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honeypiehotchner · 4 years

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beauty isn’t skin deep (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- headcanon

what’s up i’m back with another wildly specific headcanon that definitely only applies to like 13% of my followers BUT this one is for all my babies out there who have eczema xx.

mine can get pretty rough, like it is right now, so i needed some comfort

Warnings: anxious thoughts, sad thoughts, mentions of blood, mentions of picking at your skin

HOTCH MASTERLIST || CRIMINAL MINDS MASTERLIST

aaron knew something was wrong when you canceled dinner plans out of nowhere

usually he’s the one canceling on you, but tonight you were the bearer of bad news

you’ve only been dating aaron for a few months, and it’s going well

but you hadn’t had a bad flare up yet

it started this morning

you woke up sweating because you were under too many blankets

and to make matters worse, you found that the patches of eczema on your elbows and calves had gotten worse

but that was fine, that was fixable, you’d just wear long sleeves and jeans to dinner tonight instead of the dress you had picked out

the idea seemed doable enough, until eczema popped up in the middle of your back and your forehead

you almost never get eczema anywhere on your face, so you nearly burst into tears when you felt the tell-tale itching when you were trying to cook lunch

walking around in a bra and shorts is fine, but it isn’t exactly dinner attire

or anywhere-outside-the-apartment attire

so, after lathering your body in the prescription cream your dermatologist gave you, you sent a text to aaron

Hey, I hate to do this, but can I get a raincheck on tonight?

aaron has canceled a few times on you before (for good reason) so you don’t expect him to be mad

but you do anticipate questions, and he doesn’t disappoint

Hey, that’s okay. Is everything alright?

you don’t know how to explain what’s going on, or that you just don’t want to be seen right now, so you settle for being vague

All good! Just had something come up :)

he doesn’t reply, but that’s also not uncommon for him

sometimes he gets caught up in work and replies hours later, or replies with a phone call when he’s driving home

so you think nothing of it

until there’s a knock on your door

you grab a cardigan you had laying over the back of the couch and shrug it on, grimacing as the fabric scratches against the eczema on your elbows

“one second!” you call out, shaking out your arms and wincing

when you peak through the peephole in your door, you gasp

“aaron?” you whisper, pulling the door open. “what are you doing here?”

“hey,” he smiles, holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers. “i could tell something was wrong, so i wanted to drop these off.”

“you...” you pause, shifting on your feet, feeling an itch beginning on your calf. “thank you, really. you’re so sweet.”

you take the flowers from him and smile, their familiar scent flooding your senses

but aaron notices your small grimace when you stretch out your arm, and he’ll kick himself all night if he doesn’t ask one more time

“are you sure everything’s okay?” he asks

“yeah,” you answer too quick, and you feel awful about the whole situation and because your skin is on fire, so you say, “do you wanna come in for a second? i should put these in a vase.”

he gladly accepts and you lead the way, speeding off to your kitchen while he closes the door

“how was work?” you ask

he can tell you’re trying to fill every second of silence, so he knows something is really wrong

“it was good, we might have to leave this weekend for another case.” he always gives you a heads up when he can, and you appreciate it

you frown like you always do as you cut off the stems and place the flowers in a vase, smelling each one as you go to keep yourself as occupied as possible

you try to contain your grimaces of pain and the shuffling of your feet as you fight against the urge to scratch and claw at your skin

scratching it never helps, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel good

even if it does make you bleed

aaron sighs sadly as he watches you do this with your back turned to him

“honey...” he murmurs. “what’s wrong? what are you not telling me?”

all it takes are those kind words, his gentle voice, and you cave

aaron rushes next to you when he hears you begin to sniffle

tears are slipping down your cheeks when he reaches your side

you’re rubbing your forehead with the pads of your fingers, trying your hardest not to claw with your nails like you so desperately want to

aaron sees the raised and irritated skin and instantly goes into crisis mode

“what happened? are you having an allergic reaction to something?”

you shake your head, pulling your hand away for a moment, sniffling more when your cardigan scratches your elbows

“i have eczema,” you finally get the words out and take a deep breath, trying to shrug off the cardigan

aaron helps you when he sees what you’re trying to do, and his heart breaks when he sees what you were covering up

“my skin hates me,” you joke, wiping your nose on your hand. “it’s never this bad, but i just can’t touch anything — it all hurts.”

aaron wishes he could touch it and make it go away because it looks painful, and your tears confirm it

he doesn’t even know what eczema really is, but it doesn’t look pleasant

“can i do anything to help?”

you shake your head. “i’ve tried everything all day and nothing helps.”

you take another deep breath, calming yourself down, feeling ridiculous for crying over something like this in front of him

“i didn’t want to cancel on you, but i didn’t want you seeing me like this,” you pause to chuckle, “guess those both backfired.”

“why wouldn’t you want me to see you?” he asks softly

you don’t want to answer him, to say the truth out loud because you know it sounds ridiculous

but you figure you’ve blown past the line of absurdity in the past five minutes, so you say it

“i feel so ugly,” you murmur, groaning in frustration when you see a small patch has popped up on the back of your left hand, between your pinky and ring finger.

“for fuck’s sake,” you hiss, not caring that he’s standing there, or that you shouldn’t claw at it, so you do anyway

“hey, hey, hey,” aaron grabs your hand quickly after watching one second of you digging your nails into the skin. “you’ll make it worse.”

“it’s already worse,” you whine, trying to tug both your hands out of his grasp, but he doesn’t let go

“what have you not tried today?” he asks, holding tighter. “what can i do?”

“sometimes i take a bath,” you reply. “but i don’t know if i have the right stuff for it.”

“well let’s go look.”

he leads you into your bathroom, and he keeps both of your hands clasped in one of his while he looks around with the other

eventually, he finds what you were describing

it’s a bubble bath, essentially, but it’s an anti-inflammatory one you got years ago

it’s been discontinued since, so you’ve been rationing what you have left of it

and when you see how low the bottle is, you immediately start protesting

but aaron is hearing none of it

he runs the bath with one hand, pours the bubble bath in with one hand, and listens to your protests all at the same time

“you need it,” he says. “i’ll look online for some more. i don’t care how much it costs, if it helps you, then i’m getting it for you.”

he refuses to let you argue as he helps you out of your shorts and sports bra

the two of you have had sex before, but you’ve never let him see you naked like...this

it feels different, but not uncomfortable

when you sink into the bath, the temperature is just right

not too hot (because that’ll dry out your skin more) and not too cold (because you’re not trying to take an ice bath after a workout)

he leaves after you get comfortable, and you figure he’s letting you have some time alone

but then he returns with a candle, a lighter, and one of the books from your bed

“what are you doing?” you ask, but you’re smiling like a fool as he lights the candle and sets it on the edge of the bathtub

“helping you have the perfect bath,” he says seriously, but he’s smiling, too. “i know you like to read, but i want you to stay under the water.”

you sink down further with his words, hiding your smile as it grows into a stupid grin

after half an hour of soaking in the bath and listening to him read to you, your skin is feeling better

aaron helps you out and helps you dry off

and, even though you didn’t want him to, he helps you put the prescription cream on the hard-to-reach spots (and everywhere else, because when you tried to help, he swatted your hands away)

“you’re not ugly,” he says, and something about the way he says it, while he’s rubbing prescription cream into your skin has you smiling like an idiot al over again

“thank you.”

“beauty isn’t skin deep,” he continues, rubbing the middle of your back. “but even if it was, you’d still be gorgeous to me.”

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner headcanon #hotch #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x reader #hotch x fem!reader #hotch x you #criminal minds hc #criminal minds headcanon #aaron hotchner fluff #fluff #criminal minds fluff #hotch fluff

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yikesharringrove · 3 years

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Show Pony

Chapter one - Big Sky

Also on Ao3

Billy doesn’t give a fuck about the rodeo.

He doesn’t care about country music, or fancy horse riding, or the beauty queens, even the bull riders.

What he does give a fuck about it not being in his house today.

Not when his dad was obviously itching to pick a fight. Not when Max gave him such an easy out over breakfast.

“I saw a flyer for a rodeo. I think it’d be kinda neat.”

It was in town for four more weeks.

And Billy could tell the second he and Max bought tickets, he was about to be spending more time than he ever fuckin’ thought he would spend at a rodeo.

He based that on the way Max’s eyes lit up the second she stepped inside the big fairgrounds.

Not knowing that he was right. He was about to spend a lot of time at the rodeo.

But not for Max.

For himself.

And a pretty horse rider named Steve.

He didn’t see Steve that first day.

Was too busy shelling out his own hard-earned cash to buy Max sugary funnel cakes. Sitting next to her watching the poor suckers get bucked off their pissed-off bull.

But when Max was in the car she turned to him, the sun setting outside, eyes as wide as dinner plates.

“Can we come back tomorrow?”

And the tickets were dirt cheap. And Billy hates being at home.

So they did.

And they watched the rodeo queens.

And the team-roping.

But it wasn’t until the calf roping that Billy felt his heart sink.

Because he thinks Steve Harrington might be the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

Tall and broad, smiling like sunshine at his gorgeous black quarter horse, patting her strong neck and leading her to the entry point of the arena.

His name was loudly announced after the event name.

Calf roping, with our very own Steve Harrington! Steve will navigate his beautiful June into the arena, trying to rope and tie down a calf as quickly as possible!

Billy had tuned out everything but his name.

Leaning forward on his bench seat to watch him lead June up to the starting line, give her a few more pats before swinging one leg up, heaving himself up and over her back, settling into the saddle with a grace Billy doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to describe.

Steve appeared to shake himself out, leaning forward over June’s neck to speak quietly to the sleek horse, wiggling his hips a bit in the saddle.

And then he sat back up, readying himself and waiting for the countdown.

He was off like a fucking shot.

Billy’s never seen anything fucking like it.

June kicked up dirt as she thundered through the arena behind a small herd of a few calves, Steve ducked low against her neck as he led her forward, his lips moving as he spoke quietly to her, egging her on and forward. He was clinging to her for dear life, his legs straining as he was tossed up and down in the saddle.

And then he let go of her reins, one hand reaching for the rope on his belt.

And it was the most hick shit he’s ever seen.

This flannel-wearing cowboy on his perfect fucking horse, roping a baby fucking cow.

He slipped the knot around it from his perch on the moving horse, lassoing it easily like that was a common skill, and with a fluid practiced movement, he tossed himself off the slowing horse, getting on one knee to tip over the calf and tie it up like it was second nature.

And maybe it was. Performing in a show like this.

That’s all it was, a performance. Practiced and rehearsed over and over for Steve and June.

It was over in a blink, Steve tossing his hands up to show he was finished, and the calf didn’t break its bonds.

The whistle blew and Steve’s time was read to the arena. Nine seconds. And apparently, nine seconds was a good time, judging by the way Steve’s raised his fists in the air, and patted June’s neck so gently.

He mounted back on his gorgeous horse as the calf he had roped was released by a few of the rodeo workers and the next guy took his position at the starting line.

Steve did a lap around the arena of June’s back, smiling and waving to the crowd.

And maybe Billy just has an overactive imagination.

Maybe his stupid gay brain was looking for something not there.

But he could’ve sworn he saw Steve grin just a little bit brighter in his direction.

There were a few riders after him. Competing to earn a faster score on the same track.

But Billy didn’t give a fuck about calf roping if he wasn’t watching Steve and June.

The sun was setting as Billy finally led Max out of the fairgrounds, one hand on the top of her head, steering her towards the Camaro.

“So, you think we can come back next weekend” Max was giving him a big shit-eating grin, powdered sugar all done her front from the final funnel cake Billy had shelled out to buy her.

“Don’t see why not. Get’s us outta the fuckin’ house, don’t it.”

“Plus, there are lots of good-looking cowboys, just everywhere. Did you see the guy doing the cattle roping, or whatever? He was cute .” Billy rolled his eyes. Max was just touching the age when she stopped thinking of boys as gross, saw them as cute, and whatever else she said. It also made her realize that having a gay brother apparently meant talking about nothing but boys. It made Billy wanna slam his head into the steering wheel. He grunted in response as she kept going on and on about Steve.

Like Billy didn’t see the way his thighs gripped the sides of his horse, like he didn’t watch as he hurled himself off June to tie up the fucking calf. Like he didn’t watch him take that fucking victory lap, shit-eating grin looking like home on his pretty fucking face.

“You gotta carry your own weight, you know that, right Shitbird? I’m talking, pay for your own damn fried shit.” He bets Susan would give him money for tickets if he acts real nice this week.

He can’t blow all his savings at the fucking rodeo of all things this summer. He’s got plans for the wad of cash burning a hole in the shoebox in the back of his closet.

Max huffed at him.

“What am I supposed to do? Get a job? I’m thirteen .”

“So? Babysit or some shit. Rob an ATM. Fuck if I care. Just quit stealing all ‘a my goddamn cash for your fuckin’ funnel cakes .”

“You’re just pissed off because you didn’t try one. They’re the best. You gotta have one next week.”

“I, unlike you, care about what I put in my body.”

“Yeah, because cigarettes and beer are so much better than fried dough .”

“Whatever.” The truth is, Billy’s gotta watch what he eats. Max didn’t know him when he was prepubescent and chubby. He can’t be sitting there shoving funnel cakes in his mouth and not expect it to all go to his gut. Not like her. There’s not an ounce of fucking baby fat on her. She’s positively scrawny. If anything, the funnel cake might help her out a bit.

“Yeah, whatever .” She huffed, slumping back in her passenger seat. “But can we come back?”

“Fuck, if you keep askin’ me, the answer’s no .”

She huffed again. She does that a whole lot when they talk.

“Don’t act like you didn’t like it. I saw the way you were watching Steve race. You were practically drooling .”

Billy clenched his jaw.

“Was not .”

“Was too .”

And Max had a knack of leading Billy into moments like this, childish little arguments that made him feel kinda weird inside. Made him feel kinda warm at how sibling it was. Like they hadn’t been forced together just a few years ago.

For all his bitching, he really did like the little spit. If he didn’t, he’d be a bigger asshole than she’s always accusing him of being.

“You don’t even know what I look like when I’m really eyeing a boy, if you think that was it. Just, you know. Respected his riding.”

“ Respected his riding. Yeah ‘cause you wish he was riding-”

“Finish that sentence and I’m pushing you out of the fucking car.”

“I’m right, though.”

Billy just reached forward to turn up the radio, letting Dee Snider drown out any other awful shit Max wanted to say to him.

Which was probably showing his hand too much. No direct answer pretty much means affirmative when it comes to Billy. And yeah, Max knows that. Judging by the way she’s cackling like a goddamn gremlin over the sound of the music.

He just pressed his foot down further on the gas pedal, letting them fly down the highway.

And he thought about Steve and June, thought about how fast Steve could press that girl to go. Thought about him leaning forward, flattening himself to the horse’s neck, gripping onto the reins and urging her forward, urging her faster.

And if he thought about those strong legs wrapped around him, if he thought about what Max was about to say, Steve riding Billy like he would that fucking horse, his hips flexing as he bounces up and down, well, that’s his business.

And the next Saturday, Susan slid him a crisp twenty-dollar bill to buy Max some lunch at the rodeo.

They took it more seriously this time, bringing water bottles, and Max slathering thick white sunscreen on her freckled skin.

Billy even wore shorts, some old jeans he sacrificed to the summer gods when he wore holes in the thighs and chopped pretty much in half.

And it was kinda fun.

He knew what to expect now. Knew the barrel racing was all women, all beautiful horses winding their way along clover-shaped tracks. He knew that the bull riding was a little more fun to watch with a shot in him, and that his fake i.d. could get him an alcohol wristband from the tent at the front.

Max sneered at him when he bought himself a beer later in the day.

“Uh, you know you have to drive me home, right? Like, and not crash your stupid car on the way home.”

“Fuck off. It’s one beer.”

“And also that shot earlier, and I know you have a flask.”

“Okay, what are you, the cops? I’m just tryna enjoy myself in this blistering fucking heat. I don’t exactly get my rocks off to any of this shit.” Which is a lie. He’s totally sold on every stupid fucking event at the motherfucking rodeo.

“Fine. You wanna get stupid and drunk? Then you have to take me to the pageant. I wanna watch it.”

“Since fucking when do you give a shit about the pageant .” Max glared at him. Her nose was beginning to get red.

Maybe if Billy were less of a shithead he would tell her to put some sunscreen on. But she was really testing his patience today.

And then her eyes went huge, and her jaw went slack, and Billy was just about to tell her to close it and quit lookin’ like a dead fuckin’ fish when he heard someone cough slightly behind him.

And when he turned, he almost made the exact same stupid dead fish face as Max.

Because gorgeous cowboy Steve was standing right in front of him. In another cracker of a flannel shirt, stupid blue jeans, and fucking cowboy boots, because yeah. He’s a goddamn hick that rides a horse and ties up calves in a traveling rodeo for a fucking living.

And God save Billy, because hot damn.

Steve had an easy smile on his face, a little bit lopsided, and perfect white teeth showing between perfect pink lips.

“Hey there.”

“Howdy,” Billy responded before he could stop himself, his face burning up.

He was hoping he was already sweaty enough Steve wouldn’t notice the flush.

But thankfully, Steve’s smile went wider, and he laughed, this gorgeous bright laugh, his head tossing back, and that thick hair flowing easily.

He had gold streaks in his hair, lighter browns tussled within the darker colors. Billy wondered if they were natural, days spent out in the sun on his horse. Part of him hoped they weren’t. Part of him hoped that Steve was that intentional with himself and his goddamn hair.

He smiled at Billy.

“I’m Steve.”

“We saw you. Last weekend,” Max blurted out before Billy could kick her. She looked shocked that she had even spoken when Billy turned to give her a death glare. But Steve just laughed his gorgeous laugh again.

“And what’d you think?”

“She wouldn’t shut up about you on the way home.” And Steve was back to looking at Billy, and his eyes are so fucking big, like, who’s eyes are just. Like that. Just fuckin’. Big.

“And what about you, uh-”

“Billy. And this is Max. My sister.”

“Well, Billy,” and fuck Billy nearly creamed himself at the sound of Steve saying his name. “Did you like my display of talents ?”

“Could say so. I don’t give too many shits about all this hick farm stuff. But I can respect it.”

“Well, that’s alright then.” And Steve reached out to pat Billy once on the shoulder. “I hope I see y’all around. I gotta head off, June needs some TLC before our time.” He smiled at Max, and her already red face flushed deeper, almost blending into the roots of her flaming hair.

And then he doubled back.

“You know what, I forgot why I came over here in the first place.” He was digging through his jeans, rummaging around in his back pockets.

Billy wanted to slide his hands in there, cop a feel while he helped Steve look for whatever he was going to offer Billy.

And then Steve brought out two white wristbands.

“They’re for, uh, VIP seating and stuff. If you’re interested. Gets you closer to the arena. That way I can just see what you look like after I’m comin’ off a ride.”

Hoo boy.

This little cowboy has some fucking charm.

And he knows it too, judging by his smug little half-smile he gave Billy while he fastened the wristband around his wrist.

He helped Max with hers, doing it faster than he had Billy’s, and with a lot less eye contact, which was a good sign. He’s not perving on his twelve-year-old sister. Which is cool.

And then he was looking back at Billy, and brushing his long fingers over the tops of Billy’s shoulders, his arms out in his shirt, the arms torn off an old Aerosmith t-shirt he found at the Goodwill last year.

“You should reapply sunblock. Don’t want you burning now.” And Billy’s sure if Steve was wearing a Stetson, he woulda tipped it at them. “Enjoy the pageant.”

And he was off, and Christ, those jeans. How did Steve even successfully ride his horse in those things? They were so tight, showed off his nice peachy ass as he walked through the fairgrounds.

“Wow,” Max said. And yeah, Billy felt the same.

“In case it wasn’t clear, based on the way he was flirting with me, and also that he’s way too old for you, but, uh, dibs .”

“Billy, you can’t just call dibs on a person.” Billy just laughed.

He knows that his twelve-year-old fucking sister doesn’t have a shot in Hell with Steve. Really, he doubts he even has a shot in Hell with Steve, but he also likes to spend his time making her life as difficult as possible without actually being a shitty person. So, he just riles her up. Says shit that’ll get her going. He wouldn’t be doing his brotherly duties if he didn’t say that shit.

Max calls it even by kicking him in the shin twice and making him watch the stupid beauty pageant.

Which, like, why the fuck are there beauty pageants at the rodeo anyway?

Turns out it wasn’t pageant at all, but the four previous Miss Rodeo’s all lined up and looking far too glammed out for this fucking heat.

Max faked being disgruntled by the disappointment, but Billy knows, somewhere inside that tough bitch little soul of hers, she’s glad she didn’t have to sit through a goddamn pageant just to make Billy miserable.

Besides, Billy had whipped out his flask a few times, and he was feeling alright. Just buzzed enough that the heat had stopped making him feel quite so disgusting.

But not too drunk to miss calf roping.

And yeah, maybe it was a little bit lame to make their way over to the VIP seating earlier enough that they scored the front row. But when Steve came trotting out, leading June behind him, Billy was close enough he could pick out the cluster of moles on Steve’s left cheek.

So, lame was not in Billy’s vocabulary today.

It was pretty much the same thing as last week. Steve made everyone in the arena ooh and aah with his riding, tied up the calf in less than ten seconds once again.

But this time, when he took that jaunty little lap around the small arena, Billy knows for a fact Steve grinned at him. Knows his stupid gay brain wasn’t making up the wink he tossed effortlessly in Billy’s direction.

And they left, just like last weekend, as the sun was beginning to sink below the horizon.

“Just, c’mon. Mom gave you money .” Max was whining for a corn dog, of all things. When they have perfectly good, not fried food, at home.

“Maxine, I swear to Christ, I’m fucking tired. Let’s go home so I can crash, and you can fucking drive Susan up the goddamn wall with your whining.”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“I don’t know. He doesn’t seem too bad.” And Billy felt his insides curdling at that voice, felt himself wilting and shriveling because he would not be getting out of this day without one final, no doubt embarrassing, encounter with his gorgeous cowboy.

Steve was leaning against a booth selling chili fries, looking like a perfect picture of a Clint Eastwood movie.

Billy had never liked westerns.

But he was gonna go home and spend all night watching every one he could get his grubby little hands on.

Steve pushed off the side of the booth as Max found her words again.

“You don’t have to live with him.”

“And you don’t have to live with my folks. I’d trade you any day.”

And Billy nearly died. Right there. On the spot. Because. Holy shit. I’d trade you any day.

Billy was more than happy to follow this fucking hick around America, watch him ride his pretty horse before fucking him against the stable wall.

Or whatever. Do they have stables? Billy doesn’t know how a traveling rodeo works.

But like, they’ve gotta have stables, right?

“Nah, you’d get sick of him. He stinks.”

“Have you ever smelled horse shit? Because that’s the fragrance I wake up to every morning.”

And Max was laughing, and Steve was laughing, and Billy was trying to keep his hands as casually as possible in front of his slight chub.

“Will I get the privilege of seeing you two again?” And what a way to word it? The privilege. And then Steve was looking Billy up and down, and he was biting that perfect bottom lip and opening his mouth and “I could always give you my phone number. So we can. Meet up. Next time you’re here.”

“‘Course. You can give us the grand tour.”

And Steve was digging in those tight back pockets again, and shoving his phone into Billy’s hand, and he doesn’t have a passcode, but his home screen was a picture of him and his fucking horse which is, just about the sweetest thing Billy’s ever seen.

And Billy put himself in as Billy Hargrove , and then panicked because Steve doesn’t know his fucking last name. So he settled for Billy and then for good measure shoved San Diego after it because. Billy’s a common name, okay?

And Steve took his non-password protected fuckin’ horse girl phone, and Billy was giving him as charming a smile as he could muster with sweat on his upper lip and saying-

“You better text me, Pretty Boy. So I can save your number.” Billy shrugged, looking off to his left to try and seem. Nonchalant. “In case I wanna see you again.”

And Max was rolling her eyes, but she wasn’t stopping away. Wasn’t even whining at Billy, no doubt on her best behavior in front of hot cowboy Steve.

But Steve had a glint in his eye, and if Max wasn’t here Billy would be playing this all different, laying on the charm a lot thicker than he was.

But he can’t be a horny bastard in front of her. That’s just, like, gross.

So he settles for making a real show of licking his bottom lip, and maybe flexing his bare arms just a tiny bit.

“We should probably get goin’. Got a curfew for this one,” Billy jerked his head in Max’s direction. She huffed before she could stop herself. “See you around, Cowboy Steve.”

And Steve gave another one of his pretty ringing laughs.

“Come again soon, Billy and Max.” And again, Billy’s sure that if Steve were wearing a hat, he would’ve flicked the brim at them as he set off back into the rodeo, dodgin off the main thoroughfare.

“Wow. That was embarrassing for you.”

Billy whipped his head around to stare at Max, giving her the most disgusted look he could muster.

“The fuck you mean?”

“You were so obvious.”

“That’s the fucking point . We were flirting. It’s supposed to be obvious, you demon.” Billy shoved her once before stomping in the direction of the parking lot.

“Yeah but you were like, making these faces at him.”

“Shut the fuck up. I know what I was doing, okay? It was all very calculated . Let him know I’m down for it, and if he texts, then I’m good to go. If not, then I move on.”

And the thought of Steve not texting was kinda, disappointing. Because Billy really wanted him to text. He wanted to stay up late giggling at his phone and the dumb things Steve texts him and pretend they don’t make him flush like a fucking school girl.

He pointedly didn’t look at his notification when he reached the car, just shoved an old tape in and turned up Black Sabbath when Max wrinkled her nose at it.

They were both quiet on the drive back home. Something heavy unsaid between them.

And only as Billy was pulling into his spot in the driveway did Max suck in a big breath to actually put it out there.

“I won’t tell. About him. Not even Mom. Not even that I think he’s cool.”

“Thanks. Easier just to. Avoid at all costs.”

And if Billy were a better person, maybe he would hug her or something.

But they don’t do that. Instead he sighed and didn’t hip check her violently off the porch like his instincts were telling him. So really, he’s a fucking saint.

#yikes writes #rodeo au #show pony #steve harrington #billy harringrove #steve harringrove #thought i'd make a proper post with the story for ppl that wanted to read it here #i'm very proud of it!!#please read it!!

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waitinggtobeskinnny · 2 years

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I hate this…

I hate waking up and the first thought on my mind is “great, another day of hating myself”.

I hate looking in the mirror and seeing all my flaws.

I hate looking in the mirror.

I hate seeing a double chin.

I hate my side profile.

I hate sitting down and having my pants cut in to my stomach.

I hate painful bloating EVERY. DAMN. DAY.

I hate water but know I need to drink it.

I hate how round my face is.

I hate having to Facetune every pic before it gets posted.

I hate not feeling comfortable in shorts during the summer and sweating my ass off because all I will wear is jeans and pants.

I hate not feeling comfortable in all the cute crop tops.

I hate that baggy jeans aren’t actually baggy on me when I try them on.

I hate how fat my calves and ankles look when I wear high top sneakers.

I hate that every pair of pants stretches out over the course of the day because every time I sit down, my fat spreads out and causes the material to stretch.

I hate my bra digging in because I’m so fat that the band of my bra doesn’t ever just sit lightly on my skin.

I hate feeling like the fat sister out of all 3 of us.

I hate feeling like the fat friend.

I hate being the fat sister.

I hate being the fat friend.

I hate worrying about who is noticing my jiggly thighs and butt whenever I walk and wherever I go.

I hate always having to look for baggy hoodies or loose shirts with long sleeves because they’re the only thing I feel comfortable in.

I hate missing out on all the good foods.

I hate counting calories.

I hate bingeing.

I hate purging.

I hate not counting calories.

I hate weddings or dances where everyone is expected to dance but I feel so uncomfortable in my own skin that dancing is pure torture. Even in private.

I hate feeling uncomfortable in my own skin.

I hate the little tiny rolls near my armpits when I have my arms down.

I hate how huge I look when I’m sitting down.

I hate the feeling of my thighs sticking together and having to pull them apart like a bandaid being taken off.

I hate feeling like I don’t look cute even when I dress cute.

I hate feeling like a fake. Or an imposter.

I hate feeling like I have an ed.

I hate having an ed.

I hate thinking about eds.

I hate eds.

I hate everything. All of it. Make it stop.

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dreamingofaizawa · 3 years

Text

This one's got two versions, one for scars on the legs and scars on the arms. The first will be legs and the second will be arms, and I'll label them to make it easier.

Tw for implied self harm, scars.

*You can skip this little rant here*

The reason I'm doing this is because I have scars, but they aren't the ones people would usually think of when thinking about self-harm scars.

In my senior year of high school, I got into a terrible habit of scratching at my calves. I'd scratch them till they bled, and the scabs didn't heal until many months later when I willed myself to stop scratching. Now I've got splotchy, spotted scars all over my calves and it looks...not pretty. I hate how it looks, and I rarely wear shorts or skirts out in public.

I also have them on my arms, because shortly after I curbed the leg scratching I began scratching at the insides of my elbows. I've got the same scars there that are on my legs. It was all due to stress, and at the time I really didn't care how much I was truly hurting myself until one night they began burning terribly, and the pain was nearly unbearable. And it wasn't until much later I found out it's a form of self-harm.

I still occasionally scratch at those spots, but try my best to just stop when it gets bad. It takes a lot of willpower not to scratch an itch so strong. Slowly, I'm getting more comfortable with them, beginning to wear shorter garments. I wish I had someone to comfort me when I hated them so wholly, so I'm writing this for myself as well as anyone else who's insecure about their scars.

*Leg version*

Shouta only realized something was off when he was going through the laundry. He's hanging everything up, listing off the items as he does cause he's looking for a shirt.

Pants, jeans, more pants, sweatpants, joggers...wait...

With a bit of a start he's realizing you only own long bottoms. There's not a single pair of shorts in your entire wardrobe. Why? And how had he not noticed earlier?

Now he's peeking over at you as you rummage through the kitchen, in your only pair of shorts, legs bare. He isn't sure what he's looking for, but his eyes blow wide when he finds it. Scars. Discolored pieces of skin that are clear once you can spot them. He's never noticed them before, though he's sure you did that on purpose.

And now, laying in bed, his hands are wandering down to your legs. You flinch when he runs his fingers over the slightly different textures, massaging the skin beneath his hands.

"Sho...Sho stop that." He hums, peppers kisses to your shoulder.

"Why haven't I noticed these before? We've been living together for years and I've only seen them now." You squirm beneath his gaze, can't bring yourself to look into his eyes.

"I...they're ugly. I hate them. Dont...don't look at them." In a very opposite action, he leans down and kisses at the offending scars.

"I don't. They're part of you, maybe not from a happy time, but they're why you're you. You are who you are because this happened, and I can't think of any reason to hate them." Tears prick at your eyes, slightly embarassed, slighly upset that he's seeing such an ugly part of you, slightly happy that he isn't disgusted by them.

He releases your legs and suggles up behind you, leaving kisses along your cheeks and neck.

"I won't look yet. You'll learn to love them like I do. Anything that's part of you is worth loving. But for now, I won't look. I promise." Now you're tearing up for another reason.

Shouta is so, so good to you.

*Arm version*

Shouta only realized something was off when he was going through the laundry. He's hanging everything up, listing off the items as he does cause he's looking for a shirt.

Long sleeve t-shirt, long sleeve sweater, thin jacket, another sweater...wait...

With a bit of a start he's realizing you only own long-sleeved shirts. There's not a single regular t-shirt in your entire wardrobe. Why? And how had he not noticed earlier?

Now he's peeking over at you as you rummage through the kitchen, in your only tank top, arms bare. He isn't sure what he's looking for, but his eyes blow wide when he finds it. Scars. Discolored pieces of skin that are clear once you can spot them. He's never noticed them before, though he's sure you did that on purpose.

Now, as you're both in bed, his fingers are suddenly running over the patches of textured skin. You're squirming, telling him to stop it, don't touch them.

"Sho...Sho stop that." He hums, peppers kisses to your shoulder.

"Why haven't I noticed these before? We've been living together for years and I've only seen them now." You squirm beneath his gaze, can't bring yourself to look into his eyes.

"I...they're ugly. I hate them. Dont...don't look at them." In a very opposite action, he brings your arm to his face and kisses at the offending scars.

He releases your arms and suggles up behind you, leaving kisses along your cheeks and neck.

"I won't look yet. You'll learn to love them like I do. Anything that's part of you is worth loving. But for now, I won't look. I promise." Now you're tearing up for another reason.

Shouta is so, so good to you.

#shouta aizawa #shouta aizawa fluff #shouta aizawa mha #shouta aizawa bnha #aizawa shouta #aizawa shouta fluff #aizawa shouta mha #aizawa shouta bnha #aizawa bnha #aizawa mha #aizawa fluff #comfort corner with shouta

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enamoured-x · 4 years

Text

so it goes

Sorry for the late chapter. Hope this gets you excited for the next one. ;)

Word count: 2.2k

Chapter 8

Alex had been in a good mood all week. Not that she wasn’t always without a smile of her face but she felt ecstatic. Ever since her and Rio spent that night at the bar playing pool, they had gotten closer. They would send the occasional text and they’d grab a bite to eat when they could. Rio also loved to pop by at the shop, even if he didn’t have much time and could only say hi. She enjoyed it all, all these moments spent with him.

But. But there was always a but. She hated that she kept thinking back to Mick beating up the guy in the alleyway, or how Rio didn’t like to get into the details of his job. But even through all of it, she still couldn’t help but beam every time she saw him or every time she got a text from him. It was scary that with a smile from Rio, she’d be disarmed. There was something about him that Alex just couldn’t resist. It wasn’t the bad boy persona her friends had mentioned, she knew it was deeper than that. It was in the way he looked at her, in the way he touched her, from such small things she felt such devastatingly raw emotions.

She was struggling with what to do with it all. She enjoyed being friends with Rio but there was something there, at least from her end. Alex liked Rio. A lot. She wanted more and at times she felt like maybe he did too. The way he’d look at her...it told her enough, that Rio wanted something from her. She knew that much. And she was eager to find out just exactly he wanted. Because she wanted him, no way around it. And maybe, just maybe, he’d want her back.

It was a Friday afternoon when Alex had been returning to the shop from lunch. She came across a few posters hung up around the area about a new restaurant that had opened up. Alex was intrigued as she read about the Mexican restaurant and the salsa nights they had started up. She had double checked the date and sure enough, they were open tonight for food and dance. She had grabbed her phone and clicked on the group text to the girls, but before she could write out a text, she paused. As much as she loved hanging out with them, another person popped into her head. Rio. Did he even dance? The thought of Rio actually dancing made Alex laugh under her breath. But it was a fair question. There was only one way to find out. She pulled up his name and called him. He picked up on the second ring and she liked that he somehow always had time for her.

“Hey, mama.” Alex bit her lip, his voice was something so sinful. Her mind started to wander, if she were to call him up late at night, hands roaming her body, listening to that husky voice…

“Alex?” She warmed as she realized she was thinking about him in that way as he was waiting on the other line.

“Sorry, I wanted to know if you had plans tonight?”

“No plans. What were you thinking?”

She really liked that he was always eager for whatever, so maybe he would in fact be down for salsa.

“You dance?”

“Dance?”

“Salsa.”

“If it’s not your thing, we can do something else.” Alex added, chewing on her lip. She didn’t have a problem admitting she still wanted to hang out with him tonight. She didn’t care what they did.

“Nah. You wanna go? Then we’ll go.” She swore her heart skipped a beat at that. At how he was okay with doing whatever she wanted.

“You sure?”

“You gonna wear a dress?”

“Um...yeah?”

“Then yeah I’m sure.”

And that was enough to have Alex smiling to herself like a damn idiot. She let him know the details and he was quick to agree, letting her know he would drive. When Alex hung up the phone she couldn’t help but realize that this was potentially a date. The thought had her giddy the whole way back to the shop.

Hope and Julia noticed the chirper mood Alex was in right away as she walked back into the shop.

“What the hell is happening here?” Julia asked as she motioned to Alex’s red cheeks and wide grin.

“Nothing.” Alex said at the same time Hope said, “Rio.”

Alex looked down at the ground and bit her lip.

“What happened this time?” Julia asked, a smile forming on the girls lips.

“We’re going out tonight.” Alex shrugged. She didn’t know why it felt different. They had hung out a handful of times but something about tonight felt different. Her gut was telling her that tonight was special, or maybe it was just those damn butterflies. Or maybe it was the idea of actually dancing with Rio.

“Like on a date?” Hope interjected, both girls looking excited.

“I don’t know, maybe?” Alex was about to explain further when a customer walked in. She told the girls she’d handle it.

“Hello, how can I help you today?” Alex asked the woman.

“Hello, I was wanting to get an arrangement for a friend of mine.” The woman smiled.

“Well, what’s the occasion? We have some fun bright arrangements over here or these over here are a bit more on the classy side.” She motioned towards two different tables and fridges.

“Just want someone to know I’m thinking of them.” Alex smiled at the woman.

“Love those types! I don’t think you need an occasion to give flowers to someone.” Alex gushed as she led the woman over to some of her favorite arrangements.

“Exactly, I just want him to know I’m here for him, you know? I’m not going anywhere.” Alex nodded and started to go into detail about the different arrangements. A few moments later the woman finally picked one out and Alex began to ring her up.

“I hope he likes them.” Alex said as she finished charging her and wrapping the flowers.

“I’m sure he will. This place is amazing, I’ll be sure to come back for holidays.” Alex warmed at the idea that this woman would return. She loved hearing these sorts of things, it made her happy to know that people really enjoyed her products, at least enough to come back.

Alex stuck out her hand, “well we look forward to you returning. I’m Alex, I own the shop.” The woman smiled and took Alex’s hand in hers.

“Beth, nice to meet you, Alex.”

–

Alex couldn’t lie, she was definitely feeling herself tonight. She opted for an actual evening dress instead of one of her usual summer dresses. It was bold red and silky. And Alex may or may not have had Rio in mind when she took notice of how short it was. She felt confident in it and she felt sexy. She had just finished her makeup and hair, opting to leave her dark brown hair down in curls. She kept her makeup light but her lips were a deep crimson. She took a few more looks in the mirror. She had never gotten dressed up to go out with Rio. But this was at a nice restaurant and there would be dancing, well, Alex hoped there would be dancing. Besides, Rio wanted her to wear a dress so that’s what she was doing.

The knock on the door made her straighten out her dress and move some hair out her face. Her hands felt clammy as she walked to the door and opened it.

Rio knew tonight was different. He felt it. The place she wanted to go was pretty fancy and there was dancing involved, it wasn’t their usual hangout spot. When she had called him he could just tell that this wasn’t just like any other night they hung out. So, if she was wearing a dress, well, he was going to put in more effort. He opted for a black button up and dark jeans, and he traded his usual sneakers for a pair of sleeker black shoes. It wasn’t much but Rio’s closet didn’t contain anything fancier than that.

He had to admit he was a bit nervous. He wanted Alex something bad and he wanted to change things tonight. They had been hanging out for a few months now and if he was being honest, it had been some of the best months he's had in awhile. He liked being around her, liked seeing her smile and hearing her laugh. There were times when all he wanted to do was pull her into him, that’s how comfortable he had felt around her already. But he still didn’t want to push too hard. After what she saw, even if she apologized, he knew she knew something was up. And maybe he would tell her, maybe sometime soon. But he wanted to see where this thing could go, if it could even go anywhere.

Rio shook off the nerves and the self-doubt. He walked out of his apartment and then knocked on your door. He could hear the click of heels and his heart sped up. Fuck, Alex in heels? That was going to do something to him for sure. He started to get excited as the sound came closer and she was opening the door.

Rio swallowed hard and let himself take her in. God, she was fucking stunning. Her heels did wonders for her tanned and toned legs. His eyes trailing up her from her calves to her thighs that were on display as her dress was short enough to give Rio more to look at. It hugged her just enough to show him the curve of her hips and the swell of her breasts. Rio couldn’t think past the thought that she looked absolutely mouthwatering. When his eyes met her face, his chest did something funny. Those brown eyes were enjoying their fill of him. He really really liked the lipstick and his mind trailed off to what it would be like to have that color marked all over his body. He wanted to ruin her lipstick. He was in trouble tonight. He knew that much.

“Mamas, you’re breaking my heart. You look so damn good.” Rio wasn’t going to hold back tonight. Alex looked good and he was going to let her know.

Alex couldn’t help but think that the dress did in fact have its intended effect. She was enjoying the way he looked at her. And Alex was enjoying Rio in his button up, the top two buttons open, leaving his neck tattoo on display. He looked amazing and he smelled even better.

“You look really good too.” Alex didn’t have any words, really. Her skin was warm under Rio’s gaze. He held out his hand and she took it. She was pleased to find his hand a little clammy as well. She smiled at the idea that she wasn’t the only flustered one.

They walked down the hall and Rio couldn’t help but spare a glance at her ass. The dress did wonders for her curves and damn did he want to just tug her into him and feel her.

“You don’t need that purse, mamas.” He said as he opened his car door for her and helped her in. Alex didn’t speak until he hopped in and started up the car.

“And why don’t I need it?” She asked him as he started to drive.

“Because when you’re with me, you don’t need to touch that wallet.” Alex couldn’t lie and say she didn’t like the sound of that. Not necessarily at the idea of him paying for her but because he wanted to. He wanted to spoil her. But Alex was a firm believer in a relationship being fifty fifty. If Rio wanted to spoil her, he had no idea just how much Alex wanted to spoil him.

“Why?” Alex asked.

“Because I want to take care of you. And none of that sexist bullshit. I like treating you.” He shrugged, almost blushing at admitting it.

“And if I want to treat you?” Alex bit her lip, looking at him while he drove.

Rio felt that funny feeling in his chest again. The idea that she wanted to treat him? He had never had that, never had someone who wanted to give just as much as he was giving.

“I guess I can’t say no to that. But that don’t mean I ain’t gonna fight you on it.” She laughed lightly and he smiled.

“And you don’t think I’m gonna fight you on it too?” Rio laughed and shook his head.

“Fine, we’ll take turns. But no keeping score, I don’t care about none of that shit. If you’d let me you wouldn’t have to bring that purse with you anywhere.” Alex studied his words. This meant he was definitely thinking about the future. Definitely thinking about them. Together. She loved that.

“I call dibs on tonight's check.” Alex said, smirking. She knew what she was doing. Rio’s words did not convince her in the slightest. He was definitely going to try and pay for her every chance he got. That’s just who he was.

“Yeah, we’ll see.” This woman was going to keep him on his toes. But he loved it and he couldn’t wait for what tonight had in store.

Taglist: @thickemadame @fairywriter-oracle @joalsglasses @naysianaee @gemini0410 @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @helloosilver @scuzmunkie@xstylishmileage @starrynite7114 @wanhedavaliquette @laricebabe

#rio x reader #rio x you #good girls rio #rio good girls

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fencer-x · 5 years

Text

So today was the first of at least two Promare 4DX showings I’ll be attending 8D Pictured is the front/back of the card you get as you enter and LET’S TALK ABOUT THAT BACK FOR A SECOND.

1) It’s all in English for some reason.

2) It’s advertising a 4DX experience in English, which is silly, because AFAIK it’s not, never has, and probably never will be offered in 4DX outside of Japan.

3) THEY USE THE stay with me LINE. THAT LINE IS NOWHERE IN THE JAPANESE AT ALL. NOWHERE. IT’S HOW THE ENGLISH SUB (AND DUB?) TRANSLATED “おい、しっかりしろリオ！消えるな！” (Hey, hang in there, Lio! Don’t fade on me!). SO WHY IS ONE OF THE GAYEST (THE GAYEST???) LINES IN THE ENGLISH VERSION OF THE MOVIE ON A RANDOM CARD FROM A JAPANESE MOVIE THEATER??? The world may never know, but it’s better for it.

Now, as for the experience itself, I have...a few complaints, tbh.

First, the theater we went to, despite being one of the most frequented ones in the nation (Toho Shinjuku, sat right in the middle of Shinjuku and a five-minute walk from the busiest train station in the world), the quality of the 4DX theater itself was a little...eesh. The seats squeaked when they rocked, like they needed to be oiled (very obvious in quiet parts of the movie). It also was not fun getting slapped in the calves by what felt like rubber straps... Luckily I was wearing jeans, but if you were wearing a skirt or shorts? That would fucking hurt. Also there really was no need to have an almost constant stream of air rushing at your face. Use it to simulate Freeze Fire; no need for every punch and kick to be simulated that way.

Second...as I feared, they stripped out the Galo and Lio shorts that used to run before the movie. If you’ve only seen the English sub/dub, you’ve missed the two 10-min shorts that have been running before the movie in Japan. These were added after the initial cut and tell how Galo joined Burning Rescue and Lio became the leader of Mad Burnish. The 4DX shows, though, are only the main movie. This was my first time seeing the movie WITHOUT those shorts, and...it was a MUCH poorer experience for it. (yes, that means that if you love Promare now? You’re gonna love it a HELL of a lot more once you see those shorts) The movie launches you right into the action instead of giving you the chance to learn about the characters a little, see how they got to where they are, and get some attachment to anyone outside of perhaps Galo and Lio. The pacing is pretty bad without the intro shorts (sorry, gotta say it), and I now see why everyone has been confused about how old Lio is and how long he’s been leading Mad Burnish (because with the Lio short, it’s clear he’s only been in charge as long as Galo’s been at Burning Rescue, which by the start of the movie itself is probably a few months at best).

So yeah, that’s really unfortunate (and also unfortunate because I’m now reminded that the English sub we’re going to see at TIFF next Wednesday will 95% for sure not have the shorts either...meaning I’m pretty much not going to be able to see them again until the DVD launch ;;;;;).

If you’re in an area where it’s possible and have been trying to decide if you want to go see the re-run that’s being planned with “new footage” for December, understand that that “new footage” is going to be these shorts, and you’ll hate yourself if you don’t see it!

#promare

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menswearmusings · 5 years

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After You Buy All the Essentials, Then What? My Personal List Moving Forward

Switching focus from the urgent to the important is a vital practice in the business world. Have you ever worked somewhere where it’s clear that instead of thinking critically about the core of the organization’s mission for ways to grow and improve, the focus is instead on whatever the newest, shiniest idea is (or often, whatever the latest crisis is)?

I always had a sense of urgency about buying clothes, because my goal was to dress in cool tailoring every day of the week in ways that I would consider meaningfully different. But being constrained by a budget meant I had to think carefully about what I bought, so I wouldn’t end up with something because it was a great deal, only to discover I had very little use for it. So I created a list of clothes I wanted that I imagined would comprise a complete wardrobe (for my tastes and needs). That helped me stay focused on my goals when sale season started and there were so many awesome things to buy.

Now, though, having largely built that wardrobe I imagined, I tend to get distracted by the new, shiny thing much more. I’ll find some product on eBay or in a shop on sale and become obsessed with it, going back to look at it over and over again. Without that hit list of must-buys to bring myself back from the brink, I always have a creeping sense that whatever it is I end up actually purchasing is maybe the wrong choice for me and I should instead be saving that money for some other, better purchase down the road. I’ve picked all the low-hanging fruit, but I have no personal guidance for reaching higher.

So, in an effort to try and refocus myself on buying what I can consider important purchases—not just those with the urgency of desire—here’s my list of next must-haves.

(By the way, if you’re just starting out and want some help building a wardrobe from scratch, check out my “Guide to Building a Tailored Wardrobe.” In it, I explain just that—how to have the right mindset about buying clothes, plus specific advice for versatility in clothing. Check it out here.)

More cotton-linen trousers for summer

Since becoming a dad—but even before then—dress trousers in wool just don’t get much wear from me. Primarily that’s because pants need cleaning more often, and I hate dry cleaning bills. But it’s also because I prefer a silhouette that just doesn’t work with dress pants, at least in wool. Jeans or even chinos made of denim or cotton twill drape differently and thus can work in the tapered cut I prefer. My previously perfectly fitting flannel trousers with that ideal taper from Spier & Mackay are now too slim because my calves got too big. So I have to go fuller. I’m fine going with that in a drapey wool, but day to day I prefer a slimmer knee and slightly tapered opening at the hem.

This is why cotton-linen trousers exist. Cotton-linen seems to have that perfect balance of cotton’s stiffness with linen’s drape, so they hang well but are forgiving if the fit isn’t bespoke-perfect or your proportions make things difficult. Pure linen just doesn’t give off the vibe I’m looking for typically (it feels a little more louche the way it hangs and rumples than I as a person am). And other options like wool-silk-linen blends are beautiful and amazing (I’ll get those below), but what I like about cotton-linen is I can usually machine wash it myself to no ill effect. Currently I have one pair, so it’d be nice to get another 2-3 to rotate through (much as I have with flannel in the winter). My list would be:

A second pair of off-white

Tan / khaki

Deeper brown

Maybe a light blue or mid-navy

Options I have for buying these: Spier & Mackay’s dress trouser fit is still my best bet right now, and I’ve been told they’ll have a crop of 7 colors of cotton-linen trousers in mid-April. That said, I also just purchased some pairs from Brooks Brothers’ Red Fleece line that arrive soon, made from fabric by the same mill as Spier’s, for $37 a pair that might work, too.

A rotation of good chinos and a pair of light wash jeans that fit

Chinos are nice because they dress up or down pretty well (you can wear a tie with them without it being weird, unlike five-pocket pants, but on their own without a jacket they’re good too), and if you get them in the right fabric, they’re pretty hard-wearing.

Finding chinos that 1- don’t have stretch, 2- are made from material that’s a good mid-weight, and 3- fit the way I want is extremely difficult. You wouldn’t think so but man it’s hard to find good chinos. And finding good, faded jeans with similar qualities is likewise hard without spending $200+. That said, if I can find them, what would make my wardrobe happy would be chinos in:

Off-white

Stone

True khaki

Possibly a pair in fatigue, which is a good color when it’s too hot to wear a jacket

Options for chinos are tricky. I like the idea of what fellow menswear blogger Ian is doing with his new shop Lost Monarch; $125 is hefty for chinos, but I suppose if they fit really well and the fabric rules, the investment might be worth it. I also always forget about classic chino maker Bill’s Khakis, which was always hailed as having the highest quality back in my early Styleforum days. They introduced a number of slimmer fitting styles over the years and are still fairly easy to find on eBay. Spier & Mackay’s chinos are a great deal but each time I’ve tried them, the fit’s been off for me in some way or other. I might try them once again this spring.

As for light wash jeans, I’ll be looking probably at American Eagle, Polo RL, Abercrombie, Banana Republic, and other mall brands. Much as I’d like to get some 3-Sixteens or even Naked and Famous, they’re hard to get ahold of where I live and trying jeans on is critical.

A dark navy blazer in both single and double breasted configurations

I have seasonally appropriate navy jackets—one is wool/cashmere for winter, and one is raw silk for summer—and last summer I added a dark blue double breasted jacket for summer as well. When I recently tried on No Man Walks Alone’s Sartoria Carrara jackettried on No Man Walks Alone’s Sartoria Carrara jacket, which was a dark navy twill, I remembered why dark navy jackets exist: they’re classy as heck. All my navy jackets are slightly lighter shades of navy, which is great, but a good, dark navy blazer brings some gravity to an outfit, looks great in the evening and dresses up very well for more formal occasions.

That said, it’s gotta be the right texture. Hopsack wool is a good option; I would also be interested in some kind of blend like wool-silk-linen or similar. I’m not a fan of mohair, so I wouldn’t do that, and the high twist fabrics are tricky because they tend to look fairly smooth, while I like a little more surface texture. Given how much I like my SuitSupply Jort blazer, I’m hoping they release a double breasted jacket that might fit the bill this spring/summer. As for single breasted, I really, really liked that NMWAxCarrara jacketNMWAxCarrara jacket, so something closer to a 3-season fabric from him would be amazing. Of course Spier & Mackay has staple hopsack wool blazers in both their Neapolitan cut and regular cut, which sold out quickly in my size.

A dark navy double breasted blazer by Ring Jacket (model 6) I tried on at The Armoury in New York City. Click the image to see the product page of this actual jacket at their site.

A pair or two of summer trousers in a nicer fabric

Cotton linen trousers and chinos are as dressy as I need them to be most of the time in my life, but it’s still nice to have a pair of classier dress trousers in summer for occasions that call for it. I’ve had gray hopsack and fresco in the past, but those were more corporate than I was looking for.

Summer is the time for levity in the color palette, so I really like the idea of a light or mid blue (maybe a petrol blue). Every time Greg at No Man Walks Alone does spring pre-orders for Rota, they offer these beautiful wool/silk/linen blend fabrics, including petrol blue in the past, and every time, I love how they look but always stopped short of ordering for various reasons. A sufficiently textured, interesting blend in a light gray would also be nice and would be better than a corporate looking fresco or tropical wool. In the swatches below, which were for this season’s Rota trouser made to order options, the blue and gray at the top hold appeal, and even that green at the bottom.

Swatches for Rita wool/silk/linen trousers From No Man Walks Alone.

Some dress shirts from Anglo-Italian

It feels like I’ve been banging on about this for years at this point, I know, but their reverse stripe OCBD is great and I need to just pull the trigger and buy it. But beyond that, Anglo’s house dress shirt model is essentially the perfect shirt: the collar shape is an ideal wide spread with no tie space and that isn’t too stiff; the fit is comfortable but not baggy; and the details are all there both quality and design-wise. The back shirring is maybe a bit out there for many people, but these shirts are meant to be worn under a jacket, which is how I’d wear them. I’d buy white first then probably their blue end-on-end and maybe the bengal stripe. They’re expensive at $175, but that’s less than other comparable Italian dress shirt companies like Finamore or Borrelli.

A couple additional pairs of suede shoes

I love suede for its versatility in dressing up or down. What I wear 95% of the time are snuff suede penny loafers, snuff suede chukkas and tan suede tassel loafers. I’m looking to get more dark brown suede, which, sorta like true dark navy blazers, brings some gravity to an outfit. My penny loafers have been through some rough times; I plan to resole them (which they badly need), but it’d be nice to have a pair that aren’t so beaten up. I prefer a sleeker last shape most of the time (not pointy, maybe almond shaped) to the round lasts you see from classic Ivy brands like Alden, which are more casual and carry a lot more of that Ivy feeling (something I’m always trying to temper with more rakish aesthetics). That said, a rounded loafer of some kind to wear strictly casually is something I’d like to get to help share the load with the other shoes. I’ve also been really into the split toe derby look the last year or so. I tried The Armoury’s on when I visited there in 2018, and really liked it.

So, the list would be:

Dark brown suede penny loafers

Dark brown suede Chelsea boots

Brown suede split toe

Dark or mid-brown suede beef roll or similar more casual loafers

I’ve noticed that the most comfortable shoes I love wearing the most are all made by Allen Edmonds, so I’ll be looking at those for sure. The Sea Island in particular looks awesome for that casual loafer. Beckett Simonon has some suede boots and given how comfortable their shoes are, their Bolton Chelsea looks nice. Meermin of course is another option for suede boots, and they have a penny loafer that might fit the bill for me, too. Spier & Mackay’s shoe offerings look very good, including this suede penny loafer. And of course the Armoury’s split toe derby is the one I’m most looking at for that category as I’m sort of picky when it comes to split toe shoes.

So there’s my hit list moving forward. I’ve already deviated from it this season by purchasing an excellent but not-on-this-list jacket from Spier & Mackay in 100% linen by Sondrio in a mid-brown glen check pattern. It surprised me how much I loved it, so I’m letting myself deviate from the list, guilt-free. And at the end of the day, the clothing hobby is all about enjoying life anyhow, and what could be more important than than?

(Help support this site! If you buy stuff through my links, your clicks and purchases earn me a commission from many of the retailers I feature, and it helps me sustain this site—as well as my menswear habit ;-) Thanks!)

Read more at Menswear Musings

#Buy list #Priorities #purchase list #Urgent

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shanastoryteller · 5 years

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Hello Shana! I was wondering if you might have any thoughts/cathartic words you could share on the topic of body-positivity and loving yourself at any size, because I'm trying here but it's just... really, really hard. So yeah.

UUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHH oh god i’m just. the worst person to ask. at this point i’m just like yolo, so i don’t, uh. okay.

1. never feel guilty for putting food in your body. it doesn’t matter what food, how much you’ve eaten, or how much you’ve exercised today. all food has nutritional value and freaking out over eating a slice of cheesecake helps no one. just enjoy the cake.

2. clothing sizes are stupid and you shouldn’t worry about them. i’m a 2x/18 in most clothes, except when i’m not, and then i size up or down as needed. the label on your clothes doesn’t change your body. if i put on a size 16 it doesn’t make me skinnier, and if i put on size 20 it doesn’t make me fatter. your body doesn’t change shape with your clothing size, so you might as well just wear whatever feels/looks best and not get hung up on it. i have to size up in my favorite pair of jeans from torrid, and i had to size down in the jeans i bought from charlotte russe (rip). it doesn’t matter. size is just a number.

3. i feel best about myself when i work out regularly. i’m not looking to lose weight. in fact, considering the fortune i’ve spent on my closet, i would be really pissed if all my clothes stopped fitting properly (losing weight would not make my clothes “fit better” because i buy my clothes to fit me now, not an imaginary, skinnier version of me). but i love aerial yoga and plan a significant portion of my stories while zoning out doing cardio. i appreciate my body more when it does things for me, like helping me to a back flip out of an inversion of setting a new time at the gym. how can you hate something that lets you do such cool and fun things?

4. wear whatever cute skinny girl style you want and don’t worry about it. i wear crop tops and bralettes and see-through clothes and bodycon dresses. i wear tight clothes and short skirts and low cut tops, i let my arms be fat and calves jiggle, and it doesn’t matter. no one laughs at me or is disgusted. i get compliments on my outfits all the time. i’m cute. you’re cute. we’re all cute, and we can wear cute things and feel pretty and dainty and adorable.

5. get ready in the morning naked, or in underwear. start walking around your house in a yoga bra and sweatpants. just get used to what your body looks like. i promise you it’s not actually that different to other bodies. there’s nothing scary or horrifying about your fat. there’s nothing about your body that’s so bad everyone will be repulsed by you. it’s all okay. get used to seeing yourself in your own skin. get used to existing in your own skin.

just fake it till you make it, babe. lie about loving yourself for long enough, and eventually it won’t be a lie

#life advice #god i hope this is a little helpful #this is not my forte #i'm just a fat girl who loves clothes #anon #asks

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blouisparadise · 4 years

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Here are some great bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of May. We really hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) Louis Punishments | Mature | 1759 words

Just a bunch of punishments Harry has given to Louis.

2) Hoping To Discover A Certain Kind Of Lover | Explicit | 2353 words

He knew the basic idea of what was supposed to happen. It was the entire point of the film Zayn was working on. To match up unmated alpha and omega strangers and to film them as they kissed for the first time. The two of them shuffled awkwardly back and forth, unsure of what to do.

Enough was enough. “I’m gonna just go for it, yeah?” Harry suggested, and Louis nodded quickly, already leaning closer to him.

Everything was hesitant at first. Tender lips met, and all of it was soft and new, neither of them wanting to overstep. A little zing of anticipation and something unfamiliar shot down Harry’s spine as he swallowed the tiny sound of surprise Louis made. Neither alpha nor omega were pushing, but that was the point of all of this, wasn’t it? To see what happened when people let go and let themselves be? Harry figured he would try. For the sake of the experiment, of course.

Gently, so, so gently, Harry slid his hand up the side of Louis’s throat, cupping his jaw to hold him as close as he could. Their lips finally, finally, finally parted, and Harry could taste the hint of tea and honey lingering on Louis’s tongue. Suddenly and all at once, he couldn’t get enough.

3) Irresistible | Mature | 2380 words

Louis goes into his first heat at school and no one is able to resist him. Harry - who's been in love with him since forever - fucks and bonds him in the toilets.

4) Signed, No Name | Mature | 4647 words

Harry doesn’t know Blue, he just knows that he leaves random notes in the corners of the books he checks out, and he’s head over heels for him.

5) It Could've Been Worse | Not Rated | 4949 words

The one where a pandemic happens, harry is obssessed and louis hates apps made for 15 years old.

6) Take Me To The Stars | Explicit | 5840 words

Staring at his darling daughter, in the middle of the pasta aisle, Louis found himself on the edge of a neurotic breakdown.

"It’s your birthday tomorrow! And your papa better not do anything to muck it up! Because your dada worked very hard to organise it! And all of your aunties and grannies and granddads and friends will be there!” Louis continued in a sweet sing-song voice that seemed to get increasingly frantic as he continued. “And if your papa is in rut, then what? What’ll we do, honey girl? Your dada will be too busy! And your papa will be too horn-”

“Louis,” Harry interrupted, touching Louis’ arm. “I’ll be okay. It’s probably not even my rut. I can appreciate you… all of you… even when I’m not in rut.”

Louis looked at him skeptically, imagining the shitshow that would be Harry in rut, surrounded by family and friends, at their child’s first birthday party. “I hope you’re right, H.”

7) Kiss Like Fire | Explicit | 9093 words

Harry watches as his uncle's new omega walks around the backyard, serving canapés and drinks to all of the family members gathered. Harry is surrounded by his cousins, all sat together, too young for the adults but too old for the kids and teens. He lifts his beer to his lips and takes a sip when the omega crouches down by one of Harry's younger cousins and hands her a small cracker, sending her off with a sweet smile.

He watches as his uncle comes out of the house, sliding the patio door shut behind him and quickly making his way over to his omega. The omega looks up at him when he wraps an arm around his waist. His pretty lips move with soft-spoken words. Harry has to fight to keep his alpha in check when his dirty old uncle's hand dips down, grabbing at the omega's ass and making him jump.

"Dude," one of his cousins says, "Uncle Darron's new omega is such a milf."

8) Waking Up Alone | Mature | 10060 words

"Nothing makes you hurt like hurting who you love"

Love shouldn't hurt, loving somebody with everything you have shouldn't make you feel like you're dying. Louis feels like he’s drowning. He should have known where this was going from the start, he should have been prepared. Now he’s waking up in an empty bed, some days he doesn’t want to even wake up again. There's a hole in his heart; it's in the shape of Harry. Nothing he does can fill it. Drugs, alcohol, pouring out his heart into songs that Harry probably won't ever hear. When Louis is with him, he feels like he’s in heaven. Being alone, that's what he feels he deserves, at least Harry can be happier without him.

Maybe if they met at a different time, under different circumstances, he could have saved them. Louis had to do what was best for Harry, but it kills him a little everyday. Louis sees his smile everyday, but he knows it's no longer for him. Someone else makes Harry happier, but Louis wanted it to be him. They could have had forever. Louis would have given Harry everything.

"Forget what I said, it's not what I meant" Harry had tried to say, but Louis knew that wasn't the truth. After everything they’ve been through, Louis still loves him.

9) To The Beat Of My Own Drum | Explicit | 10285 words

A collection of drabbles.

10) Alone Too Long | Explicit | 10371 words

By the time The Temptress finally reached bay, the Captain only had one thing on his mind, and that one thing was Louis Darling.

11) Straight Boy | Explicit | 12251 words

Young, brunette and handsome, Louis attracts unwanted attention in prison. When his cellmate offers him protection, Louis accepts the offer, even though he doesn’t trust the guy. Little does he know how much it will change his life.

When he’s released from prison, Louis finds himself needing and wanting things he shouldn’t want. Louis is straight. He is. He has a girlfriend. What happened in prison stayed in prison—or so Louis tells himself.

Until he meets his former cellmate again. Harry. The guy he hates and craves.

12) Beautiful Crime | Not Rated | 13282 words

Note: This fic contins no explicit smut but since it’s a/b/o we’ve decided to include it in this monthly roundup.

Louis is keen to defeat the one and only Alpha Harry Styles who has a notorious reputation in the entire country for his ruthlessness but a turn of events brings them on crossroads which deviate from their havens of war.

13) Anticipation | Explicit | 14156 words

Louis' a stripper. Harry's the new club owner. Louis decides he wants to get in his new boss' pants fairly quickly, but it might take more work than he thought to do that.

14) Strong Enough | Explicit | 20787 words

“So…” Liam starts, and Louis instantly knows where this is going. He’s actually glad it’s Liam that's dragging the subject out from the shadows and into the light. Louis turns to face him, mirroring his position on the couch and nods, ready for him to continue. Liam takes a deep breath. “Have you spoken to Harry recently?”

Five years after Vertigo goes on hiatus, the band comes back together for a benefit concert. Can Louis and Harry work through their complicated past, or are some wounds too deep to be healed?

15) Alpha and Omega | Not Rated | 22270 words

Note: There is no smut where someone bottoms in this fic, but it contains omega Louis, so we’ve included it in this monthly roundup.

Louis finds a new sense of self when the son of the werewolf leader, Harry Styles, comes to town to quell unrest in the Chicago pack and inspires a power in Louis that he never felt before.

Not my own work but rather a reimagination of the book Alpha and Omega with Harry and Louis.

16) Amazing Grace | Mature | 24290 words

Harry’s a dedicated pastor who's happily married, Louis is the troubled youth that stumbles into his life.

17) A Trail Of Honey Through It All | Explicit | 27083 words

The boy in front of him, well really, the man in front of him, was like something out of a confusing wet dream. Built, tall, tan and muscular, his skin glistened with sweat after a long day of working outdoors with his hands. He was wearing a cut up old American football shirt, the bottom hem was torn and the sleeves were cut off to the point where the t-shirt was really just a loose tank top. The shorts he had on had clearly been full length jeans at one point, and were now just crudely cut off above the knee. His white socks were pulled up too high on his calves, and the brown work boots he had on were old as fuck, the leather peeling along the edges of the soles. Curly brown hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards snapback, and there was a smudge of grease wiped along his brow bone. The smattering of hair along his jaw proved that he hadn’t shaved in a week or two, the hair growing in thicker across his upper lip and around his chin. His sinfully bowed mouth was pink and plump, and Louis was suddenly hyper-focused on the way that he chewed at the toothpick stuck between his lips. He looked like he needed a shower. Louis wanted to lick him.

18) Just a Bit Twisted | Explicit | 30548 words

Professor Harry Styles is hated and feared by all of his students. Strict, reserved and ruthless, he doesn’t tolerate mistakes and has little patience for his students.

Louis Tomlinson is a twenty-year-old struggling to provide for his younger sisters after the death of their parents. On the verge of losing his scholarship, Louis becomes desperate enough to go to Professor Styles.

Everyone says Styles doesn’t have a heart. Everyone says he’s a ruthless bastard. Louis finds out that everyone is right.

He strikes a deal with Styles, but unexpectedly, the deal turns into something so much more.

Something all-consuming and addictive.

Something neither of them wants.

19) Like It's A Game | Explicit | 32223 words

There is little harry hates more than truth or dare.

20) We'll Be the Fine Line | Not Rated | 32474 words

“…Hey, Harry. It’s Louis…… um, yeah. Listened to the album tonight. It’s real good mate. Um, yeah, just real, impressed. I was kinda putting it off, ya’know, didn’t know if I wanted to listen to it. Saw you went on James and, uh, Saturday Night Live. Couldn’t watch you, have a hard time watching you on these things……. Anyway, mate, just thought I would drop a line. Don’t need to call me back. Alright.”

Louis listens to Fine Line, and, drunk, he leaves a voicemail for Harry after months of not speaking. This reminds Harry of a time before everything fell apart, slowly, painfully, a time when the two of them were still in love. And he desperately wants to go back.

21) The Space Between | Explicit | 33074 words

Living in East Verona was a privilege. One Prince Harry only found out when he decided to cross the borders into The Zone looking for entertainment, a temptation, a distraction, anything that would allow him to escape his boring, mundane life of luxury.

But what he found was something he never could have expected - poverty, destruction, chaos, but most importantly, a blue-eyed boy.

Together, they embark on a journey plagued with hazards and risks and twists and turns.

Can these two star-crossed souls fight for their freedom and keep each other safe at the same time?

22) Yes, Daddy, I Will | Not Rated | 33510 words

Where Harry is a dom and Louis is his cute little sub.

23) Last Blues For Bloody Knuckles | Explicit | 34241 words

Styles was a name everyone knew. It had evolved into something of a fairy tale, a far away problem that normal people didn’t have to deal with. Louis never thought he’d find himself falling in love with him. When he finds himself pregnant with Harry’s child, he knows he has to leave the life, and Harry, behind. For her sake.

He never expected Harry to show back up on his doorstep five years later.

24) Before We Knew | Explicit | 39593 words

Or Louis has been skeptical of soulmates for years so it seems like fate when he finally bumps into the owner of the obnoxiously large signature printed into his skin since age sixteen: Harry Styles, a human rights attorney who is firmly against soulmates.

25) Hit Me With Your Sweet Love | Explicit | 39690 words

Powerful people only end up with powerful people. The rest are just playthings in their lives. Louis Tomlinson was many things, but he wasn’t anybody’s plaything.

26) Stole My Heart | Mature | 51343 words

Louis doesn't want much. A warm bed, and people who care about him.

Harry has everything he needs, despite his mother insisting he needs a mate. Money, status, and any omega he wants, why lock his heart down.

Until Louis comes along, and steals it.

27) No Going Back | Explicit | 56102 words

Sales reps Harry and Louis are bored with their jobs and their lives. After meeting at a conference in Cardiff they hook up, have a few too many drinks, and jokingly apply to become remote lighthouse keepers. Six months, just the two of them, looking after the southernmost lighthouse off the bottom of Australia. It’s not like their applications will be accepted. Right?

This is the story of how one choice - a left instead of a right, a go instead of a stop, a yes instead of a no - can change the future forever and that sometimes, taking that leap of faith, is worth the risk.

28) Royal Desires | Mature | 66207 words

When Prince Louis falls into an early heat, his new personal guard Harry Styles is brought in as his heat partner for the time being until Louis finds a suitable royal prince to bond and take the throne with. The only problem is that Harry is everything Louis wants but can't have. Freedom, tattoos, individuality...and quite possibly love.

29) How To Break A Heartbreaker's Heart? | Teen & Up | 67447 words

Harry is straight.

Louis is gay.

Harry happens to be homophobic.

Louis has a dark past.

Harry had a dark childhood.

Will Louis and Harry unite and defy their past? Or will homophobia win for the umpteenth time?

30) Lavender Dreams | Not Rated | 77888 words

Louis is an outgoing person that goes to school for educational psychology and Harry is a biology major who happen to run into each other... a lot.

31) Be My Omega | Mature | 138372 words

It all started when the alpha laid eyes on the short curvy omega and he knew at that moment that his life would never be the same, in a good way of course.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

#bottom louis #top harry #blp fic recs #monthly fic recs #fic recs #blp #larry

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daisyxbuckley · 5 years

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Afterlife//Mitch Rapp Series

A/N: This is like the SHORTEST chapter you will ever see me write for a series. Like for real. Instead of my usual 10 pages, this was like 4 so ill hopefully have the next part up tonight lol. Anyways enjoy!

Description: It’s been six months since Mitch and Ophelia took down Ghost. Six months since Ophelia had to kill someone that she thought she once loved. Now a new threat is back and the only question is…with they both make it out alive?

@cxddlyash @dylan-obrien-fanblog @stiles-o-dylan24 @xceafh

******************************************************************************************

4 Months Later

Mitch slammed the hotel room door shut and threw his bag on the table. Shrugging his shirt off, he kicked his shoes to the side and went into the bathroom. Scrubbing his face, Mitch looked up at the face that was glaring back at him. His eyes were sunken and his skin was a bit paler. The shine that he had started getting back was gone and he hadn’t smiled since that night. Sighing he walked out and rummage through his bag and pulled out a clean shirt. Grabbing a beer from the mini fridge, he popped the top off before he sat down on the couch and sat in front of the computer.

“Come on O, where are you?” He said to himself, staring at the screen. He was somewhere in Paris. Or maybe it was Russia ...Mitch had no clue at this point.

The moment Mitch had woken up in that cabin he called Stan. He was frantic and spent most of the night looking for her, but if Ophelia didn’t want to be found then she wouldn’t be. It broke Mitch’s heart that she felt like she had to run away.

Mitch brought up the security footage that Adam had sent over to him. The second Ophelia went missing, he put a hit on all the facial recognition software. She hadn’t been popping up but they knew that she was alive. Men had been showing up all over Europe that had her signature all over them. There were pictures of her spread around the room, most of them taken within the first three weeks she was gone. After that she had vanished and he hadn’t seen her since.

Adam’s videos were probably a bust but he took a swig of his beer and pressed play anyways. It was taken from a market that was full of vendors. His eyes scanned the screen looking for her. Taking another swig from the bottle he noticed something on the right of the screen.

The figure was wearing black skinny jeans tucked into black boots that went up to her calves. The jacket she wore showed the dark grey tank top that was tucked into the waistband of her jeans and when she adjusted her jacket, he saw the firearm that was tucked in the small of her back. But what caught Mitch’s eye were the healing fingernails on her left hand. Leaning closer, Mitch’s eyes narrowed when she turned around. Ophelia looked up where the camera was like she knew it was there. The look on her face was cold and calculated, her hair had grown out into waves down her back. Her bangs were chopped just above her eyes, framing her face. The brown hair that he used to know had been lightened with blonde highlights. It was almost as if she knew he would be watching.

Mitch quickly checked the time and date. It was from the day before at market in Kiev. Grabbing his phone he instantly called Stan waiting for him to pick up.

“What.” The voice answered gruffly.

“I found her. She was in Kiev, Ukraine yesterday.” Mitch said. The video had been paused with her face staring at him. Stan was silent on the phone as he thought about what these meant.

“She wanted to be found.”

“I know sir. I can be there tomorrow.”

“Rapp, don’t spook her.” Stan said lowly. “She is still with him and we don’t want shit going south.”

“Sir..what is the mission.” Mitch asked quietly. The question hung in the air between them. Mitch knew that neither of them had any clue if Ophelia was even on their side anymore.

“Extract her. I don’t care how you do it. Just do it.” Stan said before hanging up.

Mitch quickly shut his laptop and shoved it into the bag along with the files and the rest of his stuff. Booking a ticket on his phone, he quickly checked out of the hotel and caught a cab to the airport. Three hours later he was landing at the airport in Kiev and heading to the closest hotel. Setting up in a room under an alias, Mitch got settled in and realized that it was almost three in the morning and as much as he wanted to go searching for her, he knew that he needed some sleep. Sighing he laid back on the couch and closed his eyes.

His dreams were always about her. The last time he saw her, how she had looked at him in sadness. Mitch sighed and opened his eyes looking at the clock. Groaning he realized he managed to sleep for about four hours. Getting up he threw some water on his face and put a clean shirt on. Grabbing his gun, he checked the clip and put it in the waistband of his jeans while grabbing his jacket. Shrugging it on he grabbed his things and walked out the door.

The cold October air was crisp as Mitch walked quickly through the streets. His breath came out in short puffs as he kept his head down and tried to steer clear of everyone. Dipping into a cafe, he ordered a coffee and smiled at the girl as she made it for him. After asking for some directions, he walked out the door. The same market that Ophelia had been seen in was a few blocks away so he figured that he would stay there and look around.

The market was already crowded for the early hours and it made Mitch uncomfortable. He sat down at a table that allowed him to see everything around him. He sipped his coffee and tried to figure out what the hell Ophelia was doing in the Ukraine. He and Stan had already come to the conclusion that she was working for Kiernan, but they had no clue why. Stan threw out, one drunken night, that maybe she was brainwashed. But as much as Mitch wanted to believe that was the case, he knew that Ophelia was too strong for that.

Mitch sat in the same spot for about five hours. He studied every person that was in the market that day. He looked for Ophelia in every girl her age, hoping that it would be her and she would reappear. But she never did. Sighing, he finally got up to head back to the hotel room when he heard it.

Her voice.

Mitch started scanning the market. He saw her from following someone that was walking next to her. She casually brought her hand to her mouth, like she was scratching her cheek, but Mitch knew that she was talking to someone. He quickly started following after them. He recognized Kiernan standing next to her and his blood started boiling when he touched her lower back and Ophelia just let him. Mitch stayed hidden until the group got to a black sedan. He watched as Ophelia looked around before Kiernin stepped into the car. Once he was in, she hit the hood and watched it drive off before going the other way.

Mitch let a little distance between them as she continued into the crowd. The last thing he needed was for her to run. He watched as she pulled out her ipod and put her headphones in but he knew she wasn’t really zoned out. She knew everything going on around her. He followed her for about twenty minutes before he saw her go down a side street. Mitch took a left and cursed when he realized she wasn’t there anymore.

“God Damnit!” He yelled as he ran a hand through his hair. Hearing the safety of a gun click off, Mitch tensed up before turning around slowly with his hands up. Ophelia stood across from him, her gun was raised and a hard look on her face. Mitch felt his own gun in the waistband of his jeans and knew that he could reach it in time, but he wouldn’t do that to her.

“What are you doing here?” She asked with no emotion. Mitch was surprised that she spoke to him like she didn’t care.

“Ophelia...what the hell is going on? “ He asked slowly. “What are you doing.”

“You shouldn’t be here.” Was all she said, never lowering her gun. She hated that this was the position she was in, but she knew that this was how it had to be to save him.

“I shouldn’t be here?” Mitch yelled. “Ophelia you shouldn’t be here.” he said stepping forward. He didn’t care that sh was pointing a gun at his chest. He just wanted her home.

“Mitch...you need to leave.” Ophelia whispered. She hated feeling like this, she wanted nothing more than to just pull him close and run away with him. But she couldn’t.

“I’m not going anywhere without you. O, we haven’t stopped looking for you.” He said placing a hand on the gun trying to lower it. Mitch refused to take his eyes off hers as he slowly lowered it to her side. They stood there staring at each other for a second and Mitch could see the wall fall in her eyes and knew that he was getting through to her. “O, please. I need you.” Mitch pleased. Before she could react, he had pressed her up against the wall. His lips had latched onto hers as his hands found her waist wrapping around it. Her arms reached up instinctively and wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to her. Ophelia’s hands moved up through his hair and Mitch moaned as her hails scraped across his scalp. He nipped at her lip as he pulled away and started kissing down her neck. He had missed the taste of her skin and wasn’t going to stop till she broke and came home with him.

“Mitch.” Ophelia gasped as she tried to get her bearings again. She shouldn’t be doing this..if anyone saw them he would be in danger. “Stop!” She yelled pushing him back. “You need to go. Now.” Ophelia said scooping up the gun she dropped and placing it in the small of her back.

“Why did you let me catch you if you weren’t planning on coming home?” Mitch asked with a frustrated look on his face. “You’ve been gone for four fucking months, O. Why bother with showing me you were still alive if you didn’t want me going after you?”

“Because I wanted you to move on!” Ophelia yelled. “I wanted you to know I was alive so you would stop worrying about me and move on.” She was so close to spilling the tears that were welling up in her eyes but she refused. Ophelia ran a hand through her hair as she chewed on her bottom lip and Mitch had to physically restrain himself from shoving her against the wall and kissing her again.

“We aren’t just going to leave you Ophelia. Let us help you...please.” Mitch said carefully stepping forward “We just want you to come home.”

Shaking her head, Ophelia slowly looked away. “Go home Mitch, forget about me.” She whispered. Before he could reply, Ophelia had taken off down the alleyway and back out onto the street. It took Mitch about five seconds to chase after her but he got out to the street right as he saw her taking off on her red sports bike vanishing from sight.

“FUCK!” He yelled attracting stares and glaring at everyone. Quickly taking off in the direction of his hotel, Mitch pulled his phone out to dial Stan.

He was going to get Ophelia back even if it killed him.

#mitch rapp x reader #mitch rapp #mitch rapp fanfic #mitch rapp imagines #mitch rapp x you #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien #dylan obrien x reader #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinski x you #afterlife series

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crispychrissy · 6 years

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Lace and Leather

Summary: Freshly mated, dragging Dean along while you’re shoe shopping reveals some interesting things about your Alpha. Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader, other minor OC’s Word Count: 2229 Warnings: ABO dynamics, scenting, fluff, shoe fetish, minor angst, possessive!Dean, smut A/N: This takes care of the Shoe Fetish square for @spnkinkbingo and it was a pleasure to write! I don’t have this particular kink, but I hope I did it justice. I decided to go with ABO because seeing Dean get riled up riles me up, too. This was beta’d by my lovely @bamby0304.

Walking through the mall, your nose twitched at the mixture of smells. Fried food, perfume, and body odor all mixed together with the various Alpha, Beta, and Omega scents was almost sickening. Unconsciously, you moved closer and nuzzled into Dean, the overwhelmed Omega in you seeking out the comfort of his scent and your newly mated bond.

“You okay?” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple as he wrapped an arm around you.

Taking a deep breath of his familiar scent, you nodded. “I am now. Shoe store should be just up ahead.”

After snapping the heels off of your last pair of FBI dress shoes while chasing a werewolf, you needed to find a new pair. As much as you hated malls, this small town didn’t really have any independent shoe stores, so the mall was the only choice you had. Dean kept his arm around you as you walked through the front of the store, only releasing you when a chipper sales woman with purple and pink frosted hair bounced over.

“Hi there! My name is Alicia. Are you looking for anything specific?” she chirped, subtly scenting the air. You could tell she smelled the fresh bond between you and she leaned closer. “One of our stock boys, Mitch, is an Alpha. I’ll make sure he steers clear. Let me know if you need anything.”

Nodding your thanks, you grabbed Dean’s hand and led him back towards the rows and rows of women’s dress shoes. Alicia was an Omega as well, and you appreciated her keeping the Alpha worker away from Dean. During the first three or so months of a new bond, most Alphas were extremely territorial, known to start fights if another Alpha even looked at their new mate.

And as much as Dean denied it, you heard him growl a few times when even Sam would interact with you. The younger Winchester understood and backed off, and you knew he didn’t take it personally due to their familial bond. Random Alphas out in the world? Not so much. Aggression was always met with aggression.

After perusing the aisle you were in, you grabbed a pair of simple pumps, smiling when they had your size. Slipping off your flats, you braced an arm on Dean’s shoulder while you slipped the pair of pumps onto your feet and walked around. Dean was still cautiously looking around, likely scenting the stock boy, but you found his gaze constantly lingering on your feet.

“Dean,” you said, waving to get his attention. “What do you think?”

He cleared his throat and shifted before nodding. “They’re cute, I guess. Can you run in them?”

“Let’s find out.” You walked back to the edge of the aisle and turned before running full speed back at Dean. Your left foot wobbled halfway down the aisle and you stumbled like a newborn giraffe, losing your footing and falling forward.

Expecting to hit the floor, you closed your eyes, but you landed into a pair of warm arms. You took a deep breath and smiled, opening one eye to look up at amused green ones. He was holding back a laugh and you took one more deep breath of his scent before pushing off his chest and standing straight.

“Well, I guess that’s a no on this pair,” you chuckled, slipping them off your feet and returning them to the box.

“I guess you can say you fell for me, though,” Dean joked, a huge smile on his face.

“Really?” You laughed, rolling your eyes and ignoring the fire simmering in your belly after he winked at you.

Dragging him behind you to the next aisle, you continued browsing shoes, grabbing a few boxes from the shelves to try on. When you turned around to ask Dean a question, you noticed he was staring at a box at the far end of the aisle, running his fingers over whatever was inside.

“Dean?” He jumped when you spoke and his cheeks flushed pink. “What are you doing?”

“Can… can you try these ones on?” he asked sheepishly, gesturing to the large box he was admiring.

Peering over the edge, your eyes went wide at the knee-high leather stiletto boots inside. They were jet black and decorated with several buckles and metal pieces, and Dean smiled when you lifted them out of the box and checked to make sure they were your size.

“Um, yeah, sure. Just in case I need to,” you took a breath and ran your thumb over the leather, “go undercover as a dominatrix?”

“Or be a badass biker,” Dean added, watching you intensely as you sat down on one of the seats and began to pull them on.

You twisted your leg to access the side zipper on the left boot and watched Dean in your peripheral vision. When you slid the zipper up, Dean bit down on his bottom lip and tried to subtly adjust himself in his jeans. Pressing your lips together to stop a knowing smile, it finally made sense.

Dean had a shoe fetish.

It was something you noticed in passing but thought nothing of ever since you started hunting with him, even before you were mated. Dean would always notice the shoes a woman was wearing first before he would meet her eyes. Lingering glances to their shoes if the woman was wearing high heels always confused you, but you assumed it was Dean’s hunter instincts wondering if the person could get away easily if they were the monster.

Deciding to tease him a bit more, you turned your right leg and slowly traced your fingertips down the leather toward the zipper. Dean’s mouth dropped open and he wet his lips, watching as you slowly inched the zipper up your leg and secured the buckle at the top. When you stood up, he was still staring at them with wide eyes, his hands in his pockets still trying to adjust himself.

“Dean?” you purred, stalking closer to him, swinging your hips as you walked. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He tore his eyes away from the boots and swallowed hard, meeting your gaze. “T-tell you what?”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you leaned close to his ear. “That you have a shoe fetish.”

Dean’s body stiffened and you didn’t have to look at his face to tell he was blushing. “We just mated a few weeks ago. I didn’t want to… weird you out, I guess.”

Pulling back, you cupped his face in your hands. “Alpha… we’ve been dating for two years. Us being mated now only makes me love you more than I ever thought possible. I love you, no matter what. I wish you would have told me sooner.”

Dean chuckled softly and averted his eyes to the floor. “I’m sorry, Omega. I’m still getting comfortable with opening up. Us Winchesters like to keep everything bottled up, you know?”

Pressing a kiss to his nose, you nodded. “Yeah, I do. If you want me to get the boots, I will. I still need a pair of pumps for my FBI getup though.”

Dean opened his mouth to reply when his eyes snapped to the end of the aisle behind you. He scented the air and his entire body went tense as he puffed out his chest. Looking over your shoulder, you saw Mitch the stock boy, frozen in place a few feet into the aisle, eyes wide and staring at your mate. Dean growled, loud but deep, and tightened his grip on you.

“Sorry, dude,” Mitch said, raising his hands in surrender as he slowly backed out of the aisle.

Dean didn’t relax even after Mitch’s retreat, and he grunted a puff of air out of his nose when you pressed your palm against his cheek. He leaned down, nuzzling into your neck, licking and kissing over your fresh claim mark, mumbling “mine” over and over again against your skin.

“Yours, Alpha,” you cooed, rubbing a hand up and down Dean’s back, tilting your neck to allow him more access.

“Need you,” he murmured. “Need you, Omega.” Dean grabbed your hand and dragged you down the aisle, looking left and right until his eyes spotted the bathroom toward the far back corner of the store. He pulled you behind him, and you struggled to keep up with his pace in your stiletto boots.

Once you were inside the bathroom, Dean shut and locked the door, his chest heaving as he looked around. There was a toilet, sink, and a flat outcrop jutting from the wall that that housed the garbage inside it next to the hand dryer. You squealed when Dean picked you up and sat you onto the flat surface, only to be silenced by his lips capturing yours in a needy and pushy kiss.

He pawed at your clothes, pulling your top down to expose your breasts, nibbling at every bit of skin he freed. His lips trailed down from your own and licked a path down your chest, paying attention to your nipples as he pulled your cotton shorts down and off, dropping them onto the floor.

Dean groaned when he saw the black lace panties you were wearing and took a deep breath. “You smell so good, Omega,” he purred, pulling them to the side and pushing two fingers deep into your already slick pussy.

“Mmm, all for you, Alpha,” you mewled back, breathy moans leaving you as his fingers started to move quickly inside you.

Dean reached down, unbuttoning his own pants as he watched his fingers disappear inside you. “You look so fuckin’ sexy like this. These boots are so hot.” A breathy laugh left your lips that turned into a soft moan as his fingers brushed against your sweet spot. “Fuck… I can’t wait. Need to fuck you.”

Dean pulled his fingers from your pussy and sucked your juices from them before he freed his hard cock from his jeans. The counter was at the perfect height and after giving himself a few pumps, he notched himself at your entrance. You shifted down a little bit, spreading your legs wider, and Dean grabbed a hold of each of your calves, running his fingers along the leather that covered them.

“Alpha,” you begged, trying to wiggle further down so he would finally slide into you. You were needy and desperate, begging to be filled by your mate’s thick cock.

“Omega,” he growled, jerking forward in one sharp thrust, filling you to the brim until he the thick head of his cock was nestled against your cervix.

Dean began a harsh and punishing rhythm, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. Your hands were gripping the ledge of the outcrop, trying to stop yourself from being pushed flat against the wall behind you. Dean looked wild, his hair mussed, sweat beading down from his temples as he continued to slam into you with reckless abandon. His eyes kept watching your legs, studying the leather of the boots where it clung to your skin.

“‘M not gonna last,” he grunted, letting go of one of your legs and pressing his thumb against your clit, rubbing tight circles. “Come with me, Omega. Come on my cock.”

The added pressure of his thumb made you squeal with pleasure, and you reached up, pressing your palm over your mouth as your climax took over. Waves of pleasure crashed over you as your whole body tensed and relaxed, legs shaking with the immense power of your orgasm. Dean’s thrusts became sloppy, and in a few more jerks of his hips, he followed you over the edge, filling your pussy with his cum. Thankfully, he pulled back at the last second so his knot didn’t catch, but he did lean forward to suck and nibble at the mark on your neck as he continued to twitch inside you.

Still nuzzling into your neck, Dean slid free, and you felt some of his release trickle down to your ass. His scent smelled lighter than usual, and you immediately recognized it as happy and sated Alpha. He finally stumbled away from you and cleaned himself up with toilet paper while you fixed your panties and stood up. When Dean turned around and handed you a wad of toilet paper, he tilted his head when he saw you were already standing.

“I like feeling it inside me,” you whispered, blushing. “Your scent stays on me longer that way.”

Dean groaned and pulled you into his arms, kissing you hard. “I love you so much, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Dean,” you replied stepping back and straightening the rest of your clothes. When you looked down at the leather boots, there were several drips of cum drying on the side of the left boot and on the top buckle of the right.

Dean followed your gaze and chuckled. “Well, I guess we have to buy them now.”

You quickly wiped as much as you could from the leather with a wad of toilet paper and giggled. “Something tells me that won’t be the last time they’ll be covered in cum.”

“Not if I can help it,” Dean growled in your ear before landing a slap to your ass as you opened the door to the bathroom and walked back out into the store.

Forevers [CLOSED]: @katymacsupernatural @queen-of-deans-booty @your-modern-shakespeare @wheresthekillswitch @holyfuckloueh @just-another-busy-fangirl @growningupgeek @jensen-gal @mizzezm @there-must-be-a-lock @atc74 @pilaxia @supernatural-jackles @impala-dreamer @bambi95-blog @wonderfulworldofwinchester @batmmgray @brooke-supernatural16 @dwgrl1903 @hey-bxtch @turnttoverr @kittenofdoomage @leanbeankeane @emoryhemsworth @xalgaliareptx @mhnfatima @bi-e-ne @speakinvain @pebblesz892 @kararanae23 @kassablanca13 @mogaruke @tockettt @imagining-supernatural @wildefire @serienjunkiegirl @mrswhozeewhatsis @stars-and-seas @jaremish @ellen-reincarnated1967 @nyxveracity @andkatiethings @bamby0304 @deathtonormalcy56 @winchesterprincessbride @moonstar86 @missihart23 @mrs-meghan-winchester @miss-rebel-without-applause @dean-winchesters-bacon @curly-haired-disaster @supernatural-teamfreewillpage

Dean/Jensen: @akshi8278 @adoptdontshoppets @focusonspn @spnwoman

#dean x reader #spnkinkbingo #alpha!dean x omega!reader #spnfanfic #shoe kink #alpha!Dean Winchester #Omega!Reader #abo dynamics #a/b/o dynamics #possessive

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papitocarlositothirst · 5 years

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OK HELLO, WE HAVE A HOTHOTHOT LEWIS SUBMISSION HOLY SHIT YA’LL ARE NOT READY FOR THIS ONE I S2G

Why is it that we attempt to hang onto something that we know we’d be better off without? Why are we scared of losing something that we don’t even really have? I’ve never quite figured it out. Some people will even go so far as to say, “I’d rather have someone who is around sometimes than no one at all.” Like, how could they not care to be the side dish? I mean..hello, coleslaw!

And…Hate to admit, but I would always be the coleslaw in most of my relationships…

Because the truth of the matter is, to have someone only sometimes is often harder than not having them at all. In those instances that you aren’t together, when you realize everything that you are missing, and the vapid emptiness hits you, the blackness encircles you. Like on those rainy afternoons when you aren’t curled collectively like a pair of parentheses on the couch, binge watching Netflix, allowing the day to melt away without the productive pressure of sunshine. Unable to touch or to adequately express all the emotions that were sorely impossible to describe using something as limiting as words; it makes the void even more black.

Yet, even despite this insane loneliness and all of my self-destructive tendencies, some of the best moments in my life have come from the ‘sometimes’ I can’t ever tell anyone about.

Still recovering from the end of a six-year relationship, I decided the best cure was a summer spent at the beach instead of dealing with the depths of my mind. I tried to fill that void in my life with a string of bland, drunken, mindless one night stands. Because in my world, in my mind, voids must be filled. And how do I fill them? I FUCK the pain away. Burying that pain into someone so brutally insignificant that they don’t even make a real dent in my memory.

But all that changed with Lewis Motherfucking Hamilton and his smooth-as-Tennessee-Whiskey moves.

My plan was to “hit it and quit it,” as they say, when I spotted his biceps from across the room at the little beach dive bar we were both drinking at. Yeah well, you know what they say: everyone has a plan until they get punched in the throat. And Lewis Hamilton was MY punch in the throat.

It’s not like I shouted out, “Hey there, you look like a bad decision waiting to happen. Come on over here and sit with me for a bit.”

Or maybe I kinda did. Only sitting wasn’t exactly what I had in mind as I watched the way he tousled his perfectly curly hair with one hand and how the dimples on his tanned cheeks ripple every time he smiled. It didn’t hurt that his well-fitting jeans hugged his ass like they were made just for him, making my freshly waxed pussy throb to the core. Even with his supposed girlfriend at his side, looking bored and uninterested as she flipped through her phone, I still couldn’t look away from him.

Sweet Jesus, I was in trouble.

“A beer from Mr. Fancy God over there,” the waitress said as she slid the amber bottle across the high top where I was sitting. My carefully deconstructed (and equally as carefully reconstructed) The Cure shirt hung off one shoulder to show off my tan lines, while my bronze legs lazily swung from the bar stool. He eyed me hungrily as I put the beer to my lips and sucked the cool liquid down. Biting my thick bottom lip, I lifted the bottle and gave him a wink. As I imagined myself sprawled out on his bed, pussy dripping wet, nipples erect, I licked my lips slowly, sending him the signal that I was down to fuck. When he tossed his phone number at me on his way to the men’s room, I knew it would all be downhill from there.

The flirty, late night text messages started immediately and escalated to facetiming, sexting and other such virtual debauchery for weeks. The anticipation of fucking him was a slow build to a climax that culminated in a well-orchestrated night together, holed up in my hotel room when his girlfriend was out of town.

I was nervous about meeting a stranger in a hotel room but I also felt like I’d known him for years through the constant communication we’d been having. To say I was looking forward to this night of sinful indulgence would be an understatement. I knew the girlfriend wasn’t going anywhere and that this would be a one-time thing at best, so my eyes were wide open going in. I was accepting it for what it was: fucking mind-blowing sex.

Arriving right on time, I opened the door and was met by those damn gorgeous dimples. “Well, hello, stranger. You coming in?” I asked, holding the door half open.

In two seconds flat, he dropped his small overnight bag and pinned me up against the now closed door. His fucking kisses melted me to my core. They were ‘press you up against the wall, I want to crawl inside of your skin and devour your soul’ kisses. His touch was like warm honey, his breath malty with beer. His body was hard and defined, and I scratched lines down his back, challenging him to give up all his secrets.

As I pressed a kiss to his temple, I grazed my fingertips along the outline of his hard cock straining against the material of his jeans. He sucked in his breath as I got down on my knees and teasingly alternated between licking and gently biting at his shaft through the material. Not wanting to taunt him for too long, I slowly undid his zipper as he undid the button. Grasping his hard cock with one hand, I guided it to my tongue and ran my soft, heavy tongue over the tip while gently tugging on his shaft. I swirled my thumb around the head, now wet with spit.

Popping him in and out of my mouth like a lollipop, he breathed in sharply. His hands found my nipples that were already hard under the sheer white tank top I was wearing without a bra. My denim cut-off shorts exposed just the barest edge of my tanned ass and slowly rode up into my pussy crease that was becoming wetter the more we kissed, my black lace thong teasing my ass hole. My eyes closed, I arched against the wall, and my chest pushed forward. I didn’t even realize that we weren’t kissing anymore, my lips and tongue still reaching. He growled a low, deep moan as his almost black-brown eyes focused on my breasts that were popping out of the tank top. His kisses were like crushed velvet covering my nipples and his tongue gently flicked against each one playfully.

“Fuck me,Lewis” I panted. But he just grinned and cupped one breast in each hand, pinching my nipples. I whimpered as the rush of pain was followed by a wave of pleasure. I audibly gasped as he popped the button and zipper of my shorts, feeling the rough material rubbing up against my freshly waxed pussy. Pushing me away from the wall and onto the bed, we became a tangled web of limbs, lips, throats, thirst. Molten lava with fingers clutching at what couldn’t be caught. My heart and clit both throbbed to the same rhythm.

Knowing he was close to coming, I held his cock tight with one hand and forced it up and down through the slick tunnel of my fingers, licking my tongue around the head, down the shaft and forcing it further into my mouth. As I felt his cock hit the back of my throat, my eyes began to water. I wanted him to fill me up in every wet, slippery orifice. Foaming saliva built at the corners of my mouth, the salty mixture of his pre-cum and our hot make out session seeping over my tongue, and I was in heaven. I rubbed my pulsing clit in small circles. Intense colors swirled behind my eyes as I stood up from the bed to mount him. All I could think of was his pulsing hard cock inside of me.

Grabbing my wrist, he pulled me back down onto the bed beside him. As he fumbled for a condom, my breath caught in my chest and my fingers slowly ventured down, under the black sheer fabric of my lace panties. I closed my eyes and two fingers caressed the lips of my slit as he clumsily unwrapped the condom. My hips lifted involuntarily. My fingertips teased and taunted circles around my clit while a ragged breath escaped my lips. My skin felt like hot silk under my hand as I fondled and rubbed, fingers slipping slowly inside. The weight of my desire became an electric current running through my body. Breath held and limbs quivering, I opened my eyes and a gentle moan escaped. We held eye contact. I had never felt so sexy. With a mischievous, half grin, I continued to stroke myself beneath my panties.

“Get those panties off.” His voice was low but the tone was firm.

I was being commanded, not asked. A wicked thrill ran through me, and I trembled. His eyes followed my movements as I inched the black lace thong slowly down my thighs. He moved closer and closed his eyes as he ran one hand up my leg, stopping just inside my thigh. I moaned at the rough trace of his weathered hand against my soft skin. He grabbed the sides of my panties and forced them down the rest of the way as I untangled my feet from them and watched him lift the lace to his nose.

“Fuck yes,” he said, almost under his breath.

I pressed my thighs together tightly as my clit throbbed. I wanted him to fuck me into next week.

“Keep going.” He stroked his cock, devouring the sight of my legs spread against the sheets.

“Spread them wider,” he ordered.

My pulse hammered in my ears as I opened my legs, spreading my thighs further apart. I rubbed myself methodically, allowing my fingers to explore, slowly gliding in and out, before tracing upward again, coated in the evidence of how much I needed him inside me. I smoothed the silky wetness over my clit, onto my smooth pussy lips.

“I love bald pussy,” he breathed appreciatively as he watched me rub my clit in slow circles.

Being like this for him, legs open, pussy exposed and gleaming wet while he stood there, cock in hand, turned the naughty factor up to 110 and then some. He ran his hand over my calves, between my thighs and wound himself between my legs. He shoved his fingers in. Then, suddenly, his cock slid deep inside, and I gasped, riding the waves of pleasure with each thrust.

Not wanting to cum yet, I had him lie on his back and I straddled him. I took him inside me slowly and deeply, moving in small circular motions at first and then grinding my wet pussy onto him as hard as I could. Moving faster and faster, my tits bounced with the rhythm I kept astride him, his hands on my hips. The muscles of his arms and torso flexed along with the motion, his dark skin shimmering with sweat. Grabbing my ass with his hands, he spread my cheeks wide and went even deeper inside. A moment later, he was coming inside me, exploding.

“I’m not done yet,” he growled as he moved down between my legs, kissing my inner thighs, his lips soft and hot. His tongue parted me, slickening my juicy pussy with his saliva. His tongue painted insistent swirls on my clitoris until I was gripping the sheets and moving my body up to meet him.

“Mmm, you taste so good,” he murmured, his fingers now joining his mouth, slowly gliding in and out, agonizing me. With the rigid tip of his tongue, he rubbed my clit over and over and over until I was panting for breath. Then he stopped.

His mouth hovered near my pussy, and he pulled back. My head pounded with blood, and I shifted restlessly. I wanted to come. I needed to come. Desperately.

He blew warm breath across my clit and began sucking and licking more urgently than before. Before I could register this new tactic, his mouth was back on me, his tongue back at me. Working me. Then I felt that rush, fast and hot, and the mounting energy as his urgent tongue fluttered and flicked, while his fingers darted in and out. All I could do was shut my eyes and arch back, shuddering, dying as I exploded with a new kind of pleasure. Moaning into the ceiling, his tongue lapped relentlessly at me. I pulled a pillow over my mouth to muffle my cries.

His lips, wet with my pussy juice, greedily found my mouth and I relished in the scent, the taste, the feel of him. The room smelled of our sex, musky and sensual. My mouth found his cock again and I lapped and sucked with abandon. Licking his balls, gently sucking each one. Then again, taking him fully into my mouth and down the back of my throat hole. His hips spasmed forward as he asked me to stop. When I refused, he grabbed my hair just hard enough to get my attention and send a fresh rush of wetness to my pussy.

“Can I fuck you in the ass, baby?” he asked

Without answering, I moved up to where he wanted me, his spit-slick cock standing straight up. He held it for me and I straddled him, eager to feel him everywhere. I sank down on him slowly and gasped as his member filled my tight hole until I was able to ride him up and down. Rubbing my wet, swollen, sensitive clit with one hand and raking my nails down his chest with the other, it was obvious he enjoyed the view as my tits bounced again in rhythm as I moved. I felt another hot rush as the waves of pleasure ran through my body for what seemed like the hundredth time and his orgasm met my own.

“That was the hottest fucking thing,” he laughed as I collapsed beside him, exhausted and stupidly happy.

#lewis tuesday #this was the hottest fucking shit #submission

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let-it-raines · 6 years

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Betting on the Bullseye (Part 12)

Summary: Emma Swan loses a bet that means she has to ask her celebrity crush to be her date to her office’s annual fundraising gala. Killian Jones is that celebrity crush. She expects all kinds of humiliation and for her dignity to be completely lost. What she doesn’t expect is for him to say yes.

Rating: Mature

A/N: Happy Wednesday! Or Galentine’s Day if you so choose to celebrate all of the awesome friends in your life (you should)! Here’s a happy little chapter! I feel like you guys are getting quite a few of those :D

On AO3: Beginning | Current

Tag list: @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @wellhellotragic @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91@branlovesouat @dreadpirateemma @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @galaxyzxstark @lifeinahole27 @andiirivera @ultimiflos @hollyethecurious @thejollyroger-writer

His thighs and calves ache as he moves, soreness hitting him before the runner’s high does. He’s one of those weird people who actually enjoys running, but some mornings he just doesn’t feel like it, his body screaming in protest when he pushes through the pain. This is one of those mornings.

But Emma had wanted to go running, said something about not wanting to get too out of the groove of exercise even while he was in town, so he’d stupidly agreed, even when he tried to coax her back into bed with him this morning instead of getting dressed and venturing outside to run. They’re out here now, though, running along the pavement next to the Charles river while sweat beads at his forehead despite the breeze and cool early morning temperatures. He’s just glad that they’re doing this now instead of in the middle of the afternoon.

Not that they could do this during the afternoon. They’re going to David and Mary Margaret’s house today, something he’s excited about yet absolutely terrified to do. Emma doesn’t have a biological family, but from what he can tell, the Nolans and Ruby are family for her. They’re her support system, so while he may not be meeting the parents, he sure as hell feels like he is.

He hopes it goes better than it did for Ben Stiller.

He’s pretty sure it can’t go worse.

“You are slacking, KJ,” Emma teases, slowing down her run to fall back into step with him. She’s got a bright smile on her face, amusement dancing across her eyes. She might as well not even be running. It’s ridiculous. At least she’s sweating. If she wasn’t sweating he would swear that he’s dating some kind of mythical being.

“I was not the one who wanted to go running this morning,” he huffs, taking in a breath to try to regulate his breathing, “and I’m pretty sure we’ve on mile five.”

“Six.”

“Well damn, we might as well go inside now.”

“No,” Emma groans, scrunching her face up in a way that he’s really come to love, “We can do two more, and then we’ll go get breakfast, okay?”

“You’re killing me, Swan.”

She winks before she sprints forward, and he’s not sure if he’s loving this view of her arse in her leggings or hating it because he’s got to catch up with her and keep up with her for the next two miles. Today just isn’t his day for running, but he’s not going to let Emma think that she’s this much faster than him.

He might kill himself in the process, but he’s not going to let her have bragging rights of the unspoken race that they’re competing in.

When they finally finish, Emma collapses down onto a bench, her chest heaving up and down while she catches her breath, and she immediately takes down her ponytail only to pull it back up again and wipe away the sweat into her hair. Her cheeks are red, her face a little pale, and if she looks like that much of a mess when she looked fine three (“it was supposed to be two, Swan”) miles ago, he can’t begin to imagine what he looks like. Not that he really cares. He honestly just wants to be able to breathe again.

“I hate you,” he groans as his joints scream at him while he settles down on the bench next to her. The river is right in front of him, trees shading them, and if he didn’t feel like he was dying, he’d probably love this view. He misses the view of the ocean from his bedroom, but he’s gladly traded it to get to feel like he’s dying while running with Emma.

A fair trade.

“I know,” she soothes, reaching over and patting his inner thigh, keeping her hand there, “but you’ll recover from this. Don’t you run on the beach? How is this worse?”

“I had two glasses of rum last night...which I’m pretty sure was actually early this morning.”

“Wow, lightweight.”

She pinches his bare thigh, his shorts have ridden up when he sat down, and he slaps away her hand only to lean down and lightly bite her earlobe like the mature adult he is. He likes the little noise she makes when he does that. It’s like a yelp and a squeal, and he wants to hear it all of the time. “I had two glasses of rum and some very heavy food followed by a lack of sleep because we got caught up watching reruns of The Office.”

“This is a good point.” Emma leans over and rests her head on his shoulder, stretching out her legs and flexing her ankles around, her calves flexing with the movement. “We can go at a later time tomorrow. Or you can sit on your ass while I go to the gym. But I really can’t go another week without exercising.”

“Aye, I know. Just because I’m here doesn’t mean you have to change your routine. You should go to the gym if you want. You don’t have to just run with me.”

“Nah,” she sighs, gently squeezing his thigh again while her stray hairs manage to get caught in his mouth, “this is fine. I kind of like running with you. I think we can just do it a few times next week, and I’ll be all good. I don’t need to go every day. I think my limbs might fall off.”

“What a shame. I do rather like your limbs.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely. Your left leg is my favorite.”

Emma chuckles next to him, quickly turning her head to kiss his cheek all while she raises her left leg a little higher in the air, running her hands along it while she teasingly shows it off. He likes when she’s playful like this, loves it really. It’s refreshing for her to be so happy.

It’s refreshing to get to see it in person.

His phone buzzes several times in his pocket, and he takes it out, untangling the headphones that are wrapped around it so he can read the messages. Robin: Will you be back by the sixth?

Killian: Yep. My flight is that morning.

Robin: Okay, good. They need you to reshoot one more scene for HW. There was apparently a problem with the lighting, and they can’t fix it in editing.

Killian: Just email me the info.

Killian: I can only film late afternoon on the sixth or on the morning of the seventh.

Robin: We have the contract negotiations for Yours Truly on the seventh, so you’ve got to film the night of the sixth.

Killian: Okay. But I already said I was leaning away from that one.

Robin: Yeah, I know, but it’s not a definite no. So we at least have to go in for it. Maybe you’ll change your mind.

Killian: Fine. Just send me the emails. I’ll look at everything tomorrow.

“You okay?” Emma asks, reaching behind his back and rubbing her hand into his spine, hard enough to work out some of the tenseness that’s gathered.

“Yeah, yeah,” he promises, turning his phone screen off and stuffing it in his pocket. “Just work stuff, love. I’ve apparently got to do one more reshoot for Highland Waters. And Rob’s reminding me of a meeting we’ve got.”

She hums next to him before standing, stretching out her legs a little bit more, and grabbing onto his hands, lacing their fingers together and pulling them up to rest against her chest. “It is Saturday. We do not work on Saturdays, okay?”

“I work on Saturdays all of the time.”

“Not today, babe. Not today.”

-/-

“What should I wear?”

“Hmm?”

He turns around to face Emma, who’s stretched out on her bed looking at her phone while her hair dries, the long strands falling over the edge of the mattress and hitting the floor.

“What should I wear to the Nolans?”

“Whatever strikes your fancy.”

He rolls his eyes, dropping the button down he was holding and walking the few steps over to the bed, crawling up onto it and placing his knees on both sides of Emma’s legs and using his elbows to keep him propped up over her so that his face hovers just above her, the scent of her body wash invading him. But Emma hasn’t moved her phone, is still looking at it, so he has to snake his hand up and take it out of her hand, tossing it on the bed so she’ll pay attention.

“Hey, I was doing something.”

“What were you doing, Swan?” he nudges, quickly dipping his head and sliding his lips over hers, nibbling a bit before pulling back. “Because I’m pretty sure you were playing that damn numbers game on your phone when I was talking to you.”

“I was listening,” she protests, running her hands up his chest until she’s got her fingers locked behind his neck, “but I was also about to beat the level I was on. All of your talk about clothes was distracting me.”

“You are such a kind,” he leans down to press a kiss against her cheek, “considerate,” another one against her nose, “loving,” a kiss against her jaw, “woman.”

“Aren’t I?”

“Aye, obviously.”

She rolls her eyes at him, even if he should be the one rolling his eyes at her. “You should wear your jeans, the dark ones, and the dark plaid shirt, one of your t-shirts underneath. It’s casual, and they keep their house cold.” “Thank you.” He quickly pecks her lips before flipping off of her. “That’s all I asked.”

After they’re dressed, Emma taking a hell of a lot less time than him, they load up into Emma’s bug, which he thinks he finds more charming by the day. He has absolutely no idea how the thing is still running, but he’s pretty sure it’s fueled by Emma’s willpower. No, he’s absolutely sure that’s how it’s fueled. But Emma and her trusty bug drive him the twenty minutes to the Nolans’ neighborhood that’s just outside of the city, close enough that the houses are all packed in there but backyards are still a thing. They have a kid and a dog, plus the other little one on the way, so apartment living like Emma is obviously not for them.

From what he’s heard, they’re pretty much the poster family for suburban families.

And his suspicions and ideas are pretty much confirmed when they walk up the front steps and are greeted by every single member of the family, all of them smiling (kind of creepily if he’s honest) at he and Emma as they wait on the small porch after ringing the doorbell.

“You guys have got to work on your casual smiles because wow,” Emma whistles, taking a step closer and picking Leo up before the kid loses his mind talking to her, “you are not at all smooth.”

“Emma, who’s that?”

He’s got a toddler’s finger in his face before he can move out of the way, confusion and a little bit of concern painted over Leo’s features. “That, buddy, is Killian. You want to say hi?”

Leo slants his green eyes, his suspicion really obvious, and Killian has never felt so intimidated by someone under the age of three before in his entire life. Okay, so maybe when Aiden was born he was a little intimidated, or really terrified that he’d do something like drop him. He was so damn small. It was insane. But now he’s terrified that he’s being judged by a toddler.

“Hi, Leo,” he waves, bending his knees so he can be on Leo’s level in Emma’s arms. “I like your shirt.”

Leo shyly waves back before looking down at his shirt, pulling it off of his body. “It’s Superman,” he tells him, his voice small and a bit broken, the words not too clear.

“You know, Leo, Killian knows Superman.”

Oh, thank you, Emma, he thinks. Leo’s eyes immediately light up, his love for Superman obvious even with his young age. His parents must have him watch the cartoon. Usually kids under three don’t know too many superheroes, the movies too mature for them, but there are a few children’s cartoons out there that usually make the Halloween costumes popular.

“Really?”

“Absolutely,” he assures Leo, “he’s very nice. And brave. And I know he would like you.” He reaches down to tug at Leo’s hair, ruffling it the slightest bit before turning to face David and Mary Margaret and sticking his hand out until David takes it. “It’s nice to meet you, David. You too, Mary Margaret. Thanks for having us over today.”

“Oh, it’s nice to meet you,” Mary Margaret squeals, her entire face full with her smile. “I have heard so much about you! And I’ve been absolutely dying to meet you! Obviously, we’re big fans of your work too!”

His cheeks flush, and he briefly wonders if he can go hide out in the car for a minute until he isn’t blushing. “Thank you, lass. I’ve heard so much about you two as well.”

David doesn’t really say much, just smiling and nodding his head, before they’re all ushered inside. Their house is exactly how he thought it would be, warm colors and inviting furniture, toys scattered everywhere even though he’s sure they likely tried to straighten up beforehand. But if he’s learned anything from Liam and Elsa, when you have a child, all bets are off for having a clean house.

When you have an Emma, pretty much all bets are off for having a clean house too.

But he doesn’t mind, following Mary Margaret into the house and into the kitchen where she’s got food scattered across all of her countertops. He asks her what she’s cooking, and it’s apparently some kind of baked potato casserole.

(Maybe it’s a good thing that he and Emma went running this morning.)

He offers to help, telling Mary Margaret that he loves to cook when she protests and says he’s a guest, and with that, Emma and David excuse themselves to go sit in the living room and hang out with Leo. For a minute he’s anxious about Emma leaving him alone with Mary Margaret, but the woman is so sweet that she immediately starts talking to him, asking him about his favorite recipes and go-to meals. It’s a conversation that’s easy to fall into, and before he knows it, there’s no silences between the two of them. The food talk fades into talk of Mary Margaret’s job, and he lets her tell him all about her students, which is a subject she’s extremely passionate about.

He’s pretty sure by the time the casserole is in the oven and he’s chopping up carrots for the salad, he can repeat each of her students’ names and their favorite subject in school as well as the subject they actually excel at. But he doesn’t mind learning about someone else’s job, especially if they’re passionate about it. He enjoys it.

Plus, Mary Margaret is oddly entertaining, the way she flits in and out of being someone who’s as soft and sweet as candy but then can mutter the word “fuck” underneath her breath when she nearly burns the rolls she’s cooking.

He likes her. He can see why Emma does too, and he’s glad that they all found each other at university.

“Hey,” Emma greets, walking into the kitchen and squeezing his hip before she reaches into a cabinet and grabs a glass, filling it with water from the fridge, “it smells fantastic in here. You guys doing good?”

“Great, love.”

“Oh, Emma, Killian is just fantastic. He’s been telling me all about what it was like living in Australia for a few months. You know how I’ve always wanted to go.”

“So he’s schmoozing you with his worldly ways, Marg?”

“Oh completely.” Emma comes to stand next to him, resting her hips against the edge of counter, while Mary Margaret continues to talk. “I mean, we talked about food forever, but then somehow we got off on this tangent. Makes me feel so…untraveled.”

“Marg, you and David went to France for your honeymoon. I know because when you came back you were always saying things like ‘when I was abroad’ or ‘you know in France.’”

“I did not.”

“You definitely did. I thought Ruby was going lose her mind from holding back her tongue.”

“Oh God,” Ruby groans, walking into the room with someone who must be Victor standing behind her, a bottle of wine in his hand. Talk about weird timing. He didn’t even hear the door open. “Mary Margaret you were the actual worst. And David wasn’t much better.”

“David was worse,” Emma adds in before taking a sip of her water.

“Hello, lover boy,” Ruby greets, nodding her head at him.

All he can do is chuckle in response as he shakes his head back and forth. The lass has the personality of about five different people combined, and she’s always keeping him on his toes when she’s around. Mostly because he has no idea what outrageous thing she’s going to say to embarrass the hell out of him. He didn’t think that he became embarrassed easily, but he was apparently wrong.

“Hi, Ruby. Nice to see you again.”

“Well, it’s always nice to see you, Jones.” Emma laughs beside him, and he looks down to see her rolling her eyes into her cup, so he wraps his arm around her waist and thumbs at the strip of skin between her jeans and her shirt. “Vic, this is Killian, Emma’s boyfriend.”

“The actor, right?”

“Aye,” he nods, reaching across the kitchen island to shake Victor’s hand, smiling at him and feeling a bit of relief that he’s now met most of the people in Emma’s life without total disaster. “You work at Mass Gen, right?”

“For two years now, yeah. It’s great. And I really like being back home after living in Atlanta for so long.”

“I can imagine.”

He doesn’t know what else to say, all of the words he knows dying on the tip of his tongue, but luckily David comes back into the kitchen with a squirming Leo who absolutely just has to show Killian his Superman toys, so with little coaxing, he moves his hand off of Emma’s waist and follows Leo into the living room, settling down on the carpet while Leo unpacks an entire basket of toys. One by one Leo places stuffed animals and plastic figures over his lap, making his jeans disappear from sight.

Leo is only a year and a half older than Aiden is, and he absolutely cannot believe the difference that time makes. He’s like his own little man, talking in broken sentences and describing to him the names of each of his toys. He doesn’t know what it means that the only man in this house that he’s truly gotten along with is a toddler, but he’s chalking it up to this being their first meeting. It’s not like they’ve known each other for months or years. It’s a few hours, so he’s not expecting to make any new best friends.

He was just kind of hoping that he wouldn’t be fumbling around like an idiot in front of everyone.

Emma finds him after he’s been with Leo for a few minutes, settling down next to him and idly moving the toys on his legs over to hers. “You okay?”

“I’m perfect. Why?”

“You’re just a little quiet is all.”

“David and Victor…they, uh, intimidate me.”

“What? Babe, that’s ridiculous.”

“I know, I know,” he sighs, relaxing his back against the couch, his arse starting to hurt from sitting on the floor. “I just…I don’t know what to say. I talk with people I don’t know all of the time, but I feel like they don’t like me.”

“First of all, they like you. Victor doesn’t even know anything about you, and as good as he is for Ruby, he’s never been much of a conversationalist. And David is…he’s David. I think he’s trying to play the role of my father when that is exactly what I told him not to do.”

“That’s kind of what I figured by all of the stares and crossed arms.”

“He’ll warm up to you.” She reaches over and squeezes his hand, interlacing their fingers before bringing them up to her lips and kissing his knuckles. “I promise. And if he doesn’t, I can kick his a-s-s.”

“Ah, ah, Swan. Here I thought that I was the spelling bee champion in this relationship.”

“Well, it looks like we are just hitting it out of the ballpark on every level. Those people in the kitchen can’t compare to us.”

“Wasn’t aware it was a competition.”

She nudges his shoulder. “Always.”

“Food’s ready,” David yells from the kitchen, his voice loudly echoing throughout the house. “Make sure to remember to bring my kid back, Emma.”

-/-

Emma slides down onto his lap, easily settling her arse onto his thighs while his arm wraps around her waist and he pats against her stomach, David continuing to tell him about the improvements around the house. He hasn’t decided if David is just really into home improvement or if he’s awkwardly searching for things to talk about with him and that’s the first thing that came to mind. It’s still a bit awkward, the dinner they all ate together making things the slightest bit better, and he’s glad that Emma’s returned from the bathroom. She was gone for what felt like hours, and he feels like he formulated about ten different ways to excuse himself to go outside where Ruby and Victor are arguing over Victor’s coworker. He’s only known the man for a few hours, and he knows that Victor definitely should not have mentioned that he was dating one of his coworkers before he got back together with Ruby. In front of all of Ruby’s friends, at least. Maybe when he was alone with Ruby.

Especially since Ruby didn’t know about it.

Yeah, that’s what he would find preferable to talk about over the new faucet David installed in their guest bathroom. Maybe that’s why Emma was gone for so long. She couldn’t get the water to turn on or was too damn fascinated by the faucet.

“Where’s Marg?” she whispers in his ear, placing her hands over his on her stomach.

“She took Leo upstairs to get ready for bed, said that Dave and I should talk.”

“How’s that going?”

“I can hear you two,” David groans, cutting a glance over at them that makes Emma lean her cheek against his.

“I know” she laughs. “I was expecting you to. Why are you boring Killian with home improvement stuff? I’m pretty sure he doesn’t do any of his own stuff.”

“Oi, I know how to do some things, but honestly I do just call Will if it gets a little more complex than following an instruction manual.”

“Exactly. Talking about the different types of screwdrivers is not a great conversation topic. You could have just talked about all of the murder you see at work or something. That’s a fun thing.”

“I could always ask him what his intentions are with you.”

He feels Emma almost lunge off of his lap, his forearm holding her back, and he chuckles into her hair while she grits out, “We talked about that. You’re supposed to be nice and also not someone out of the, like, 1800s. No one says things like that anymore.”

So maybe Emma was right earlier. Maybe David is just a bit stilted with him because he’s trying to fill some kind of role. He’s like Liam, Killian realizes, more ease settling into him than he’s felt all night. He’s just protective, cautious, and if anything, he’s doing a hell of a lot better job than Liam did when he met Emma.

“Well, I’m just curious. I can’t remember the last time you let us meet a boyfriend. I think it was Walsh.”

“And that went so well.”

“What happened when David met Walsh, love?”

“Oh, Walsh’s first words when I was out of the room were about my ass. And then he asked David if he had ever ‘hit that.’”

“Wow,” Killian whistles, disbelief settling in his stomach, “he sounds like a wanker.”

“He was,” David answers, uncrossing his arms and letting them fall against his sides. “You seem like less of one.”

Ah, so things aren’t going too badly then. He leans his head forward, flashing David the brightest smile that he can muster. “Aw, Dave, I knew you’d warm up to me.”

“Don’t push things,” David growls, his lips twitching the slightest bit, almost into a smile.

“Anyways,” Emma begins, adjusting herself so that she rubs herself into him (which is definitely not a good thing for where they are) as a Bruins commercial plays on the television, “someone explain to me how Gritty is still around. I saw a commercial with him last night, and I am still disturbed.” “I think that’s why, love. Good marketing.”

“Yeah, but it’s, like, aren’t kids just going to be terrified of him?”

“I’m terrified of him,” David adds. “And then those people who have a fear of mascots…this probably just proves their point.”

“Is that a real thing? Just being scared of all mascots. Like, are people scared of Mickey Mouse?”

“Aye,” he confirms. “Elsa’s sister is bloody terrified of all of them. I think it’s related to the whole clown thing we were talking about the other day.”

“Isn’t she a costume designer? Doesn’t she, you know, dress people up as other things for a living?”

“Ironic, I know.”

“And Elsa is?”

“My brother’s wife,” Killian explains, looking to the side when he hears the front door open and close, Ruby and Victor walking in side by side with smiles on their faces and Ruby’s shirt hanging off her shoulder and Victor’s hair sticking up all over the place. He’s not going to ask about that. At all. Even if he wonders where the hell they could have fooled around when all of the houses out here are practically on top of each other. “They have a son, Aiden, who’s one.”

“And this is the brother who threatened to call the cops on Emma?” “David,” Emma chastises, her chest heaving and body flinching under his touch, “we worked that out. It’s not a thing anymore.”

“But you haven’t even talked to Liam.”

“I haven’t seen him. I’ll talk to him when I see him. Killian and I are good. There’s no need to bring up the shitty stuff.”

“Exactly,” Ruby huffs, obviously still a bit frustrated with Victor from what he can tell. “Can we have beer now that your mini me is asleep?”

“You could have had it before.”

“You did have it before, honey. I can taste it on your tongue.”

At that, Victor pretty much licks into Ruby’s mouth, his tongue visible to everyone in the room, and Killian almost gags. He’s all about showing the woman you love that you love her, but not necessarily like that…in front of people. But Emma’s told him how well Ruby and Victor work together, and while he doesn’t see that quite yet, he’s beginning to understand a bit. They’re like two fiery personalities who somehow don’t consistently crash...despite earlier. Maybe he just needs to spend time with them. He liked Ruby the night they met at the gala, but he can definitely understand how having a friend like her would be an adjustment. She’s like Will on steroids.

“You guys are disgusting,” Emma groans, moving his arm off of her stomach so that she can get up, the loss of heat immediate. “What movie are we watching tonight?”

“Infinity War.”

“The Princess Bride.”

“Bohemian Rhapsody.”

“Okay, so that’s not a consensus at all,” Emma sighs as she pulls her jeans up. “You guys figure something out while I go make popcorn and get the drinks or Mary Margaret gets to decide on the movie.”

“No,” everyone but him yells at once, and that’s the moment he learns to never let Mary Margaret pick out a movie.

“Exactly. Decide.”

It’s more difficult than he would expect to pick out a movie, but he doesn’t often sit around and watch movies with his mates. They usually only come over for a football match or two, and they always know exactly which game to watch. But while Emma’s gone, they scroll through Netflix, hurrying along when Mary Margaret comes back downstairs and settles down next to David, immediately pointing to a romantic comedy that looks as if it was made in a high school...by middle schoolers.

“Oooh, we could watch Hush,”Ruby suggests, looking at him. “Aren’t you shirtless in a scene in that movie?”

He blushes, not being able to help himself. Yeah, so that’s another reason why he doesn’t watch a lot of movies with his mates. They always tease him about everything. Emma’s friends have seemed to catch onto that quickly.

“Yeah, let’s not watch that,” Victor adds in.

“I agree, Vic. That’s not something I really want to see. No offense, Jones.”

“None taken. I agree with both of you. A hell of a lot, actually.”

They do eventually end up settling on one of the Thor movies. Ruby and Victor have somehow never seen it, even if it’s over a year old at this point, and he in David couldn’t let that slide. He also makes a note that he can talk about movies with David if their conversation ever gets stilted again. He feels like it eventually has to get better. This is just a first meeting, and those aren’t exactly known for being the smoothest things in the world. Plus, he thinks he’s doing great getting on with Mary Margaret and Ruby. He likes them a lot, and he hopes they like him. It’s been awhile since he had to meet the friends of a girlfriend, and he’s been downplaying how much he hopes they all like him ever since Emma told him they were all hanging out today.

Because he really wants them to like him. It’s important to him, and he knows it’s important to Emma even if she’s downplaying it too. This is like her family. These are her people, the ones she’s allowed into her life, and he understands the significance of her allowing him to be a part of the group too. It’s one thing for it to just be the two of them. It’s another for her to want him to be in more aspects of her life.

While they’re trying to get the speaker the Nolans just installed (another one of David’s handyman projects), he gets up to head to the kitchen where Emma is padding back and forth on her feet while popcorn cooks in the microwave, several other bowls already filled up.

“You,” he begins stepping up to her and wrapping his arms around her waist while he presses a kiss against her cheek. “are cooking popcorn for the masses, love. We just ate dinner.”

“Hmm, doesn’t mean there’s not room in our stomachs for popcorn. What are we watching?”

“Ragnarok. Ruby and Victor have never seen it somehow.”

“That’s because Victor barely leaves the hospital and Ruby’s pop culture kryptonite is movies. It’s the one thing she isn’t an expert in.”

“Why’s that?”

“She has issues sitting through an entire movie.” The microwave beeps and Emma moves herself out of his arms to open the door and grab the bag, shaking it around before pouring it in a large bowl. “Do you want candy mixed in with this, KJ?”

“If I say no is that going to change anything?”

“Nope. You want to see what they have to drink? I know they don’t have rum, but they usually have some pretty good stuff.”

“I wasn’t really planning on drinking tonight. One of us has to drive home.”

Emma opens her mouth, almost like she’s going to say something, but then her lips close and he sees the slightest shake of her head. Whatever it was, she’s obviously changed her mind. “I honestly was just going to devour the lemonade Marg made. It’s full of sugar, but it’s so damn good. So you can drink if you want to. I don’t mind driving. I mean, I drove us here.”

He nods, still not really wanting anything, but he does grab the beers for everyone else as well as picking up a bowl of popcorn so Emma’s not carrying all three of them back into the living room. When he gets back, Victor and Ruby have settled themselves onto his spot, Mary Margaret and David taking up the other couch, so he puts the food and drinks on the coffee table before reclaiming the large recliner, figuring he and Emma can share even if her knows it’ll likely kill their thighs after a few hours. But that’s what they do, Emma joining him not a minute later, handing him her bowl of popcorn that he’s pretty sure is filled with gummy candies while she squeezes into the small sliver of space next to him, one arse cheek propped up on him while the other rests on the cushion. She’s definitely not going to last long like that.

“You eat like a child,” he tells her when she takes her first big handful of popcorn, stuffing it in her face all at once.

“Hush,” she shushes, leaning over and brushing a kiss against the side of his jaw. “I know you like gummy candies. They’re sour too. I got them out of Marg’s not-so-secret stash.”

“Stealing and bribery? A regular pirate.”

“Well, I figured Loki would be proud since that’s what we’re watching. Keeping in the theme and all.”

“Aye, I imagine he would be. What kind of candy did everyone else get?”

“Nothing. Then Marg would know I went through her stash.”

He has to bite his tongue to keep his laughter from being too loud, even if Chris Hemsworth is spinning around in chains on screen, as well as biting it so he doesn’t tell Emma he loves her then and there. He’s been tempted to so many times in the past week, their proximity making it more difficult to hide how he feels, but he told himself he’d wait for her, let her take the lead. At least on this.

“You are sneaky, Swan.”

“I know. I have nimble fingers.” He waggles his eyebrows at her, kissing her temple and adjusting his arm around her shoulder before turning back and actually paying attention to the movie.

Sometime later, he wakes with a crick in his neck and a pain in his thigh, the muscles twitching the slightest bit. It takes several seconds for his eyes to adjust to the darkness so that he can understand where exactly he is. Bloody hell, he fell asleep during the movie, and considering the only person left in the room is Emma, everyone else must have gone off to bed or gone home.

He feels Emma twitch on top of him, her legs stretching out in front of him while her entire body lifts off the seat. “What time is it?” she mumbles, burying her face in his shoulder.

He fumbles around for his phone, pulling it out of the pocket and trying not to cringe at the brightness of the screen. “A little past two in the morning.”

“Shit. That’s late. We should go home.”

“I’m sure David and Mary Margaret wouldn’t mind if we stayed here.”

“My back minds.” Slowly, Emma gets up from the seat, immediately stretching her hands up over her head, her shirt lifting to show the muscles of her stomach. “I’m not sleeping in a chair or on a couch when I have a perfectly good bed at home.”

“But we’ll have to move.”

“Uh huh,” she sighs, reaching up and rubbing her fists over her eyes to rub out the sleep. “Come on. There won’t be any traffic. We’ll be back in, like, ten minutes. Let me just leave a note for Marg.”

True to her word, he and Emma are back in her apartment in ten minutes (he thinks it might have been eight and that she broke several traffic laws), and even though he thinks he’s going to fall asleep the moment his head hits the pillow, he doesn’t. Instead he’s wide awake, likely in that hazy period where you’re so tired that you can’t sleep, so tired that you actually have energy.

Bloody hell. He always hates this.

When he goes home, he seriously has to get back on a normal sleeping schedule. Filming for so long at such weird hours was like hell. Not to mention Emma being in a different time zone, even if that isn’t too bad. Not for him at least. He knows he must keep her up late.

Speak of the devil, she flops down on the mattress, her jeans and blouse gone and replaced with the pajamas he’s discovered that she prefers, before crawling under the covers and pulling them up to her neck like she’s forming some kind of human burrito. She’s also a blanket hog. Like, a serious blanket hog.

He’s just about to tug the comforter back over to him when she rolls over, landing right next to him and sticking her socked feet in between his calves. He’s glad she’s got on socks. She’s a blanket hog and has cold feet.

He loves her.

“So, you survived the meeting of the friends. How does it feel?”

“Like, a bloody relief.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” she laughs, reaching over and rubbing her hand over his collarbone, making a shiver run down his spine. “I will admit that everyone wasn’t exactly their best selves tonight. Except for your new biggest fan Leo. Mary Margaret totally put him in that shirt on purpose.”

“I figured,” he chuckles, finding her waist under the comforter and pulling her closer. “I wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or embarrassed.”

“Both, I think. You’re literally his hero.”

He scrunches up his nose, clicking his tongue but not protesting. He wants to, but he won’t. “So do you think I passed the imaginary test I was taking?”

“I’d like to think so.”

“Oh you don’t know?” “Well, David is a tough grader. Ruby can be a bit finicky.”

“Technically, Ruby set us up, so really, she should be my biggest fan. Not Leo.”

“Shh,” she laughs, gently slapping his shoulder. “Don’t give Ruby any credit. She already lets her head get big every time we’re together. We don’t need more of that.” “She can’t hear us, love.”

“She has her ways.”

He snickers underneath his breath, the laugh beginning to rumble in his stomach. He doesn’t doubt it. Ruby does seem like she has her ways to do everything.

“Well, I look forward to my report card.” “If it matters, I’ll give you an ‘s’ for satisfactory.”

“Bloody hell, all I get is satisfactory?”

“Well, that’s how your sex is, so I figured that’s just how you’d get graded for everything.”

She squeals as he rolls over on top of her, caging her into the mattress and rubbing his scruff against her cheeks all the while his fingers move against her sides, knowing that she hates when anyone does this. “Satisfactory,” he gruffs, kissing along her jawline while she continues to laugh, her breath catching with each movement, “I’ll show you damn satisfactory.”

#betting on the bullseye #cs fic #cs ff

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