#hair and makeup did a great job of visibly aging him

[thiscoldheart]

LEO WOODALL as Dexter Mayhew

ONE DAY (2024)

[thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos]

Every Rose Has it's Thorn

-Part 6-

>Part 7

< Part 5

Universe: Teenage Mutant Teenage Turtles (Bayverse aged-up turtles)

Rating: R (swearing) MINORS DNI

Raphael x OC (female character)

Tags: trigger warning mentions bruises and injuries, Fluff, Donnie being adorable, original character, slow burn romance

-Rose and Donnie chat about the serum and life, and after she goes to her apartment she comes face to face with the pain she's been avoiding.

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

As she got dressed, she admitted to herself that she really needed a change of clothes, which meant going back to her apartment.

Great.

She looked in the large mirror on Raph’s dresser and almost yelped at the state her hair was in; curls sticking up everywhere, tangles galore- yikes. Her makeup had all worn off too, leaving a black smudge under her eyes.

Fuck, she was a sight.

Opening the door, she saw Donnie waiting for her on the couch- but she had to shower.

Like, had to. She was approaching skunk-smell zone.

She started towards the bathroom. “Donnie, I’ll be with ya in just a minute," she called to the lean turtle. “I really need to shower first, ok?”

Rose didn’t wait for his response as she closed the door to the shared bathroom behind her.

Their bathroom was large with two sinks and several tall mirrors and cabinets, and multiple large spa showers lined up on the opposite wall of the toilets. There was also an enormous in-ground spa tub in the center of the room that looked like it could fit at least two of the turtle men in there. As she undressed, she thought about how chaotic the lair must’ve been when the turtles were younger.

They were probably a bunch of shits, she thought to herself. I’m sure Splinter had his hands, or paws she guessed, full.

As she was lost in thought at images of young turtle mutants running rampant around the sewers, the sight of the bandages on her ribs in the mirror tore her from her inner monologue.

The bruises were bad. There were purple and red boot marks all over her torso, but her rib cage was the worst. She lifted the bandages off, confident the bleeding had stopped, and gasped at the sight of her injuries; the stitches on her lower left rib sticking out of her skin and very visible. Donnie had done a great job, but it still looked rough.

There would definitely be a scar, she thought.

She was still in pain, but years of practice of hiding injuries had taught her to ignore the sharp feeling in her side. Rose started the water in the nearest shower stall and continued to look at herself in the mirror.

Her mind wandered back to high school, when her classmates bullied her for her curves.

Looking at her reflection now, she wondered why she ever let them get to her. She knew she was downright sexy, her wide hips and full breasts creating a silhouette that people would kill for. She had started lifting weights seriously in the last two years, which had really toned up her body, in addition to the boost in strength and stamina. She looked like a Greek statue, both strength and beauty on full display, and she loved it.

She was finally getting strong enough to fight her own battles. 

And win. 

—-----------------------------------------------------

Once she was finished and dressed from the shower, and with the help of some body spray from someone's shelf in the bathroom to hide the funk of her clothes (she assumed it was Mikey's), she sat down next to Donnie on the couch to listen to what he had to say.

“So I think the serum is finished, but I'd like to run one more test. I'm slightly concerned about any side effects you might experience from our mutagen, but overall I think our odds are still about an 82% success rate.” He said, pushing up his glasses a little as they slid down his snout. “It should be ready by this evening.”

“Thank you so much, Donnie. You’ve been working so hard, and I really appreciate it.” Rose smiled at him, eyes sparkling in disbelief. 

How the hell did he finish it so fast?

Has he been sleeping?

Donnie seemed to read her mind. 

“Selfishly, I’ve enjoyed working on it as well. It gave me an excuse to run tests and explore data I’ve collected that I’ve not had a chance to use.” He fidgeted with the purple wrapping on his left arm. “If I’m right, and this serum helps your body heal faster, I could be on the brink of a scientific discovery that Sacks was bragging about when he attacked us- Except I'll actually be successful.”

She nodded her head. “That’s amazing Don. I'm happy to help out any way I can.”

Rose put a hand on Donatello’s shoulder and gave a light squeeze. His gaze flicked over her face, narrowing slightly as he watched her.

She removed her hand as she glanced up to Master Splinter’s room, noticing the door still shut. Raph was still up there, and she winced at the thought he was taking the punishment for something she did.

“Can I ask you something, Donnie?”

The terrapin turned to face her on the couch, and answered her question before she could even voice what had been bothering her.

“Sensei wasn’t upset with you or Raph about the whole bedroom thing, if that’s what you’re wondering.” He said blatantly. Donnie reminded Rose of her mom, speaking plain and stating facts over being tactful with feelings. A half-smile bloomed on her lips as he continued. “Raph disobeyed orders when he took you to the roof, and Leo was pretty upset. There’s always drama between them about leadership and following orders, but it usually blows over really quick. Raph and Leo are sparring privately in Sensei’s dojo right now. They just need to work it out alone.”

Donnie gestured over to the room across from the gym.

“That’s our dojo space that we use for everyday training. The one upstairs is more, um, ceremonial.”

“Thanks, Don. You’re the best.”

She gave the purple masked turtle a full smile and leaned in for a hug, grateful that he knew exactly what was troubling her, so she didn’t have to admit it out loud. She knew that her flirting with Raph was starting to be a little more than playful, and admitting her concern out loud was a little more than she could take right now. It was all moving so fast.

I mean, we almost fucking kissed this morning. I’ve known him for literally one day.

Donnie interrupted her thoughts with more cold, hard logic.

“So, I don’t know how to put this nicely but, you stink.”

“Thanks, Don. Real nice.” She laughed.

Yup, just like Mom.

“Yeah, you’re right. My clothes are super dirty." She agreed. “Is anyone around to help me to my apartment for a change of clothes and some other stuff? I know you’re busy and,” she gestured upstairs with her head. “Those two are occupied at the moment.”

“Yeah, Mike is around. He’s probably in the skate room.”

Donnie walked her over to where the sound of scraping wheels and rap music poured out into the hall. Hell, there were so many rooms in this place, she could definitely get lost easily on her own.

As Donnie walked back to his lab, Rose entered the skate room, which looked like Mikey’s personality threw up everywhere. There was no wall that wasn’t graffitied, covered in posters, or lined with speakers, and it was so bright and well, Mikey.

He was so much like her brother Dom it hurt.

Mikey quickly noticed her and despite being mid-air, he flipped off his board and leapt down in front of Rose.

“Sup girl?” He said, raising an arm over his head and flexing a little. “What can the Mikester do for ya?”

He had the biggest, goofiest grin on his face, and she was beside herself. Mikey was adorable.

Smiling, she rested her hand on a hip. “I need a favor Mike. You up for a road trip?”

“Um, hells yea Rosita. Do you even need to ask?” He grinned, shutting off his music with his phone and slipping his board back on his shell. “Where to?”

“Well, I need to head back to my apartment to get some things, but I have to be sneaky about it. It’s complicated, but I have to get in- get out, kay?” She hoped he wouldn’t ask too many more questions, she didn't really want to explain. 

“Aight, lezz go!”

With that they headed back to the main room, grabbed her stuff, and headed out of the lair.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dusk had started to fall outside.

She was beginning to lose track of time down in the sewers, as the turtles were on an awake-all-night schedule and there were no windows. She preferred the schedule actually, she had always been a night owl and she had gigs at night anyways.

They had made it to the rooftop across from her apartment, and she couldn’t see any lights on. Her ex’s schedule was always erratic, but she hoped that no one was home. She didn’t want to face him, especially not with a mutant turtle in tow.

“So what are we doin here, chica?

She sighed and explained the situation, realizing he probably wouldn't be okay with breaking-and entering. 

“Well, my ex and I broke up yesterday right before the bar..incident..” She didn't want to call it what it was.  "I need to get some clothes and stuff but I don’t want to see him. Cool?”

Mikey nodded, and gestured for Rose to grab onto him. She put her arm around his neck, a much easier task with the orange ninja than with his older brother. Mikey was the smallest of the four, but still was stronger than the average human. He lifted her up with one arm with ease, and took his board off of his back. Before she could protest, he yelled “Hold on babes!” and jumped off the roof.

The board flew them across the gap between buildings easily, and they landed on her fire escape quickly and semi-gracefully. Kneeling, but wincing from the pain in the movement, she shimmied her window up. She had never felt the need to lock it, being that they lived on the 10th floor and no one was determined enough to climb that far up a fire escape for a robbery.

Mikey and Rose stepped into the dark room quickly, listening for signs of movement. When they heard none, she turned the lights on and grabbed a bag out of the closet. She looked over to the bed and sighed. They had built a life together here, and it was all just being thrown away. All the memories, laughter, and experiences. Just garbage in the dumpster. She was lost in thought, until Mike’s movement caught her eye.

“Hey, there’s a letter here for ya.”

Mikey handed over a sheet of paper he found on her pillowcase.

Rose,

Take care of yourself.

With love always, Nick

She cried. She didn’t know what else to do.

Their whole relationship, cut down to a short note and moving boxes. It was all too much to deal with.

Mikey grabbed her hand and just stood there with her while she cried like a child, still hoping that this was just a dream. She knew it wasn’t, but she would give anything to not feel this pain.

After a few minutes, she squeezed the turtle’s hand back, and turned to face him.

“Thanks, Mikey. Really." He gave her a weak smile, worry still clear in his eyes. "Now, let’s hurry so we can get out of here, ok?”

He nodded and moved out of her way so she could do what she needed.

Rose grabbed a bag out of her closet and started packing for a week away; that would at least cover her if she wanted to stay a little longer. She packed her toiletries quickly, thankful to be able to brush her teeth finally. Then she turned to Mike.

“Hey, can you turn around? I need to change.” She laughed as he blushed, quickly turning to face the window.

As she dressed, Mikey started asking questions.

“So most people have jobs, right?”

“Yep.”

“So what’s your job? Like I know you said you were self-employed or whatever, but like what do you do?”

She chuckled. “I’m a singer, Mikey. I gig around town with a few different bands, and I do some studio work occasionally. We didn’t have any gigs scheduled until later this week, so my schedule is pretty open.” She responded, pulling her clean shirt over her torso gingerly. “You’re good to turn around now. All done.” Rose had chosen a pair of black biker shorts and an oversized graphic tee. The lair was way too warm for pants.

“Girl, that is so freakin’ cool!” He almost yelled with how excited he was. She could tell that he longed for a life like that, in the spotlight. It must be hard for him.

For all of them. 

She shook her head chuckling, enjoying his enthusiasm.

“Thanks, Mike.” Turning the light off and moving towards the window, she punched his arm. “You ready, dude?”

“You know it!”

[lokiskitten]

Tom Hiddleston | nice acting skills

Pt2 : the changing room

Tom Hiddleston x fem!reader

Author’s note : I never originally planned to write a second part but I was being held at gun point so here’s pt2 of the “nice acting skills” imagine KSKSK

plot : after going through this rather peculiar moment, you unexpectedly bump into Tom in one of the changing rooms. From there, things take an unexpected turn.

warnings : smut ( with /legal/ age gap ), unprotected sex, extremely light and discreet spanking.

You were pulled out of your daydream session again by the exhaustingly familiar sound of the director throwing around new orders, setting you and Tom free from set as this scene didn’t necessarily needed to be filmed twice. You were now sent off to the makeup and costumes room which was located nowhere far from the place you currently sat. Tom wasn’t meant to be changing nor getting ready in the same room as you did, which was totally understandable due to the fact that you didn’t share the same gender nor age. He therefore took a different turn than you did, feet leading him to the left as you were accompanied on your right.

You were allowed in your personal changing room, the makeup lady arranging her stencils which laid on the table before the mirror. However, she suddenly seemed to remember about an important detail which she seemingly needed to be getting on the instant. You were therefore left alone with nothing but the costumes and cold cup of tea to keep you company. Sighing tiredly, you sat down on the chair which faced the mirror, eyes falling on your own tired reflexion. However, you were now able to hear the sound of the door opening again, a forced smile appearing on your lips as you expected this person who just walked in to be the makeup artist.

“Did you find what you’ve been looking fo-“ you began, eyes diverting upwards only to land onto Tom’s familiar yet unexpected silhouette. He closed the door behind himself, leaning against the wall as his strong arms crossed against his bare chest. You were now trapped with him. However, it was far from being a bother. But your naturally strong mindset forced you to put up a mask and pretend as if his naked upper body wasn’t something which disturbed your mind and senses. “Oh, it’s you.” You spoke bluntly, trying you best to hide any emotion which could’ve been a threaten to your reputation as a young and serious lady.

Tom smirked. “Yes, it’s me.” He answered, his deep voice which carried a beautiful British accent rolling off his tongue perfectly. It never failed to make your heart and crotch melt. Finally getting up from the door, the older man slowly moved towards your seat before his veiny hands decided to take ahold of the leather material. His ocean blue eyes stared at your reflection in the mirror, yet he wasn’t making eye contact but simply admiring how beautiful your body was. Gently, his hand moved up to your hair which he dragged back behind your ear, fully revealing your beautiful face to him.

“You’re beautiful.” He affirmed, making sure to regulate both his voice and tone in order to guarantee that he would look as attractive as he possibly could- even tho he wouldn’t have needed any of these forced artifacts to seduce you or anyone else. You had caught him red handed through his game, though- again- it was far from being a bother. In contrary, you enjoyed it. However, the little voice in your head couldn’t help but beg you to deny his offer whilst the other part of yourself desperately wanted you to give in his flirts. Your body easily became a battlefield for those two separate opinions to fight and argue endlessly.

Face to your lack of answer- and that mostly because you were lost in your thoughts- Tom tilted his head before moving his hands down to the opening of your robe, gently starting to pull on it in order to reveal your bare chest. However, your own hand was soon to move up to his wrist and take a firm hold of it, asserting dominance and stopping the older man through his track. Face to this hostile move, the actor couldn’t help but grow confused. He frowned and accepted to respectfully pull his hand away. “Do you not want this? I beg your pardon, I thought you shared those same feelings which previously took possession of my body.” Tom explained, referring to how he felt whilst shooting the infamous scene barely a couple of minutes ago.

“No no, I do.” Your responded, your main priority being to make sure that he wouldn’t feel like he was in the wrong nor inappropriate. You finally agreed to get up from the chair you have been sitting on, still unfortunately remaining shorter than your screen partner who towered above you. “But isn’t this... not such a good thing? I mean, I always hear people brag about not mixing your love life with coworkers.” You explained, remaining aware that Tom surely didn’t work that way, which was easily noticeable if you bothered to take a look at the female casts from the movies he’s played in and link it all up with his never ending list of ex romantic partners.

Upon noticing that he didn’t seem to truly pay attention to your words, but more to your face, you stopped yourself through your speech. He was adorning those flirty eyes of his, which no woman could potentially resist to. No matter how hard you fought, in the end, you’d always fall for him. “Can you- stop looking at me like that, with your eyes and.. eyebrows.. and all of it.” You ordered, hands gesturing towards his face. Hearing those satisfying words, Tom accentuated his facial features game. “Looking at you like what?” He responded, slowly moving closer to your body until his hands could finally wrap around your waist. It felt like a huge victory to him.

Before you could know it, Tom’s lips pressed against yours, the man offering you a genuine and intense kiss which honestly resembled the ones he’d give you on set. But for now, this didn’t matter. All that mattered was that you were sharing a wanted and needed moment with your screen partner. His hands moved down from your cheeks to your shoulders, pushing off your robe which fell off your body with ease. Unlike him, you didn’t adorn any form of underwear and was therefore left naked for the older man to cherish and enjoy. The kiss progressively intensified, both of your lips parting in order to allow each other’s tongue to come in.

As he embraced your figure, Tom slowly started to push you towards the nearest wall, the two of you stumbling upon a couple of objects before your back could finally collide with the hard material. You moaned against his mouth, knee moving up to his hip which allowed you to feel his hardening bulge against your sensitive core. Your clit was throbbing, begging for sexual satisfaction coming from the man. Feeling your leg suddenly raise against his hip, Tom’s hand moved underneath your thigh and made sure to hold it up there, offering you some free support so you wouldn’t have to carry the heavy member on your own.

Tom cared a lot about the feminine pleasure- probably more than he did care for his own- which would surely guarantee you a good time spent with him during this early afternoon.

Upon feeling that you were now wrapping your arms around his neck, Tom decided to take the initiative to pull his boxers down- setting free his hardening member which had yet to grow to its full size. He was now able to fully pick you up, hands wrapped underneath your thighs in a cautious manner. His tip wouldn’t stop colliding with your soaking hole, visibly begging for entrance without ever truly daring to cross the step. Thankfully, you knew that Tom had always been a very determined man who usually reached out for the stuff he wanted instead of waiting for people to give it to him.

Therefore, it didn’t take long for him to carefully sit you down on his cock, being able to feel that you were now wet enough to painlessly welcome in his prominent member. You guys moaned together, his forehead pressing against yours as his girth was progressively coated with your love juices. Once he reached balls deep, the actor decided to take a couple of seconds in order to allow you to adjust to his size, ocean blue eyes looking up at your face which he admired and praised more than anything in the world at the moment.

Kissing your lips, Tom began to move again, hips gently and cautiously thrusting forward and retracting backwards repetitively until he felt like he could now fasten his pace. Meanwhile, you found yourself lost through pleasure and bliss, forehead firmly pressed against his as you decided that it would probably be wiser for you to keep your mouth shut and avoid to attract anyone else’s attention. Besides, you only wanted and needed his. Moaning out loud would’ve been a great risk to take as the two of you remained aware that you were in a studio filled with thousands of working people. Therefore, Tom regulated his pleasure by wincing and hissing silently whilst you decided to carry on humming sensitively.

Your arms remained wrapped around his neck as he carried on pleasuring your cunt as well as his own member, lips praising your neck which in some way also helped him through the restricted moans process. His girth rubbed past every single sensitive spot of yours, g-spot going wild and swelling out of pleasure due to the man’s perfectly appropriate actions and mannerisms. However, and without giving you a warning, Tom suddenly pulled out in order to flip you around- you chest now facing the wall as you were soon to understand that your job was now to bend over for him. His arms had probably grown tired of carrying you, which you acknowledged and understood.

Before he decided to bend you over, his large hands moved up to your breasts from behind your back, caressing and squeezing them with a lot of lustful care before he retracted his hand back to your spine, pressing his palm against your flesh and forcing you to slightly bend over. There wasn’t much space between you and the wall, which therefore only allowed you to fold a little bit. Your own palms collided with the wall as Tom’s hand caressed all the way down to your bum, giving the flesh a gentle slap before allowing his digits to take ahold of his own girth. He guided his tip to your entrance again, taking time through his actions to make sure that he would execute them properly and painlessly. Even through lust, Tom remained a gentleman.

Feeling his hardness slide inside of you again made your legs tremble, yet Tom made sure to hold you up by giving your hips a gentle and reassuring squeeze. The muscles he had developed through the intense hours spent at the gym contracted as he began to move in and out of you as you tried your best to once again remain silent and discreet. Though, a couple of moans eventually had to escape your lips. Tom shushed you respectfully, giving your bum a light spank which stood as a punishment face to your risky behavior. Yet you refused to complain, smile appearing on your parted lips as the older man continued to pound your core.

Eventually, his hips began to stutter, thrusts gaining in sloppiness which was due to his nearing orgasm. This once Tom didn’t manage to hold back his own moans, hums and groans escaping his lips as he respectfully pulled out right before white strings of sperm could be projected against your cervix. Instead, the thick liquid landed on your back, staining your flesh. “Fuck..” he praised, taking a deep breath in before exhaling loudly. His hips continued to gently rock against yours, shaft rubbing against your upper bum as Tom wished to fully get over his orgasm.

You were left emotionally shattered, body still recovering from the intense amount of emotions and sensations which had previously taken possession of your body- brain still attempting to figure out wether this was right or negative for both of your careers.

Y’all asked : I deliver. I hope you managed to enjoy it! Requested tags : @lokis-leah @marianastudiesart @fa-me @lokistoriesblog @sunshineyrosie @delightfulheartdream ❤️

[ Every single share/comment/like means a lot to me as a writer! Please never doubt that! I acknowledge and praise each one of those interactions as they also help to motivate me. Love you guys💜 thanks for the support. ]

[folkloreguk]

an angel for a demon (3)

A/N: Here's the last part of this small series! You don't necessarily need to read all of them to understand this one, but it does probably make more sense if you do. As always, feedback is deeply appreciated! Have a good day x

genre: smut, optional bias (m) x reader (f), demon!bias, angel!reader, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving), reader gives her first bj

words: ~ 6.7 k

PART1 (M)

PART2 (M)

“I’m going out to pick up some food and stuff, do you want to come along?” you heard him ask. You had your legs up against the wall, your back on the bed, and a magazine in your hands. The women on the pages had you gushing, on the verge of hypnotization. You swore if you looked at those infatuating pictures one minute longer, you’d be swallowed whole by them.

When you had worked your way through some science books and were still hungry for more to read, H/N had brought you some magazines, mostly about fashion but also gossip and lifestyle tips. Turns out letting a clueless angel read about what’s supposed to be good for women was not a smart idea. Up in the clouds, from where you used to watch earth’s women, they had all looked equal to you – beautiful, intelligent, and capable. Now, down in the reality of it all, things appeared much more complicated. Which angel could have known it took diets, workout routines, anti-aging creams and the perfect outfit for your body type to be viewed the same way you had always looked at women from above? And most importantly, how did any woman manage to uphold all these expectations the magazines named? It was all too much and seemingly impossible. Abruptly, you were pulled out of your train of thoughts.

“Y/N? Did you hear me?” he asked, peaking his head through the door. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry,” you said, putting down the magazine on your chest. “No, I’d like to stay here.”

“Alright,” he said, “Would you like me to bring you anything from the store?”

He walked over to you and sat on the bed. His hands softly brushed over your hair, down your cheek and neck, barely touching your collarbones. He was in his black, intimidating clothes, per usual, but his eyes held nothing but fondness for you.

“Actually, maybe there is something,” you said. “Look.”

You picked up the magazine and pointed at the page.

“Can you buy me a dress like this one? They say it would fit me best. And could you get some makeup for me? I don’t know much about it, but maybe you-“ you said. Usually, he was one to listen carefully to every of your words, as if you were the most interesting person he had ever met. This time, he interrupted you.

“Stop. Where is this coming from?” he asked. “I want you to forget all those things you’ve read in those magazines, okay?”

You were confused, thinking you were learning by reading those articles. Gently, he caressed your face. “You know I’ll buy you anything in the world, right? But only if that’s what youwant. Everything they tell you to do, everything they tell you to buy, it’s brainwashing. You will wear whatever dress you find pretty, and if you want to wear makeup, that’s fine. But you will only do those things if you want to do them, okay? There’s nothing you need to change about yourself.”

“But they say you need to start early to get a nice body, and to prevent aging,” you said. “They say men will admire me.”

“We’re immortal, my angel,” he said. “And even if we weren’t, what’s wrong with growing old? Wouldn’t you want the traces of your experiences to be visible on your skin? Those companies, they all just want your money and so they try to scare you into believing you’re not good enough. But truth is, you always are. All those times people tug on their skin in front of a mirror, or whenever they break a sweat trying to lose weight, or when they compare themselves to those who look different from them – they’re already good enough. They’re perfect. This worlds wants you to never be at peace with who you are. But you need to promise me you won’t succumb to those nonsensical tactics to make you hate yourself. And don’t you ever wait for a man to give you approval. That’s your job and your job only.”

You listened, wide-eyed and intrigued. No magazine could ever speak so honestly, and you believed every word he said. After all, you trusted him much more than some random author of an article that was trying to sell you the latest weight loss-magic-powder.

“Okay, I promise.” You sat up and leaned your head against his shoulder. “I’ve never even really thought about it, but I think I’m pretty.”

“Not thinking about it might just be the best way to go about it in this world,” he said, and placed a kiss on your forehead. The feeling of warmth lingered on your skin seconds after he had already pulled away.

“I change my mind, then,” you said, “Do you think you can get me a dress like this?”

You showed him a different picture this time. It showed a lot more skin than the one you had pointed out before. You only realized this when he was already smirking at your choice.

“I’ll see what I can find,” he said. “That’s an interesting option, angel.”

“Hey! I just like the color, alright?” you defended yourself, making him chuckle. Over the course of four weeks, you had come to know his insinuations and his little jokes better. But at the same time, you couldn’t deny the incredible sensation his eyes on you gave you. When he goggled at you because you had decided to wear his shirt for a day, or the way he watched you welcome him with open arms when he came home.

You now understood that certain words or actions, or even just an article of clothing – or lack thereof – could conjure an insatiable hunger in his eyes. At first, it was a little scary, having a demon stare you down as if he wanted to eat you up. But now that you knew what his hands felt like on your skin, and that his lips were made for much gentler actions than to hurt you, you wanted nothing more than to coax the starving demon into playing with you, any chance you got. And perhaps that dress in the catalogue would do just that, and not only bring you joy. It was a win-win, really.

“I’ll be back in the afternoon,” he said. “Don’t miss me too much.”

“You know I always do,” you said.

“I’ll give you all the missed attention when I get home, alright?” he said, bending down to your ear. “You can have whatever you want, then.”

To be honest, half of the time you didn’t know what you wanted him to do. But with every time his hands explored your body you learned more. There were so many things humans did to make each other feel good, you doubted you’d ever be able to try everything. His promise made you wish he was already back home when he had barely stepped out of the door. One last grin and nod and he left you alone.

What did angels do on a Saturday noon? Usually, you’d be patrolling your village, entertaining yourself by watching children play tag, admiring lovers walking hand in hand or discovering a family that had just adopted a small animal. Their human eyes shined when they felt happiness, and it was infectious to you. You wanted to send your blessing to all of them, make sure they never felt anything but delight, but you knew that wasn’t how business worked down there. Some things were even out of your control. Now, on earth, you were ready to take whichever hardships were to come if it meant you could have been with your demon lover.

You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. You had only gotten up an hour ago. Last night, you had been kept awake for long. He was untiring when he was between your legs. You had learned that he didn’t need nearly as much sleep as you did, and when he set his mind to making you come by his administrations, he didn’t waver to do so. But losing sleep in exchange for pleasure was okay with you. Time became meaningless, either way, when you had your face buried in a pillow, tears threatening to spill over from how good he made you feel. Sometimes he made you come while sitting in his lap, then you’d cling to him like a baby and muffle your whimpers by pressing your lips against the skin of his shoulder. He loved telling you ‘Look at me’ right when you were falling. It was hard to keep your eyes from rolling to the back of your head or not to collapse in his arms, but for him you would try your best. Often you found your thoughts lingering on the memory of his gaze when you came apart under his touch. It had something of fascination and protectiveness, and you’d never get enough of it.

Great, now you wanted him again. And he wasn’t here. How had you gotten this way? On occasion you wondered if one of the other angels had already spotted you and the sins you were committing. You wouldn’t call them sins now, or ever again. It wasn’t like you wanted to adapt to a demon lifestyle. But you felt at home for the first time, here on earth. It was the perfect grey zone between heaven and hell.

As an attempt to appease your needy mind, you picked up your magazine again. Just because you shouldn’t believe everything they said didn’t mean you shouldn’t have read it at all, right? You flipped through articles on fitness and the newest fashion, but after skimming the pages for only a few seconds, you were done with those tips. He wanted you because of who you were – an angel – and you doubted than any beauty routine could make him more obsessed with you than he already was. But then you read something most curious to your angel eyes. ‘How to make him feel best – tips from a porn star’ the title said. Whatever in the heaven a porn star was, they seemed to be some sort of expert on pleasuring men, and you, always eager to learn something new, were intrigued from the very first word.

But soon you had to admit, you weren’t at all sure what they were referring to with those words and actions. When you and your demon boyfriend had sex, he usually did most of the work, while you took whatever teasing or pleasure he inflicted on you. He had said he liked it this way, but now you weren’t so sure. Or was this ‘10 things to do become a blowjob-pro’ – list just another attempt of society to brainwash women? You weren’t one to initiate talk about sexual stuff, but maybe you’d try to question him on the meaning of what you had read.

You flipped another page and finally you had arrived at a page you could work with. It was a bunch of comfort food recipes. Right away you fell in love with the picture of the freshly baked cinnamon rolls in the top right corner. H/N had promised you to teach you how to cook, but so far you hadn’t made much progress. The difficulty level read beginner, and five minutes later you stood in the kitchen. With some music in the background your enthusiasm only sparked more. Baking was new and came with slight overwhelmingness and the stress of making sure you weren’t forgetting to add any ingredient. But the Christmassy scent of cinnamon and the feeling of making something from scratch made you happy, and with rapt attention you finished your first completed recipe ever.

You wiped some flour off your forehead. Hopefully H/N would like the cinnamon rolls too, because as tasty you found your creation, there was no way you were able to devour them all by yourself. As if on cue, you suddenly heard the key slide into the lock of the front door. Probably prompted by the heavenly scent, he called your name.

“Here,” you answered, mouth full of a bite of cinnamon roll. When he walked in, he already had his famous smirk on his face. It was your favorite. You knew it was reserved only for you.

“What did you make?” he asked. But he had his answer when he saw the baked goods in front of you. He set down the bags and put his arms on your waist from behind. With a hum, you lifted the cinnamon roll to his lips, and he took a bite. He almost moaned at the taste and you grinned.

“Do you like them?” you asked, already knowing the answer but still awaiting more praise. You squealed a little at how quickly he spun you around. His nose touched yours and your heartbeat raced.

“It’s like they came with you straight from heaven,” he said. “Hmm…I missed my angel.”

His lips when he kissed you tasted like sugar and spice and you melted straight into his touch. You only noticed he had run his finger over the gooey leftover icing when it was already too late. He was a demon after all. And if demons were good at one thing, it was causing mischief.

“Hey,” you protested at his hands on your neck. Then your reaction quickly altered as his finger slid lower, down to your collar bones and to where your low-cut shirt started. “Great, now I’m all sticky.”

You didn’t understand at first that messing with you wasn’t his full intention. But he tilted his head to the side and ran his hot tongue over the icing on your skin, and you gasped suddenly. This wasn’t just a joke. He wanted you. He made a humming noise, as if the sweetness combined with your own taste were only complimenting each other. When he pulled down the neckline of your shirt a little, so he could have every last drop of the sugary substance on your skin, you couldn’t help but whimper. You wanted so desperately for him to do it again, that you thought about sticking your own fingers into the bowl of icing and smearing it on your chest. His eyes were playful when he looked up at your reaction.

“Oh no. If you’re all sticky I guess you’ll need a shower, will you?” he said, “What a coincidence. I was thinking of taking one, just now.”

You had never taken a shower with him, or anyone, for that matter. But you had a feeling that the both of you wouldn’t be keeping to yourself, standing naked in front of each other. You didn’t mind. And you guessed your approval was written on your face, because he pulled you in and kissed you hard. Again, you remembered the article you had read. Was now a good time to ask him about it?

While you were contemplating, his tongue slid over your bottom lip and met yours. You had been too shy to ask before, but now you were speechless. Gently, he grabbed your hand and led you out of the kitchen and into the hallway. You were a mess of lips and tongues and hands and feet stumbling over each other. Every few meters you stopped to push yourself close against him. It was like a game of who could go without kissing each other for longer. And you were both lousy at it.

He loved pushing you up against the wall, trapping you between his arms on each side of your head. This way, he could brush up against your shaking body and you had nowhere left to go. Needless to say, you had no intentions of getting away, no matter what. He knocked the breath out of your lungs, and you kissed him back like you could breathe him in instead. As if he had become your new source of oxygen, or whatever it was you really needed to survive. It these moments, air seemed like a subsidiary matter. So long as you had his hot tongue licking down your neck and his busy hands on your ass under your dress, nothing else truly mattered.

Your kisses were open-mouthed and far more confident than they had been only weeks ago. You now knew how much he liked when you grabbed his hair tightly, or when you whispered his name against his devouring lips, as if it was the only word you had ever been taught. Like it was the only word you ever wanted to know. Before you had even made it to the bathroom, half of your clothes were scattered somewhere along the way.

“I can’t believe I just had you yesterday and here I am already missing you this much again,” he mumbled against your earlobe, teeth playing with your soft skin. “You really are otherworldly. There’s no other explanation.”

His words made you feel proud. The pleasure was one thing you had come to love quickly, but then you noticed the power you could have over him, by merely existing. It was almost unbelievable, but there he was, hard and needing you, day by day. Again, your mind wandered off to the magazine article.

“Can I ask you something?” Your voice must had been different from your usual timid tone when you were in the middle of something unholy.

“Anything, angel,” he said. He let his lips linger on your cheek, half an inch from your mouth, and your stomach twisted in how badly you wanted him to sip on your lips like he was starving.

“Do you like always doing everything when we- ,“ you said. He gave you a puzzled expression, so you tried to explain yourself better. “I mean, if you ever want me to do more, you can ask me to. I don’t know everything yet, but I can learn.”

You weren’t even sure if you understood what the heaven you had just stammered. His look reminded you of the one he had when you asked him to buy him the dress and the makeup that morning.

“I love what we have, little angel,” he said, “What’s making you think you need to do anything differently?”

How were you supposed to explain what you had read when you hadn’t even properly grasped it yourself? You opted for taking his hand and walking him to the bedroom. There the magazine still lay, like an ancient cursed book you weren’t sure you wanted to know front to back. You picked it up and quickly handed him the article. Feeling your cheeks heat up, you opted to take a seat on the edge of the bed.

His lips curled into a devilish grin upon eyeing the page, and you thought the ground might swallow you whole. Maybe you shouldn’t have said anything at all and spared yourself the embarrassment. But at the same time, you were eager to know.

“I thought I told you, magazines are just trying to make you doubt yourself,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

“I know, but if there’s anything I can do to make you feel as good as you make me feel, I want to do it,” you confessed. He bent down, cupping your face.

“No one’s ever felt as good to me as you have, angel,” he said, “You’re heaven to me. Do you understand that?”

With your mouth squished together slightly, you nodded your head that was in his hands.

“By the devil, you’re so adorable,” he said. “If you really want to know, though, I’ll show you.”

Even more eagerly, you nodded again. He chuckled. You couldn’t handle how handsome he was – all messy hair, bare chest and black eyes that made you dream of the most unholy things possible.

“You remember how I kiss you…down there?” he asked. You hummed, cheeks on fire. “And how I’ve asked you to put your hands on my cock before?”

You did. But it had been brief, only a few pumps and small touches, until he had become too needy. You had been whining so deliciously for him to fuck you and so he had to have you on the spot.

“In the way you touched me then…you could use your mouth on me. Make me come with your perfect lips and sweet hands,” he said. “If that’s what you want, too.”

“I do!” you said with enthusiasm that only an angel at the feasibility of making someone’s day could bring on. “Let’s postpone that shower.”

The pride in his eyes lasted for approximately two seconds before the raw hunger replaced it. He climbed onto the bed and pat his thighs. On command, you settled on his lap. The simple feeling of his bulge under your center, even if interrupted by some fabric, made your head dizzy and your stomach drop. You kneaded your hands, not sure where to touch him first. But just as he always did to you, you had the impulse to start by his head and go lower from there. Although you were on top of him, he looked amused at your shy eyes.

“Can I kiss your neck, like you always kiss mine?” you asked.

“Be my guest,” he said, grinning like he had just won the lottery. Your lips met his skin and you used your tongue the way you had felt him do it. His scent was intoxicating. It made the empty bedsheets you breathed in sometimes, when he left in the middle of the night for his demon antics, seem like nothing. You used your hands to stabilize yourself as you moved lower. The hiss he let out when you felt up on his abs and waistline almost scared you. Then you realized it was a good sign. Only for the blink of an eye you dared to graze your teeth on his skin. His reaction was immediate.

“Shit,” he cussed, “That’s my angel.”

So, he liked that. You couldn’t wait to tease him by biting him in the future. Provoking a demon would have sounded like something close to a death wish to you, had you thought about it months ago. Now, with a demon as tame as they come beneath you, the thought only excited you. As he liked to do, you touched him through his boxers while you continued your journey down his chest and stomach. The guttural moan he released made your head spin and you never wanted him to be quiet. Usually, you weren’t in a mind state to notice his groans, or your own noises were covering his.

“You’re doing so good, little angel,” he said, short of breath. Once again, your effect on him surprised you. Where was the intimidating, big bad demon you had been taunted by?

“I’m gonna fuck you so well for this,” he said, “Even the angels in heaven will hear you scream. Wouldn’t you like that?”

There he was. You pressed your legs together at the simple mention of him inside of you, but if he thought you were going to answer, he’d be waiting endlessly. You still had enough respect for your angels not to think of them in this moment. Nonetheless you hummed weakly. When you got to his hipbone, you hesitated. You drowned out your doubts by kissing him there, while you contemplated what to do next. Your hand was still wrapped around his clothed cock. It was rock hard, and a wet spot had formed on the fabric from how much he needed you. When your touch became softer, and you pulled your hands away slowly, he lifted his hips, not wanting you to stop. You supposed this was the part where you took off his boxers. At least he didn’t complain when you pulled them off his legs, so you assumed you were still on the right track.

Watching his face for signs of approval, your hand wrapped around his length. He almost seemed electrified at your touch. His jaw dropped slightly, and his hooded eyes somehow appeared even darker than usual.

“Just like that,” he said, “And now move your hand up and down.”

So you did. As you regarded your hand around his shaft, all you could think about was how it used to be. How did your hands, that were usually folded neatly in your lap while you looked down on earth, end up doing such ungodly things? And how come you didn’t even for a second feel guilty?

“Angel, you’re so good to me,” he moaned. Angel. That’s what he loved to emphasize. But was that what you were, still? Maybe you would simply stop putting yourself in a box. Perhaps you were just you, doing what you felt was right and would make you happy. And right now, having a demon clench his fists in your hair and saying your name in that tone, you couldn’t think of a lot of incidents that had made you happier. Was this the part where you should use your mouth? You weren’t sure, but your eyes jumped from his cock to his face and it caught his eyes.

“You can take me in your mouth if you want. If you ever feel like stopping, just do so,” he encouraged you, “But remember, no teeth there, okay?”

You grinned and nodded. You parted your lips and your tongue placed kitten licks on the underside of his member. When you reached the top, you took him between your lips, mirroring the motion of your hands around him. You were surprised at how comfortable you were, when ten minutes ago you were ready to personally descend to hell from embarrassment. There was something enticing about the power you possessed in that moment. You understood humans just a little better, once again. Knowing that the way he bucked his hips and his groans were caused by you and only you had you smiling inwardly. It was a way you had never caught yourself smile before. You felt brave, and like you could do anything, with a demon so at your pity.

It didn’t take long for you to figure out where he was most sensitive. Whenever you pressed your tongue against the tip of his cock, he let out a sigh. It was almost like relief, as if he had been waiting for you all his life. And now here you were, granting him all his wishes. You bobbed your head, but kept your attention on his sweet spot, his moans just too delightful not to evoke them on purpose.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he said. Often, you looked up at him. His lids fluttered from the pleasure, but he seemed to like it when you made eye contact. For a moment, you lifted your head, needing some air. Gently, he caressed your face, like you were made of precious porcelain.

“Which one of my dreams did you escape from, little angel?” he asked. You smiled sheepishly, lowering your head. Again, you wrapped your lips around his length. You wondered what he was thinking about. Was his mind as free from any worries as yours whenever he fucked you? Was he able to form any coherent thoughts or was his brain going into the same mental blackout you always experienced?

You continued the way you had, sucking the tip of his cock while your hand pumped him. From time to time, you took a breather and pulled away. Little did you know what you were doing to him. With the short intervals of your lips on him and the pauses in between, you unknowingly made everything more intense for him. It was a dangerous game of edging him you were playing, and you were outright unaware of it.

But why would he have complained? In that moment, you were his personal guardian angel, making sure all his needs were fulfilled. When he saw your lips, all red and puffy, he asked himself where you had been hiding all this time. You peeked up at him through your angel eyes and he felt his entire world become whole in front of him. He was completely and absolutely at your mercy, inebriated by your entire being. Never in his long time on earth had he seen someone so ravishingly beautiful, yet so unaware of their might. He swore to himself in that moment, he’d do anything to make you love him forever.

As divinely as you were treating him, he suddenly wanted you in a different way. And if you continued your sweet actions, he wasn’t sure if that would still be possible. He gently cupped your head, making you look up. You hummed in question.

“You’re doing so well,” he said, “Let me give back to you, won’t you? Does my angel want some attention, too?”

You would have been lying if you said you weren’t practically touch-starved at this moment. And having been taught to always be truthful, you nodded before you even knew it.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, “Why don’t you take off the rest of your clothes?”

When you got up to slip out of your dress, your legs were weak. You hadn’t even done anything, and yet your body felt heavy. All you wanted was to go back to him and have him so close, it felt like he could have been a part of you. As much as you had felt on top of the world minutes ago, his hungry eyes made you shrink inwardly. But it wasn’t out of fear. It was almost admiration, or rather anticipation. You knew he knew your body inside out, and you couldn’t wait for him to prove it to you.

“Come here, angel,” he said. You climbed back onto the bed. “Turn around for me, okay?”

You were on your knees, sitting up right, facing the headboard. His breath on your shoulder sent a shiver down your spine. Then his hands snaked around your body from behind you. A small whimper left your lips when he ran them down your chest, fingers drawing small shapes on your breasts. They continued their way down your stomach and to your parted thighs. The cold air was hitting your dripping core, and had you not had enough self-control, you would have moaned at the mere sensation of his fingertips on the inside of your thigh. But maybe that was just what he was waiting for. After all, he was still taking his time with you. But in this instance, you knew what you wanted, and more importantly when you wanted it.

“Please,” you said. You weren’t sure what to say but starting with a ‘please’ was never a mistake.

“Please what?” he asked. You couldn’t see his face, yet you knew his devilish grin that must’ve been plastered on his face. He never missed a chance to make you shy. “Is this what you want?”

He slid two of his fingers down your slit slowly. It would forever be a mystery to you, how such a simple touch could put you in such a mental state of disarray. You whined at how needy you were, fighting the urge to press your legs together. In a second, his fingers were coated in your juices. When he pressed them against your opening, but didn’t push any further, your head spun with frustration. An impulse yelled at you to grab his hand and show him how you wanted him, but you sensed there was a specific aim in his teasing. Above that, you weren’t close to that brave. Purposely lightly, he rubbed circles onto your clit. Your head fell back onto his shoulder and your breaths came out in little, desperate noises.

Before meeting him, you never knew this sort of inability to control your body. Having power over your motions was an obviousness to you. But as with so many things in life, you had been wrong. Or rather, you had not known better. Now, with his lips brushing over the side of your exposed neck, you were willing to let him do whatever he wanted to do to you. If there was a noise or reaction he wanted to coax out of you, he could do so. And if evoking your little melodic whimper was his aim, he was on the right path, fingers teasing your pussy and flicking over your clit. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you. In fact, he had a head so full of ideas of things you could do together, you doubted you’d ever start to get bored here.

“I want you…inside of me,” you said, surprising yourself. This was your desperate body taking control of your motor speech center, that little region in your brain that allowed you to let out what you wanted to say. Your cheeks were hot for only a moment, then you realized if it got you what you wanted so badly, speaking your mind was probably a fantastic idea. You should really do it more in the future, you thought.

“What my angel wants, my angel gets,” he said. Just for a few seconds, he moved his fingers much faster. You yelped at the sudden pleasure, your hand wrapping around his wrist. His other hand reached for your hand, softly taking it away as you became a whimpering puddle in his arms. You were ready to fall, give in to the pleasure and let go. It was what you so desperately wanted. But as quickly as it had begun, he removed his hands. His attention was gone, and you were left yearning for more.

“Lift your hips,” he said, softly touching your sides. A part of you wanted to cry out, hold him responsible for denying you your sweet release. But you knew it would be no use, and he would tell you to wait either way. You were still on your knees, but straightened up, arms hanging by your sides, waiting for his touch. He was right behind you, his upper body against yours. When you felt his cock run over your slick folds, you sighed at the awaited sensation. The stretch when he filled you up felt so perfect, so out of this world, you reached for his hand to hold on to.

“Why didn’t you ask me earlier if you wanted me so bad?” he asked. He squeezed your hand as his other pulled you flush against his back while he pushed himself further into you. He’d thrust against you for a while, only to pull out completely, and repeat the whole process. It was sending you into complete overdrive.

“Because I wanted to make you feel good,” you said. “Only you, for once.”

You moaned when he snapped his hips against your ass, picking up the pace. In an attempt to support your jittery legs, you grabbed the headboard in front of you. Your breathing came out in short huffs, uneven and a little shaky.

“You’re so sweet and selfless…my patient angel,” he said, his fingers coming in contact with your clit again. His touch was an allure to you, and you wished you could have stayed this way forever. No thoughts, just his body and his dark voice to sedate your mind. “I’ll give you anything you want. You know that, right?”

You hummed and nodded. “Yes. And I’ll do the same for you.” Your words were interrupted by your small whimpers. There had been a time you didn’t know what it felt like, when you didn’t even know there was a such thing of having someone inside of you. Now you couldn’t get enough of him. You were already so sensitive that every time he quickened his thrusts and moved his fingers on you slightly faster, he had you hanging right over the edge. And he could tell by the way you held your breath when you were close. He didn’t want you going there just yet.

“As much as I love your mouth around my dick, this is my favorite way of having you,” he said. He used both of his hands to dig into your sides, pulling your hips closer to him every time he dragged his cock through your walls. You agreed. Should any of your angels ever catch wind of this, they would ban you to earth – or worse, send you to hell. So be it, you thought. You’d be like your lover. One of the creatures of the darkness, thought to be the personification of sin. Even if they ripped your angel title from you, they could never steal away what you had now.

Yes, you were meddling with a demon, but also having the time of your life. It was vastly better than spending your days judging humans for being themselves and for humans living the true way they want to live, instead of abstaining from the simple pleasures of life. Their true colors shown, they weren’t harming anybody, but rather making the world a more acceptable and open-minded place. You aspired to be like them.

“This is my kind of heaven,” he said. It’s what he always called you. Heaven. He groaned when you clenched your walls around him, your inevitable high drawing closer.

“This is my new heaven…you are,” you replied. He chuckled darkly, probably relishing in your confession. The thought that he could make an angel reject the very place they should have belonged filled him with a sense of superiority.

“Look how well you’re taking me,” he said. His hand wrapped around your body, pulling you tighter. He slipped his hand between your legs again, and you almost felt like collapsing, had he not held on to you. On instinct, you closed your eyes and let the feeling crash over you.

“Let me see you come, little angel,” he spoke in your ear, just for you to hear. You would do anything for him. You quivered and buckled at the severity of the feeling, but he had you. Your moans were high and dragged out, as his digits pressed harder onto the sensitive nub on your center.

“Take just a little more for me, can you?” he asked. You obliged willingly, nodding your head while it was still full of nothingness. Even as he kept fucking you, it was pure bliss for another while. It made your legs shake a little, but you felt so safe there, in his embrace, the sensitivity was alright to handle. You could tell by how sloppy his thrusts were becoming that he was almost there, too. He was pressing you against his chest as if you were all he ever wanted. His moans sounded like home to you as he came. He said your name and bent forward, reaching for the headboard, but you both tumbled into the bedsheets together instead. You giggled at your shared clumsiness and you could feel his chest move from laughing as he was lying on top of your back.

“Fuck, that was amazing,” he said, “You’re amazing.”

You turned your head and his lips brushed along your temple, kissing you softly. He brushed a strand of hair out of your eyes so you could look at him. Seeing his beautiful face had you falling into an even deeper state of serenity.

“I want to cuddle,” he said, and it was probably the sweetest thing you had ever heard a demon say. As he rolled off you, you followed his movements and settled in his embrace. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on your skin, but neither of you cared enough to get up just yet.

“I love what you’ve done to me,” you said.

“What is it I have I done to you?” he asked, fingers drawing nonsensical patterns on the side of your bare hips.

“You changed me. But not in a bad way. You let me be who I want to be and showed me that that’s okay,” you said, “You made me understand. Some sins aren’t that sinful at all.”

[clementinesjourney]

Record Shop Funk - Pt. 1 Like real people do

A.N. : Hey guys, so i had this idea yesterday, and i really hope you'll like it. <3

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Words: 1,9k

Pairing: camboy!Steve x Reader, roommate!Bucky x reader, Stucky x reader (as the story goes)

Warnings: nothing yet :)

Summary: Who knew that having a secret crush, then a hearbreak will end in such a sweet thing..

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You and Bucky shared an apartment above the recordshop you both worked in. Your aunt was the owner of both, so it was a fairly good payment, and a fairly good apartment for a cheap price. It was a bright and big apartment with two bedrooms, so your decided to rent it out, all while searching for a helper to the shop downstairs. When Bucky came in applying for the job, you asked out of joke if he needs a place to live since you had seen around 5 people already and none of them felt right. His eyes lit up as he said he is in fact looking for a place. Since he was fitting for a job, and looked like a decent guy, you congratulated him on his new job, and asked if he wants to see the place today. You still had one and a half hour to close, but after it you would gladly show him the apartment.

He had nothing better to do, so he agreed to it, feeling happy about having a job he might actually like and a coworker he might actually will get along with.

-Do you drink coffee? I was thinking of getting one in the meantime. My friend works close by, and they make the best coffee in town. - He asked.

-I could go for one thank you - you smiled at him - iced cold-brew, no sugar, i'm sweet enough.. - you said with a smile.

He couldn't help but smile back at the joke. When he arrived at the café, he saw his friend Steve flirting with a girl whom he could visibly see trembling just cause he talked to her. Steve always had his way with girls, ever since the serum of course. After he broke up with Peggy, it was mostly just hookups, never finding a girl worth keeping around. Not as if they werent kind, pretty or good to him, it just never felt right. Bucky smiled at his friend, Steve immediately shifted his gaze from the girl, to a very happy Bucky.

-Did you get the job?

-Better.. I got the job, and she has a room for rent which i'll see tonight.

-Wow Bucky, i didn't know you were even better then i am.. sooo how does she look? - asked Steve with a slight wiggle of his eyebrows. He wanted Bucky to get a girl since ages and hearing this, his mind immediately ventured there.

-5'7, ginger, green eyes, freckles, curvy just the right places. why?

-Nothing Buck.. nothing.. - Steve said smirking at his friend.. Bucky never realized when he liked a girl, so he never really acted on it. He last had a woman back in the 40's.

-Sooo i know you didn't come to have chat with me, one black coffee and.. ?

-ah, iced cold-brew, no sugar..

After paying for the coffee, he hurried back to the shop, hoping to get to know his coworker a little bit better.

You thanked him for the coffee, and when you tried to pay, he refused.

-Next round's mine then. - You smiled at him with your 1000 watt smile, which again he couldn't help but smile back at.

-So tell me about you Bucky, what do you do in your freetime?

-Nothing really, just reading, spending time with my friends, kind of thats it.. I have a boring life really. What about you?

-Well, i work here, then i go home and listen to music, cook, god i love to cook, thats a big pro for the apartment.. just saying. - you said with a playful wink. - besides that nothing much. Sometimes i go to a nearby bar with my friends maybe concerts and thats it.

-I like washing dishes if that helps with the application for the room. - he said with a shy laugh which made your heart skip a beat.

- It sure does.. Do you leave your stuff around?

-No i'm a tidy person.. thank you very much. - he said cockily (just for the sake of being funny really).

-Okay okay, if you like it you can have the room, just promise to tell if you bring up a girl so i can leave. The walls are kind of thin.

-It's okay, i don't really...

-Oh um i'm sorry, i didn't meant to intrude, it just something i would really like everyone to add to their rental contracts. - you chuckled embarassed.

-Noo no, it's okay, i'm not embarassed by it. I guess i don't want hook ups, if one day there's someone i'll tell in advance.

-yea me too, i promise. If you end up renting it anyway haha. on that note it's time to close so i can show the room in a min.

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When you opened the door to the apartment Buckyquietly took in it all. It was really bright, white walls with paintings all over the walls, plants in every corner or shelf you can put one on, a comfy looking mustard couch, aztec-y rug under the coffeetable, and a wall fully shelved, filled with books and little trinkets, it looked like a home he never had a chance to have. The livingroom had an american kitchen on the side, island in the middle of the kitchen area, it was white, and blue which reminded him of greece, down the hallway you showed him the bathroom which of course had a lot of plants that liked the atmosphere of a bathroom, a shower in the corner and a bathtub under the window. You then showed the empty room he could rent out. It only had a shelf and a wardrobe, and a queen sized bed. No decorations, no signs of anybody ever living there. You then pointed to the room the opposit of what could possibly be Bucky's in the future, saying that is yours. You didn't show your room, he wasn't gonna go in there anyway, and showing your most private space on the first day didn't seem like a good idea either. You then invited him out to the balcony, watching the setting sun, smoking a cigarette.

-So thats about it, what do you think?

-I really like it, and i mean.. my workplace is pretty close so thats a plus, also you said something about cooking all the time.. sooo if it's alright with you i would love to rent it out.

-It's settled then roomie. I'll give you the keys, you can move in whenever you want to. Tomorrow we are closed, so maybe that would be ideal.

-Yea, then tomorrow it is then. I'll ask my friend to help, then we can maybe hang a bit if you're free.

-Sure, i have nothing planned, and it's good to know who i'll be living with. - you said with a smile.

Before closing the door, you said your goodbyes, and you realized what did you just do, after he wished you good night with a killer halfsmile that almost had your knees buckle. You just agreed to living together with possibly the most handsome man you've ever seen who is also your new coworker, so you will basically spend most of your time with him.. Guess we'll see how this goes you thought to yourself.

Morning came soon enough, you were sitting out on the balcony when you saw Bucky arrive with a very tall, just as handsome man, carrying boxes of books, and bags of clothing. Bucky looked up at the balcony, waving towards you, you waved back, then moved to open the front door before going back out to the balcony, resuming your coffee and smoke.

When they finished bringing all Bucky's stuff in, it was already midday, so you decided you'd order pizza for all of you, as in like a welcome present.

-Hey guys, i'm thinking of ordering pizza, what kind would you like?

-Oh (y/n) you don't have to. - said Bucky, earning a smirk from Steve as he looked back and forth between you two.

- Noo i insist, today won't be the day i'll start to slowly kill you with my cooking. - you said giggling a bit.

- Whatever's fine peach. - said Steve with a wink, that you decided was just out of friendlyness. You didn't veen knew his name, and he seemed like a lady's man anyways. Not really your type no matter how handsome and muscular he is.

- Steve, by the way, nice to meet you.

-(Y/n), likewise. - you shook his hand.

When the pizzas arrived you called them to the kitchen, listening to all their shared stories from their early years. They seemed like really close friends, and genuinely good people. You had a really great time. It was nearly 9 pm when Steve left, for saving a dame from dying cause of boredom he said. You and Bucky chuckled, then he let him out, closing the door, locking it for the night.

-I guess i have some packing to do, so.. good night (y/n).

-Good night Bucky, if you need anything just knock. - you said with a smile, and he couldn't help but smile back. He felt at peace. He had Steve, now he had a job, and a room to make a home of, and you as a new addition. You were so kind, so eager to help if he needed anything, he loved how the scent of raspberries and flowers lingered in the apartment mixed with coffee and cigarette smoke. It seemed to have a calming effect on him.

You heard a soft knock half an hour later. WHen you opened the door you saw a smiling Bucky, awkwardly scratching the back of his head.

- Hey, um.. sorry. I forgot i didn't bring a blanket, could i borrow one until i get my own?

-Yea sure, i'll get one in a min. - You said, leaving the door open, letting him see a bit of "you" while you were searching for your spare blanket in your wardrobe. The room really was you. White, with mustardy curtains on the window, plants everywhere, books piled up here and there, a really comfy looking bed, pictures of you and your friends on the walls. And damn, your room smelled even more like you. If he wouldn't pay attention your scent would lure him into your room and never let him leave he thought.

-There you go. - you handed him the blanket smiling.

-Thank you very much.

Then he stood there for a moment drinking in the sight of you in front of him. You were wearing an oversized tshirt, that ended just around the middle of your thighs, hair in a messy bun, no makeup. He could swear he thought you were pretty before, but seeing you as you were made him fancy you even more.

With a small smile you told him goodnight again, then closed the door in his face.

You could hear his little laugh on the other side of the door, then his door closing. For the first time in months he didn't wake up in the middle of the night, and he didn't had a nightmare either. He was afraid he would, and then he would wake you up with his screaming, but looks like the blanket which smelled just like you calmed him enough.

After waking up because the rays of sunshine on his face, he smiled to himself guess i'll wait with getting my own blanket then...

[collecting-stories]

Cardigan - Rafe Cameron

Request: heyy for the ts anthology, can u do one for cardigan with rafe? love ur writing🤍 

TS Anthology Series | Outer Banks Masterlist

_ . ◦ ⭐︎:*.☾.*:⭐︎◦∙._

The summer you turned thirteen was the same summer your dad showed up again. Driving the same lemon of a car that he’d pulled out of the driveway in when you were six, he looked like he hadn’t aged. Or maybe you just didn’t remember him all that well because his face felt the same but you were different. When you missed your best friend’s birthday, a trip to the gymnastics gym on the mainland and a towering cake with fondant replicas of all her favorite things, she was rightly pissed.  

Thirteen felt monumental, like the movie the two of you had snuck onto your mom’s Verizon bill, and you had both made a pact that you would be there for each other no matter what. That promise included birthdays and, more seriously, dads who showed up after seven years of radio silence because they didn’t want to “miss anything else”. But you didn’t mention your dad because hers was so great and you felt a little like you were floating on an island and no one could understand you enough to reach it. But then you missed her birthday and she swore not to speak to you and that felt more crushing than the dad thing until her brother stepped in. Always the one playing referee in when you fought, Rafe was a few years older and, in your mind, a lot smarter.  

It felt pretty important that an older boy would make the time to talk to you, especially when he had to know that his sister was avoiding you at all costs. He’d just gotten his permit and, like any good brother, showed up in the car he wasn’t supposed to drive with a minor in the passenger seat, to take you around the island for the afternoon.  

“My mom said she thinks we’re gonna move.” You mentioned, less casually than you would’ve hoped. The windows in the truck were rolled down and you had your legs up, feet placed precariously on the window ledge. There was a particularly nasty bruise on your knee from falling off your skateboard three days ago and a few short hairs you’d missed shaving. You were relatively new to both shaving and skateboarding so there were bound to be mistakes, you just wished they were less visible.  

“Off the island?” Rafe asked, concern etched into his tone. You assumed the concern was for his sister, what would Sarah do if you moved? Who would put up with all her antics?

You shook your head, “to the cut.”

“Why?”

“She can’t afford the house on her own anymore and my dad has been lousy with child support.” You repeated back all the things she had said to you. Why she didn’t take him to court like the other kid in your grade with divorced parents was beyond you. Rose told her that it was the only way to ensure he paid what he was supposed to but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to hold him accountable.  

Can’t believe you’re gonna be a pogue.” He said it like it meant something worse than you moving to the mainland.

“It’s not forever. My grandma’s house is there, we’re gonna stay with her until we can get back up on our feet.” You shrugged, “at least my dad’ll stay away then.”

But you dad wasn’t the only one who kept their distance. It felt like the distinction over your mother’s life choices held a greater impact on your friends than they had let on. A year into pogue life and Rafe seemed to disappear almost completely. It had always been an odd kind of friendship in the first place but you’d thought that it could’ve withstood a change in address.  

Sarah kept in touch, unbothered by labels or mailing addresses. She’d been to your grandma’s a hundred times before you moved and she continued to go there to see you after. The two of you played in the backyard, doing tricks on the trampoline until gossiping about kids at school became more important than cartwheels. You’d lay there whispering as if someone might overhear, telling each other stories from the week that you were separated. Rafe always came to pick her up, staying in the car and honking the horn for her but never coming over to see you.  

It felt a little lonely even though you technically retained most of your friends.  

-

In tenth grade you got the role of Eponine in the teen camp production of Les Miserables that the local theatre was putting on. You were technically sharing the role with another girl your age but you couldn’t help being excited nonetheless. The boy playing Marius was in two of your classes, a senior who had lofty city dreams and a nice smile. He flirted almost constantly with you, brushing your hair back, telling you how pretty you were, inviting you out after practice. You told Sarah you were “pretty sure” you were on your way to having your first real boyfriend.  

But maybe the ominous casting of Eponine over your life should’ve been hint enough that things weren’t destined to work out that way. The boy who played Marius had an actual girlfriend, home from vacationing with her family in time to watch her boyfriend on stage, and you were supposed to accept that he was just “connecting to the character” when he was with you. Either way, your On My Own struck a different chord in you and after the show was over you didn’t join the other cast members in the lobby to greet people.  

“So when you get to New York...do I get to leak all those videos of you and Sarah doing your Genie in a Bottle routine?” Rafe asked, pulling a chair next to you at the makeup table. Yours was halfway off but you’d stopped scrubbing at your face to stare at yourself in the mirror. Self-pity was a powerful procrastinator.

“You’re supposed to be in the lobby.” You pointed out, ignoring his comment, “I look like a ghost raccoon that just climbed out of a dumpster.  

“Now there’s an analogy.” He laughed and picked up the cotton pads you had sitting on the counter, soaking one in micellar water and turning your head to face him.  

You bit your bottom lip as you tried to keep your composure. It’d been a while since you and Rafe had been alone and last time he was just your best friend’s cute older brother. Too old for you and way out of your league but you were fifteen now and seventeen didn’t feel so far away.  

But Sarah was your best friend and she would be mortified if she found out that you had even entertained the idea of her brother, let alone had serious thoughts about it.  

“I’m sorry,” you said as he swiped the cotton pad over your cheek.

“What for?”  

“I know we’re all supposed to go out tonight for dinner but I kinda just wanna go home.” You replied.  

“Sarah might’ve let it slip about-”

You groaned, “don’t even say his name.” You weren’t sure if it was embarrassment at having let yourself totally believe he liked you but hearing Rafe bring it up made you feel even worse.

“Hey, you’re so much better than that loser,” He insisted, “I’ll beat the crap outta him though, just say the word.”

-

It was that same year, just as school was ending, that you turned sixteen. A short stay in the cut at your grandma’s house had helped your mom get back on her feet. A new job, better than the one that let her go, afforded a moderately sized house back on Figure Eight and a birthday with all the friends that had left the two of you behind.  

Sixteen felt a little more important than thirteen had, especially because, for two whole weeks, time suspended and you were technically only a year younger than Rafe. You still hadn’t told Sarah that you liked her brother, though she did seem a little suspicious when the crush on your co-star dissipated almost overnight. The boys of the past had no hold over your growing infatuation with Rafe. Maybe it was foolish but you couldn’t help thinking that maybe it wasn’t.  

Especially not when he showed up at your house the same way he had when you were thirteen, though this time he had his actual license and not just a permit. He told you it was birthday drive around the island, that he was in charge of stalling you while Sarah set up a surprise party at your house.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to tell me that it’s a surprise.” You teased, sipping at the iced coffee that Rafe had brought you when he picked you up. You swished the ice around once before sipping again.  

“It’s a party either way.” Rafe replied, shrugging his shoulder.  

“So, we’re just driving around until she texts you?” You asked. Rafe turned into the Island Club, circling the parking lot once and then turning back around.  

“I’m yours until Sarah says otherwise.” He said, the words erupting butterflies in your stomach. You could practically feel yourself heat up thinking about what those words could mean if he wasn’t just your best friend’s brother.  

“Well...then do you wanna go to the beach?” You suggested, “Jaxon showed me this really cool spot on the south side that’s practically hidden.”

“Jaxon?” Rafe sounded judgmental when he said the other boy’s name, whether he meant to or not.  

“Yea, we’ve been on a couple dates. You know him, he took me to prom,” you supplied, thinking of the way Rafe had sulked on the staircase while you and Sarah had gotten your pictures taken on the front lawn of Tanney Hill. The last picture in the bunch, despite his sulkiness, was of you and Rafe. You’d asked and he had obliged, coming down onto the porch to take a picture with you before everyone left for the dance.  

It was your favorite picture, even more than the countless ones of you and Sarah or the few of you and Jaxon. He was just a place holder anyway, someone to take your mind off the thing you couldn’t have. Not that it was working, especially when you were driving around with Rafe at the moment.  

“I remember him.” Rafe replied, “so this special part of the beach?”

“It’s so pretty.” You confirmed, “Sarah and I went there a couple weeks ago but she only ever wants to sunbathe.”  

“Don’t say it like you’re surprised.” He said, pulling his car off to the side of the road when you told him to.  

You were out of the car first, letting the door fall shut behind you as you headed up the wooden ramp to the beach. The drop off at the top was a little steeper here than anywhere else, the beach mostly desolate. You stopped at the top of the walkway, turning back to wait for Rafe. He was standing at the bottom of the ramp staring up at you.  

“Are you coming up or what?” You called.  

“Yeah,” he nodded, walking up the path to you.  

“I know Sarah’s planning a big birthday for me, but I’d much rather have this...” you admitted, “just like, coming out to the beach with you...”  

“Oh yeah?” He asked, grinning down at you.  

“Don’t tell Sarah,” you joked, “she’ll be mad-”

“Why, cause I’m your favorite Cameron?”

Maybe it was being sixteen or maybe it was that you were feeling particularly bold, out here on the beach with just Rafe, no threat of prying eyes to interrupt you. Either way, you had been thinking about telling him for a while now and it felt like the time...even if getting rejected ran the risk of ruining your birthday.  

“I know I’m just Sarah’s best friend but...I really like you Rafe.” You said, “and I know it’s like a million to one that you like me back but I just felt like I would explode if I didn’t tell you.” You waited a beat for him to say something and when he didn’t you kept talking, “Sorry, I know this is so weird-”

“It’s not weird.” Rafe cut you off, “I’m just shocked that you seriously think I only see you as Sarah’s best friend.” His tone was teasing as he brushed a piece of hair behind your ear and cupped your cheek. “You’re so much more than that.”

-

It was Sarah who told you, days before your eighteenth birthday. She’d seen Rafe with someone else when her family took a weekend trip out to Chapel Hill to see a game. There was a girl there, hanging all over her brother. He swore she was just a friend, told Sarah not to tell you, but Sarah wasn’t dumb and she wouldn’t help her brother cover up an indiscretion. So she told you flat out that her brother was cheating on you.  

When Sarah first found out that you and Rafe were dating, she had been as mad as her thirteenth birthday. How could you go behind her back and date her brother? The anger dissipated slowly, over the course of the summer it became clear that were not going to leave her in the dust for Rafe. She wasn’t wholly supportive of the relationship but she was supportive of you and if Rafe was who you wanted to be with than she’d be happy for you.  

But if she had to choose, it would always be you over Rafe.  

“I didn’t want to tell you, I really thought about not saying anything but...you deserve to know.” It was the justification she used as your face fell, all the giddiness from planning your eighteenth birthday fading in the blink of an eye.  

“He cheated?” And it felt like a punch to the gut. “Are you sure?”

“He said she was just a friend but...I don’t hang on my friends like that.” Sarah remarked.  

You fiddled with the phone in your lap, Sarah’s comments turning over in your head. You could refute them, tell her that you’d just talked to him the night before and he told you how excited he was to see you, how much he loved you. He’d used the word love...that had to mean something right? You could call him, ask him straight away if he was actually cheating, but you suspected that he would only lie to you. And if he wasn’t cheating, if he did tell the truth, would you believe him? Sarah was your best friend and once she had planted the seeds of doubt in you, they seemed to flourish there.  

You didn’t say anything else about it to Sarah that night and when Rafe called to talk, like he always did, you pretended that everything was fine. But that could only last for so long. A week before your party, on the same special part of the beach that Rafe had first kissed you, things ended. Rafe had sworn to Sarah that the girl at school was just a friend but he couldn’t lie to you, and he didn’t try to either.  

“It was a mistake,” he insisted, as if it was the type of thing you could brush off.  

“But you still made it.” You replied.  

“I didn’t mean to.” Rafe didn’t have any good reasons for why he had cheated on, only that he had and that, since you now knew, he was apologetic. “I don’t even talk to that girl anymore. She meant nothing to me.”

“Obviously she meant more than we did.”  

Rafe had been it for you for a long time. He seemed so out of your league and you had thought a million times that you would’ve done anything for him. He was the ideal for everything that you wanted and for a while, when you had it, had him, it had felt like a dream. But now you were waking up to reality and it wasn’t a sunset on the beach.  

“I love you.” He said it like it was something you were neglecting to remember.  

“Not enough.”  

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

KILL4ME

Pairings: Johnny Depp x Reader (and kind of x female!OC but that’s not the main focus of anything) 

Summary: You're a new actress trying to get your start. You end up getting your first role cast in a music video for Marilyn Manson’s “KILL4ME” music video but it turns out to be much more than you expected. 

Warnings: SMUT (male x female, female x female) 

A/N: 1) I made the reader straight with no prior female x female experiences. I don’t know why if I’m being honest but that’s how it is so please don’t come at me for it. 2) This is NOT how the film industry should work. If you’re trying to get into the industry, please stay safe, be responsible, and recognize red flags. Typically, randomly popping up pornographic requests is NOT professional or safe. This is just a fantasy I had while watching the music video and was written this way strictly for entertainment purposes. 

Word Count: 5696

__________________________

This project requires nudity and sexual scenes. If you are not comfortable, do not apply. 

The warning had been clear as day and yet, here you were, sitting in your car at the old mansion that was the filming site, nerves going off the charts and feeling less than comfortable with the imminent nudity and sexual scenes. You were an actor, you reminded yourself. This was the only job you’d landed since arriving in Los Angeles and, despite your promises to yourself and your family that you wouldn’t resort to full nudity for a project, there were bills that needed paying and your waitressing job wasn’t cutting it. 

Besides, shouldn’t you be thrilled? This wasn’t just any music video you’d landed a role in but a music video for Marilyn Manson! He was a goth rock legend and you couldn’t hide your excitement when you’d found out who you’d been booked to work for.

But still, the nudity and sexuality made you uneasy. There hadn’t been a script or anything. Your only instructions were to come looking your best and with an open, ready to work mindset. So here you were, physically feeling like a million bucks but butterflies going crazy within. 

Inhaling a deep, calming breath, you opened the door to your barely working 2008 Honda Civic, feeling even more self-conscious when you saw the other cars that were parked outside of the massive mansion were all beautiful and sleek, most of them black and very expensive looking. 

Crew members stirred around outside, entering and exiting the house with lights and props and sound equipment, everything needed for the production. You walked through the large black door that led into the beautiful white mansion, opening into an equally fantastic interior. You audibly gasped, “This is beautiful…” 

“Y/N?” A woman’s voice questioned from beside you and you spun quickly to face her, snapping out of your amazed daze. 

“Yes.” You answered hastily. 

She checked the clipboard in her hand, “Great, you’re right on time. Come right this way, we’re gonna get you into hair and makeup.” You were about to reply when she’d taken off down the hall without giving you a moment to speak so you followed, avoiding the moving equipment around you. 

Before you knew it, you’d been whisked away into a small room that was full of makeup, hair styling tools, and costumes. Nobody told you what they were doing as they pulled your hair straight and did up your makeup, surprisingly simpler than you’d expected with just light eyeshadow and moderate eyeliner. 

“Alrighty, now I’m gonna have you undress and put on that robe over there.” The man in charge of costumes directed. 

Your brows furrowed, “How undressed?” 

“All the way, sweetie. No panties, no bra. It’s all gotta go.” He must have seen the uneasy look on your face because he gave you an unsympathetic shrug, “You signed up for a nude project, hun. Welcome to Hollywood.” 

**

“Y/N is here. I believe that’s it, Mr. Manson.” The same woman as earlier announced as you entered the room you were supposed to be briefed in. It took everything in your power to remain professional when you saw Marilyn Manson standing there, talking casually with another girl who you assumed to be a co-star.

Like you, his makeup was already done up and he was in full costume. His face was painted pale white with a black loop drawn across one half and his other half blank except for the unnaturally blue contact and dark panda-like eyeliner.  His lips were stained bright red and you almost felt like you were looking at a picture of him online. 

“Thank you, Yolanda.” None other than The Marilyn Manson (and yes, “The” was now an official part of his name in your mind) thanked the woman who you assumed to be an assistant. “Come on in, Y/N.” He beckoned you into the room and you tried to front your most professional, most confident face but the way you held your robe tight to your body gave you away. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Manson.” You came up, reaching to shake his hand, “It’s a real honor to get to work with you.” Kiss ass, you muttered to yourself. 

Instead of shaking your hand, he simply waved his hand in the air, “Ah, the pleasantries. I hope it will be a pleasure to work with you as well.” 

You retracted your extended hand awkwardly, unsure of whether or not that was a blow off or him just being mysterious and cool, and scuttled to stand with the other girl. She was beautiful and blonde, tall and thin. Model-esque. You felt insecure next to her, especially in front of someone as influential as Manson. You were just you, an inexperienced actress-to-be, on her first professional job with a bunch of people who definitely knew their way around a camera. 

“Alright, so I know you came here with minimal details,” Marilyn began, a weirdly neutral look on his very painted face, his tone flat and low. It was hard to read him with his contacts in. “Hopefully, that’s a good sign this will work well. You’re both willing to take risks. You’re flexible. Well, I’m here to give you the details. As you know, there is nudity and sex required for this video. It will be between you two,” You stiffened up awkwardly as he gestured all too casually between the two of you, “And my old friend here.” 

On cue, none other than Johnny Depp walked into the room. Your jaw visibly hit the floor. There is no fucking way. “Hello.” He greeted with a smile, the same smile that you’d seen millions of times in his movies that you’d binged every so often. 

Were you the only one feeling so shocked? Why the hell was the actress next to you so calm? Why was Johnny so calm? You were about pretend to fuck Johnny fucking Depp! 

Johnny stepped forward to shake your hand, “I’m Johnny, nice to meet you,” He introduced politely. 

Starstruck, you took his hand, “Y/N. It’s nice to meet you as well.” Then he leaned down and kissed your hand, actually kissed your hand like a fucking gentleman, eyes never leaving yours. God, the way he looked up at you through his strands of middle parted 90’s hair… it was enough to make your breath catch. 

Slowly, almost reluctantly, he moved from you to the girl next to you, “I’m Marie.” She responded to his introduction politely. He brought her hand to his lips as well but, maybe you were crazy - just imagining some fantasy, but it felt detached and fast when he did it to her. 

“Great, well now that we all know each other,” Marilyn interjected as Johnny moved back to stand by his friend, “I’ll continue. I’ve already shot my parts so I’ll be here to direct you if needed but I want this as natural as possible. Aside from a few artistic shots, I need this to be raw, primal, and absolutely fucking filthy.” 

You and Marie listened on in intent silence, soaking in his every word. But you found it hard to focus when, out of the corner of your eye, you saw Johnny eyeing you. No, no, it couldn’t be. He was probably just zoned out behind you. 

*** 

A few hours later, all of the artistic shots had been done. There were shots of you pulling up thigh high stockings that clipped onto the garter belts hanging from your nearly sheer black underwear and having a leather corset tightened tightly on your back, cinching your waist smaller than you’d ever seen it. You had put on massively high heels and large, luxurious costume jewelry. 

Even though the outfit could be seen as objectifying, you’d never felt more confident or powerful in your life. After your last shot of just your nearly bare thighs, you were dismissed momentarily so Marie could film her sections. 

You walked over to your bag and took out a water bottle, not realizing how much this took out of you, running the same seemingly simple shots over and over again under blaring lights. “How long have you been acting?” 

Oh God. It was him. 

You turned to see Johnny standing next to you, very close, much closer than was considered polite distance but not so close that you felt suffocated. He looked gorgeous, hair hanging perfect from his beautiful tan skin. Earrings hung from his lobes, dangling just slightly. His white button up shirt was only buttoned half way, showing off his smooth, toned chest that barely showed any signs of his older age (not that he was ancient but he was definitely on your list of celebrities over 45 that you would let rail you). But the cherry on top was the eyeliner. The fucking eyeliner. It took you back to so many of his characters that you’d fallen in love with but with the white shirt and earrings, you were getting almost a refined Jack Sparrow crossed with Sweeney Todd feeling and God you’d never been so turned on by a pirate/ serial killer. 

“You okay?” He asked, and you blinked rapidly, totally horrified that you’d been staring. 

“Oh! Sorry! Um, this is my first real shoot, actually. You know how Hollywood is…” You chuckled awkwardly, reaching your hand around to rub your neck. Of course, he knew how Hollywood was, stupid! You cursed yourself, hoping you didn’t sound as dumb as you felt. 

He leaned a hand up against the wall, “Yeah, I know how that is. But don’t worry, this is a great place to start.” He reassured, looking away at the set oh so casually. Your eyes trailed up his arm that had planted itself just beside you on the wall. Was he really doing what you thought he was doing? 

No! He was Johnny Depp. He could have whichever woman he wanted at the bat of an eyelash. Why would he want you? 

“Y/N! We’re ready for your scene with Marie!” The director called to you from behind the camera and you perked up. 

“I better go.” You nodded over to the set, walking away awkwardly, almost scared that you be perceived as rude for having to do your job. 

He chuckled and waved you on. This made you blush bright red and turn to run off to set. 

You found yourself directed to a bed, “All right,” The director began, Marilyn standing directly next to him, hand on his chin as he watched his vision be brought to life, “Now, first, we’re going to get shots of you making out. I need it hot, I need it passionate. I don’t care if you’ve never kissed a girl before, make it look like you have. Next, we’re going to do totally nude shots of you grinding.” 

Your eyelids fluttered slightly in shock at what he said. Okay, you could do that, you hyped yourself up. 

Before you knew it, you were lying on the bed, Marie on top of you. Her soft lips were against yours and her nails raked gently down your throat, sending shocks down your body. Even though you were acting, it was hard to separate the feelings that arose, regardless of your sexuality. It had been a long time since anyone had touched you like this. Your hands tangled in her hair and your eyes were screwed shut.

“Cut!” The director yelled and Marie immediately pulled back, snapping out of character and back into her over-professional attitude. You, on the other hand, needed a brief moment to pull out of character. After just a second, you pushed yourself up onto your elbows, Marie still straddling you. Your breasts filled the tight push up bra you wore but you felt surprisingly comfortable in it, even around all these people. That was, until you glanced over to see Johnny standing beside Marilyn, at first looking at a monitor and reviewing footage, but then over at you, his gaze stuck on your accentuated chest. 

Your face flushed red as you quickly looked away, not seeing the amused smirk that graced his face. Little did you know, he was very aware of what he was doing and very pleased with your reaction.  

“That was perfect. Now we’re gonna move onto the sex scenes.” He waved you and Marie over and you obeyed once she climbed off your torso.

Marilyn and Johnny too came over, completing the small group. Marilyn spoke, “Now you knew there was sex and nudity and I’m very pleased with how this is turning out,” He paused, giving you both a very serious look, “But now, I’m going to ask something of you that you probably aren’t comfortable with. Usually with sex scenes, there’s fabric in place to hide cocks and shit but I don’t want any of that. It distracts actors from the scene and there’s always the issue of whether or not you see it. I want raw, I want primal, I want absolutely fucking filthy.” 

He was quiet for a moment, waiting for you and Marie to piece together his request, but filling in the rest when he saw both of your professional exteriors crack in confusion, “I want you to all actually fuck. Only if you’re comfortable with it but if you’re not you’ll be paid for the work you’ve done and we’ll find someone to replace you.” 

You nearly choked, “Like… porn? You want this to be porn?” Johnny chuckled to himself, seeing your embarrassed, nervous reaction. You were so cute. 

He looked pensive for just a moment  before nodding, “Yeah, I suppose so.” He answered bluntly, “Like I said, only if you’re comfortable with it but, if not, you’ll be fired for the rest of the video.” 

Oh God, were you really about to agree to porn? Like actual fucking porn? Three way porn at that! But three porn with Johnny Depp…. It was the one thing you told yourself you wouldn’t do. But then again, your rent was due in two weeks and you were $300 short. “I’m in.” You answered, almost regretting it immediately. 

“Me too.” Marie agreed, long arms crossed across her chest. 

“Good. Now let’s get to it.” 

** 

The lesbian sex scene had gone by relatively hitch free, save for a few awkward placement issues. Marie, being straight as an arrow, had no clue what she was doing, and you too were inexperienced in the department but with a little direction, the scene was finished. 

She knelt on her knees, holding your naked hips up and grinding your bare core against her own. Your eyes were closed, trying to remember every previous sexual encounter and porno you’d seen to try and make the sexiest faces and the sexiest form.

Johnny couldn’t take his eyes off you as you writhed on the bed, completely naked and grinding up against another beautiful woman. Everything about you looked so authentic but innocent but dirty. He found himself craving you in the most unprofessional ways as he watched your breasts bounce with every roll of your hips. 

When the scene was over, you nearly jumped off the bed and rushed for your robe. You were embarrassingly wet right now, the eye contact you’d made with Johnny while having your clit rubbed was just absolutely intoxicating and you were just thankful that you were able to control yourself enough to not get your juices all over Marie. 

As they changed the scene around, you stood beside Johnny and Marilyn. “Method actor?” He asked. 

You cocked an eyebrow, “What do you mean?” 

“You looked pretty into the scene up there. Wonder what you were thinking about…” He continued. Your heart was in your throat. His tone was dark and sultry and implied exactly what he thought you were thinking about and boy was he correct. “As a method actor myself, I completely understand your… position.” 

Johnny looked down at you, his dark eyes unyielding as he dove into your very soul and could see you every fantasy. 

“Okay! Everyone on set!” 

** 

Ignore the cameras, you screamed at yourself. You’re not doing porn, you’re just having a threesome with Johnny Depp and some girl named Marie. Yeah, that was a convincing story to tell yourself. Just relax in this totally normal situation. Pfft, as if. 

But you were an actress. Then something occurred to you, the ghost of a voice spoke to you. It was actually words spoken by Johnny in an old interview you’d seen him do, words that had stuck with you as a foundation in your training: “The most important thing that an actor needs to do is not to act, but to react. That's what it is all about, and you do one of the most difficult things in the world, which is to just be--to be in the state of being.”

Just relax. React to the scene. Be in the scene. Hell, this wasn’t even a scene anymore. This was a secret fantasy you’d never known you’d had coming to life. There wasn’t even any acting involved. So just be. 

“Action!” 

Immediately in character, you caressed Marie sexually, hands running along her sides as you nipped along her neck. Now that you were the dominant character, her scantily clad body was putty in your hands. Your teeth raked along her skin and you felt her shudder beneath your touch, brushing her long blonde hair over her shoulder. 

Then a quiet metallic sound drew your attention. You and Marie both looked over towards the ornate door to see Johnny standing there, looking in through the gold grated peephole. 

Marie looked at you, her eyes full of question. Should you let him in? Honestly, you weren’t sure if your characters knew who he was. No! Stop, you’re not playing a character now. You’re you. You are the character. 

You chewed your lip seductively and walked over, legs crossing and hips rocking as your heels clicked on the hardwood floor. You reached down, perfectly manicured fingers gripping the handle delicately and unlocked the door. Before he could even get ahold of his surroundings, you had him by the collar and pulled him in. He could play all the sexy flirty games he wanted, but right now, you were in control and you were going to make him want you more than anything, even if it all was just for the camera. 

His hands found your hips immediately as he attempted to steady himself but, gosh, all he wanted to do was take you here and now, preferably without Marie or the cameras, but he figured that if that’s what it took to fuck you, he was more than willing to compromise. 

You pulled him in, your lips finally crashing against his. At first, he was hesitant but only for half a second, before he returned the kiss with even more fervor than you’d gone in with. Marie came up on his side and nibbled his ear, hands roaming up and down his chest between your very close bodies. 

Johnny pulled back from this kiss and twisted just enough to snake an arm around Marie’s thin body and led her to face you. Then his hands came to firmly hold the back of each of your necks and forced your faces together, pressing you and the other woman to kiss. You both complied obediently, a strange mix of submissively and dominantly, like you were submitting to him but then fighting between the two of you. 

Her lips moved graciously against yours, smooth and soft. It was so much more different than kissing a man. This felt delicate still despite the absolute filth that was ensuing. Her hand shot out to hold you by the jaw and pulled you in roughly, Johnny’s hand almost not needing to do anything. 

He watched in amazement as the two of you obeyed his every physical command, the way you both looked so lost in each other. He knew you were straight just by interacting with you earlier but you could have had him fooled now. 

This wasn’t the first time he’d been in threeway with two other girls but this was definitely the hottest one. Before, it was all just to see if he could pull it off and then just to have the novelty of having girls bend to his will but this was different. You were different. He couldn't really explain it but he was completely enamored by you. An air of innocence surrounded you from the moment he set eyes on your otherworldly beauty but the saw in your eyes a fire that burned with the ability to be more than that. He was determined to see just how hot that fire burned. 

He pulled you and Marie apart before bringing her to kiss him. While he did, his free hand absentmindedly groped your chest, your breasts spilling from the top of your push up bra. A twinge of jealousy went through you as you watched them kiss, although you knew how irrational it was. They were actors. You were too. There was nothing personal about this. But, for some unexplainable, unprofessional reason, there was for you. 

You slinked behind the older man like a cat and ran your fingertips ever so gently across his closed shoulders and down his biceps. They trailed down his sides as his body moved from the intense makeout session with Marie before coming around to tease over his growing bulge. In his black well fitting pants. 

His body tensed ever so slightly, barely noticeable except to you two, when your hand made contact with his erection. You smirked to yourself, a dark, sexy smile, the kind of smile you’d expect to see in a twisted Tim Burton film. You were finally the mysterious gothic beauty you’d always imagined yourself as in all of his stories. 

With swift fingerwork and a quick, almost too skilled, flick of your wrist, you had Johnny’s belt whipped off him and held firmly in your hands. He pulled Marie off of him and shoved her roughly onto the bed, undoing the buttons of his shirt as you walked in circles around him, trailing your gaze up and down his perfect body and dragging the leather of his belt on his torso and thighs as you did so. 

The way you looked at him, like a lioness about to devour her prey, made Johnny feel like he was on fire. You seemed so in control and confident and you had a way of touching him, as if you knew exactly what made him tick. It was intoxicating. 

His shirt was unbuttoned in a matter of seconds and without warning, he had you pressed back against the mattress as well. He crawled over your body, rolling his hips just right against your clothed core. A small, quiet whisper of a moan escaped your lips at the sudden, well placed contact. 

Your hands tangled into his hair as you pulled him down to you, forcing his head into your neck. He kissed and sucked and nipped and licked just right, like he had a map to your body. You were embarrassingly wet from just kissing and you secretly prayed that nobody noticed but you were too lost in the moment to do anything about it. 

Your leg wrapped around his waist and pulled him into you again. “Fuck…” His voice was a raspy, low whisper, said just loud enough for you three to hear. 

Johnny kissed down your neck and across your breasts, moving over to Marie’s chest, which he dove into with full force. She squirmed and moaned beside you as he assaulted her perfect breasts. You rolled over as far as you could and caught her lips in yours, swallowing her moans. 

That was, until Johnny’s hand trailed down to rub your core. You gasped into Marie’s full lips and rolled your hips into his hand, begging for more. Suddenly, he sat back onto his heels and grabbed your hips roughly, flipping you over onto all fours like he’d done it a million times before. “Ah!” You squealed slightly at the sudden action. 

He climbed off the bed and knelt just behind you, palms rubbing over your ass and admiring every inch of you. Marie adjusted to sit just in front of you, legs spread to reveal her bare vagina before you. You weren’t sure when she’d lost her underwear but low and behold here you were face to face with all she had to bear. You’d never eaten a girl out before but you’d seen enough porn and fooled around with yourself enough to know what might work as a good start. 

Cautiously, you started a few kitten licks to her clit, noticing every flinch or shudder that left her lips. Just as you began to get the hang of it, there was a loud rip as you felt the fabric of your panties be literally torn from your body. You gasped loudly, looking back behind you to see Johnny with his tongue between his teeth, admiring your body. 

Johnny ran his surprisingly soft hands up and down your ass before dragging his fingertips through your already dripping folds. You moaned against Marie’s clit, her hands pulling on your hair, as his fingers circled your clit. You pressed your hips back against him, begging for more, and he was more than happy to oblige. 

Before you knew it, the three of you were a tangle of limbs. At all times, you were being touched by someone, whether it was groping your chest, your ass, or your pussy, but it was always a game trying to figure out who it was. The heat was becoming unbearable and you were grateful for the lack of clothing. Your body was slicked in sweat, both yours and Johnny’s mostly. 

He’d taken a clear preference to you and you almost felt bad for Marie but you didn’t feel too bad, seeing as how your lifelong fantasies were coming true. When someone was touching you, it was almost always Johnny, although he didn’t let his bias completely ruin the shot. He was a professional after all. 

Soon, after at least ten minutes of blind fingering and hand jobs, you found yourself straddling Johnny as he lied naked on the bed. This was it, the moment you actually had sex with Johnny Depp. He held his large erection in one hand, guiding it to your entrance and then moved his hands to grip your hips tightly, lowering you down onto this length. 

“Oh my… fuck-” You hissed out, throwing your head back as you adjusted to him. You’d never felt so full before, so complete. Without even moving, he made you feel absolutely incredible. 

He chuckled sexily below you, loving your reaction. This whole scene had been a game with you, fighting for who was seducing who, who was in charge, but here he was finally proving it was him. 

You steadied yourself on his chest, soft hands splayed out against his surprisingly taught, tattooed skin. To look at him like this, you never would have guessed how much older he was than you. He could pass for a very handsome man in his thirties easily. 

You swiveled your hips experimentally and clenched your walls around his cock. Johnny sucked in a sharp breath as his fingertips dug harshly into your skin, sure to leave little bruises in their place. You looked down and locked eye contact with him through your long eyelashes, your hair disheveled and hanging in your face sexily, as you squeezed your muscles around him yet again and moved your hips. 

“Fucking hell.” He groaned out beautifully, short nails digging crescents into your skin. His grip moved to cup your ass cheeks from below, grabbing them firmly and moving you up and down until you found a pace that worked for both of you. 

Marie lied on the bed beside Johnny, one leg strewn across his chest and the other behind your bouncing body, as she toyed with her clit with one hand and fingered herself with the other. 

You reached down to play with her breasts, pinching and rolling her nipples between your soft fingertips but the action was half hearted at best. All you could focus on was how Johnny felt inside you, hitting all the right spots. How you had him at your will just as much as you were at his. His hair was strewn around his face on the pillows like a damn god, his eyeliner smeared every so slightly from the sweat. His eyes screwed shut every now and then but otherwise, he looked at you like no other man had ever looked at you before. 

He reached between your bodies and found your clit, rubbing it in small, tight circles. Your walls began to clench uncontrollably as you felt your orgasm nearing. Your back arched as you leaned back, moving your hands to rest on his thighs as you rose and fell on his length. Marie leaned down, attaching her lips to your perked nipples and biting one gently, licking over the skin to soothe it before doing it again. 

Johnny reached down to finger her roughly as she ravaged your breasts. You continued to bounce, the new angle hitting that perfect spot inside you. “I’m gonna-” Marie whined out, her voice high and seductive. 

You nodded quickly, eyes screwed shut, “Me too!” You exclaimed, trying with all your might to stave off your orgasm for as long as possible but the pleasure was just building up too much. 

“Cum for me.” Johnny demanded from both of you and that was all it took for you to crash over the edge. Hot flashes stroke across your body in electric waves as your body failed to keep moving. He continued to lift your body for you, helping you ride out your high but his fingers dug tightly into your skin when your walls spasmed uncontrollably around him. 

“Fuck!” Marie whined out, her legs shaking against Johnny’s body as she came. 

You reluctantly rolled off Johnny’s body when you felt him lift you off and rested off to the side, breathing heavily while you recovered. He got up onto his knees next to you and stroked himself quickly, aggressively, using your slick to glide his hand across his erection, before painting Marie’s body in white ribbons. 

“And cut!” The director’s voice yelled out, harshly returning you from your daydream. Your eyes suddenly snapped as wide as a deer caught in headlights as the studio lights flicked on around you and the crew was visible again. The reality of everything came crashing down on you. Shit, that wasn’t some secret fantasy in your head. That was a pornographic threesome with Johnny Depp and some woman named Marie! 

You glanced over to the more experienced actress and breathed out a sigh of relief to see her looking the same way you did, completely shocked and a little disappointed at what you’d agreed to, but too pleased and amazed at what you’d just done to care too much before. 

Johnny, on the other hand, looked like he was already recovering with a cool exterior. He’d already begun climbing off the bed to get his clothes back on, leaving you and Marie alone on the bed to register what had happened. 

“Fuck me, that was hot.” Marilyn stepped onto the set, completely comfortable and practically ignoring the fact that he’d just watched his best friend fuck two women. You blushed a bright red. Great, you forgot that Marilyn Manson now would have the image of you fucking in his memories for forever. Not exactly the impression you typically went for in Hollywood… Or was it? 

The director watched over the footage, “They looked like they were enjoying themselves a little too much.” He snorted, pointing out something on the screen to Marilyn and you just prayed that it wasn’t a funny face you made in the heat of the moment. 

Marilyn waved him off, “No such thing as too much fun with sex, Paul.”  

Even though the crew were all doing their various jobs, you were convinced that every eye was on you. WIth a beet red face, you slinked out of the bed, hands covering your breasts and keeping your thighs as close together as you could, trying to shield your nudity from the room. It wasn’t that you were ashamed of your body, it was just the feeling of being so exposed to a room full of strangers that made the blood rush to your face. 

You rushed around, trying to pick up whatever small scrap of clothing you could identify as yours. On the ground, beside the bed, was a crumpled heap of thin stringy black fabric. Your underwear! “Thank God!” You murmured to yourself, bending down to pick it up, only to have it fall in two, rendered unwearable. 

Your face dropped when you saw it and sighed, starting to become more comfortable in your naked skin but more so because you had no other choice at the moment. Could you even request clothing from the crew? Where did your actual clothes end up? Why did you even think that was a ridiculous request to want your clothes back? 

Just as you dropped the shredded underwear, ready to find a crew member and get your clothes back, you heard Johnny chuckle, low and sexy behind you, “You’re a great method actor,” He complimented with a wink and slight smirk, knowing damn well what he meant, the nonchalance of his entire being making you dumbfounded, “Perhaps, we could do this again under less professional circumstances.” 

And with the invitation, said in the most casual way - as if inviting you for coffee, he pushed the last button through the loop of his pristine white button up, and walked to find his best friend, leaving you standing on set, naked, clutching the underwear he’d literally ripped from your body just minutes earlier, eyes on his majestic figure and trying to comprehend what the fuck just happened. 

[cloviaglade]

Gonna share a story about the first openly trans person I ever met for pride

I was working in a call center around 2014-15ish around the time where it wasn't very safe to be openly gay as Westbroro Baptist was running rampant. Gay was an insult. Edgy hurtful humor was the norm. It was funny to trigger people and shout slurs in the xbox chat. Ect.

Now I met queer people. In highschool I had friends who openly told me they where but for some reason young Clo didn't take them seriously for some reason? Like I just thought we were young and still figuring things out like you do in highschool so you just grab whatever labels you can find try em on and see if it sticks. It's a part of growing up ya know.

I graduated and lost contact with most of them afterwards. It wasn't until my first real job at the call center when I met the trans woman. She was quite a bit older than me so young Clo believed her.(For this story I will use she/they for her Pronouns. When I last spoke with her, they were using he/him probably because HR said to until they were visibly a woman. I have no idea what her real Pronouns were/are as I haven't spoken with them for over 7 years and my memories are unfortunately filled with he/him)

Like I mentioned above she had to use he/him pronouns and use the men's restroom during work. She had to present herself as a man during work but it didn't stop her from letting everyone know she wasn't a man. She was so determined to let everyone know that wasn't the case. Fucking front lining the war for trans rights in the call center. She was not afraid to educate or share her story. She was very good at commanding a conversation was incredibly charismatic and completely unforgettable and she used it to her advantage to educate everyone around her whether they liked it or not!

They also let everyone know she was intersex as well. I remember someone asking her why she felt she was trans and she straight up told them at age 11(or 12 I don't remember the exact year) she discovered she had a womb and was having a period.... with no where for the blood to go. I don't recall if she ever told us how that was fixed or if it ever was or if coming out as trans was how she was dealing with it.

She also spared no details. She taught us the risks of her hormones treatments, and how she was worried how it will affect her health. She shared details about her sexual escapades. She was a drag queen and told us her wig secrets. She probably knew her way around makeup better than I ever will.

For Halloween she got to come to work and show off her true self. She had a retro business suit with that big 80s hair makeup done perfectly. she looked great! I always thought it sucked that this was the one day she could really express themselves was this jokey costume day.

Some coworkers seemed to get along well with her. I remember a black woman always joking with him. Also a Karen looking woman who had breast implants was not afraid to give advice on implants for them. However I did overhear co-works say that they hate working with her because she really don't spare any details!

I look up to her. At first it was for her skill at the work we do. I never worked in a call center before and she was kinda a pro at it. She teased me during training for my clumsy blunders. But now looking back I realized how brave she was. We weren't in a politically blue area. I'm sure people have threatened her when nobody else was around. I'm not even sure how much HR was on her side. I do know she kept working there after I left. She left an impression on a lot of people as every time that particular call center is mentioned you hear her name getting thrown around.

[floralseokjin]

The Zoom Halloween Party

⇢ and beyond timeline (after crystallised)

[saga index] [drabble index]

 kim seokjin x reader // slice of life, humour // 2,556 words  

a/n; thank you to all the anons who gave me ideas for this halloween drabble, it wouldn’t exist without you! 

“I have to say your costumes are pretty lame this year, you guys.”

“We’re having a Halloween party over fucking zoom, forgive us for not going all out.” 

Seokjin bit straight away, unable to help it. He and Namjoon were like cat and mouse at all times, but even you had to admit to being offended by your friend’s dismissal. 

Halloween was finally here, and while you couldn’t celebrate in person together, the marvels of technology were letting you celebrate virtually – although this was more like a Halloween hang out than a Halloween party. 

“I’m just saying,” Namjoon shrugged. “Hoseok went all out for his.” 

You looked over at Hoseok’s screen, watching him smile smugly. You had to admit he made a great Joker, but it was also the year 2020... He and his girlfriend, Nora were like two years behind with the whole Joker and Harley Quinn gimmick, it was old now. 

Seokjin rolled his eyes, willing to argue black and blue. “It’s only good because his mom helped him with the makeup.” 

“Oh shut up, you’re just jealous because me and Hoseok will win best dressed tonight!” Nora scoffed under Hoseok in her own little screen. 

Pouting like a baby, your boyfriend crossed his arms. “I’m not voting for you.” 

“If anything, I should win. I make a mighty fine Batman.” 

Attention back on Namjoon now, you all had to agree. But maybe that was because everyone was feeling sorry for him tonight. He was after all, the only single one amongst you. There was Jin and you, Lina and Jimin, Hoseok and Nora, and even though Sandeul was on his own tonight, he had Jess, who was working the night shift tonight. Two months ago there had also been Namjoon and Hana, but not anymore... Let’s just say Namjoon wasn’t having the best of time lately... Getting dumped during a pandemic wasn’t ideal. So he’d paired with Hobi and Nora tonight in some sort of DC-esque collab. He was definitely winning best dressed tonight, but maybe he’d see it as a pity vote… 

“You’re body looks amazing in that suit, Joon,” you complimented, hearing Lina hum in supportive agreement. 

“Hey!” Seokjin exclaimed, sounding mighty offended as he looked your way. You were smushed together on the couch, the takeout you’d ordered on your laps, but you were pretty full now, a belly full of wine already. 

“The devil and an angel though.” Jimin’s voice sounded awfully judgemental. “Come on guys, so basic.” 

“Well, who the hell did you to come as?” Seokjin was loud. 

“Zombie Jim Halpert and Pam Beesly,” Lina replied as if your boyfriend was dumb. 

“Lame,” Seokjin scoffed. “Half of these guys haven’t even watched The Office.” 

“It’s a way more original idea than yours.”

You scoffed. “Um, this is the epitome of everyone’s sexual fantasy, I’ll have you know.” 

“Whose?!” Lina roared, wrinkling her nose. She and Jimin were also squished together, but on his bed, the camera angle giving you an amazing shot of their chins... Not that you would tell your best friend that, of course. 

“We all know what they’re doing after this then,” Sanduel stated. He was dressed as some character from a game he and Seokjin played (a lot.) Nerds.  

“Stop,” Hoseok whined. “Does that mean you guys fucked as The Addams family couple last year?”

“Of course it does,” Namjoon replied matter-of-factly. 

“Jesus.” 

Ah yes, you two really had out done yourselves last year for Namjoon and Hoseok’s joint Halloween party. Thinking about it maybe your devil and angel costumes were quite lame this year…

“As if you didn’t guess,” Lina laughed. “They were reciting all those weird lines practically dry humping in the kitchen at one point.” 

That was your cue, slamming into action, although as luck would have it you had re-watched The Addams Family two nights ago. You gripped Seokjin’s face, yanking him to look at you. “Seokjin, last night you were unhinged.” You began dramatically. “You were like some desperate, howling demon. You frightened me.” A pause for effect. “Do it again!” 

Seokjin took your hand, in character immediately. He leaned down to kiss your knuckles. “Cara mia.” 

You opened your mouth, ready to purr out mon cher in your best French accent but you were interrupted by Namjoon’s gagging noises. “That’s it, I’m leaving.” 

Seokjin snapped his head around, unamused. “Bye.” 

Everyone laughed… just before Hoseok sighed. “Aw, this makes me so depressed. I miss last year, when things were simpler.” 

“This was the worst year to officially become an adult.” Nora joined in with a whine. 

They were 100% correct. There couldn’t have been a worse year to graduate… The past few months had been so stressful but thankfully you were now in a much more stable place. Granted, you hadn’t been able to start the post-graduate internship you’d bagged right before the pandemic hit yet but eventually it would happen, and in the meantime you still had your retail job – and your savings. 

Seokjin had truly lucked out, although his job at his father’s company had been set in stone since high school. He was working remotely until the end of the year (hopefully), rocking that business on top, casual down bottom fashion that he was so gleefully fond of – think a dress shirt and sweatpants ensemble – but you were so incredibly proud of him for adjusting so well after this shitfest of a year. He was your sexy, serious businessman. 

Your friends hadn’t been as lucky though – well, mainly Hoseok and Namjoon who had recently moved back home with their parents while they job hunted. (That’s why the former and Nora were on separate screens – she still lived close by for work.) Lina hated her new job and Jimin still had a year left at college, so maybe he was better off at the moment... Sanduel and Jess were okay too, and had recently moved in with one another, leaving you and Seokjin to… follow suit… 

It came as a surprise to you both, but it made more sense than the two of you living alone. You’d already grown used to it during those couple of months of lockdown at the start of the year and it felt weird after he’d left... It was a big step, but an easy one once you’d found the most perfect apartment to rent together. (You couldn’t officially live with one another in that shoebox of an old apartment, but it had been sad to leave it – you’d shared so many good times there.) It had only been about six weeks since you’d become official roomies, but you were loving every second of domestic bliss. Despite this crazy year, things were on the up, and you were very happy. 

“Now we’re freshly graduated bums.” Namjoon moaned, knocking back the last of his beer.

Seokjin laughed. “Speak for yourself.” 

“We can’t all have a CEO for a dad,” Namjoon shot. 

“That sounds like a you problem.” 

You pushed at your boyfriend’s shoulder, silently telling him to behave. Where was the sympathy for his heartbroken friend?

“At least you’re not stuck doing online classes.” Jimin piped up. 

“I’d actually kill to be back there,” Namjoon chuckled. “I’m sick of receiving rejection emails.” 

“Don’t give up hope, bro.” Hoseok told him. “I have an interview next week so fingers crossed.” 

Nora squealed. “I hope you get it, babe. You need to get your ass back here. I miss you.” 

You all missed him. And Namjoon. Even if you couldn’t all hang out like you were once able to, it was strange to think they were both living in different cities now. Last year seemed like an eternity ago, all you had were memories and even then they were murky. 

“Guys, please,” Namjoon wailed, forehead hitting the screen as he threw forward dramatically. “One of us is single here.” 

“Sorry.” 

In fact, you all felt the need to apologise, a string of them following for no real reason other than you felt really bad for the guy. You knew he’d find a job soon, that wasn’t the problem really – whatever the company they’d be a fool to turn him down – you were just concerned about his mood. Getting dumped had come out of the blue so he was still adjusting, all while his life turned upside down in other ways too. 

He hadn’t lost all sense of humour though, his trademark smirk growing across his face a few moments later. “So who will end up fucking on camera first?” 

Amongst the groans, Sanduel scoffed. “Probably Mr and Mrs. Devil.” 

“I’m an angel,” you corrected, a glass of wine back in your hand now. “Also, why would we fuck on camera? You guys don’t deserve the show.” 

“God, you’re so drunk,” Lina screeched. She wasn’t exactly sober herself. Beside her Jimin winced at the volume. 

“Of course I’m drunk, Lina, this is the first proper chance I’ve had in months.” Getting drunk alone was pretty miserable, now you had an excuse. 

“So it’s definitely them who’ll start fucking first…” Hoseok muttered. 

Seokjin heard him loud and clear though. He hooked his arm around your shoulders, pulling you against him. “Yeah if we leave randomly you know this angel got horny for some devil dick.” 

“Seokjin!” You exclaimed, pushing at his chest. He just laughed, reaching down to kiss you. 

He did look mighty fine dressed as a devil though. Yeah, the red cape was basic but so were your angel wings and halo, but with his dark hair pushed back above his forehead, two red devil horns visible and his eyeshadow off the scale (your doing), he made a very, very sexy Satan! 

Jimin pulled a face. “You’re actually going to fuck in those costumes, aren’t you?” 

“Of course we are.” Seokjin rolled his eyes. “That’s what Halloween’s all about.” 

“No, it’s not,” Nora laughed. 

“I don’t know why you’re all so surprised,” Sandeul sighed before shovelling down some candy corn. 

“You know them better than anyone,” Namjoon chuckled. 

“I was the first to know! Sworn to secrecy for weeks!”

“Yeah, and she didn’t tell me for so long,” Lina whined. Even though it was ages ago now you were still pretty sure she was salty about it. 

Hoseok snickered. “It was because she was embarrassed to be fucking him.” 

You scoffed, about to refute his claims but Sanduel had more to say apparently. “And then I had to deal with Jin moping around when she dumped him for that basketball player.” 

“She didn’t dump me,” Seokjin protested. “We won’t together then.” 

“Bro, you were still moping though.” 

“Awh, you guys,” you whined, running your fingers through the hair on the back of Seokjin’s head. “Stop teasing him.” You leaned in to kiss his cheek but he moved, stealing one from your lips instead. 

“Great Deul, you’ve started them off again.” Hoseok moaned. 

“I don’t care anyway. The amount of times I’ve heard them going at it has made me immune.” 

“Sanduel, we’re not that bad!” You complained, leaning forward to place your glass down on the coffee table. 

Seokjin had your back. “As if we haven’t heard you and Jess fuck before.” 

That however was not at all interesting to your friends though. They blatantly ignored it for a more interesting direction of topic.  

“Did you ever catch them?” Jimin asked, sounding weirdly excited. 

“No actually, which is baffling.” 

“You nearly did – multiple times,” Seokjin informed him, which instantly turned Sanduel grey. Not bothered, my ass. 

“Why are you guys so obsessed with our sex life?” You whined loudly. Was theirs that boring? 

“Ooo, let’s play a game!!” Lina exploded suddenly, sitting up, her head now cut off from the screen. “Who’s the freakiest!!!” 

Seokjin turned to you gleefully. “We got this in the bag, babe.” 

In your eyes, the questions were quite tame, so yes, you and Seokjin really were scoring first place left and right. Although you had a hunch Lina was holding back information. As her best friend you knew what she was like and she was being awfully quiet for someone who’d suggested the game… 

“Where’s the weirdest place you’ve ever boned?” Nora asked, six questions in. 

Seokjin didn’t even need a second. “Namjoon’s bedroom.” Your eyes bulged immediately, surprised he’d gone there. 

“What?” Namjoon choked. 

“Sorry, man. It just kinda happened.” Seokjin glanced at you, deeply amused. Poor Namjoon didn’t need more bad news. 

“You guys have fucked in my bedroom?” 

“Well, technically it’s not your bedroom anymore, but yeah,” you shrugged.  

“When?” 

The third degree was real. “A while back.”  

“What the fuck you guys,” he groaned, his face a picture. “And you didn’t think to tell me?” 

“You don’t even know the half of it.” Lina couldn’t help but add. 

“You, be quiet!” You warned, although you knew she wouldn’t spill. Your secret was safe with her. 

Namjoon was looking more and more scared by the second. “What the fuck did you guys do in there?” Seokjin just laughed loudly. “Did you at least clean up?” He got no reply. He was deadly serious with his next question. “Did you make Ryan watch?” 

“Namjoon!” Seokjin cried, practically wiping tears from your eyes. Maybe he was more drunk than you… You hadn’t realised. “He’s a stuffed animal.” 

“That plush is all I have now.” 

“Pity, the guy’s recently been dumped. This is bullying,” Hoseok interrupted, sticking up for his friend. 

“It’s not,” your boyfriend insisted. 

“Aw, Namjoon, I’m sorry,” you apologised, feeling guilty now. How could you make it up to him? “When all this is over you can come over and fuck someone in our bedroom.” 

“What,” Seokjin protested. You ignored him. 

“Who though?” Namjoon asked, sounding sad. 

“You’ll meet someone new soon enough.” Lina reassured him. “You’re any girls dream guy.”  

He perked up at that. “You think so?”

“Legit, man,” Jimin joined in. 

“Wait,” Sandeul interrupted, seemingly realising something. “Is the costume roleplay exclusive to Halloween?” 

… Of course the conversation was back on you and Jin…

“Why?” You asked. 

“Because Namjoon had a fancy dress party for his birthday last year…” 

Seokjin shrugged. “Any celebration.” 

Sanduel instantly looked disgusted. “So you guys fucked as The Incredibles couple?” 

You and Seokjin didn’t reply, but your faces said it all. 

Namjoon groaned loudly. “I want to scoop my brain out.” Then he thought of something. “Was it in my bedroom?” 

“Noooo!” 

“Yes.” 

You both replied at the same time and you pushed Seokjin. Now he was just purposely teasing his friend. 

“Who’s lying?” Namjoon demanded, but Sanduel was too busy going through it, distracting you all. 

“The Incredibles is my favourite childhood movie, man, now I feel gross. I can’t watch it ever again because I’ll imagine you two trying to superhero fuck.” 

Your friends were way too dramatic. It wasn’t even a big deal, they were making it out to be way kinkier than it was, and Seokjin wasn’t helping matters. You were literally just having normal sex dressed up. That’s all. 

“This game has taught me I’m best friends with a bunch of vanilla ice creams,” Seokjin tutted. “It’s called having fun. Something you guys can’t seem to do.” 

“You all suck!” You agreed. 

Hm, maybe you were just as guilty as your boyfriend… It was just too damn amusing goading your friends… 

[before-we-get-started]

Dream Come True

Colin Shea x O/C Corinne MacAdam

Multi-Chapter Story - Complete

Summary: Colin Shea and his band Rock the Cradle are finally making it big - until something unexpected happens. When he meets a girl that makes him reconsider his player ways, he thinks his life may be coming together, until she blows it apart.

Warning: Bad language, smut, suicidal ideations - no one under 18, please

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please do not read if you are underage. I do not own the character of Colin Shea; the rest are my original characters. By reading beyond this point, you understand the disclaimers as posted.

Chapter Four

Cori’s dad set down the last box on the kitchen counter. She couldn’t believe she was finally moving into a new apartment.

“This is it kiddo,” he said, wrapping her up in a hug. She smiled into his shoulder and hugged him back.

“Thank you so much Daddy.” She watched her father’s face spread into a smile.

“Corinne, I can’t tell you how happy we are for you. You’re getting a fresh start. The world is your oyster, you know.”

She wrinkled up her nose. “I hate oysters,” she said with a giggle.

“Well, you never know, there might be a beautiful pearl inside.” He kissed her on the forehead.

Cori walked him to the door, the daunting task of unpacking ahead of her. She opened the door to see him off and stopped in her tracks. Directly across the hall at apartment 6A, a guy clad only in flowered boxers had a blonde in a tight embrace, kissing her passionately. She pulled away from the guy and said goodbye.

“Bye April,” the guy said with a wave.

“Annie.” There was irritation in her voice.

“Annie, right. Bye Annie.”

As the blonde huffed down the stairs, Cori got a good look at her new neighbor. Tall, fit, a bad case of bedhead but adorable. His upper body was chiseled muscle, his legs long and sexy. He suddenly realized she was standing in her door and gave her the once-over. He licked his lips as he admired her in her jeans, tight Red Sox t-shirt and bare feet. “Well, well, well,” he said, walking around the bannister towards her. “Helloooo 6C.”

Cori smirked at him, crossing her arms without realizing it, protecting herself. “Hello.”

He prowled toward her like a cat stalking a mouse. “And what is your name? And how did I get so lucky?”

Just as he approached, her dad stepped out the door.

“Her name is Corinne. And unless you want to press that luck, I suggest you make a U-turn and go back to your apartment.”

Colin’s eyes were wide, a startled look on his face, but he recovered quickly.

“Well hey Corinne, welcome. I’m Colin, Colin Shea, from across the hall in 6A. I’m the official welcome party for the building. Just wanted to say hi.”

“Do you always welcome new neighbors in your boxers?” said her dad.

Colin looked down, as if he’d forgotten he was barely dressed. “Ah, that, well, I wasn’t sure when I’d get a chance to say welcome, thought I better seize the moment.”

“The moment after you couldn’t remember the name of the girl you just slept with?” said Cori, not sure where she got the nerve.

Colin gave a smile, shaking his head. “Ok, I know when I’m beat. It really was nice meeting you Corinne. I promise I’m a good neighbor.”

“Be neighborly and keep your distance,” said her dad with a smirk.

“Dad,” Cori hissed. “Don’t mind him, he’s just an overprotective dad. And everyone calls me Cori.”

Colin visibly relaxed, walking backwards towards his door. “Cori it is. Talk to you later Cori.” He gave her a little salute and disappeared into his apartment.

“Oh brother,” said her dad, “now I have to worry about that guy.”

Cori laughed. “No you don’t Daddy, I’ll be fine. This is a nice building, don’t worry.”

He pulled her into a warm embrace. “Your mother will call and check on you later.” With that, he made his way down the stairs.

She stared over at 6A’s door. She was still trying to register the gorgeous Welcome Wagon across the hall. Those long muscular legs, defined pecs and a six pack, biceps for days, blonde hair and blue eyes, absolute pure sexiness, and quite evidently a heap of trouble. Her heart fluttered a little. There were lots of reasons to love this new apartment.

She’d given herself the weekend to unpack and get the apartment set up. She was finding it easier each day to look forward. The disappointment of losing her fiancée and being betrayed by her best friend was still there, but she’d managed to push it away. The experience she’d had when she’d flatlined was always at the surface but she’d always had an active imagination and was a romantic at heart. Instead of seeing a light when she passed, she guessed she’d seen a hottie by the ocean. She smiled at the memory, tucked away in her heart. She owed that guy big time, even if he didn’t exist.

She’d run downstairs to throw some boxes in the recycler and met another neighbor, a chatty girl named Cathy who invited her to a party. “It’s so nice out, we’re taking advantage of the rooftop deck. Come and join us, you can meet some more of your new neighbors. Seven o’clock, bring something to share that we can nibble on. Drinks are provided.”

Cori had thought all afternoon about it and decided what the heck, she had to start somewhere. She was still putting clothes away but found her favorite shirt, a pullover with tiny bright flowers on a black background and a deep V neckline trimmed in lace with lace-trimmed bell sleeves and her favorite black capris. She pulled her chestnut curls up into a ponytail and lightly applied makeup, squirting her favorite perfume in the air in front of her and walking through. She slipped on black flats and because she was still unpacking her kitchen, pulled a bottle of wine from a box and headed to the stairs to the roof.

As she opened the door, a warm breeze hit her. She could hear light conversation and laughter, the sun just beginning to set. String lights with Edison bulbs were strung from a large brick chimney that rose from the roof to a canopy set up nearby. Folding chairs and an old couch sat under the lights, along with a long table holding chips, dip and other finger foods. A large cooler sat next to the table.

Cori approached the group slowly. Suddenly she was regretting her decision. It would’ve been so much easier to just order a pizza and finish unpacking.

“Cori!” Cathy from the trash room was waving at her. She shyly walked over to her.

“Everyone, this is Cori. She just moved in to 6C. Please make her welcome!”

Her new neighbors took turns approaching her with warm greetings. One offered to get her a drink, taking the bottle of wine to go with the others. Each introduced themselves with a name and apartment number. They were all ages, and all very friendly.

“I just moved in as well, 4B. It’s nice to meet you,” said a nerdy looking guy in khakis and a button down with glasses. Cori shook his hand.

From behind, she felt a hand on her lower back. She turned and found herself face to face with sexy 6A, her underwear clad neighbor from moving day. At some point he’d gotten dressed – disappointing.

“Hey,” he said with that incredible smile.

“Hey,” she squeaked out.

“Now how didn’t I know you already met Colin,” said Cathy, laughing, and the group chimed in, cajoling Mr. Sexy.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he said, his face turning pink. “Can I help it if I’m friendly?”

“Friendly. Is that what they call it now?” said an older man with a laugh. He patted Colin on the back.

“Colin is our resident Casanova,” said another female resident, probably in her 30s. She gave him a bit of an eye roll and Cori wondered if they had a history.

“We met the day I moved in. He was saying goodbye to his girlfriend.”

There was a moment of silence, followed by raucous laughter.

“Girlfriend, that’s a good one,” the older man said, bending over he was laughing so hard.

Colin chuckled. “Hey, you don’t buy the first shirt you pull from the rack. You gotta try them on first, right? Gotta find the right fit.” There was a collective groan among the other tenants with a few giggles (mostly from the men).

Cori smiled. So he was too good to be true. Nothing that looked that good could be good for you. She’d guessed right.

“Cori, don’t let them get to you. I’m a heckuva nice guy. I look forward to being your neighbor.” He reached down and pulled her hand to him, kissing the back of it. Catcalls came from every direction.

“Don’t drink that Kool Aid Cori, you’ll be sorry.” It was the bitter lady from earlier. Yep, they definitely have a history.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll be a wonderful neighbor,” she said with a smile, and he returned it. Man, was this guy trouble.

She learned everyone’s name and they told her a little about themselves. She shared that she was starting a new job and had moved from her parents’ home, leaving out the part about getting cheated on, stepping into the path of a moving car and being brought back to life in a weird dream by a kiss from a hot guy that doesn’t exist. That might be a bit much for a first intro. Everyone was super friendly and welcoming. She enjoyed some food and chatted with her new neighbors.

“So, tell me about this new job.” Colin plopped down next to her on the couch where she sat. He casually slipped his arm behind her on the cushions.

She stiffened a little and sat forward. “I’ll be the personal assistant to a family friend in the city. Running errands, shopping, and helping her with a book that she’s writing. She also has a foundation so I’ll help her with fundraising events. That’s kind of my specialty.”

She made eye contact with him and was struck by his eyes – so blue. “Well, that sounds great,” he said, sounding only a little interested.

“What do you do?”

“I’m in a band. We play some of the bars here in the city.”

She smiled. Hmm, t-shirt and cargo shorts, Chucks with no socks, spikey hair, eating appetizers with no abandon – yep, definitely a starving musician.

“Cool, are you a cover band?”

“We do play some covers but we do a lot of original songs too. Got discovered by a label but something came up and we lost the chance to audition, but another shot will come along.”

“Wow, must’ve been something big to miss something like an audition for a record label.”

He pulled his arm from behind her and rubbed the back of his neck, the smile leaving his face. “Yeah, it sucked. But I refuse to believe it was our only shot. We’re too good not to get noticed.”

“Well, maybe what you lost with bad luck you can gain with confidence,” she said, a little snarky.

“Exactly! That’s the positive attitude I’m talking about!” He raised his hand to give her a high five and when their hands touched, a shock went through both of them. They both jumped. Cori felt heat flood her neck and face.

“Did I do that?” he said, staring at his hand.

“I don’t know, but if you did, that hand could light up the city,” she laughed.

He rubbed his hand. “What can I say, you turn me on.”

She groaned. “Really? Did you just say that?” They both laughed out loud.

She spent a little while longer, then said her goodbyes and made her way to the stairs. A girl was standing at Colin’s door, knocking and calling for him.

“He’s on the roof,” she said as she passed her.

“Oh,” said the girl, as Cori walked into her apartment.

After pouring herself a glass of wine and grabbing some cheese and crackers, she set about unpacking some more. She’d turned on some background music and was enjoying reminiscing over pictures and albums she was putting away. Things were great until she opened an unmarked album and was suddenly face-to-face with Matthew. Hikes they’d made, college parties, birthdays, nights out with friends – it was all there. She slowly paged through the photos and was overcome with sadness. The tears pooled and fell. She hadn’t healed at all. It was all as fresh as the night before her wedding.

There was a soft knock at her door. Probably chatty Cathy checking up on her. She closed the album and dabbed the tears from her eyes and headed towards the door. She wasn’t up for company so she cleared her throat and said softly, “Who is it?”

There was a pause, then softly, “Hey, it’s Colin.”

Shit. Now was not the time. “Hey Colin, I was headed to bed, can I catch up with you later?”

Another pause. “Uh, yeah, ok. I have something for you – no big deal. Good night.”

She undid all the locks but the chain and pulled the door open enough to peek out. She caught a look at him from behind – those long legs and a perfect round ass in just-right jeans. His hair came down to a little V on his neckline. The sound of the door made him turn. He was holding a cupcake in a blue cup with a daisy icing flower on top. He stepped toward the door and extended the cupcake to her. “For you,” he said with that crooked smile. His voice was deep and smooth as velvet. “I wanted to make sure you were ok after that electric high five.”

She felt like she might melt. His voice was so sexy, and those blue eyes. She couldn’t help it – every time she saw him, it took her breath away.

“Hold on.” She pushed the door closed and undid the chain, re-opening it a little more. She reached out and he came closer, handing her the cupcake.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

He studied her for a bit. She looked sad, as if maybe she’d been crying.

“You’re welcome. Look, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me. I know everyone was joking around up there – well, maybe kind of joking – but I really am a good neighbor. I promise I’ll be on my best behavior. I’ll look out for you. Ok?”

She smiled, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Ok. Thank you Colin. I mean it.”

He shook his head and smile broadly. “Good night Cori. I’ll see you around.”

“Good night.”

She went back inside after locking the door, set the cupcake down on the table and walked straight to her bed. She was suddenly exhausted. She was awkward and broken and no fun. The hottest guy she’d ever met was entertaining all kinds of girls across the hall and she probably wouldn’t be one of them. Some fresh start this was.

[kilojulietsierra]

Seis Dias - Prologue & Chapter One (Frankie Morales x OFC - Triple Frontier meets Six Days Seven Nights)

I watched Triple Frontier and Six Days Seven Nights in the same day awhile ago and... this happened over the weekend lol

It was a lot of fun to write and I hope y'all enjoy it too!

Notes - my Spanish is a work in progress, if there are any mistakes they are mine. Rating is lower than usual for me (T - on Ao3) but I have an idea for a bonus chapter at the end that would bump that up. Canon typical violence and language.

~~~~~ Summary~~~~~

A well known photographer on vacation with her new fiance just got called in on a once in a lifetime, last minute job for one of her biggest customers. Promising her fiance that it'll be a quick 2-3 day trip from the south american resort they're staying at to the job and back. With an overnight bag, her camera and a bribe for the... quirky pilot that flew them to the remote vacation spot, she takes off to the shoot.

A storm rolls in while they're in the air and the quick trip takes a dangerous turn.

Forced to land in the middle of the night when lightning strikes their plane the pair find themselves in the middle of the South American jungle with a wrecked plane and no way to get help and no way out of the jungle but to work together.

They survived the crash but that's the least of their concerns, the jungle has more than one danger lurking in its shadows.

~~~~~~ Prologue`~~~~~

Joanna was grateful to be out of the slush and snow but her annoyance with the February weather soon turned to annoyance towards the crowd of people in the lobby which she had found her shelter in. She shoved and excused her way through the frigid New Yorkers to the front desk, "Hi, I'm here for an appointment with," She was cut off by someone knocking into her camera bag, causing her to sway on her feet and clutch at the strap to keep it from slipping, "Excuse you. Anyway, Robin Monroe? Can you let her know I'm here"

"Floor seven, elevator bank is to your right." The receptionist had no clue that Jo had been here a dozen times already this month. She only glanced up to point to the general direction of the elevators as she reached for the phone receiver.

"Thank you." Joanna squeezed through the gap in the crowd and made a beeline for an elevator just opening. Her and the other elevator riders stood in silence, slowly filtering on and off as the floor numbers climbed. At the seventh floor Joanna took her leave and soon heaved in a deep breath at the wonderfully empty foyer of Ms. Monroe's publication office.

Making her way through the desks and design tables Joanna waved and greeted the familiar faces until she came face to face with a photo shoot set up in complete chaos. Backdrops set in disarray, layout mock ups scattered on the floor, makeup and hair assistants scurrying back and forth and in the center of it all Robin trying to direct the melee. "So... how's your day going so far?"

Monroe turned around in a snap and visibly sagged "Oh Joanna, you'll never believe!" She fell into the long and winding story of how the talent for this particular shoot had fell through and now everything, absolutely everything, was a disaster.

Joanna took a deep breath, situated her camera bag on her shoulder and pulled out her phone to shoot her boyfriend a quick text that she would probably be late getting home tonight.

Later when everything had calmed down and the shoot was completed, a success as far as Jo was concerned, Robin walked her to the foyer where one of the assistants met them with a huge bouquet of flowers. "These came awhile ago for Jo." The young girl informed them, giddy to see what the card said. "They're from Kyle," She grinned and bounced on the balls of her feet while Robin inspected the exotic flower arrangement.

Jo read aloud, "A surprise after a long day, love you, Kyle." She flipped the note over to find a reservation card for one of her favorite restaurants.

~~~

"Fancy flowers, fancy restaurant, what's going on?" Joanna teased as the hostess guided them to their table.

Kyle rolled his eyes, "Don't ask questions, it'll ruin the surprise."

Kyle was a handsome young man, tall and lean, blonde close cropped and perfectly styled hair, bright blue eyes and a worked as a shockingly successful stock trader for someone his age. He and Joanna made a striking couple and they both knew it. Especially Kyle.

Once they were seated and had placed their drink orders Jo pressed again, "Ok, you know I'm not a patient woman Kyle. What's up."

"Okay fine," he chuckled as he reached for the inside pocket of his suit jacket, "Close your eyes."

Jo balked slightly but at his insistent stare, did as he asked. When she was finally allowed to open them she gasped.

"Two weeks from now, you, me and six days, seven nights in paradise." Kyle swiped through pictures of an out of this world, boutique, trendy, South American beach resort."

"Oh my God." She watched as he swiped through the promotional photos; lit, edited and laid out in such a way that she could nearly feel the sand under her toes and the sun on her skin. When he put his phone away she turned to face him, "Kyle, you're not serious! That looks amazing! Are we really going?"

"We're really going. You always say you miss travelling and that I need to take more time off so... tada!" He said with pride and matter-of-factness that was his trade mark. "Are you excited baby?"

"So excited." Jo leaned in to give him a kiss and mentally begin counting the hours.

---

Day One

When they landed in Bogota Joanna swore that she felt a weight lift and her mind clear. All she could think of was being able to enjoy herself, truly, for the first time in a long time. She reached out and grabbed Kyle by the back of his shirt, "Wrong way." As he turned outside the terminal towards security and away from where they needed to go, to collect their luggage and then towards the charters.

"What?"

"Seguridad." she laughed and pointed at the sign he was about to walk under, "We want maletas, and then we have to find the charters, she pointed in the opposite direction. "This way."

Without saying anything he trailed along as she led the way, following the signs, correctly this time. Eventually they found themselves walking thorough the doors and onto a paved tarmac where two men where leaning against a small plane chatting and laughing.

"Disculpe me,"

Jo approached them and Kyle muttered under his breath."I always forget you can actually speak Spanish."

Joanna ignored him. The two men by the plane glanced up as Joanna continued, "Ayudame, por favor? Estamos buscando por..." she paused to pull up the name of the charter service, "Aire Tropical?"

The two men stood up a little straighter, the taller, scruffier of the two cocked his head as he looked her and Kyle over. "Well you found it." He said in a very American accent. He was tall and broad, his arms bulged slightly through the sleeves of his button down shirt. His jeans were faded and worn, so were the cowboy boots on his feet and the Standard Oil cap on his head. He slapped the other man on the back and then stepped up to Kyle and Joanna. "Franciso Morales." He extended his hand to Kyle and then Joanna, "Mucho gusto."

"Mucho gusto," She offered a small smile and was glad to see it returned.

"So you're the pilot?" Kyle asked, incredulous.

Franciso pulled his worn out cap off his head, ran his hand through his shaggy hair and placed it down again, "Umm, yeah."

"And you're American?"

The other man scoffed, short and silent, "Yeah, for the most part anyway. If you're ready to go, I am." He glanced over his shoulder to the plane.

"Great," Kyle interjected before Jo got the chance, "Could you grab the bags?"

Franciso looked to Kyle, his head cocking to the side again as he chewed thoughtfully on a piece of gum.

Joanna cringed, worried Kyle had offended their only ride to paradise.

His eyes jumped from Kyle to Jo and then back. When he smirked it was not in the pleasant friendly way it had been when they shook hands. "You bet."

After the pilot, Francisco, had grabbed their bags and took them to the plane Kyle pulled her aside. "I'm not sure how I feel about this hillbilly flying us anywhere."

Jo smacked his chest with the back of her hand, "Kyle." She glanced towards the pilot to see if he had heard, "He works for the resort. It's fine."

A shrill whistle interrupted them. "Angelica, vamanos!"

A leggy woman with perky breasts and a big smile came bouncing out of the charter hangar. 'Coming!" She giggled as she joined their little group, "Hello!" Her accent was thick and not from South America but Jo couldn't place it. "You must be the couple coming to the resort. I'm Angelica, I work their and I promise you are going to love it!"

For a brief moment Jo doubted that was true, but beside her Kyle was nodding enthusiastically.

~~~

The flight went perfectly well and Jo couldn't stop leaning to look out the small window at the jungle as it passed by beneath them in a blur of green and random villages on their way to the remote section of coast where the resort resided. At some point Francisco must have noticed her excessive staring, "Este es la tierra de los dios, no?'

Jo glanced back at him, seeing him watching her over the rims of his dark aviators and under the bill of his cap. She couldn't help but smile, "Verdad. Es... es increible. No tengo los palabras."

Francisco nodded. "Verdad." He smiled and turned back to the windscreen. everyone remained silent the rest of the flight.

~~~

"Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God." It was all Joanna could say upon setting eyes on the bungalow that would be theirs for the next week. The beach under her feet, the sea in front of her, jungle behind her and a bright blue sky above her. She was in paradise. Truly.

"I know right." Kyle dropped the bags by the door and joined her outside. "It's perfect." He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing the top of her head as she leaned back into him. "This is perfect."

~~~

The first thing Joanna did was put on her bikini and a pair of shorts, grabbed her camera, and headed for the beach. For a change it wasn't model wannabes, actor hopefuls, suburban families or Instagram influencers in front of her lens. She couldn't remember the last time she had taken pictures just for the enjoyment of it. It was the most amazing feeling. Without even thinking about it she spent the whole afternoon wandering the beach and the resort snapping pictures. The ocean, the jungle, the mountains, young couples playing in the surf and lovers cuddled in the shade.

Joanna hadn't realized how late it was until she came back to the bungalow to find Kyle dressed for dinner in pastel shorts and a linen shirt. "Was beginning to wonder if you got lost or something. Got out of the shouer and you were gone."

"Sorry." She shrugged out of her camera strap, "Wanna see what I found?" Jo clicked some buttons on her camera and turned it so Kyle could see the screen.

"I made reservations at the restaurant for us tonight. Why don't you go get ready."

~~~

Dinner had been amazing and when the restaurant served drinks and desert a band had started playing. Couples all around them were attempting their best Tangos or Cumbias but Joanna was worried about Kyle. He had been off ever since Bogota and she worried her wandering off hadn't helped matters.

Just when she was about to ask him he took a sip of his cocktail and cleared his throat. "Joanna." He leaned forward, "Do you know what tonight is?" He took her blank stare as a no, "This is our anniversary. Well unofficially at least, it's the anniversary of the day we first met. Three years ago."

Realization hit her, "Oh, the cab! We fought over a cab and I called you an asshole." She chuckled.

"It's okay, it was worth it. All part of the journey." He stared at her, clear blue eyes glinting in the candles and tiki torches.

Joanna smiled, unsure of what to say. Instead she just stared at his handsome face. Then out of nowhere he was kneeling in front of her, staring at her, his hand reaching into his pocket as the diners around them all collectively began to notice, and look their way.

"Joanna..." He looked as if he was considering his words carefully, hoping to be long and eloquent but found nothing, "Will you marry me?"

Awestruck Jo blinked at him, heart in her throat and forgetting to breath. Now she was the one at a loss for words. So, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him while the rest of the diners applauded and cheered.

---

Chapter Two/Day Two - Read Here!

[ears-awake-eyes-opened]

Lace

(Hayffie ❤️🔥. Exploration of the potential of Effie and Haymitch through time using lace as metaphor. I spent several days channeling what I imagine of Effie as I tried to write this just so. It was worth the effort. NSFW. Sexual content toward the end.)

“I used to rummage around in my grandmother’s trunks trying to find them. I love the feeling of chiffon and lace.” — Stevie Nicks

***

Lace was Effie’s earliest gateway to a partially hidden self. Scallops, finely knitted with silk thread, swirled in her hands and opened a dream world. She stepped into it with great anticipation. Beneath white lace she could be a ghost. Not the ghastly kind that frightens the world, wailing the aches of an unfinished life. But the ethereal kind that floats through the halls, unencumbered by expectation. In her imagination, everyone would pause to gaze upon her. They’d all still to listen to the rustling of the fabric of her existence.

In lace, she could become whoever she wanted to be.

As a little girl, she dressed up in riches and regal innocence, draping herself in her Nana’s long pearl necklace and lace shawl. She served tea in painted porcelain cups to painted porcelain dolls. ��Manners, children! Don’t slurp your tea. Curl your pinkies, and you’ll grow up to be great ladies.”

By 8 years old, she felt quite grown up herself, caught between innocence and incipient desire, crushing on the boy who’d just won the Games. She picked a bouquet of flowers from the garden. “I’m Proserpina now, goddess of fertility, agriculture, and wine...” She ate six pomegranate seeds, and pulled the shawl over her eyes as a veil. “...Someday I’ll be the bride of Pluto, God of the underworld and mineral wealth. He’ll love me like no other, and I the same for him. They call him Haymitch now, but I know his true identity. I’m the only one.”

She scooped up one of her dolls and wiped its porcelain neck with the corner of the shawl. “There. You’re pretty again, Maysilee darling. Those awful pink birds are gone. You’ll come with us to live in the underworld with diamonds and rubies and sapphires. Nobody there is ever really dead. You’ll be the princess, and I’ll be the queen.”

In lace, she worked through the trauma that existed in witnessing so much death.

“And isn’t that at its core what the princess fantasy is about for all of us?... ‘Princess’ is the wish that we could protect them from pain, that they would never know sorrow, that they will live happily ever after, ensconces in lace and innocence.” — Peggy Orenstein

***

There was lace between them the first time Haymitch touched her. The delicate gloves she wore met his fingers with surprising softness. He’d shaken hands with lacy-gloved Capitol women countless times. He’d pressed his lips to their knuckles when they presented their hands for kissing. He got that shit a lot, and most of the time it annoyed him. Those textures were predictably coarse.

The first touch of Effie was alluring. That silky fabric full of holes peaked his curiousity about the feeling of her skin. They’d just met, and he didn’t want to let go of her. Not yet. Damn. Attraction to an opulent Capitol girl was a complication he didn’t need.

“Nice gloves, sweetheart.” He couldn’t resist. The moment felt too good to say nothing.

Through layers of makeup, he could see her blush. Another surprise. She didn’t drop his hand. They held on until the spots where they touched infused with a shared warmth. It didn’t take long, with both of them wondering how it would feel to play with fire.

Flint struck steel, and sparks flew for years as they goaded each other with words and mannerisms. The burn was slow seduction. There are dualities to lace. It can’t decide whether it’s an angel or a devil. In those years of indecision, Effie touched him many times through gloves: curling her hand in the bend of his elbow, brushing against the back of his neck accidentally on purpose, skimming her fingertips across his forehead to push his hair from his eyes when he was drunk enough not to object.

She took to interlacing her fingers with his the moment one of their tributes was killed in the arena.

“Don’t.” He bristled at first. “Don’t patronize me.”

“Is that what you think I’m doing?! I don’t want them to die. You know it hurts me too.”

She was getting too attached. She’d need to find a way to toughen up if she was going to keep doing the job. And he wanted her there. Holding her hand took a slight edge off the horror. He was getting too attached — to her. He recognized it.

“I’m not hurting.” His words were unconvincing. He took a long drink, and he didn’t let go of her until the flask was empty.

“Give me lace and whiskey.” — Alice Cooper

***

The system, ultimately fragile, was indeed brought down by berries — and blood. After the revolution, resources that Effie had always taken for granted were scarce. During the early years of reconstruction, she asked Greasy Sae to teach her how to mend lace. The old woman repaired it for resale using just an ironing board, straight pins, a needle, thread, and scissors.

“I ain’t gonna ask how your panties got ripped, dear.” She winked. “But I can show you how to fix ‘em.” Sae could fix most anything, and Effie enjoyed spending time with her. It was like rummaging again in her grandmother’s trunks, but finding treasure in pearls of wisdom.

Effie’s connection with Haymitch had caught fire when the world did. The timing made sense. One intensity begets another, like creation.

After learning on small items, Effie moved on to mending more precious swaths of lace like the heirloom tablecloth in her apartment. Haymitch sank into her sofa, and watched her work in a slip and an sheer robe printed with flowers. Her hair kept falling in her face so she pulled it back into a ponytail.

Her hair alone turned him on. He took swallows from a glass of Capitol liquor that he didn’t know by name, and he thought about holding onto that ponytail and fucking her.

She felt his eyes on her. “You’re suddenly fascinated with sewing?” she asked without looking up from the stitching.

“I’m fascinated with you.” The words weren’t playful. They pulled her heartbeat into her gut. Butterflies. They’d been seeing each other for over two years, and he could still tug at her without touching.

A smile lit up her face.

“Are you almost done with that, sweetheart?”

“Patience. When your leg breaks, you can’t rush the bone to fuse back together.”

“Are you planning on breaking my leg? Because I’ve already got another bone for you to fix.”

“Your ‘bone’ can wait for the sake of art.”

“...I’m gonna make you come, honey. If that ain’t art, then I don’t know what is.”

The flush of her cheeks and the swell along the axis of her body were distracting her, but she finished the task regardless.

She removed the pins, lifted the lace from the ironing board, tied a small knot in the thread, and clipped off the excess to finish. She sat with him on the sofa to inspect her work. Her stitches were precisely as tight as the weave of the lace. The fix was fairly perfect.

The tablecloth draped across her lap and spilled over her legs. Through the lace, he caressed her thighs, her knees, her calves, then back up again. She was too affected to nag him about being careful with her masterpiece.

“You like this,” she murmured.

Hell, yes. “I like almost seeing you through it... touchin’ you... You’re so fine, Effie.”

‘Fine’ was a word he generally used when they argued, when something wasn’t quite right and when he didn’t want to talk about it. This context felt different.

Shit. I’m into her. If I don’t keep this in check, I’m gonna be so into her. “...Can I...?” He asked in response to his unvoiced feelings.

“What do you want, honey?”

He stroked the apex of her thighs through the lace and her satin slip.

She moaned softly.

“You like this too.” His voice was thick with desire to swallow the sounds that escaped her throat. He’d start there, then move on to the rest of her.

“Hell, yes...” she sighed, sliding her fingers up the short sleeve of his shirt.

The tablecloth fell away and they clutched each other, as if she might dissolve into molecules, as if he might disappear. It was like that sometimes — grasping, clinging need.

Stay.

Please stay.

“I stare at her collarbone that’s framed with lace, the hollow of her collarbone, her shoulders that rise with each rise of the weight of her next breath. We’re fragile things. Our bones show through our skin. What would any god want with us?” — Lauren DeStephano

***

In the old days of the Capitol, lace curtains were a means to show off assets. In the Trinket family home, lace hung for years in the windows of the parlor, showcasing an antique grand piano and furniture made of mahogany and velvet. Less ostentatious and commonplace items were relegated to rooms cloaked in thick window coverings or not visible from the street.

Effie was raised in this manner, instructed in the duality of garnering attention and practicing concealment. Lace has the capacity to reveal, on occasion, something you might rather hide — whether when used to line your parlor, cover your body in a second skin, or partially cloak the contents of your heart. People take risks in lace.

Effie peered into her parents’ marriage and understood her own desires were different. “Did you love Father when you married?” she asked when her mother chastised her about spending so much time with the victor from District 12.

“This conversation is about YOUR future, not my past,” her mother responded without answering the question. “At your age, you certainly should be thinking about marriage, but for heaven sake not with a savage. Taking up with him is impractical. It will ruin your life.”

Effie worked to hold the lid on the pot boiling inside her. “He is not a savage. I ‘took up’ with him years ago, and my life is my own. I might move to 12, and I might never marry. Those are MY choices to make.” She resisted the urge to flinch. As a girl, being that frank with her mother would have prompted a slap in the face, but her childhood was long gone.

Her mother was stunned into silence, so Effie asked again, “Are you in love with my father?”

“...Are you in love with Haymitch?” Her mother again ignored Effie’s question, though her tone softened in curiosity. She at least acknowledged that she knew his name.

“Yes,” Effie answered without hesitation, hoping her admission wouldn’t pose a threat to him. She recognized the balance of power had shifted. The Trinkets’ curtains weren’t lace anymore. The contents of the parlor had been sold. Nothing was as it used to be.

“How do you know?” Her mother asked. “How do you know you love him?”

“I’ve always known.”

“Always?”

“From my early memories, playing that we were king and queen of the underworld. Playing with metaphorical fire, even then. ...I want to be with him. I love him so much it hurts.”

“Love shouldn’t hurt, honey.”

“How could you know?”

“Because I love YOU.”

“And how do you feel about what I’m telling you now?”

“You’re a grown woman, Effie. ...Though I can’t help but feel heartbroken picturing you in that life.”

“Love is a rock against the wind. Not soft like silk and lace.” — Etheridge Knight

***

Haymitch returned from the Hob to find his front door unlocked. Adrenaline shot to his arms and legs, and he unsheathed his knife before stepping inside. All was silent. Maybe he’d simply forgotten to lock it. Unlikely though since he did that reflexively, even when he was drunk. He misplaced his keys sometimes, but he never left home without locking the door.

Anxiety grew in the stillness. He checked every room downstairs, then tiptoed up the staircase. He found the *intruder* asleep on his unmade bed.

Effie was dressed — scarcely — in white stretch lace stockings hooked with garters to a matching top. He remembered her calling that kind of thing a bustier, though he’d never seen this one before. She was curled up on her side, and he saw in profile her naked hip and the smooth curve of her ass.

She’d said she had to work this weekend, so her showing up was a surprise. He sheathed his knife as the increased blood supply eased away from his limbs and flowed straight to his groin. From the rush of adrenaline and Effie’s sensual appearance, his heart beat like crazy. His mind was sharp despite lightheadedness. Fucking adrenaline. He knew it as well as anything else.

He quietly removed his boots, peeled off his clothes, and slipped into bed beside his girl. Her even breathing soothed his frayed nerves. He watched her chest rise and fall, and he took in more details of her attire.

The bustier pushed her breasts together, creating a hint of cleavage in a large teardrop-shaped opening between them. Two extra straps emerged from the lace above the peak of the teardrop. They passed over her collarbones, along the sides of her neck, and slid down her back.

Her nipples, soft in sleep, were visible through the lace. The fabric cupped her breasts then stretched to her waist. Everything below was bare — no panties, no thong, nothing but her. Then the stockings.

He had never wanted to touch someone so badly everywhere at once. He curled his fingers around her hip and plucked kisses on her forehead until she stirred.

Good morning, sweetheart; he tried to tease since it was already late afternoon, but the words must have spun in his lungs with his breath, because nothing came out.

Effie rubbed her eyes awake, like a child dressed up in the body of a goddess. “Hey, stranger...” was all she could say before he sucked the rest of the greeting from between her lips.

“What was the point in satin and lace if it didn’t make a man struggle to speak?” — Alexandra Ivy

***

Their reunion was ardent and greedy. He was all sinewy flesh, and she touched him every place she could reach with her hands, arms, legs, body, mouth... He reciprocated the contact with mutual intensity, barely taking care not to crush her. She was like a bird with lacy feathers. He pulled away long enough for her to sing...

“God, you feel good. You’re worth every mile of that infernal train ride.”

He inched down her body, tracing one of the bustier straps with his chin as he kissed along her neck, down her throat to the lace and the unexpected cleavage. “You surprised me.”

“I’m sorry. I’d planned to call out when you opened the door, but the bed was warm, and the sheets smell like you, and I couldn’t keep my eyes open.”

“I’m not complaining. I’m just feeling every ounce of adrenaline pumping now in my dick.”

Through the lace, he stroked one of her breasts with his tongue and the other with his thumb. When her nipples peeked through the fabric, he scissored one between his teeth.

Her jaw dropped open. She sucked in a breath and held it until he shifted his attention to her other breast. There was a moment of release, then she gasped again as the pleasure deepened. She exhaled in words, “I’ve got plans for you.”

Uneasiness crept in. “What plans?”

“Don’t worry. You’ll like it.” With a fingertip, she traced around the teardrop on her chest. “You want to fuck me... here?”

Sandwiched between her breasts with soft lace covering the head of my dick? “Only a fool would say no to that.”

She propped up on pillows. “Come here...”

He straddled her rib cage, taking care not to crush her. She held his hips as he slipped through the teardrop into the valley between her breasts.

Ahh, fuck...

She positioned her palms to accentuate the function of the bustier, squeezing him with her flesh. Then she entwined her fingers over the lace on top of his dick. “Is this good?”

His answer was obvious. He was already thrusting. “Oh, fuck,” he cried aloud this time, feeling the pressure, friction, and excitement of her sheathing him like a knife.

With each movement, his balls grazed the lace too. It was so much sensation. He ran his fingers along her scalp, threading them through her hair. He couldn’t think, and he was afraid of pressing too hard on her sternum and hurting her. “Are you alright?”

“Honey, this is hot as hell. Keep fucking my breasts for as long as you can hold out.” She tightened her grip.

His strokes quickened. “I haven’t got much left before... God... Effie...”

“Where do you want to come, honey? On my neck? In my mouth? Inside me with me coming too?”

He was close, so damn close. In a blink, he pulled out of the sheath and the teardrop, breathing hard. “Shit. Give me a minute. Don’t move and don’t say anything.”

She froze as requested, with her hands still on her breasts. The veil slipped, and she understood what was happening. He was choosing her — intimate connection and pleasure WITH her. She fought tears from welling up because she didn’t want to explain them. She just wanted him to make love with her, and she realized it was happening.

As if to prove it, he stretched out flush against her body and kissed her as before, like he couldn’t wait. “Inside you, with you coming too. That’s what I want.”

She wrapped her legs, esconced in lace, around him and drew him in. With each plunge he was swimming, feeling the waves as she clenched him deep.

“Slow down, honey. I wanna wait for you.”

Thrilling in his words, she had to force her internal muscles to relax and loosen their grasp.

He propped up on one arm and drew circles on her clit.

“Mmmm... Keep that up, and you won’t have to wait much longer.”

Gentle tugs and circling grew more insistent as his body was losing patience.

Her body clenched him again of its own volition. “Oh... I’m... Oh, honey... It’s so delicious....”

“Fuck, Effie. You’ve gotta... Holy shit...”

“Ohh, I can’t stop... Are you....”

“Yeah.” He grunted as the waves overtook him. “Oh, hell... This is it.”

As they climaxed together, the veil slipped, and he understood what was happening. This was more than adrenaline and far beyond fucking. He was making love with her. He was loving her more than anything they were doing in this bed. He loved this girl, HIS girl.

As their breathing slowed, he kissed her as if she was the most intoxicating drink of his life. And, damn it, she probably was.

“You waited.” Her tears welled up. She couldn’t stop those either.

“It’s like holding back wild horses, sweetheart.”

“Four black horses and an ebony chariot.” She said, thinking of the myth she played at long ago.

“Something like that.” Though the analogy was ominous. It reminded him too much of the Games, and he was already shaky coming down from the rush of adrenaline. He collapsed against her. She felt his tremors, and he felt her tears. What the hell am I supposed to do with all this feeling?

“Shh... It’s alright. We can do this,” she said to herself as much as to him. “We’re a team. Remember?” You’re not alone anymore.

She held him until the shaking stopped. All he had to do was let her.

“What can I do with my happiness? How can I keep it, conceal it, bury it where I may never lose it? I want to kneel as it falls over me like rain, gather it up with lace and silk, and press it over myself again.” — Anais Nin

***

The little girl had reached an age when everything in existence was a discovery followed by a question. With all her might she dragged a small cedar chest from the corner of the closet. “What’s this, Nana?”

“It’s buried treasure, Baby Doll. Would you like to open it?”

The little one clapped her hands in anticipation and lifted the latch. Though the springs had worn out long ago, the girl was strong enough to lift the lid without assistance. It fell back onto its hinges, revealing the contents within. She peered inside with eyes wide open.

“Those treasures are old and precious. Most are very fragile. Will you promise to be ever so careful?”

She nodded with serious intent, then rummaged inside to pull treasures out. One by one, she took them to her Nana in the rocking chair...

A lace shawl, a long strand of pearls, two porcelain tea cups, and a porcelain doll with a painted face. A dried bouquet of flowers in a locked wooden box with a glass lid. Golden lace gloves knitted with silk thread. A sheer robe printed with flowers. A yellowed lace tablecloth. A purple corset and a white lace bustier. Plus many sentimental trinkets including a paper card with birds on the front and an inscription inside. The girl was too young still to read.

“What’s it say, Nana?” The little one climbed into her lap and waited for the words.

It reads, “Effie and Haymitch. I wish you happiness. Love, Mother.”

“That’s you and Grampa!”

“Yes, my dear.”

“Where’d all this treasure come from?”

Effie thought a moment.. “it comes from smiles and tears, laughter and fits of madness. From a life full of diamonds and rubies and sapphires — not the kind you dig up from an underground world, but the kind you carry in your heart.”

“It would take a giant heart to carry all that!”

“That’s why we share our lives with the people we love. So we have more than one heart to hold all that treasure.”

The girl rubbed her eyes and snuggled against Effie, “Nana, tell me a story.”

With her arms around her granddaughter, Effie began... “Once upon a time there was a girl who lived inside a rainbow. She’d reach for the colors around her, but her hands were always empty because the rainbow wasn’t real. So she filled her hands with love, and she painted a real life in all the colors she used to live within but couldn’t touch...”

Effie’s granddaughter clutched the old lace shawl as she fell asleep.

“Concealment and revelation. A veil and a shroud. Chastity and wildness. Fragility and resilience. Complexity and simplicity. Curiosity and knowing. Teasing and fulfillment. Thrill and comfort... These are my hopes for you, Baby Doll,” Effie whispered.

Lace becomes what we need it to be.

“Hopes were wallflowers. Hopes hugged the perimeter of a dance floor in your brain, tugging at their party lace, all perfume and hems and doomed expectation. They fanned their dance cards, these guests that pressed against the walls of your heart.” — Karen Russell

[aquariusrunes]

The Superfriends AU (part 9)

The flashes were blinding and the large lights heated the room like a sauna. His palms were moist with sweat as he reached up and pulled at his collar. Colin had not been this nervous this morning. And Damian of course, said he had nothing to be nervous about when he had started to feel anxious. But he did. He’d obviously been too tired to properly panic when Violet dropped off the outfit he was currently wearing, this morning.

It had started when he unzipped the black garment bag. The intricate details embroidered on the expensive fabric immediately caught his eye and sent up the most alarming red flags. He’d never worn anything so expensive. Not even the suits Mr. Wayne had gotten tailored to his form for the handful of galas Damian had taken him to, cost as much as his current outfit. 

The next anxiety laced arrow to hit him was when Damian had pointed out that Colin and Edna had yet to hold a real conversation. Their interactions with one another had completely ceased after his boyfriend’s introductions were finished. 

And then there was Edna’s ability to influence Damian. She was one of the few members of his family he let himself be pushed around by. He willingly did her bidding as well as valued her opinion. And Colin had thought making sure Marinette had a good opinion of him was important, only to find out that Edna’s had more weight. 

Now he stood sandwiched between the small woman who essentially invented fashion and one of the richest men in the world. Bruce had pated Colin on the shoulder when he first walked up to the two, a silent reassurance to the obviously panicked boy. The intimidating man now stood straight, shoulders squared with his hands clasped behind his back. His eyes were not on his son, who was currently up on a platform surrounded by fake trees, instead his dark eyes had a strange shadow cast over them, reminding Colin of the man’s alter ego. He was carefully surveying the room, analyzing everyone who fell under his intense gaze. 

On Colin’s right stood his boyfriend’s great aunt, her stance near identical to her nephew's. Her eyes were trained on Damian, unlike the boy’s father whose gaze was roaming the room. However, her glare was no less intimidating or fear inducing. Though, Colin couldn’t exactly blame the woman for her current enraged expression. 

His eyes went back to his boyfriend, Damian was dressed in a top that resembled a toga, the one strap tank consisting of billowy semi-sheer fabric, tucked into slim dark grey pants, that Edna had whispered to him were a cigarette style. He also wore a well fitted silver blazer, the material of which was lighter than the pants. His face covered in metallic silver and soft brown makeup, he was too far to really see the details the makeup artist had done, but he could see an intricately drawn crescent moon done in silver eyeliner on Damian’s right cheek, as well as the matte midnight blue lipstick. 

His hair had been wetted and dried a number of times before it was curled to Edna’s satisfaction. Now every time there was a pause in the camera’s flashes, a tall blonde woman would step up onto the platform and use a spray bottle to dampen Damian’s hair and then restyle it. Every time she tried to touch him though, he would aggressively react both physically and verbally. Colin had picked up on a few older female oriented insults, his boyfriend had a knack for talking like he just time traveled from Victorian London. The darker skinned boy eventually resorted to batting the bottle out of the woman’s grip as well as slapping her hands away. 

Beyond the problems he was having with the stylist, Damian was also getting difficult with the photographer. Not necessarily on purpose, but Edna was still less than pleased. 

Damian was a very handsome boy, not exactly what one would consider classically handsome, but his features were undeniably attractive. His naturally neutral expression was extremely attractive, and gave off an air of aloofness and mystery that most girls their age found irresistible. But very few people were aware of just how stunning the boy’s smile could be. Not the fake polite one he showed interviewers or those he couldn't be bothered with but had to interact with often enough to the point that forced him to be courteous. His real smile was absolutely breathtaking. 

The photographer had been trying to get that breathtaking expression for about ten minutes. Colin could see how the man was grating on his boyfriend's nerves. Edna and the photographer were becoming increasingly frustrated as well, which was totally understandable in the redhead's mind. But he was sure that if either of them snapped at Damian the boy would storm out in a frustrated huff. 

Poor Angel, he really was trying. He just had difficulty relaxing to the point where his natural smile could be displayed. He carried far too much tension around for sixteen year old, even with all his extracurriculars. 

Colin watched the blonde woman fight against Damian once again, his bangs had fallen into his eyes and she needed to correct them. His boyfriend’s palm raised, slapping the purple spray bottle out of her hand, it bounced off the platform and rolled towards Colin, Edna, and Mr. Wayne. 

It caused Bruce to let a low chuckle break from his lips, which took Colin far too much by surprise. He’d actually forgotten that his boyfriend’s father had been standing there. The wealthy man looked down at his Aunt’s unamused expression. “I did warn you about working with him.”  

“Yes.” She grumbled. “Forgive me for having faith that a sixteen year old could stand not to act like a child for thirty minutes or so.” Her arms crossed tightly over her body. “Honestly, why are your boys always so difficult?” 

“They aren’t difficult,” Bruce defended. “Just...different.” 

Edna rolled her eyes at the man.

“Different, sure.” She huffed. “Luckily, I planned for Damian’s ‘differentness’ and have a solution at the ready.”

Bruce cocked his eyebrow, giving his aunt a questioning look. She smiled up at him before her gaze lowered to Colin, the boy’s face coated in just as much confusion as Bruce’s. “Colin dahling.” The woman walked forwards several steps, leaning down and picking up the purple bottle. “Come here please.” She motioned at him with a curl of her fingers and he was quick to follow her, doing as told like a little soldier. 

“Yes ms-” He stopped himself. “Edna.” He finally said. 

She smiled, patting his hand. “Colin could you be a dear and go help Damian with his hair?” The ginger tilted his head, looking back at the blonde woman as she stomped off the platform. Another series of flashes fired, as Damian positioned himself in whatever way the photographer told him to. 

“His hair?” Colin asked. “I think it looks fine.” Truthfully he did. He wished Damian would wear it curly more often, but knew how unprofessional his boyfriend felt when he did. 

“Could you just go push his bangs back and use the spray bottle to help his hair curl a little more. Please dahling, it would be a big help.” Edna held the bottle out to Colin.

“Um…” Colin looked back at Damian as another flash went off. “I guess?” He questioned. “Right now?”

His hands slowly took the purple bottle. “No no, in just a moment, when I walk over to look at the shots we have so far.” 

“Yes ma’am.” Colin turned from the woman, facing Damian’s platform. His perplexed look melting away and being replaced with a smile as he saw Damian push his own bangs back, only for them to fall back into his eyes without the assistance of his ever precious hair gel. 

He only had to wait a moment before Edna patted him on the shoulder before swaggering over to the photographer. Colin was quick to hop up onto the platform and over to his boyfriend, who looked less than pleased. His face was set in a scowl and his arms were tightly crossed. The closer Colin got though the more of the makeup he could make out. Damian’s eyes were traced in metallic off white eyeliner, the shade only varying slightly from the moon drawn on his cheek, and a range of soft browns were used for his eyeshadow. The color pellet suited him extremely well. 

“You know,” He began, getting Damian’s attention. “You’re making this way more difficult than it has to be.” 

Damian didn’t respond, he just rolled his eyes, directing his gaze elsewhere. 

“It’d all go a lot quicker if you cooperated. It’d also be less painful too.” Once Colin was properly in front of his boyfriend he took note of the glitter highlighting his cheekbones, as well as a chain earrings that had been hooked onto his right ear, and a thick silver choker that resembled something out of the greek myths themselves around Damian’s neck. 

Damian gave Colin a rather dry unamused look. “If that woman would stop touching me, everyone would be in less pain.” 

“Dames,” Colin breathed. “She’s a stylist, it’s literally her job to touch you.” He rested his free hand on his hip. “She is getting paid to come up here and make sure that you continually look perfect throughout this shoot.” 

The boy only huffed turning his head away once again.

“Your aunt is getting a little frustrated with you as well.” Colin’s gaze drifted across the room towards the woman. She was sitting in front of a computer with the tall balding photographer, neither seemed happy with the shots they had so far. Edna’s eyes slowly traveled up, locking onto Colin’s. It nearly gave him a heart attack. 

He turned his attention back to his boyfriend. “I’m gonna spray you with this,” He held up the bottle. “And mess with your hair.” Damian’s eyebrow quirked up. “If you slap my hand, I will punch you in the face.” 

Damian’s shoulders visibly tensed when the mist fell over him, but he relaxed once Colin moved to brush his bangs back. While a little less tense, the boy still stood incredibly still, almost like a statue. Colin’s hands moved quickly, doing his best to mimic how the first hair stylist had shaped Damian’s hair before the shoot had started. It didn’t look perfect but it looked better than it did when his bangs were hanging in his face. In fact, once Colin was done it started looking more messy, resembling the boy’s rare bedhead after a sleepless night. But it looked good, at least in Colin’s opinion.

He couldn’t stop his laugh.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He snickered, running his fingers through Damian’s curls, repositioning them. “You should really consider wearing it curly more often.” He whispered.

“Absolutely not.” Damian was quick to refuse, but couldn’t stop the corner of his lips from quirking up. “Why are you up here anyway?” He asked.

Colin smirked as he continued his work. “Board of me already babe?” 

Damian rolled his eyes, gaze dropped to the ground as he willed his blush to fade. He wasn’t great with nicknames, not when Colin used them. Shortenings of his name was fine, but it always got to him when more traditional pet names were used by his boyfriend. “No.” He muttered. “Just curious, after all Edna was rather clear about you and Jon not interfering while I work.”

“Your aunt asked me to come fix your hair.” Colin shrugged. “Probably because she knew you wouldn’t be near as cranky with me.” 

“I am not being cranky.” The boy bit back, earning an unamused look from his freckled boyfriend. 

“Dames.” 

“I don’t like people touching me Colin, she knew this when she asked me to be her model.” Colin rolled his eyes, hands moving out of his boyfriend’s hair.

“Yeah, but you're also very mature for your age and should be able to suck it up for thirty minutes or so.” Colin crossed his arms. “Seriously Dames, this isn’t like a crowd of Wayne Ward Fangirls trying to grope you on the street. That woman is trying to do her job and by you being cranky, it’s making everything run very inefficient.” 

“Are you implying I’m a bad model?”

“Course not.” The redhead sighed. “I’m implying that you’re acting like a child and it’s not cute.” He gave a small smile. “But other than your attitude, you’re doing a very good job.” Colin leaned forward and peck Damian’s cheek, the one not coated in eyeliner. “Just smile a little more.” 

Colin turned, hopping off the platform, and turning back to watch once he was far enough to not be in the shot. He flashed the mixed race boy a blinding smile once he was out of the way and gave him a thumbs up. Damian returned the gesture with a soft smile, not noticing the flashes of the camera as he watched his boyfriend who, after a few minutes, started to make utterly ridiculous faces. 

Edna and Bruce watched from their previous spot. Positions the same, backs straight, shoulders square, hands clasped behind them. Edna’s face cracked into a self satisfied smirk. Bruce’s eyes watching the scene before him critically. 

“So that’s why Colin’s here.” He finally said.

“Fail safes are important dahling.”

“What would you have done if Damian hadn’t brought him along?” 

“Please,” Edna looked up at her nephew. “Who do you think gave him the idea to invite the boy?”

… 

Marinette watched her cousin and his boyfriend retreat down the hallway, Colin’s arms wound around one of Damian’s. The boy had mentioned in the elevator that he needed to go feed Titus and would be down in the cafeteria once he was finished. Colin quickly volunteered to go with him. Marinette assumed it was because of how moody Damian had gotten towards the end of the photoshoot. She could practically see the negative energy radiating off the boy. Jon and Chloé, who had also been in the elevator went straight to the Mode cafeteria. Marinette and Adrien had gotten off on the floor with all of their rooms like Colin and Damian. Marinette making the excuse that she needed to call her mom and Adrien saying he forgot something in his room. 

Once she saw her cousin’s form round the corner of the hall she turned back around to look and see if Adrien had gone into his room yet or not. The door with a large number seven on it was firmly close, the blonde nowhere in sight. She turned back to her own door, took in a large breath to steal her nerves, then turned the knob and walked into the suite.

The room was large with a queen sized bed against a wall of floor to ceiling windows, the sheer black curtains were drawn currently. There was a fireplace in her room on the opposite wall, the one that her door was on. It was an electrical insert and so didn’t require a chimney. There was a flat screen tv above it and two red chairs in front of it. A silver rack was against the mainly empty wall, holding her mass of black garment bags. The west wall was mainly taken up by a large dresser vanity combo, which her accessory trunk was currently in front of. 

Her room had been mostly left undisturbed since she first arrived, save for the bed, which she had messily made that morning. Mostly everything in the room was well organized, especially her garments and accessories to make things a little less stressful for her during the hectic week. 

The large white comforter of her bed was wrinkled and had been pulled towards the center of the mattress, creating something that resembled a nest. In front of the mass of blankets, propped up on a couple of pillows was her tablet. Her nerves were on fire, but she still managed a smile when the head of her kawami popped up from behind the piece of technology. The small creature was quick to pause whatever video she had been watching, most likely a telenovela she had found on one of the streaming services Marinette’s family subscribed too. The girl had discovered relatively soon after becoming the wielder of the ladybug miraculous that the creature had a bit of an addiction to the television genre. 

“Marinette!” Tikki beamed, flying up to her holder. “How is the photoshoot going?”

“Well…” Her smile tightened. “Well.” She reiterated. “I think it’s going well. Aunt E is unbelievably specific.” Marinette’s hands clutched the fabric of her sweatpants before releasing it, she repeated this process a few times. “She made some intern repaint a handful of leaves on a fake tree because it wasn't mossy enough. She also made a girl cry this morning, sooo we’ve been off to an interesting start.” 

“Did you have to take your earrings off?” The tiny god asked, eyes large, searching her wielder’s face. She didn’t sound angry, necessarily, but Marinette knew she would be if she lied. 

The bluenette bit down on her lower lip, gaze fluttering down to the floor. “Yes.” She said, voice laced with a heavy sigh. “But only for thirty minutes or so.” 

“Marinette...” The kawami sighed. 

“Edna was insistent I wear her earrings!” The girl quickly defended. “I tried Tikki, I really did but she was so-so...insistent.” 

The small god stared at her obviously anxious choice. “That was very dangerous Marinette.” Her voice was still very gentle in nature.

“I know.” Marinette kept her eyes on her feet. “And I’m sorry, really sorry.” 

Tikki was quiet for a long moment before letting out a large breath, flying a little closer to the girl. “You’ll have to have them off again for the rest of the shoot, won’t you?”

“Again, I am so sorry.” 

“Marinette, having the earrings off is very dangerous.” Tikki reiterated. “Don’t you remember what happened last time?”

“Of course I do.” Marinette scrunched her hands into her sweatpants again. “But I did think up a plan!” She added quickly. “Since I have to take them off again, I’m going to hide them here in my room. That way you can watch over them and they aren’t floating around in a room full of strangers.” 

Tikki floated back down onto the bed. “I suppose that would be the best option. Do you know where you’ll hi-” A very solid knock came from her door, just two taps, but Marinette already knew who would be behind it. She walked to the door, then turned about to tell Tikki she wouldn’t need to hide, but the god had already vanished. 

She opened the door, revealing one Adrien Agreste, a sheepish smile on his face. “Is yours half as mad as mine?” He asked as Marinette stepped aside, letting him into the room before shutting the door behind him. 

“I’d say more disappointed, but I haven’t told her everything yet.” 

Adrien winced at her words. “I can come back later once you have.” He offered, to which Marinette gave him a look. 

“Definitely not.” 

“Damn.” 

“What happened to pretending it didn’t happen?” Suddenly Tikki was floating in the middle of the room again. “Acting like you didn’t know?! Not discussing it directly!?” The Kawami huffed. “Marinette there are only so many loopholes we can go through before you blatantly just break the rules!” 

“I’m sorry!” Marinette whined. “But I didn’t know what to do!” She took several steps forward. “Edna made me take off my earrings and I had to give them to someone! I couldn’t just set them down somewhere and risk them getting stolen or falling on the floor or something! And yes, Edna offered to hold them or suggested I let Uncle Bruce do it but, full disclosure I don’t know if I trust either of them with a miraculous. Like Uncle Bruce is very curious and I just couldn’t risk it!” Both Adrien and Tikki were becoming mildly concerned with how red the girl was getting, her speech increasing in speed with every shade her face deepened in color. “And Edna well I just don’t think I could ever in good conscience hand the earrings over to her! I mean yes she knows but she doesn’t understand. And in the moment, I mean you have to agree that under those circumstances Adrien was the best option since we weren’t taking photos together. But we’ll have to after lunch so I told him I had a plan and so I’m going to hide our mirac-” 

“PIGTAILS!” Marinette physically jumped back, colliding with the dresser. A small black cat like creature floating before her. “Take a breath girl.” He said. “Seriously, you’re going to pass out.” The creature turned his head towards Tikki. “Does she do this a lot?” 

“It’s not a common occurrence, but it isn’t necessarily uncommon.” The red god replied. 

“Good grief.” The black creature mumbled. “Look Pigtails, we aren’t mad. Under the circumstances, you did the best you could. Sometimes unpredictable stuff like this happens. I’m honestly surprised the kid’s pops hasn’t made him take the ring off during a photoshoot yet.”

“Marinette,” Adrien finally spoke. “You remember Plagg, right?” 

The girl’s eyes were still wide, her heart rate still slowing form the shock that had just pulsed through her body. “Y-yeah. I remember him.” 

“The two of you being aware of one another’s identities and interacting with each others miraculouses as civilians, it complicates things and if the past is anything to go by, makes things exceedingly more difficult. It’s why we find it better to keep personal things a secret. But I’m sure the guardian's already talked you through all of this stuff.”  

Marinette nodded her head, taking a step forward. 

“But,” Plagg let a breath out. “This is where we are now. And what’s most important is that the miraculouses are safe while the two of you can’t wear them. So, where’s this genius hiding spot of yours?” 

“I-I’ll get it.” She mumbled, quickly darting across the room to where her portable sewing kit was. 

Adrien and Tikki both kept their eyes locked on Plagg.

“That was surprisingly very insightful Plagg.” Tikki said, flying up to her partner. 

“I can be smart!” He retorted. “I understand the importance of our miraculouses! I don’t just think about Cheese.” 

“You just mainly think about it.” Adrien responded, pulling the tin of camembert out of his pocket and setting it down on the dresser. 

“Well yeah.”  

“Okay.” The three’s attention was directed towards Marinette as she sat down on the end of her bed, setting her now open sewing kit in her lap. Held tightly in her hands was a handmade Chat Noir doll. 

“What is that?” Plagg asked. 

“This,” Marinette held it up. “Is what I’m going to hide the miraculouses in.” She smiled, grabbing the small scissors out of her portable kit she flipped the doll on it’s side, looking for the seam before moving to cut it open.

“I-” Adrien’s head tilted. “I’m so confus-is that the doll Manon stole when she got akumatized?” 

Marinette looked up at him, the doll’s side already open. “Yeah.” She blinked before digger her fingers into the doll to pull out some of the stuffing. “I didn’t really know what to do with them afterwards. I couldn’t just throw them away, so I put them all in a trunk. I let her play with them whenever I babysit. Well, Ladybug and Chat Noir don’t live in the trunk. They’re usually either on my desk or the shelf above my bed.”

Plagg had flown over and was now hovering above Marinette’s shoulder, Tikki sitting on her other one. “You’re going to put them inside of it?” The small black creature asked. 

“Yup.” 

“I have never seen either of those dolls in your room.” Adrien said, sitting down on the arm of one of the red chairs.

“That’s because I hide them when you come over.” She glanced up at him. “Last thing I needed was a nosy kitty teasing me about my dolls.” 

“I am not nosy.” 

“Adrien whenever Chat Noir is in my room about seventy-five percent of what he does is rummaged through my things.” She shot him a pointed look. 

“I’m curious.” 

“Your nosy.” The girl set the doll down in her lap on top of her sewing kit, she then reached up and carefully pulled out her earrings. She let out a sigh, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders as she slipped the jewelry inside the doll. 

She then looked up at Adrien expectantly. 

He stared at her for a long moment with blank eyes, blinking rapidly before finally asking. “Why’d you bring the Chat doll with you?” 

Marinette’s cheeks tinted pink as she looked back down at the doll, she put some of the stuffing back in, that way the two miraculouses would be seperated. “I have my reasons.” She whispered. 

“Sometimes when she’s trying to think things out she’ll talk to it.” Tikki supplied from Marinette’s shoulder. “The whole identity thing has been on her mind a lot lately so she’s been talking to him quite a bit.” 

Marinette’s face grew more red as Plagg laughed. “That’s hilarious!” The creature cackled. “This one just confesses his undying love to the poster he has on the backside of his closet door.” 

“Okay!” Adrien stood quickly, slipping his ring off his finger and placing it in Marinette’s waiting palm. “Let’s just hurry up and go get lunch.” He turned away from her quickly, trying to hide his own blush behind his hand. 

Marinette silently slipped it into the doll, then replaced the rest of the stuffing. She was quick to thread a needle with some black thread then set to work repairing the doll. 

Both Kawami’s watched the girl closely. “This is actually a pretty sound idea pigtails.” Plagg muttered. “Unless of course someone obsessed with dolls get akumatized. But Hawkmoth should be out of range so, we should be fine.” 

Marinette hummed in agreement as she finished her stitch. “Good as new.” She whispered, twisting to set the doll in the middle of the small nest Tikki had made. 

“Should we be worried that there aren’t any heroes in Paris right now?” The god of creation asked, unknowingly inciting panic in her chosen. 

“Oh my god.” Marinette’s eyes widened. 

“I didn’t have a lot of time before I left,” Adrien turned. “But I was able to get a message to Master Fu with Plagg’s help. So he knows we’re both gone.” Adrien stuck his hands into his pockets. 

“If there’s trouble, then he’ll probably just call on one of the random holders you’ve been using every now and again.” Plagg added. “But I doubt Hawkmoth will try anything, and if he did, he'd probably call the akuma back once you two didn’t show.” 

“That’s true.” Tikki whispered. “Not much use terrorizing Paris when the objects your after aren’t even there. Still though, now that you two are aware of one another’s identities, I implore you to avoid being out of the city at the same time in the future. Just in case.” 

“Well it’s not like I planned on leaving.” Adrien said. “I found out like barely an hour before I boarded the plane to come here.” 

“Just a tip for the future.” Tikki added. 

“Are we watching Yo soy Betty, la fea?” The three looked back at the nest where Plagg had obviously made himself comfortable. “I love that show!” He looked up at Tikki excitedly. “Where are we right now?” He asked. 

The Kawami sighed. “He’s staying here then?” She asked, looking between the two humans. 

“We figured you’d both want to stay close to your miraculouses.” Marinette explained. 

“And we also thought that since you two hadn't seen one another in awhile, you’d want to hang out and catch up.” He smiled sheepishly. “Do you mind?” 

Tikki let out a small huff and rolled her eyes at the excited kitten rolling around in her nest. “I suppose not.” She slowly flew down and situated herself next to him. “But no cheese in my nest.” 

“Ahh! Tikki! That’s not fair!” 

…

It was so strange. Chloé Bourgeois, one of the most difficult and least liked people on the planet, a self given title, had only made two friends throughout her entire life. The first was Adrien, the two had known one another practically since they were in the womb. Literally. Emilie was pregnant on her wedding day, not that anyone save for maybe four people alive knew that, and Chloé was conceived after the reception. They’d always been pushed together, the girl’s mother lobbying hard for a relationship to bloom between the two. But Adrien was her oldest and dearest friend.

Sabrina was her second friend. She’d met her when she was ten. Chloé had made a girl at the park cry. The way Sabrina stared at her, eyes wide, drinking in the scene and raw emotions of anger and sadness radiating off the other two was one of the creepiest things Chloé has ever seen. So of course, she had yelled at Sabrina, she didn’t like the way she was being ogled at. The next day Sabrina had transferred into Chloé’s class. The ginger latched onto her, becoming a constant companion. Until Chloé tried to be better, then Sabrina moved on to Lila. 

Yet, in under twenty-four hours Jon Kent had proclaimed himself her new best friend. She’d opened up to him more than anyone else she’d ever known, even her therapist of three years didn’t know as much about Chloé as this random boy from Kansas now did. And everytime she said something bad about herself he would correct her. Everytime she said something bad about someone else, he forced her to list three things she liked about them. She’d never known anyone like him. The strange spell he had over her was so confusing. She honestly had no idea how they had gotten here in such a short period of time. But she didn’t hate it.

She sat across from him at one of the circular tables in the Mode cafeteria, now dressed in her sweats with her hair up in a clip. The metallic makeup still decorating her face. Her lipstick stained the rim of the white mug she sipped her coffee from as she watched the boy across from her animatedly rant. 

“Seriously though!” Jon banged his fist against the table, making both of their trays of food shake. He had been ranting about flannel the whole time they’d been in line. At this point, Chloé didn’t think anything was going to get him to stop.

“Plenty of high end designers resent the material, it’s got a stench of the midwest and middle class reeking off of it.” She sat her cup down. “My mother finds it personally offensive. She’d probably disown me if she ever saw me in it.” 

Jon stared at her for a long moment, eyes wide and blank before he finally spoke. “I’m going to buy you so much flanel, what’s your favourite colors?”

“Gold, yellow, baby blue, and duke blue.” She crossed her arms. “Please God, don’t buy me anything. Especially flanel.” 

“I’m gonna get you a yellow and blue one.” Chloé let out a large groan as the Kansan beamed at her. 

“Hey Chlo.” She looked up, making eye contact with one Adrien Agreste. His smile radiating that pure sunshine he was famous for. “Hi Jon.” 

“Hey Adrien.” Jon smiled back, sticking a spoonful of chocolate pudding in his mouth. 

“Mind if we join you?” Chloé’s eyes immediately flicked behind the blonde where Marinette Dupain-Cheng stood, partially hidden behind the tall model, tray in her hand.

“Course not!” Jon chimed after a thick swallow. “Got a big table because I figured all six of us would want to sit together.” Adrien walked around the table to sit between Chloé and Jon, while Marinette sat between the two on the other side. 

Chloé quickly noted the lack of earrings on her person. It was strange seeing her without them, she honestly couldn’t remember the last time she saw the girl’s naked lobes. Her eyes then darted to Adrien’s hand, now resting on the table. No ring. 

They must have stashed the jewelry away somewhere safe before coming down. She was more than a little relieved that an anxiety inducing scene like the one this morning would not be repeated. She swore her heart rate quickened every time she saw the two slip their miraculouses into one another’s hands. But the idea of two of the most powerful things on earth being left unguarded somewhere in the Mode building was somewhat unsettling as well. She’d just have to trust in the two’s intuition she supposed. Not much else she could do anyway.

“So, what were the two of you chatting about?” Adrien asked, breaking the silence that had fallen over the table as the four began to eat their meals. 

“Oh.” Jon perked up. “I was just talking about how I was gonna buy Chloé a whole bunch of flannels.” He smiled at her cheekily. “Then we can wear them around and match so everyone knows we’re best friends.”

“Definitely not.” Chloé snapped quickly as Adrien began to laugh. 

“I think I would honestly give you one of my kidneys if you got this girl into flannel.” The blonde continued to laugh as he began cutting into what looked like chicken. 

“It’s not the worst material in the world.” Marinette said, voice somewhat quiet. “It’s just hard to work with when your designing for people willing to pay millions.”

“Exactly what I said!” Chloé shouted. 

“You said it smelled like the midwest and middle class.” Jon corrected.

“Yeah,” Chloé crosses her arms. “It’s the smell that makes it difficult to sell to millionaires.”

“I don’t even want to think of what my father would do if he saw me in flannel.” Adrien added before taking a bite of his food.

“Geez, what is with y’all’s parents?” Jon asked. “My dad wouldn’t have the slightest problem with me wearing flannel.”

“Does your dad regularly wear flannel though Jon?” Chloé asked. 

“Well yeah,” the boy stirred his spoon around what remained in his small bowl of pudding. “But my mom kind of hates the fabric. But she doesn’t get mad at me when I wear it!”

“Ah, but you see young one,” Marinette interjected. “Your parents care about you.”

“My father cares!”

“That you look good.” Chloé snorted. “Seriously Adri, it’s okay that your dad doesn’t love you. In fact, I think I’ve been doing much better since I accepted the fact that my mother can’t stand me.” The table went silent, Chloé preoccupied with her coffee didn’t noticed until she had set her cup back down. “What?” She asked, looking around at the concerned faces surrounding her. 

“Chlo…” Adrien reached out for her hand. 

“She cares Chloé.” Marinette whispered. “On some level, all parents care about their kids.” 

“She’s right.” Jon added. “She may not show it but your mother loves you Chloé.” 

The blonde rolled her eyes, pulling her hand away from Adrien’s. “It’s really not that big of a deal anymore. I’ve accepted it and I’ve moved on.” She turned her face away from the group. 

“Chloé-” Marinette was interrupted by a tray being slammed down on the table. They all looked up to see Damian who was pulling a chair up and sitting down between Marinette and Jon. 

“I hate this.” He said, monotone voice laced with rage. 

Colin quietly pulled up a seat, opting to sit between Adrien and Chloé. “Blood pressure dear.” The redhead mentioned, picking up a white mug that fizzed like a soft drink and taking a long sip from it.

“Hate what?” Marinette asked. 

“This.” Damian’s eyes squinted, hands extending. “Did Enda tell you what she did?” He asked. 

Marinette turned forward, fork poking at the pasta on her tray. “I think we’ve already established that Aunt E shared very little of what was happening during this trip with me.” 

“Alexander Galbaki has these fraternal twins in his family.” Damian began to explain, fist clenched around his fork. “I forget their names, it’s like russian or german though. But their our age, a girl and a boy who are never seen not with one another.” 

“I’m betting on a twincest situation.” Colin piped up, setting his cup down. 

“Does that happen in real life?” Jon asked. “I thought it was just a fanfiction thing?” 

Colin shook his head. “We looked up their instagram while Titus ate, they are like all over each other, it’s seriously nauseating.” 

“What do these creeps have to do with Edna?” Chloé asked, leaning forward and resting her chin on her fist. 

“Edna decided to have Marinette and I be her models for this after she found out that Galbaki is releasing a collection the same night as her runway!” Damian threw his hands out in front of him, his face clearly expressing that they should all be understanding his frustration. 

“And the twins are headlining it?” Adrien finally asked. 

“YES!” he screamed. 

“Oh.” Marinette nodded. “She wants us to compete with them.” She nodded a little faster. “That makes sense.” She twirled some pasta on to her fork. “Why is this pissing you off?” 

“She could have told us!” he stabbed his fork into his salad. “Seriously! If I had known I had a target on this trip I would have researched in advance.” He grumbled as he shoved his fork into his mouth. 

“Vanya and Demitri.” Colin sounded, Damian’s phone in his hand. “See it’s gross,” He showed the phone to Chloé, the screen displaying two very pale teenagers with platinum blonde hair. The girl was in a very skimpy white bikini her long hair straightened and reaching her butt, black headband holding back her bangs and a pair of high end sunglasses covering her eyes. She was seated on the lap of another very pale teenager in a pair of black swim trunks. His almost white hair swept back, sunglasses covering his eyes as well. One of his hands was weaved around the girl’s waist, the other resting on her thigh. 

“Okay ew.” Chloé mumbled as Colin shifted to show Adrien the picture. 

“I mean,” The blonde scratched at his head. “Yeah, that doesn’t look great but it’s just one picture-” 

“They are all over each other in pretty much every post.” Colin interjected. “It’s gross.” 

“So stop looking at it.” Marinette stated matter-of-factly. “No one is making you insta stalk them.” 

“We need to do research!” Damian growled. “I need to be ready to take them down at a moments notice.” 

“Dames is just pissy because Demitri is taller than him.” Colin said with a roll of his eyes. 

“He is a freakishly tall human being!” 

Colin leaned over to Chloé. “He used to be like way short when he was little, even though he’s shot up like a weed he’s still got short man syndrome.” He whispered, the girl quickly covered her mouth to stifle her giggle. 

“Speaking of insta stalking.” Chloé said through her breathy laugh. “Have we gotten any more updates on the drama back home?” She asked, question pointed towards Adrien. “Last I heard Lila was telling everyone she was Damian’s secret girlfriend?” 

“Has she upgraded form unrequited love to secret girlfriend?” Marinette asked, eyebrow cocked as she leaned forward on her elbow. 

“Something like that.” Adrien breathed tiredly. “According to Nino the girls have been asking none stop questions and the story just keep growing.”

“Growing how?” Colin asked, eyes narrowing. 

“Well, for one she’s been referring to him exclusively as Dami-Bear.” 

“Wow.” Damian stabbed at his salad again. “I hate that.” he shoved it into his mouth. 

“And she also told a very long and dramatized story about the two of you in Grease last summer.” Adrien glanced to Colin and then Damian before his eyes landed on his tray of food. “Nino didn’t repeat verbatim, but it apparently wasn’t really family friendly.” 

“Oh I’m gonna break her nose.” Chloé jumped when Colin’s fork snapped in half.

“Blood pressure darling.” Damian quipped, receiving only the dirtiest of looks from his boyfriend. 

“It could be worse.” Jon held up his hand, like he was trying to calm Colin from across the table. “She could be posting this stuff online or something, at least it’s contained to their class, right?” 

“I don't know.” Marinette hummed. “She’s got a lot of followers in school, not just our class.” She looked down at her food, brows knitted together. “Dames, you have international coverage, right?” 

“That might just be the dumbest question you’ve ever asked me.” 

The bluenette rolled her eyes. “Can I texted some friends from your phone?” She asked dryly. Damian only shrugged, gesturing across the table to Colin who still had the smartphone. The boy was quick to pass it over. 

UNKNOWN: You arent gonna believe this

New Contact: ??? 

New Contact: who?

UNKNOWN: Its Marinette.

UNKNOWN: dont freak out

UNKNOWN: but Im textng from Damian Wayne’s Phone

Marinette held out the phone, leaning close to Damian and smiled wide. The boy looked up at his phone, camera app open and focusing on him and his cousin. His face remained expressionless but he held up a simple peace sign as she snapped the photo. Marinette then quickly sent it off to the number she was texting. 

UNKNOWN: proof

New Contact: GIRL?!?!?!

New Contact: WTF!?!!?

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(part 1)  (part 2)  (part 2.5)  (part 3)  (part 4)  (part 5)  (part 6)  (part 7)   (part 8)  (part 9) - Here  (part 10)

Photoshoot Part 2! I don’t know why I thought I could fit this all into one part. Like seriously, what was I thinking? I also miss calculated how long these three sections would be, the next Incredibles Cameo will be in the next part for sure. Writing has been kind of hard this week but my mind has been racing with ideas. So buckle up y’all cause there are now some big plot twists that have wormed their way into my mind and have been embedded in this fic. I’ll be curious to see if anyone can see them coming ;) Thank you all so much for the comments! They always make me smile and get me motivated to write more! As always if you have any questions about the story or AU feel free to ask, I love getting them and will happily answer any question you got! And if you want to be tagged let me know! 

Can y’all guess who Mari is texting?

@graduatedmelon @northernbluetongue​ @violatiger8​ @bamagirl513​ @vixen-uchiha​ @beaversuenightly​ @tumbling-down-hills-and-stuff​ @todaylillypads​ @laurakinneylance​ @vgirl-10123​ @wellcrud-blog-blog​ @silvergold-swirl​ @crazylittlemunchkin​ @an-ahez​ @queencommonsense​ @ladybug-182​ @meganemily231​ @driftingmoonlitpetals​ @kand-roo​ @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry​ @theatreandcomicfreak​ @paradoxal-occurance​ @miraculousl4dybug @thanks-captain-obvious​ @sassydepression​ @multishipper1needshalp @wegan97​ @surprisebishhhhhhhhh  @redscarlet95 @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @synnesstra @fandomkitty8 @tired-yeetling @saluteswifties @kanamexzeroyaoifangirl @dast218 @naclychilli @royalchaoticfangirl @panda3506 @nataladriana9 @shreky-boi @my-name-is-michell @dawnwave16

[snappedsky]

Fanatics 72

Devi and Johnny attend a fancy party. Previous! Next!

--

The Social

           “-it’d be a great opportunity-.”

           “Mom…”

           “-there’ll be lots of people-.”

           “Mom.”

           “-you might even meet a man-.”

           “Mom!”

           Devi buries her face in her hands. During their one year trip through space, she found herself missing her family and resolved to visit them when she returned. Now she’s very much regretting that decision.

           “I’ve told you a million times,” Devi says sternly, “I hate. Going. To parties.”

           “I know, dear,” her mom, Marylyn, replies calmly, “but after your yearlong disappearance, don’t you think it’s time you finally did something with your life?”            Devi groans. She didn’t tell her parents the truth behind her trip- not that they’d believe it- so they think she just went on some kind of pilgrimage. Which actually isn’t that far off.

           “I am gonna do something with my life,” Devi insists, “I’m an artist, remember.”            “But when was the last time you made any money off your art?” Marylyn asks.

           She sputters, offended. “We-it-it-I-I haven’t a chance yet. I just got back two weeks ago. Things will pick up.”

           “Devi,” Marylyn says sternly, “I really wish you could follow your dreams but you need to be realistic. You have bills to pay, groceries to buy. You don’t wanna end up homeless, peddling your paintings on the street, do you?”

           Devi groans with annoyance.

           “Now, at this social, there will be plenty of upper management workers for many high level businesses,” she continues, “if you were to meet them, they could put in a good word for you and you could get a very high paying job.”

           “Great, be a desk jockey,” Devi growls, “I’d rather slit my wrists.”

           “Okay, that’s enough,” Devi’s dad, Roger, finally speaks up. “Marylyn, if she doesn’t want to go to the party, you can’t make her. But, Devi, your mother is right. You need to be more realistic and consider your future.”            Devi looks away, seething with irritation.

           Later that night, she’s lying on the floor of her studio, flipping a paintbrush between her fingers.

           Making a living through her art has always been the plan and it’s always been hard. She’s had moments of weakness but she’s never wanted to give up. And where has it gotten her? The only job she had that involved painting was with NERVE Publishing, and that sure didn’t work out.

           Sighing heavily, she stares at the blank canvas hanging over her. Mocking her with its blankness. Her dad’s words swirl around in her mind. He’s always been so supportive of her. Have things really gotten so bad that even he’s losing hope?

           She sighs again, dropping the paintbrush.

---

           “You want me to what?” Johnny asks incredulously.

           “Don’t make me repeat myself,” Devi groans.

           “A party? Really?”

           “Not a party, a social.”

           “What’s the difference?”

           “It’s fancier,” Tenna remarks, leaning over the arm of his couch.

           Johnny groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why me?”

           “I don’t wanna go alone,” Devi replies, “and I can’t bring Tenna. She’ll stand out too much.”

           “And I won’t?” he scoffs, “people go out of their way to stare at me in restaurants.”

           “You at least know how to be quiet,” she argues.

           “Whaddya mean?” Tenna snorts, “I can be hella quiet.”            They both stare at her incredulously before Devi looks back at Johnny. “Look, just…come with me, please?”

           Johnny groans loudly and immaturely. “What day is it?”

           “Saturday.”

           “That’s in two days!”

           “It’s tomorrow.”

           “Fuck!”

           “What’s all this screaming about?” Cammie asks as she rolls in from the kitchen.

           “Johnny is accompanying Devi to a social,” Tenna replies.

           “Oh, wow, that takes me back,” she snorts, “I had to attend a ton of socials with my parents when I was about your age. Don’t you worry, Devi, I’ll get him cleaned up for it. You won’t even recognize him.”

           “Thanks, Cammie,” Devi smiles weakly, “it starts at 8 so you’ll have to pick me up at 5:30, just to be safe.”            “Ugh, fine,” Johnny groans, folding his arms like a scolded toddler.

           That Saturday evening, Devi does some last minute touch-ups to her makeup in the bathroom. Or she tries to, but her hands are shaking too much. So she just grips the counter in aggravation.

           “This is a bad idea,” she states.

           “Hey, maybe you’ll have fun,” Tenna suggests, leaning against the doorway.

           “Not likely,” Devi grunts as she slips by her.

           Stopping in the living room, she incessantly taps her foot and checks the time. It’s not 5:30 yet but Johnny is always late. She can’t afford to be late to this thing if she wants to make a good first impression.

           She groans and squeezes her arms as she paces around.

           “Look, D, if you don’t wanna go to this thing, then don’t,” Tenna says.

           “No, no, I-I wanna go,” Devi insists, “or…at least I should.”

           “But you’re like super stressed.”            “It’s just because I haven’t been to any kind of social event since before we went to space,” she points out, “I’ll be fine once I’m there…probably.”

           They both perk up at a knock at the door.

           “Ooh, I’ll get it,” Tenna chirps and races over. Devi stays where she is, sighing heavily and hanging her head. She looks up when Tenna exclaims excitedly and steps aside, gesturing dramatically.

           “M’lady, your date,” she says as Johnny walks in. He’s dressed in a three piece black suit and tie with his hair smoothed back. He’d be almost unrecognizable if it wasn’t for his permanent scowl and pouty slouch.

           “Don’t call me that,” he growls and faces Devi. His scowl disappears in a flash when he sees her. Her black hair has been styled to have tight curls at the ends and she’s wearing dark purple lipstick to match her beautiful purple dress with spaghetti straps and a slit up the right side, with black pumps.

           “What?” she grunts, starting to feel a little self-conscious.

           “Nothing,” he says quickly, looking away. “You uh look nice.”

           “Oh. Thanks,” she replies, “uh so do you.”            They both stare at the floor in awkward silence.

           “You two are so cute,” Tenna comments, popping up in between them before pushing them out the door. “Now get out there and have fun, you crazy kids.”

           As they both stumble into the hallway, she slams the door behind them and they look back incredulously.

           “She knows that’s my apartment, right,” Devi grunts.

           They both shrug apathetically and head out.

           After getting into Johnny’s car, they begin the 1-2 hour drive across the city, depending on the traffic which is always bad. They’re mostly quiet and just listen to the radio. But the sound of Devi’s incessant tapping on her arms catches Johnny’s attention, and he eyes her curiously.

           “So why do you wanna go to this thing?” he asks, “doesn’t seem like you.”

           Devi hesitates for a second. “…I just thought I should try meeting some people.”            “But you hate people,” he points out.

           “Yeah,” she sighs, “but it’s…I don’t know. Important, I guess.”

           “Hmm,” Johnny grunts, unconvinced, but drops the subject. For now.

          They arrive at the venue around eight o’clock. It’s in a penthouse of a fancy, expensive hotel. As they pull into the parking lot, Johnny eyes everyone going inside with disgust.

           “Prissy, self-important, sticks-up-their-asses…” he mumbles incessantly.

           “Be nice,” Devi warns, “or at least don’t do anything.”            They exit the car and go into the hotel. Both of them immediately feel out of place in such an expensive looking place, like if they just look at a vase for too long it might crack.

           They walk briskly to the elevator and enter it with two other couples in nice clothing.

           “Are you going to the social too?” one of the women asks.

           “Uh yeah,” Devi replies, smiling awkwardly.

           “I’ve never seen you there before. First time?”

           “Yes.”

           “Oh, you’ll enjoy it. It’s simply lovely. Good food, nice folk.”

           “Th-that’s good,” Devi comments, trying to be polite. Meanwhile Johnny doesn’t even try to mask his scowl.

           The elevator arrives and they exit into a large room. On the far wall is a giant window overlooking the city; the wall to their left has a doorway leading to a big balcony. In the middle of the room is a long table with lots of different kinds of finger foods and punch. And clustered throughout are groupings of rich folk, their chatter mixing into a cacophony of “stock market” and “economy”.

           Directly outside the elevator is a suited man with a notebook who is checking off the names of guests.

           “Hello there,” he says politely as Devi and Johnny approach. “Names please?”

           “Um Devi D,” she replies.

           “Ah yes, your mother said you were coming,” he says and Devi visibly cringes. “And this is?”

           “Uh this is Johnny, my…um…”            “Date?”

           They both rankle at the word but don’t argue and he marks down Johnny’s name.

           “Okay, enjoy the party,” he says and they pass.

           “Hoooookay,” Devi sighs heavily as she looks around. Most everyone is grouped up, like a middle school dance. But there are a few by themselves at the food table. They seem to be scanning the room, like her, but more analytically and less fearfully.

           A rustling by her side breaks Devi’s train of thought and she glares at Johnny as he tugs at his tie.

           “Would you stop that,” she hisses.

           “I hate it,” he whines, “a noose is more comfortable.”

           “Just-.” She smacks his hand away and takes a deep breath. “Just stay here and don’t do anything.”

           He huffs and folds his arms as she walks away to the food table.

           “Be confident,” she tells herself as she approaches a well-dressed man holding a glass of punch.

           “Hello,” she says, waving to him. “I’m Devi.”

          Her skin crawls as he looks her up and down, but she maintains her smile and he smiles back.

           “Hello, Devi,” he says and shakes her hand. “I’m James. It’s a pleasure.”

           “Likewise,” she replies, “so, James, what is it you do?”

           “I am so glad you asked,” he purrs and hands her a business card. “I am CEO of High Rise Banks.”

           “High Rise?” Devi questions as she looks at his card. They were the second biggest bank in the city, before Mussolini banks went under.

           “Yes,” James says proudly, “as you can imagine, our stocks have really risen since Celio Mussolini passed, may he rest in peace.”

           “Uh, he’s not dead,” she points out.

           “Yes, but he might as well be. His reputation is ruined.”

           Devi struggles not to roll her eyes and smiles instead. “That’s really interesting, James. I bet working in such a…lucrative bank is a great opportunity.”

           “It sure is,” he beams, “and a beautiful woman such as yourself would be a great secretary. Why don’t you give me a call sometime and we’ll set up an interview?”

           Devi fights every urge in her body to gut-punch the creep and maintains her smile. “Great. Happy to.”

           “Fantastic,” James purrs before walking away.

            As soon as he’s gone, a heavy sigh heaves through Devi’s body and her smile drops like a ten ton weight. She looks at the business card again. This is good. She probably has a high chance of receiving a job now because of this. It’s good…right?

           A heavy pit grows in her stomach as she stares at the card and she sighs again.

           “What’s that?”

           “Fu-!” she bites her tongue to keep from shouting ‘Fuck!’ as she spins around to Johnny, peeking over her shoulder.

           “I told you to stay put,” she hisses.

           “I saw you talking to that guy and got curious,” Nny shrugs, “I caught most of it. You were really talking out your ass. You don’t care about ‘High End Banks’ or whatever the fuck.”

           “No,” Devi admits as she pockets the card. “But I need a job.”

           “So you wanna work with these pretentious assholes?”

           “It’s not about what I wanna do, it’s about what I have to do,” she states and turns away. “Why don’t you eat some snacks or something and don’t bother me.”

           Johnny watches her walk away, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

           Devi spends about an hour talking to people around the party. She didn’t notice before, but most of them are rich, self-important, pompous, creepy white men, sometimes with pretty women hanging off their shoulders like a trophy. And they’re always happy to talk to another beautiful woman, especially when she keeps smiling at everything they say.

           It really leaves a disgusting taste in Devi’s mouth.

           Johnny watches the whole thing from the table, scrutinizingly observing Devi’s every move. He refuses to interfere, even when a group of women hanging around one older man laugh and insult her like teen girls, and she doesn’t snap back. Not even when another man gets a little too close into her personal space and she doesn’t even step back.

           But Johnny can feel himself at his limit when a third man starts getting too touchy. He takes Devi’s hand and starts rubbing her arm. Johnny spots Devi’s other hand twitching, like she wants to slap him. But she doesn’t.

           As the man reaches her shoulder, Johnny steps in, grabbing his arm and pulling it back.

           “Johnny!” Devi exclaims.

           “Who the-!” the man starts to bark but freezes up when Johnny glares at him. Johnny lets go of his limp arm and leads Devi away, despite her protests.

           “Johnny! Stop! What are you-!” she snaps as he leads her out onto the balcony, letting her go as he closes the door behind them.

           “Why didn’t you punch that guy?” he asks, “I can tell you wanted to.”

           “Of course I fucking wanted to,” she snaps, “I want to punch everyone in there! But I can’t. I’m trying to get these people to like me. And I told you to stop bothering me!”

           “Then why’d you bring me here!”

           She stops, unable to answer.

           Johnny takes a deep breath to calm down. “Look. The only reason I didn’t snap that guy’s arm and disembowel him with the punch ladle is because I know this is important to you. But I’m not just gonna watch you degrade yourself.”

           “What choice do I have?” she asks hopelessly, “nothing has been working out the way I want it to. I need a job if I’m gonna survive and art is just…is not working out.”

           “Have you even tried?” Johnny asks, “we just got back from space like a week ago.”

           “Two weeks.”

           “Whatever.”

           Devi sighs and looks off the balcony silently, rubbing her arms from the chill of the night air.

           “Why are you trying to be this person?” Nny asks, “what happened to the badass Devi who never took anyone’s shit? Who helped sabotage an alien ship? Who kicked my ass?”

           Devi chuckles lightly but quickly grows somber again. “I don’t know. Maybe my parents are in my head but…I just think…maybe I should start acting like an adult.”

           “And who decided this is what being an adult is?” he questions, gesturing to the party. “Granted, I don’t know what it is, but it doesn’t have to be this. Right?”

           She doesn’t reply, just looks into the party forlornly.

           Johnny sighs and leans against the railing, folding his arms. “Look, I’m not gonna tell you how to live your life. If this is what you want, I’ll…I’ll stay out of it.”

           Devi smiles at him gratefully and looks back at the party, then at the city skyline off the balcony. What does she want?            “Right now…” she mumbles, “all I want is to…enjoy this view.”

           Johnny looks at her with surprise before turning to the city. “It is a nice view.”            They stare a second longer when the door opens.

           “Devi, everything okay?” James asks as he walks out.

           “Uh, yeah,” she replies, “everything’s fine.”

           “That’s good,” he says, “so, listen, why don’t you join me at my after party at my house? Some other guests are coming, as well as some friends.”

           “Ah, no, I don’t think so,” Devi says, staring at the floor.

           “Oh, come on,” James insists and steps closer. Johnny’s eyes narrow angrily but he forces himself to stay put. “A pretty girl like you; you’d be the center of attention.”

           James reaches forward and gently brushes his finger against Devi’s cheek, and her patience snapping is nearly audible.

           She slaps James across the face, knocking him off his feet. He’s so in shock, he doesn’t even move; just lies there, rubbing his aching cheek. Johnny is surprised too by her sudden shift, but even more pleased.

           “That’s it. That’s fucking it!” Devi shouts as she leaves the balcony, everyone staring at her with bewilderment. “Fuck this shit! I am sick of trying to live my life everyone else’s way. I’m gonna become a freelance artist even if it kills me!”

           She stomps to the food table, taking out all the business cards she’s earned tonight, tearing them to pieces, and dropping them in the punch bowl.

           “Johnny!” she barks.

           “Coming,” he chimes, stepping over the still shocked James- but not before giving him a quick kick in the gut- and racing after her. They enter the elevator and leave behind a really stunned party.

           They’re quiet as they get into Johnny’s car and drive away. Then Nny asks, “so…what now?”

           Devi takes a couple deep breaths, running her fingers through her hair. “I know where we should go.”

           A little while later, they arrive at the hill where they had their first date, a long time ago. Leaving behind their uncomfortable shoes, as well as Johnny’s tie and coat, they get out and sit on the hood.

           Devi breathes the air deeply before stretching and sighing happily, lying back against the windshield.

           “Fuck,” she breathes, “it feels like…a huge weight was just removed from my shoulders. What a waste of time all that was.”

           “Yeah,” Nny agrees, “still, pretty worth it to see you floor that asshole.”

           “Yeah,” she chuckles.

           They’re quiet for a second as they stare at the stars.

           “Thanks for coming with me,” Devi says.

           “No problem,” Nny replies.

[trinidother]

Mommy Minerva's Blacked Afternoon

For single house-mom Minerva Grimsly, life was a damn constant battle between boredom and bliss. Nothing really satisfied her. She became pregnant at 17, then later took to raising what ended up being two daughters all on her own. Was she going to settle though? Hell no. If there was one thing Minerva knew she wanted, it was everything.

She wanted everything. She wanted a good job, a nice house, and happy, healthy children. That was easy, and something she always flaunted. She was a successful, refined, classy, self-made woman in all respects. Miss Grimsly, at the tender age of 35, owned her own house, 4 cars (two for her daughters, one grocery-getter, and one for fun), and had the best dress sense of any woman in the neighborhood. Some even said the city.

Her curves, a lot like her rich, raven hair and endless ocean mist-gray eyes, were what some might call excessive. She had a huge, round, and perfectly form-fitting ass. The same could be said for her perfect breasts, which sat round, bouncy, and 100% real on her toned torso with a visible rib cage and soft tummy. If it wasn’t for those curves, her striking eyes and fashion sense would’ve landed her on catwalks for billion-dollar italian luxury brands. But it seemed she was much happier with her life now.

Because she got everything she wanted.

And that wasn’t like most people in her upper-class neighborhood, who’s external success hid some secret pain inside. Oh, Minerva had secrets, sure, but not the painful kind.

Her main secret to success? Along with being an absolute bombshell with enough explosive punch inside to flatten a good city block, she was also a massive hypocrite.

Minerva Grimsly was an outspoken moral woman. Her business would donate plenty of it’s ample revenue to charities, she always made her daughters promise to never date a guy they wouldn’t marry, and, likewise, to promise not to flaunt their wealth at school. And she did a great job at all that. As for when she was alone, in secret?

Let’s not mince words; perfect mom Minerva Grimsly was also a whore who liked getting fucking railed by massive cocks. The bigger, the better. The blacker? The way better.

That’s what she was doing right now, in fact. Well, that’s not true; she was actually in her bathroom, wearing some lingerie black as her hair, throwing away a pack of condoms. It was full. Was she throwing it away because she knew the mandingo stud she had waiting in her bedroom was way too big for those little condoms, or because she wanted the feeling of his gargantuan black cock erupting against her cervix? We may never know.

But what we can know is that Minerva wasn’t stupid. She never bought condoms that weren’t XXL. Of course, this is a black guy we’re talking about. Even if the condoms were max size, that doesn’t exactly give credence to either possibility. Minerva sure knew how to pick ‘em though.

She looked at herself in the mirror. She looked lovely, of course, but that much could be said about her 24/7/365. Minerva had no delusions about her appearance, even when she wasn’t in perfect makeup, with her glasses perfectly even, black opal earrings on, pearl necklace around her neck as tight as a teenage girl with daddy issues’ choker, and of course, that lingerie. She looked nicer now, to fuck some random black guy in her bed, than she did for 90% of business functions. Why shouldn’t she? This was the most important part of her day.

The time when she got to feel satisfied.

And make no mistake. Just as Minerva knew as she puckered up her red-lipsticked lips, you should know that ‘part of her day’ wasn’t figurative. She brought home a new fuckbuddy every day almost. Sneaking around her daughters was stressful, sure. It would be horrible if she was caught fucking a man she barely knew, especially a black one. She would be totally exposed as a hypocrite, and her relationship with her daughters that she worked so hard to perfect would be ruined.

But on the other hand, big, hard, nigger cocks drilling deep into her soft, pliable, white MILF holes? Yes fucking please.

So she indulged. She got her daughters on their merry way, leading the active, healthy lives of physically fit white suburban teenagers, while she got her pussy impaled by some oversized black man she picked up while zipping around in her convertible. A hypocrite and a liar. And a happy one.

Today, her daughter, Maddie, was out on a date with her boyfriend. He was a sweetheart, a nerdy, academic little white kid. He also ran track, did extracurriculars, and was generally liked. The perfect little white boy for Maddie to date. The sort who bought a 10 year old economy car with his own money for a summer job. The sort who asked for books for christmas. The exact sort of unassuming boy Minerva would like her daughter to marry and be happy with.

Minerva, of course, could never do that. That sort of boy was what she called a wimp, the sort of loser who she wouldn’t look twice at, ever. Not just because he was white, but because he was so bookish, so polite. It was rude of her to admit, but white guys like him? All they did to Minerva was make her panties dry right up. And Minerva never liked feeling dry panties.

Still, Maddie liked him, so Minerva genuinely wished them the best. Just like she genuinely couldn’t wait for the hung black stud she had waiting for her to make her fucking sore in the morning, only to have her do this again next afternoon.

“Alright,” she breathed, looking herself over in the mirror. She spun around and pushed a finger up against the underside of her soft, round butt. Barely a jiggle. “Good!” she breathed. Her body was more than good. It was fucking perfect. She was sure her daughters were happy she didn’t wear revealing clothes in public (much), or every boy in school would be drooling after her bountiful tits and plump rump.

She slid open the sliding door connecting the master bedroom and the bathroom. And struck a pose too, with her arm on the doorframe, hips cocked to the side, and of course, chest hanging out. “Sorry to keep you waiting, stud,” she said, able to fucking taste her thick, cherry-red lipstick.

On her overpriced, over decorated, TempurPedic-matteresed bed was her ‘friend’ Tyrone, totally naked, relaxing back without a care in the world. If there was a word to describe him, it’d be ‘full’.

Minerva was curvy, with a tiny waist (though not as tiny as it used to be…) and pillowy assets, but all of her was fucking dwarfed by Tyrone. If that was even his real name.

He had big, full pecs, with equally rounded shoulders. His thighs? Just as massive, along with that big belly, a sign of a good diet and hard work. It even had defined abs. Everything about him looked stuffed to the brim. To call Minerva’s ass plump next to this superior man would be criminal. She was happy she had enough to please him. There was a reason she only fucked black.

“Took you long enough babe. I was almost thinking you were trying to trick me.” He said. His lips were just as full and plump, with the sort of cruel sneer that made every white boy shrink in fear and every white girl’s panties wet. As you know, Minerva lived to feel her inner thighs get soaked.

And we didn’t even describe his cock.

Flaccid; or, as flaccid as that thick, sturdy hunk of dark brown meat could get, it was still a tough slab of flesh that was halfway as long as his thigh, and fittingly fat. “Sorry babe, I just wanted to make sure I looked perfect for you. After all, you already do.”

“Hah!” he grinned with large, white teeth. Even if he was a toothless hobo, Minerva would have still probably fucked him. She’d tell herself she wouldn’t, but when there was a stream flowing out of her panties, she couldn’t resist. “Well, I’m happy to look so perfect for a beautiful lady like yo-self,” he boomed. He looked over his prize proudly.

“You flatter me,” she said smuggle. Of course, she also bobbed her shoulders up and down, just so Tyrone got a view of those double-d’s bouncing. With a poofy sound on the fluffed covers, Minerva got to her work fluffing this bulls massive cock. Sure, it was as big and fat as her head, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t try to blow it.

“Ahh fuck yea,” he moaned as her lips went around his cockhead. He pushed her head down on that massive cock. She drooled all over it, which made his dark, ashy cock gleam with the afternoon light from her windows. “I was waiting so long this thing got cold.”

She pulled up. She was used to cocks being so big she gagged on them, but this one was so thick that she couldn’t even get his head to touch her uvula. The big veiny shaft got real fat real fast. Too fat to actually fit past her lips. It hurt her cheeks to even try and stretch that much.

“What’s wrong? Can’t deepthroat it?”

She pulled off with a loud, wet gasp. “Ah- heh- I’d give twenty grand to any girl you can find that can fit this fucking moooonster down her throat,” she laughed crazily with her head by its side. She sucked her juices of his veiny shaft loudly. The big black cock lived up to its name and was far longer than the length between her ears.

Tyrone laughed boomingly. “Hah, no, not really. But I like to think one day some bitch’ll managed.”

After a long, loud, slurrrrrrrrrrp!, Minerva managed to tear her hungry lips off his cock. “Fuck it’s huge,” she whispered. She honestly couldn’t blame some white girls for not acting attracted to black guys. This was a chore to get off, even if she loved it. “Well, sorry honey, but that girl isn’t me.”

“Yeah, I know bitch. But you’re going good, just keep sucking.”

“Yes, sir,” she smiled with that devilish grin of a bad mommy before going right back down to serve her man for today’s black dick. She sucked down the head good, like it was one of those massive lollipops way too big for a little kid’s mouth. Though she was a tall, busy business woman, just trying to suck this black dick, even with all the experience she knew she had, made her feel like an amateur. A little girl against a real man.

At least her tongue still knew what to do. She gave him the massage of his life right on his cockhead, sure to tease the most sensitive zone on a man’s body while she looked up at him with those sharp gray eyes. She got on her knees, sticking up her curvy ass for him to see all of.

A few minutes of that felt like an eternity. She wanted it to last longer.

“Fuck baby- aw fuck yeah bitch, I’m gonna cum.”

“Yethhhh,” Minerva gasped with lust that did not fit her name. Her tongue was still glued to the tip of his tongue, tasting the precum he leaked. She forced herself to put it back in her mouth. It felt strange there; like it belonged on a black dick. “I’ll fucking swallow it all, babe.”

“Naw, naw,” the black bull huffed. He grabbed a fistful of Minerva’s raven hair, pulling her face right below his stone-hard cock. “Imma but all over your whore face.”

Those words made her ears tingle and her cunt gush. She was a whore. Respected businesswoman, mother, and neighborhood association member, was really meant to be here. She was a slut, a whore, a hole to please big black cocks. What else could Minerva Grimsly need?

She stared up at his god cock, her ass still sticking up. It began flowing. That beautiful, thick, pungent cum poured out of his dick. Fat spurts and twitches sent it flying. He cummed on her face, coating her red cheeks with his seed. His filthy, sexy semen could’ve drowned her and she would die happy. It smeared her makeup and got in her glasses. Fuck, that was hard to clean. Maybe she wouldn’t even.

“Fuck,” he huffed, dropping his head back down into the pillow, “you like that, bitch?”

“Yessir,” she breathed. Minerva licked the dripping cum off her lips as she thought of how she’d threaten to call the cops if anyone called her a bitch in public. She’d probably make a scene, like your typical spoiled suburban white work mom.

Of course, cock like this was what she really spoiled herself with.

She rested her head on his thigh, stretching her tired neck and jaw. All that work, and she barely got that monster cock into her mouth; and it was still so amazing to look at. With her face on his thigh, through just a little bit of his thick, manly hair, she got to smell that beautiful, hot aroma from his sweaty, churning balls. When she raised her eyes, she could see his black dick standing like a monolith. She wanted to get it inside of her. No way it wouldn’t turn her into a screamer.

“It’s still hard,” she muttered, more in awe than actually thinking about it. Minerva always turned her brain off when she melted into the throes of interracial pleasure.

“Yeah bitch, it is,” snorted her man, “All y’all white bitches can’t believe it,” he reached down and ruffled Minerva’s sleek hair. She accepted. “Prolly ‘cause y’all’s men can’t muster that shit, huh?”

“Please,” scoffed Minerva with a wicked grin she knew her daughters never, ever saw, “I haven’t been with a white guy in years. I went black and I’m never, ever,” she rolled over to take a long, pregnant lick at his balls, “going back.”

“So I was right?” he cocked an eyebrow. Cocky bastard. Huge-cocked too. Minerva would kill herself if her daughters brought home a man like this. She was about to cream herself.

“Wanna keep going?” she asked. The bed creaked as she climbed up onto it. She was rather desperate to distract her body, or she’d start fucking squiritng without even touching herself. How embarrassing. It happened more often than you’d expect, thanks to black guys.

“Fuck yeah bitch, you know I’m up n’ ready.” He bared his teeth. It looked like a grin, but Minerva saw it as an animalistic display of power. To tell her that he was about to rut into her and strip away what made her her. After all, she really didn’t act like she cared about it. Her money? Her career? Her family? If she really cared about that all, she wouldn’t be fucking a hung black bull every day of the week. And here she was.

“Yes, yesss,” Minerva muttered under her breath as she tossed her leg over his pelvis and straddled his dark, sweaty body. She grinded against him with enough force to strip a lesser cock to the bone. To squirt all she had to do was hump her needy pussy, shaved for ease of use, against his godcock. She did. “F-fuck- ah- ahh, fuck-”

“Shit babe, you fucking-”

“Fuck- yes I’m fucking cumming- aw!” She tossed her head back and her black hair swung. Her breasts and huge tits heaved as she panted. Was she shuddering? Probably. This guy’s name was fucking Tyrone, of course he gave her good orgasms.

“Damn, that fast?”

“Fuck,” she swore again and dropped forward over him. She stretched her neck and her arms. “I mean- yeah? But don’t let it stop you, big boy. No refractory period for us ladies, remember? I’m expecting eight or nine orgasms before the sun goes down.”

“No rubbers?”

“Hell no!” she smiled a little wildly, “I through those stupid things away!”

“Aight, you crazy bitch,” he grinned again and lifted his huge, two-toned hand to push his fat cock up against her. It pushed just a little into her slight tummy fat. “Let’s fuckin start.”

Minerva’s face grew into a crazed smile. A whole 24 hours without riding black cock, and a white woman was bound to go crazy. She bit her lower lip, held on to his strong belly, pushed up, and eased her white pussy onto that black dick.

Except she didn’t ease it. She was so slippery and wet, and her pussy had been so stretched out by constant hookups with horse-hung black strangers, that Tyrone barely had to push to shove his BBC balls deep into her cunt.

“Fuck!” they said, in perfect unison. Black career woman, ghetto thug? Perfect combo. Their hips rotated and moved. Sometimes they bounced up and down and against each other. That black dick in her white MILF body made a noticeable bulge from inside of her. She drooled, with fat glops of her saliva hitting his body the same time her thighs did. Her feet, still in heels, were on the bed, and her knees were up. Much more of this, and she would go limp, and he’d just have to thrust it into her until she had enough orgasms. His cock stretched her pussy out as far as it could go. Yeah, by tomorrow, her hole would return to its normal state for some other black man to satisfy himself in. And her, of course. She was always satisfied.

“I’m cumming!” She yelled. Thank god the house was empty. “I’m cummmmmmingggg I’m cumming I’m cumming!” From behind his girthy dick, her asscheeks clenched as tight as her pussy as she finally orgasmed. Again.

He slowed, courteous. When he fucked white women in neighborhoods like this, they were usually nervous, cheating on their good husbands and taking huge dick for the first time. He had to be kind to them, reassure them, make sure not to hurt them. Minerva was a different breed. She had none of that.

“Don’t fucking stop, are you fucking stupid?!”

Without hesitating, Tyrone raised his hand and slapped her right across the face. “Don’t you fuckin say that shit to me, white bitch. I don’t tolerate that.” He scolded as he held her face roughly.

“Yes sir,” Minerva squeaked through her pinched cheeks and puckered mouth. “Y-you can punish me for it, stud. You should- gulp- do that right now.” Her eyes were wide. Her pupils were dilated.

“Mm… I think I will bitch.” He relaxed again. Her legs slid down to the bed with her knees facing him. Easy access to slap her thigh; or spank her ass. And spank he did. That big, strong, black arm reached over, with Minerva just as scared of it as any other woman in the neighborhood. He brought his hand down again with a powerful SLAP!

“Owwww,” whined Minerva. Unbecoming for such a woman. Reduced to a horny little kid for big black cock, as usual.

“Fucking take it,” he slapped her again. Her back stiffened. SLAP. SLAP. With those, as her thick ass rippled, she started moving back. And forth.

Back and Forth. SLAP. She winced, but her juicing pussy showed how she really felt about the pain. As she went forward she lifted up a little. Her red ass now clapped on his dick again.

10 seconds later, they were going at it like animals. “FUCK YEAH FUCK YEAH FUCK YEAH” reverberated throughout Minerva’s Hobby Lobby-decorated house. She was so fucking happy to have her insides rearranged by that massive black dick. Maybe she’d bring Tyrone over for a second playdate, she almost never did that. She didn’t have time to think though. Only time to get fucked.

But then, there was what you call the twist.

She couldn’t hear it over the sounds of herself getting railed, but, downstairs and to the left, the Grimsly house’s front door was unlocked. A half a second later, as it opened, her overpriced security system sent a BEEP BEEP BEEP. Throughout the house. That she heard.

Part of living a double life was changing personas fast. When you were the most respectable woman and the biggest whore on the planet, you got good at that. So sure, Minerva Grimsly did just drop down a whole foot to take in Tryone’s BBC, but the second she heard that alarm in her ears, she jumped up, and all the chemicals in her brain triggered by their hot sex seemed like they were gone. And she didn’t like it.

“What is it?” asked Tyrone, “Someone home?”

“You heard it too, right?” Minerva was standing on her heels on her TempurPedic. Her back was hunched over to not hit her head on the ceiling fan. Her hair was a mess. Her pussy was still dripping. It wasn’t a great look.

“Yeah?” he said.

“Aw fuck, she wasn’t supposed to be home this early!” Minerva jumped on the bed and landed unsteadily on her heels to hobble over to the door, all the way praying to herself please don’t be Maddie please don’t be Maddie please don’t be Maddie; and Minerva wasn’t even a religious woman.

She opened the door and looked. Thankfully, ish, the hallway gave her a clear view straight down to the front door. And, there clear as day, was cute, well-raised, polite little Maddie Grimsly, with her perfectly milquetoast boyfriend.

And Minerva still wanted to orgasm 7 more times today.

That was gonna be an issue.

[artificialqueens]

Nostalgia, Part 2 (Rujubee) - Dartmouth420

nostalgia is a series that follows the re-ignition of raven/jujubee’s friendship (with benefits) while jujubee competes on all stars five and raven is working on set. there will be one chapter for every episode of AS5 where jujubee appears. drag names used with male pronouns.

summary: The girl-group challenge is no joke and stressed-out Jujubee needs a break. But then he runs into a certain someone in the hallway… a certain someone who leaves a mark.

warnings: smut, semi-public sex, bodily fluids, hickies

-

When Jujubee watched the episode as it aired almost a year later, he noted that the hickie was very obvious. Oh well. He would simply chalk that down to another one of his questionable shenanigans with Raven, hope nobody noticed and move on. 

The first day of filming the second episode didn’t start out particularly well. It began with Cracker deciding that he had to tell Ongina how desperately he had wanted the other queen to be in the bottom, which was goddamn irritating. Jujubee gave Cracker some healthy side-eye for his bizarre behaviour.

The girl group challenge was difficult, writing and recording original lyrics, and then doing original choreography was time consuming and exhausting. And then Jujubee had to look good and stand out among nine other queens. 

After re-explaining the assignment to India who hadn’t seemed to understand it, Jujubee decided now was the time for a bathroom break, as much due to the actual need as the desire for a brief moment alone. One of an army of PA’s released him and he wandered down the hallway, making a turn to their designated area. 

The lip-sync format twist wasn’t sitting well with Jujubee. While seeing India compete against Yvie last week had made for an amazing show, the development was concerning. Jujubee had spent a significant portion of his prep time before the filming developing strategies for lip-syncing against any of the other girls in the room. He’d watched their performances over and over, learning their go-to moves and considering how to work around or block them. But now there were random lip-sync assassins showing at the last minute? What the fuck, Ru?

Just as Jujubee was turning the corner to the bathroom, he spotted a very familiar ass covered in a very familiar pair of tight jeans. Well, hello. The rest of Raven’s body was there as well, of course. He was talking to somebody, but Jujubee lingered in the hall as the conversation ended and Raven nodded in confirmation and then turned around.

Raven stopped dead when he noticed him, a smile growing on his face. 

Jujubee waved flirtatiously with just his fingers and said, “Hey, dumbass.”

Raven positively sashayed towards him, “Thought you were busy with filming.”

“Bathroom break.”

Raven glanced to the door next to Jujubee and then back, “How’s it going today?”

“I’m so fucking stressed out.”

Raven nodded understandingly and Jujubee glanced at his mouth and recalled their storage room tryst a few days ago. Jujubee was trying not to let the stress of the competition get to him, but it was building up today. And damn it, Raven was such a good stress release.

“Care to join me?” asked Jujubee, motioning towards the door with his head. He doubted he’d get a positive response, there was no way they’d manage to get away with it twice-

But Raven actually, physically, bit his bottom lip and inhaled sharply, and then he glanced over Jujubee’s shoulder down the hall. 

“If we’re quick-”

“We will be-”

“And no one sees-”

“Then fuck yes,” said Raven, eyes still on the hallway. “Just a sec, someone’s passing down there-” he paused, “Now.”

Jujubee pushed the door open and Raven followed him in. The small brightly lit room had a toilet, a urinal, a sink and a mirror, and an oh-so-lovely lock on the door. 

Jujubee had barely turned the lock when Raven was on him, pushing him up against the bathroom wall and kissing him aggressively. Damn. Jujubee returned the enthusiasm, enjoying it immensely since he’d missed out on the opportunity the other day. There was no makeup to ruin now. 

Raven’s hands were already wandering, sliding down Jujubee’s waist to grip his ass and grope the rapidly growing erection in the front of his pants.

Raven deftly unbuckled Jujubee’s belt and fly, palming him through his underwear, and Jujubee returned the favour, touching Raven with an oddly nostalgic familiarity. Rapid mutual hand jobs shouldn’t be a problem, it would a quick and dirty stress release and then they’d go back to work.

Raven was kissing his neck and Jujubee allowed him, enjoying the contrast of Raven’s soft lips on his neck to the quick, almost rough sensation of his hand moving on his cock. 

And then he felt a hint of teeth. 

“Don’t you dare leave a mark,” snapped Jujubee, gripping the back of Raven’s neck, “Seriously. I have enough makeup to do without covering up a hickie.”

Raven pouted and whined, “But I want to.”

“For fucks’s sake,” muttered Jujubee, rolling his eyes. He pushed Raven back and pulled his shirt up. Jujubee drew an invisible line across his chest and said, “My dress tonight will cover from there down, go at it you dumb slut.”

Raven did so with a grin, pushing Jujubee against the wall again and dipping his head to kiss and suck and bite at Jujubee’s chest, while simultaneously returning to job that was, well, at hand. Jujubee shut his eyes let Raven do his thing, reflecting once again on the other man’s blatant oral fixation. But it did feel good, as he flinched slightly at the sensation. Apparently Raven was fully intent on leaving visible marks.

Raven straightened up and Jujubee could reach him again, taking his hard cock in his hand once more and going for it. 

And again, there was something so filthy and satisfying and ridiculous to be doing this with Raven in a random bathroom while the other queens were stuck in the Werkroom going in stressful, anxious circles. Soon enough Jujubee was beginning the feel to the craved-for release. 

“I’m going to come,” said Jujubee, focusing to keep his voice steady. 

“Good,” breathed Raven into his ear. 

A few moments later Jujubee gasped and his vision went briefly white and everything was very, very good and Raven made a noise in the back of his throat and then there was cum on their hands and Jujubee’s stomach.

They stepped away from one another, going to the sink to wash off. Cleaning up afterwards was always unceremonious, considered Jujubee as he wiped the cum off his stomach with a wet paper towel. 

“Ah shit, there’s some on your jeans.”

“Oh,” said Raven, looking down, and wiping it off, “If it stains I’ll just say I spilled some lash glue, it’s fine.”

“Girl, that’s nasty.”

“Ah, shut up.”

Jujubee glanced down at the reddish marks Raven had left on his chest that were already beginning to bruise, before pulling his shirt back down and ensuring it looked neat again. They’d probably fade, and if they didn’t they’d be covered by the top of his dress. His mind was returning to the task ahead of him, worrying about lip-sync format once more.

“These twists, I swear,” muttered Jujubee, fixing his hair in the mirror, “I don’t mind the change in format, but not knowing who I’m gonna be lip-syncing against is stressful.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of the point.”

“We work our asses off in the challenges and then some random queen comes in to assassinate us for five minutes with no stakes against them whatsoever?” Jujubee shook his head in frustration.

Raven leaned back against the sink, “They’ve got some really great people on the list.”

“Oh yeah? Like who?”

“I can’t tell you, that would be cheating,” replied Raven with a smile, gently pushing Jujubee’s arm.

“Coco Montrese? Alyssa Edwards?” asked Jujubee, staring intently at Raven, hoping he could get a hint out of him, “Sasha Velour?”

Raven shrugged, lips pressed shut. Jujubee racked his brain for queens that were known for successful lip-sync assassinations. He himself would have been on the list had he not been competing. Jujubee briefly considered it from the other side, damn it would have been fun.

“Chi Chi Devayne?” he continued, “Kameron Michaels? Dida Ritz? Monét X-Change? Shangela? Manila? Alaska-”

“Stop trying to guess,” interrupted Raven, rolling his eyes. A brief flash of insecurity. Interesting.

“You?” countered Jujubee. The room seemed smaller all of a sudden, more intimate.

“No.”

But Raven was avoiding eye contact, and he was shit at lying and always had been, so Jujubee’s smile just widened and he said, “Oh girl, you are on the list.”

“No, I’m not,” insisted Raven.

“Since when are you a lip-sync assassin?” mocked Jujubee.

“I’m not!” repeated Raven, and then he laughed, “But I did well in the lip-syncs on both my seasons, thank you very much.”

“Bitch, if I’m in the top this week and that screen rolls up and you’re standing there in one of your forty-seven blonde bob-cut wigs, I’m going to fucking walk off set.”

An evil grin split Raven’s face, “Oh, I would live for the drama.”

“If it’s a Robyn song I will personally kill RuPaul,” stated Jujubee.

“But then I’d be unemployed… ” sighed Raven dramatically, dipping his head back and draping his wrist over his eyes, “… and in this economy?“ 

Raven laughed at his own dumb joke. Jujubee narrowed his eyes and watched him for a moment, considering his strategy if he had to lip-sync against Raven. He wouldn’t put it past the production to somehow wrangle the two of them onto that runway together, once again. 

"It’s going to be a fun season, let me tell you that much,” said Raven.

“I’m sure,” replied Jujubee dryly, then he pushed Raven towards the door, “Get out of here, I need to actually piss like I said I would.”

Raven huffed a laugh and unlocked the door, glancing up and down the hallway before shutting it behind him. 

“Well that was a nice long bathroom break,” commented Cracker when Jujubee finally returned to set, “Are you early season girls getting old age special treatment? They barely let me piss.”

“I got some bad chicken earlier, that’s all girl,” dismissed Jujubee. But Mariah was giving him a suspicious side-eyed look and Jujubee was well aware that Mariah was nothing if not astute. Not that Jujubee necessarily had to keep what had happened between him and Raven a secret, but it wasn’t in his best interest to reveal it to the other girls just yet.

The next day they prepared for the Skin I’m In runway and Jujubee realized at the last minute that his dress didn’t cover the most prominent hickie. Damn it, Raven. And now Jujubee was getting some very suspicious looks, so he hiked the top of his dress up as far as it would go and hoped for the best. 

But after the runway and before Shea’s lip-sync battle, while Raven was over by the judges table touching up Ru’s makeup he glanced over and eyed Jujubee up and down, giving him a knowing, flirtatious look. Jujubee just shook his head slowly, nostalgic affection rising in him again despite his better judgement.