac and Cheese,” he answered. "Why?" 

I ignored him as I typed out my answer and hit send before moving on to the next. “Scott, what aftershave do you wear?”

“That one you got me for christmas, why?”

I typed out ‘Only The Brave: Wild’ in answer and hit send. I was on a roll now! Next! 

“Gordon, boxers or briefs?”

“Briefs.”

I nodded and typed again.

“What are you doing?”John popped up like a ninja meerkat, his face right next to mine, nosing at my laptop screen. "Fan forum?" 

"I decided to be your press secretary, because the fan mail is piling up and none of you are bothering to answer it. It's not like I've got anything else to do right now."

"We have fan mail?" 

I rolled my eyes. "Of course you do, you have very dedicated fans you know."

"We do?" Gordon asked, suddenly interested in what I was doing. 

"Have you guys seriously not paid any attention to this?" 

They all shook their heads in unison, each looking as bewildered as the other. 

"Oh lawd you're all useless." I hit the back button a few times and scrolled through the posts then turned the screen so they could see it . "This is your official fan page, set up by the president of your fan club and none of you knew about it?" 

Again with the head shakes. 

"Men," I snorted, going back to my work. I was left in peace for all of two seconds before the questions started. 

"What kind of fan mail?" 

"Who's their favourite?" 

"Is it weird on there?" 

"Fan mail from your fans, there is no one favorite and it can be, " I answered. 

"No favourite?" Alan confirmed. 

"Nope, you all have your own teams." 

"Teams?" Scott's eyebrows rose in question. 

"Yep, Virgil's Virtuosos, Alan's Angels, Gordon's Sirens, Scott's Spitfires and John's Stars."

They all looked quite pleased with their little fan gangs, chatting quietly amongst themselves, leaving me in peace which was fine by me as I was trying to concentrate dammit. 

I was tapping away, doing my thing, answering questions on practically everything when I realised that something felt off about the scene before me. 

Over the course of an hour the boys had been randomly getting up and wandering off, but that in itself wasn't that weird, they often got bored and vanished to parts unknown, they would come back eventually. No, the weird thing was when I asked Virgil a question and Scott answered. 

"Virg, what's the longest you've ever spent on your hair?" 

"Six hours," Scott replied. I frowned at my screen, that didn't sound right. 

"Is your name Virgil?" I asked sarcastically, finally looking up…"Why are you wearing plaid?" Those jeans looked a little baggy too. 

Come to think of it, why was John wearing Gordon's hawaian shirt? That was just…wow, not good. 

"OK, that's disturbing…" those rolled up, ripped jeans were not a good look on him, especially since they were almost to his knees. And his hair. "What happened to your hair?" I wailed. Oh the humanity! 

Scott was apparently on a roll, because he was on his feet and posing like Arnold Schwarzenegger and his hair, gods his hair! Instead of his nearly slicked back (if a little long now) look, he had attempted Virgil's trademark cockscomb. He looked like he'd been electrocuted. 

My eyes slid to Alan who was drowning in Scott's favourite blue shirt that he had been wearing not half an hour before, and I couldn't see his feet, the pants were so long. Allie's hair was neat for once and smoothed to perfection (he had to have had help with that). 

Gordon was wearing Alan's T-shirt and his cargo pants and…well he didn't actually look too bad, he was passable.

 But Virgil… 

"Oh my lawd, Chonky what did you do?" 

The big guy was squeezed into John's shirt and when I say squeezed, I mean bulging at the seams, how were those buttons even connecting, he could barely move, his arms were sticking out at right angles, tight. I wouldn't dare let my eyes stray. Don't look down, don't look down, I chanted to myself, because I know my boy can pull off tight pants (have you seen that spacesuit?) but John does not have the thunder thighs that Virgil does and…my eyes dropped lower without my say so. 

"Eeep," I camped my hands over my eyes and counted to ten before I opened them again. Virgil's hair was safe to look at…no it wasn't! 

I immediately started laughing, I couldn't help it. He'd attempted to replicate John's style (I think) but had ended up with something more like a 1940's victory roll going on up front. I leant closer, what was that? 

"Is that a toilet paper tube?" 

He nodded, looking rather proud of his efforts. 

I shook my head in utter disbelief at what I was witnessing. 

"Ask us more questions," Gordon said once Scott finally stopped doing his muscle man impression and sat down. 

For lack of anything else to do in the situation, I did as I was told. 

"Gordon, what is your favourite time of day?" 

"Bedtime," John answered for him. "Because then I get to sleep and dream of how awesome I am."

I raised an eyebrow at this but dutifully wrote it down anyway. 

"Scott, why are you always frowning?" 

"Because I'm the one that has to deal with idiots all day long," Alan answered. 

"No, that's me," I muttered as I typed out the answer. "John, why do we never see you?" 

"Because people make my big brain hurt," Virgil answered for him. "And I'd rather hide away than deal with them."

"I actually can't argue with that one," John admitted. 

"Alan, if you could meet anyone, who would it be?" 

"An alien," Gordon responded. 

And so it went on, each of them trying to outdo the other, turning my simple question and answer session into a Tracy family roast. 

Finally I ran out of questions, mostly because I was laughing too much to actually think. 

"Oh Gods, if the people in this forum could see you all now," I laughed, wiping tears from my eyes. "That would be some high quality fan fiction fodder right there." 

"Some what now?" Scott asked. 

"Fan fiction, you know, stories people write?" 

"Wait a second, are you saying there's stories out there about us?" Virgil asked. 

I nodded slowly, like they were too dumb to understand otherwise. 

Their faces were a mixture of utter horror and morbid fascination. 

John plonked down next to me and stole my tablet to have a look. He skimmed through a few, his nose creasing, eyebrows furrowing.

"Gordon," he announced, "I hate to tell you this but you just died."

"I died?" the poor squid looked horrified by the idea. 

"So did Scott, and Virgil's just lost a leg."

"So you came out of it fine?" Scott grumbled. 

"No, my craft just blew up and I'm currently floating through space. Might I request that someone go and retrieve my body?" 

Scott took my tablet from him and did some scrolling of his own. "Why is this version of me having a lot more fun and action?" he grumbled. 

Virgil leant over his shoulder to look, and we heard a loud ripping noise as John's shirt lost its battle with Virgil's shoulders. 

"Yes!" I cheered. "Can you wear his dressing gown next?" 

OK…so I might have earned that glare. 

"I'm very dashing and romantic," Virgil grinned. "The ladies must love me."

"What am I doing?" Alan demanded to know. 

"Pouting and complaining," Gordon answered, snatching the tablet from Scott and flicking through until he found his own name mentioned. His face morphed from a cheeky grin to utter disbelief. 

"What…what am I doing? Why am I doing that? Stop me doing that!" Gordon yelpled, flinging the tablet back in my direction like I was mistress of the Internet and could fix all his problems. I just about caught it before it hit the edge of the table and checked the screen. 

"Gordon, I'm sorry, but you are indeed trying to have…relations with that shark," I informed him solemnly. "I also advise that you don't let it bite you there, it might be a little delicate."

Scott burst out laughing, closely followed by Virgil and Alan.

"And unfortunately, I can't stop it," I finished.

"Why does that even exist?" Gordon groaned, hiding his face on his hands.

John took the tablet from me and kept flicking. "Huh, I've got a really cute boyfriend here," he turned the screen to show me.

"Oooh, he is cute, can we share him?"

"Sure," he read a little bit more. "He actually does remind me of my first crush."

"Is he still single?"

"What, I'm not enough for you?" he nudged me with an elbow but had that little half smile on his face that told me he was teasing.

"Of course you are, plus I do already have Scott as my backup."

"Yeah, don't forget about me."

"Never," I blew him a kiss.

"Gordon has a boyfriend too," John pointed out, "and I don't mean the shark," he passed the tablet over.

"That's better," Gordon agreed, reading ahead. "Uh oh! Someone crashed Two."

"What?" Virgil dragged the tablet away to check. "Why would they do this to me?"

"It's called whump, and you appear to be one of their favourite victims," I lifted John's arm to snuggle into his side, lacing my fingers with his where they rested on my shoulder.

"Whump?" Virgil confirmed.

"Yep," I nodded. "Basically, if they can hurt you, kill you, make you cry, break a limb or your heart, it'll be there."

Poor guy looked devastated. "I thought they loved us?"

"They do. That's why."

"That makes no sense!" Alan wailed, finally breaking his silence. Somehow he'd gotten hold of the tablet and he was reading through some of the offerings. "I have a concussion, a broken arm and a punctured lung."

"Sucks to be you," Gordon patted his shoulder, taking the tablet back.

He settled back on the couch to search out more of his starring roles. "Hey, this one has me and Virgil in description!"

"You might want to be careful with one's like th-" I started, but I was drowned out by his horrified scream.

"I tried to warn you," I sighed.

"What's wrong?" Scott demanded to know.

Gordon shuddered, gagging on nothing.

"I think he found the Tracy pairings," I whispered to John, who shuddered in revulsion.

Gordon whimpered pathetically. I shook my head sadly and took the tablet away, tucking it into my bag.

"No more fanfic for you."

They were quiet for around five minutes, digesting the horror of what they had just learnt about their fictional selves.

"I liked the one where we got to go to the zoo," Alan finally broke the silence, trying valiantly to make things better.

"I liked when we got a puppy," Gordon grinned.

"I need a beer," Virgil announced, heaving himself to his feet. "And I need to get out of these pants before I ruin all chances of ever fathering the children those writers want me to have."

Well, that had been an interesting and educational evening, although I'm not sure they liked what they learnt. And I can tell you one thing, John's hair is not staying like that.