#i also love that they clearly have a dress code of You Must Always Wear Some Article Of Blue Clothing fjeiafa

[seekingthestars]

i don’t think i’ve ever noticed before that the team blue rain guild hq has a giant We are the best team sign in their headquarters next to a little IF YOU NEVER TRY, YOU’LL NEVER KNOW poster and now i am giggling about it

[tinkerbitch69]

I have to talk about this scene from X-23 #11 and how it reads as so trans fem coded to me. TW: discussions of self harm.

during some down time Logan, gambit and jubilee take Laura shopping in Paris. This isn’t just for fun tho, this whole arc began with laura self harming in a public bathroom and all of them are trying their best to make her feel as loved as possible and yes it is so adorable. Especially gambit. If you love him, you got to read Marjorie liu’s X-23 but I digress. So it’s x meets Emily in Paris and this is how it goes.

Immediately, I read this as laura experiencing complicated and conflicting emotions about presenting in a feminine way. The fact that she struggles to find words to express how she feels about the situation and yet she spends ten minutes looking at herself in the mirror? That’s a long ass time. Clearly, it must be a little more complicated if she doesn’t get some level of satisfaction in what she see’s, right?

the ‘it feels wrong’ line carries so much subtext to me. Along with the reason brought up later in the scene that Laura is very much more of an alt girl than a high femme, there is also the possibility that she feels wrong experiencing pleasure in her presentation. This whole arc is an exploration of her shame, her guilt over being used as a ‘weapon’. the thing she was always seen as from the moment of her inception yet never wanted to be. It’s important to note Laura has a long history of self-harm in the comics that she was still grappling with at this point (something sadly all too common among trans femmes) and she has been seen to resort to that when receiving care from others or experiencing joy. I personally read her negative response in this scene as a her guilt overwhelming any potential euphoria. The part of her that tells she was, is and always be a ‘weapon’ making her feel disgusted with herself for allowing herself nice things. For allowing herself joy.

I hope you haven’t had to read too far between the lines to realise how easy it would be to swap out ‘weapon’ for man for this to be very consistent with a trans femme experience. Imposter syndrome and societal reinforcement that we are ‘invaders’ in cis women’s spaces and that our maleness is somehow innate can often result in intense feelings of shame or guilt when we try to claim femininity for ourselves. That, as a ‘man’, an ‘interloper’, a ‘dangerous predator’ it is wrong for us to experience the euphoria of wearing feminine clothes and enjoying it. Much in the same way, Laura seems to feel guilty at feeling happy because she herself is a ‘dangerous predator’, crafted to be a killer. Or so she believes. And she shouldn’t be allowed to be happy.

there’s also another significant exchange in the scene that further explains her thoughts. As Laura explains to jubilee,

That feeling that she shouldn’t be here seems to be palpable to her in this scene. That feeling that she is in a space that is not meant for her. That a woman’s changing room is no place for a ‘weapon’ like her. And then she goes on to explain how style and presentation have always been wrapped up in tricky associations of identity for her. It seems to be something she actively avoided thinking about. Allowing others to present her with clothes and gravitating to what she felt best suited her I.e punk/goth with a slightly androgynous but mostly femme-leaning bent yet she still seems to express resentment at never being ‘taught’ how to dress. An odd statement since she clearly knows ‘how’ to dress. Yet when considered through the lens of a trans feminine interpretation, this line makes a lot of sense.

Early in transition, it’s common for many trans women to feel overwhelmed by figuring out how to present themselves. Clothes shopping like this can be a daunting task especially considering they have often never been familiarised with feminine presentation. The fine points of fashion, style and what is generally considered appropriate or societally acceptable to wear in any given occasion is not knowledge that has generally been presented or even accessible to us, unlike those who were AFAB. It’s understandable that a lot of trans woman experience some level of resentment at their care givers for not providing them with an education on how to navigate these aspects of life like they would have to a cis daughter and I think at the very least, Laura holds a similar resentment in common.

Next, she expresses doubts about her clothing choices wondering if the high femme clothes jubilee has chosen for her is ‘who she should be.’ Again many trans women, like cis women, can feel pressure to fit into the patriarchal norm of what is expected of women, especially in presentation. The desire to be seen as anything other then our AGAB often necessitates a high femme presentation to deter any transphobic responses to visible ‘maleness’ or doubts surrounding our identity, either from others or ones we may have internalised ourselves. Yet that may not necessarily be how we prefer to present. There are many trans women who would probably feel more comfortable in alt clothing like Laura but think like they should present in a more traditionally feminine way. That they should want this, as women after all. That a desire to present in any other way is potentially a sign of their ‘male socialisation’ which they should be ashamed of or work to hide, at least. I think laura is definitely experiencing something like that in this scene. If she ever wants to be a ‘real girl’, to be anything other than a ‘weapon’, she thinks she must conform to the traditional ideal of femininity as closely as possible. The more she conforms the more of a person she is and the more people will finally see as anything more than a bloodied blade. And if she doesn’t, that’s all they will ever see.

Even if you choose not to read Laura as trans, the specific way this issue intertwines Laura’s shame and trauma with her complicated feelings around her choices of presentation manages to convey the complexities of a trans femme experience that I see few media do so as well as this. And that’s part of why i read Laura as trans femme.

Bonus: this scene were where laura comforts jubilee when she is distressed by what she see’s in the mirror?

That’s incredibly sweet and a very common experience among trans femmes. We love to see it. Oh yeah, forgot to mention jubilee was a vampire this whole time. thanks for listening to my ted talk! ☺️

[harrys-tetas]

Take Me Home Tonight pt 2

Word Count: 7992

Warnings: smut (piv intercourse, making out, fem receiving oral), fem!reder, cursing

Minors DNI

read pt 1 here

The car ride was pleasant. Neither of you were speaking but the sound of the radio on low was filling the silence. You looked out the window, fingers dancing in the wind like they had on the way to lover’s quarry. His hand was on your leg again, only this time on your thigh, pushing the skirt of your dress out of the way for his fingers to reach higher than they ever had before.

You notice that he continues straight on one road, instead of turning right that would lead you to his street. He really was taking you home. Your home. Not his. If he could, he would spend all of his time at your home. It always had someone over and he thought that it was filled with so much chaos and love, the complete opposite from his own. He would take every second he could away from his house. The only time he tolerated it was when you were there, though how were you supposed to know?

When he pulled up in front of your house, you noticed that both of your parents’ cars were still in the driveway.

“I thought they were supposed to be gone by now,” you muttered unbuckling your seatbelt. “You don’t have to come inside if you don’t want to. I know this isn’t what you’d probably planned would happen. I really didn’t think that they would still be here,” you begin to ramble.

“Nonsense,” he says and cuts the engine before getting out of the car himself. He must have unbuckled while you were paying more attention to the cars in the driveway. “I always love an excuse to see Jeff and Sandy,” he says with a smile and opens your door for you.

You both walk up your driveway, though you don’t get far away from him. His hand finds the small of your back, leading you to your own front door. Before you can even get your key to unlock it, the door flies open and your mom stands there looking stressed.

“Darling, I need your help. We needed to leave 20 minutes ago and I just can’t figure out what to wear,” your mom says and grabs your wrist, yanking you inside and out of his touch.

You look behind you and see him letting himself inside, taking his shoes off and setting them on by the door before he shuts and locks the door behind him. You give him a guilty smile as you’re being dragged up the stairs and he gives you an easy one back before he goes to find your dad in the kitchen.

“Steven,” you hear your dad call out and you let out a deep breath that you didn’t know you were holding in.

Your mom holds up a few dresses that are options for the night and you see other articles of clothing scattered around the room that she’d clearly tried on and hated.

“What happened to the dress that we’d picked out last night?” you ask, looking on the floor for the gold dress that she’d tried on for you the night prior.

“Your father decided to tell me about 2 hours ago that there was a dress code for the theater tonight and it’s black tie,” she says, rubbing her temples. “The amount of details that he forgets to share sometimes is alarming.”

“How about the dark blue one? The one that reaches the floor and has flowy sleeves?” you ask, pointing to it still hanging in her closet still.

“Is that black tie appropriate?” she asks and you shake your head yes. Most of her dresses are appropriate but you also know that she likes to be dramatic. Hell, the event didn’t start for another 3 hours. Your dad knew that this was probably going to happen and gave her the wrong time on purpose.

“I’ll tell you what, you get dressed and I’ll go get you a cup of water to help calm your nerves,” you say and leave the room shutting the door but not before you hear her yell something about needing something stronger than water.

You laugh and shake your head lightly and make your way down the hallway to the stairs so you can grab water. Before you make it to the stairs, and I mean they are in eyesight you are so close, someone grabs your hips and pulls you up against them in the hallway.

“What the h-” you’re cut off by a pair of soft lips capturing your own.

Your hands fly up into his hair on their own, you aren’t even controlling them at this point. You know that you should be careful about your parents but how could you even think about them when Steve Harrington’s got you wrapped up in his hold, kissing you so good you can’t even remember your own name.

Your arms wrap around his neck and he deepens the kiss, swiping his tongue into your mouth to touch yours, before breaking apart from you just as fast. His cheeks have a rosy tint to them and you’re sure yours mirror them.

“What was that for?” you whisper, suddenly shy from the way he’s looking at you.

“Your dad told me to come up and check on you guys,” he whispers back.

“That makes sense,” you nod at him and remove yourself from his arms, much to your own dismay. “I need to go get her some water, do you want anything?”

“I’ll just keep you company,” he says and swings an arm over your shoulder while you go down the steps.

It’s awkward to go down side by side considering your strides are different lengths but he makes no effort to let you move away from him. Going into the kitchen, his arm leaves your shoulders and his hand finds your back again, like in the driveway.

You move around silently, grabbing a glass from the cabinet, filling it halfway with ice, and then filling it the rest of the way with water. Neither of you speaks but you do take notice of the fact that he hasn’t stopped touching you. Eventually his hand left your back, but he’d pushed a piece of hair that had fallen in front of your face behind your ear when you bent down to get ice. His hands found your waist, chin finding your shoulder to rest on, when you were filling the cup with water. Even after the cup was full and you’d turned off the water, he still stayed like that. Neither of you moving.

“Has your mother picked out a dress yet?” you hear your dad call from the living room. His footsteps indicate he’s coming closer.

You attempt to move away from Steve but he keeps you in the same position, just moves you so you are facing the island in the middle of the room instead of towards the sink. You crane your neck in an attempt to give him a strange look but he keeps his eyes locked on your dad who just entered the room and makes conversation like this is totally normal and he isn’t acting weird.

“When I found her she was getting water for Sandy. I hadn’t heard an update on her getting ready process,” he says, shaking his head apologetically.

Yeah, because you were too busy with your tongue down my throat to ask me, dumbass, you think but feel Steve’s hands dig into your sides to get your attention. When you look at your dad you can see that he’s got an expecting look on his face which means he asked you a question, and one look at Steve’s face shows that he knows exactly what you were thinking about because his smirk is  attempting to hide the shit eating grin that would be on his face if your dad wasn’t standing there.

“I think I convinced her to wear the dress I told her about this morning,” you take a wild guess on what he was asking, and his face moves into a pleased expression indicating you guessed right. “I’m going to give this to her and hopefully convince her to come downstairs,” you say, wiggling out of Steve’s grasp and making your way back upstairs.

“So Steven,” your dad begins and you feel your neck start to flush because you can already guess that he’s going to ask about the weird ass behavior that he walked in on. “Do tell, have you heard any more of the neighborhood gossip? You have got to finish telling me about Kate Welmore and her new boyfriend.”

You hear Steve let out a breath of air, probably because he was assuming it was going to be about the same thing as you. He doesn't let his nerves show though, stepping into an easy story about your neighbor’s new boyfriend that he’d learned about when eavesdropping at Family Video. It was the only way to guarantee that he wouldn’t fall asleep while working behind the counter. You’ve already heard this story a few times before, never having the heart to tell Steve that he told you three days in a row when you went in to visit him.

When you let yourself into your mom’s room, you find her sitting at her vanity. She’s dressed in the dark blue gown that you’d originally suggested. She doesn't hear you come in, still humming to herself, a trait that you’d picked up. She’s fixing her makeup but looks effortlessly beautiful. You hope to look as beautiful as her when you’re older. She makes eye contact with you in the mirror when she sees you walking up behind her and she smiles at you.

“Ah, darling,” she says and swivels around on her stool to face you. “Did you bring me some water?”

“Of course mom,” you place the water on her vanity and grab her brush to help her fix her hair.

You brush out her hair, smoothing it to better help you put it in an updo. The amount of bobby pins scattered over the desk is hilarious but you don’t say anything, just continue to listen to her humming that started again. You end up doing a bun on the middle of her head, her bangs in the front still on her forehead smoothed down instead of the usual mess that they are. She looks stunning, with her striking blue eyes outlined in charcoal.

“You look beautiful mom,” you say sincerely and step out of the way to grab her shoes.

“Thank you, love bug. What you did to my hair looks incredible, you’ll have to teach,” she says and you agree. 

Looking at yourself in the mirror, your wavy brown hair looks like how your mom’s usually does. Accept that your bangs aren’t as dramatic. Your dad says that you both always look like artists with messy hair and paint on your hands at all times. Seeing your mom all dressed up is different, but she looks beautiful all the time.

“Can you escort me to the door?” she asks and holds out her hand. You take it and notice that it’s missing all of the usual chunky rings that she wears everyday. This time all that’s there is her wedding and engagement ring, a stunning gold band with an emerald in the center instead of a diamond.

When you make it down the stairs, you see your dad and Steve still standing in the kitchen. Steve is laughing at something, bringing a can of Coke to his lips to take a sip. Your dad hears you two coming down the stairs and turns around and he looks stunned. His mouth forms a small “o” and his eyes get wide. Your mom takes notice of this and a small flush goes to her cheeks.

“You look gorgeous, my dear,” my dad says and walks over to kiss you mom on the cheek.

“Thank you, love,” she says and grabs her purse from the table. “You better enjoy it for the night, though. Your messy artist wife that you married is coming back tomorrow,” she teases and grabs your dad’s hand to leave.

“Have a good time,” you say and kiss them each on the cheek, walking to lock the door behind them.

“Don’t wait up for us,” your dad calls behind him and your mom giggles beside him. “We’ll see you in the morning.”

You wave one more time before shutting and locking the door. When you turn around, you find Steve standing in the same spot. Only his eyes no longer look friendly like they had when he was talking with your parents, they looked hungry almost. You’d never seen them like this

You make your way over to him, stopping right in front of where he’s standing. He peers down at you, taking you all in and the way his eyes are looking at you makes your thighs clench.

“Where were they going?” he asks quietly, bringing both hands to rest on your hips.

“I think my dad had tickets to go to the theater in Indianapolis this evening,” you reply and his hands release your hips, find your wrists and wrap your arms around his neck, and then places his hands back on your hips.

“Yeah? What are they going to see?” he leans down, lips ghosting over your own before traveling down and kissing ever so lightly on your jaw.

“I have no idea. It was a new play I think,” you say breathlessly while trying to think about the stupid play instead of his lips kissing their way down your jaw to your neck. “It traveled from Chicago so I think it’s a big deal for my dad to be covering it.”

“You didn’t want to go?” he murmurs against your neck.

“Wha- why are you asking me this?” my fingers tangle in his hair by the nape of his neck.

“What do you mean? We’re just having a friendly conversation,” he says and you can feel his smirk against your throat before he sucks harshly, making you gasp.

“Oh just shut up,” you say and grip his hair harshly to bring his lips to your own.

He stops himself before your lips touch, causing your lips to fall open into a pout. He leans his head back ever so slightly and a smirk slowly forms on his face.

“What’s wrong, doll?” he whispers. “Do you want something?”

“Kiss me,” you whisper back. “Please.”

His smirk falls into a satisfied grin before he crashes his lips with yours. Your lips move together seamlessly, fitting together like they were made to. His hands pull your hips against his, nudging his knee in between your legs and your hips move ever so slowly on his thigh. Your arms tighten around his neck, making him lean over to reach your lips so you don’t have to stand on your tiptoes.

Before you know it you’re spun around so your back is touching the island instead of his. He stands up straighter, and you have to stand up on your toes to keep your lips connected.

“Jump,” he mumbles against your lips, and you do it with no hesitation.

His strong hands grip your thighs and you wrap them around his waist. He sets you down on the countertop and easily steps in between your legs, never once disconnecting your lips. He deepens it, taking advantage of your lips parting further in a gasp when one hand inches higher on your thigh, and his tongue slips in your mouth.

He tastes sweet, like the coke he was sipping on earlier. His tongue easily overpowers your own, casting you to giggle into his mouth making his own lips turn up into a smile against your own.

“Lay back for me, doll,” he whispers, leaning away from you when you first start to chase after his lips.

You look up at him in confusion, swollen lips parted in yet another pout and he leans in to kiss it off your face before whispering “Come on, lay back for me,” before you finally understand and comply.

The island is clean enough that you don’t bump into anything when you lay down. Looking over to your right you see the can of coke Steve was drinking out of earlier and the salt and pepper grinders that typically sit there. You barely have time to register anything else before you feel Steve’s hands slide up your thighs, bunching your dress up along the way.

One hand moves from your hip and inches slowly towards your center. You can feel the pool in your underwear and for once you aren’t shy- you need something done about it. You prop yourself up on your elbows to watch what he’s doing, only he’s not making eye contact. He’s looking at your underwear in disbelief, but his eyes dart back up to yours and his nerves are replaced with confidence so fast you don’t even register it.

“Can I make you feel good?” he asks and stops his hand from moving any further.

You nod your head but he sharpens his eye, so you open your mouth and say yes, quickly.

“Good job,” he says and his pointer and middle finger slide up your slit over top of your underwear. “Goddamn, you’re soaked. What’s all this from?”

“You,” you gasp, feeling his fingers swipe into your underwear and touch you without the barrier, but they slip out just as fast. “It’s always from you.”

“Yeah?” you can hear the smirk even though he ducks his head to watch himself peel your underwear off your lower body, pocketing them when he finally takes them off your feet. “Well, then let me take care of you.”

His two fingers swipe again, collecting arousal, before moving up to the bundle of nerves at the top. They make wide, slow circles that have you a whimpering mess beneath him. His upper body leans over you, one hand near your shoulder on the island so you’re caged in. His mouth is near your own but it’s like the car all over again where you’re just moaning into his mouth.

The more he circles his fingers, the more aroused you get so the slicker you feel. His finger moves around easily, building up the burning feeling in your lower stomach. His face moves away from your own, after stealing a chaste kiss. He kisses down your neck, across your collarbones, and then down your abdomen over top of your dress.

He then works his way down your side, kissing your hip that is exposed from your dress being pushed up. Then kisses down your thigh to your knee, and moves inward causing your breath to hitch. His eyes shoot up to your own, silently questioning if he can continue, and you nod your head to show that you want him to do whatever he wants to. He can have you in any way he wants.

In a split second, his mouth is on your center. He hisses your clit softly, causing you to let out a squeak in surprise which then causes him to chuckle into you. The vibrations go straight through you and one hand leaves your side to grip his hair, holding his face right where it is. His tongue dives between your folds, tasting you for the first time tonight and his own eyes roll to the back of his head, moaning into your center again. The vibrations feel even better this time, causing you to moan out loud.

The sounds of him eating you out are the only thing that you can hear, aside from your own pants and moans. You can feel the heat in your stomach building, each occasional flick of his tongue across your clit pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Steve rotates between sucking at your clit and fucking you with his tongue. Both feel heavenly and have you gasping for air. He begins to spend more time plunging his strong tongue muscle into your hole, occasionally stopping to lap up all the juices that you are giving to him. He’s acting like a starved man, this being his first meal in days. 

You can feel your butt start to slip from your position, even though his hands are holding onto your thighs. So, you swivel your hips up to readjust your potion, your clit catching on his nose and you let out the most obscene moan of the night. In turn, Steve groans into you, the vibrations causing you to see the tip of your orgasm. It’s nearly in reach, so close but also so far. The only thing that you can think of to do is grind your hips up one again, to get your clit on his nose to help in getting you to the edge. You can hear him mumble things into your pussy but you can’t make anything out, panting and moaning while continuing to grind on his face while he eats you out.

Suddenly you feel your body tense, and then a burst of white hot ecstacy courses through your veins. You stop grinding, letting his tongue work you through your orgasm. You can’t see anything, hear anything, the only thing that you can feel is his tongue licking up everything you have to offer. He slows his movements after you attempt to push his head away weakly, loosening the death grip that you had on his hair and he moves away.

Your eyes are closed, feeling in complete bliss and you feel Steve’s lips kiss softly across on each thigh and back up your abdomen. He kisses your collarbones again, up your neck and jaw, then very softly pressing kisses to your own lips until you smile and open one eye to look at him.

“Hi there, pretty,” he coos and your nose wrinkles. “You okay?”

“Mhm,” you hum, reaching your arms up behind you to stretch. When you can finally think straight you finally remember that tonight has been all about you, Steve not getting any help from you whatsoever. “Wait, what about you?” you pout up at him in confusion.

“What about me?” he squints back at you, confused about what you mean.

“You’ve been doing stuff for me all night,” you say and his eyes widen ever so slightly at the realization at what you mean. “I want to help you.”

“No, doll, it’s okay. Really,” he says and reaches up to cup your cheek.

“But Stevie,” you say and look up at him from your lashes. “I want to help you.”

Even though you think you just had an out of body experience, the thought of finally having Steve inside you is enough to get you squirming on the table. He notices and looks down at your fidgeting, looking back up to meet your eyes with a look of disbelief.

“Y/N, really, it’s okay. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he looks down, but when you cross your ankles around his waist to keep him still he glances down again before looking back up to your eyes. “Y/N…”

You interrupt him with a kiss. It starts out soft, just like all of your other ones, and you let him choose the speed at which it picks up. He keeps the kisses slow at first, not even moving his tongue for what feels like an eternity but you know it has only been a few minutes. Finally, he pushes his tongue into your mouth gently. He doesn’t fight for dominance in the same way that you two were earlier, instead he seems to just be savoring every second that you two are connected like this, like he hadn’t been eating you out only minutes prior.

Your hand that had been helping you stay balanced pushes you forward slightly so you now hold onto his shoulders tighter with your other hand, the one that was on the counter top trails from his shoulder, down his abdomen, and reaches his hard length causing him to groan into your mouth.

“Is this okay?” you disconnect your lips to ask, placing your foreheads together instead.

He nods his head quickly against your own, gasping when you grip his length tighter before palming it. Instead of sitting there moaning into the air, Steve connects your lips again, panting every so often because of the pace you set, but moans directly into your mouth instead of out in the open air.

The noises that you’re hearing, and the kissing itself, is making you incredibly aroused. You can feel your slick coating your thighs, though you don’t want to ruin this moment when he’s in complete bliss for the first time tonight. Your grip gets tighter and he lets out the loudest moan he has yet, completely disconnecting your lips and leans away from you.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” he pants and you stop your movement right away, taking your hand away from where it was.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, eyes growing wide that you did something to make him uncomfortable.

“Nothing, sweets,” he chuckles at your reaction. “I was just about to cream my pants if you kept touching me like that.”

“Well yeah, that was kind of the po-” you begin.

“Y/N,” the way he says your name makes you shut your mouth, while also making you feel like you need to shut your legs. “If you don’t want to go further it’s completely fine, I’m just bringing it up because I thought about it and-”

Now it’s your turn to shut him up with yet another kiss. You only kiss for about 30 seconds when you mumble against his lips “Steve, please fuck me.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice and nodes, scooping you off the counter and blindly finds his way up your stairs and to your room. He tosses you onto the bed, causing you to bounce and it makes you giggle. You landed on your back, hair a mess around you on the pillows, but you lean up onto your elbows and look at him standing near the end of your bed. You tilt your head to the side, quizzical, and he just softly smiles at you in return.

He grabs your ankles and pulls you down towards where he’s standing and sits you up. Silently, he grabs the hem of your dress and slowly pulls it up, you help and bring your arms over your head. Because you weren’t wearing a bra underneath, you’re now completely nude in front of your best friend for the first time ever (well, purposefully nude. You’ve accidentally walked in on each other changing over the years).

“You’re so beautiful,” he says and kisses you like it’ll be your last time ever. 

He kisses you with a fervor that he hadn’t shown you yet tonight, only separating when you pulled his shirt over his head so he wasn’t fully clothed anymore. You throw the stupid polo somewhere else in the room, knowing it probably landed on a piece of furniture that’ll make you laugh later when you find it. Your hands reach forward and blindly try to undo his belt buckle. It only took you a few seconds, struggling in the beginning but got the hang of it pretty quickly.

“That didn’t take you too long,” he mutters against your lips. “Get a lot of practice?”

“Oh shut up,” you say, kissing him harder.

You shove his pants down, and he has to do the awkward step out of the leg holes, but he’s back to focusing on you in no time. You go to push his underwear down but his hands stop you and your lips disconnect.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath, and you look at him questioningly. “You don’t happen to have condoms do you? I don’t tend to carry them around with me anymore.”

You giggle in response, and instead of giving him a sarcastic answer, you tell him that you have some in the bottom drawer of your desk, under your paints. He goes over to your desk, grabs one, and then is back over to you in merely seconds. He tears the wrapper open with his teeth, while you push his boxers down, and his length smacks his stomach.

You knew that he was big. Girls talk in high school about everything, Steve Harrington’s dick was actually a popular subject of conversation in the locker room before gym class. All of the girls had asked you at least twice if you two had ever done anything since you were so close, and they were always so shocked when you’d said no. So, they told you all the details of their nights with him, not realizing that you were seething on the inside but would never say anything out loud about it.

You’re broken out of your trance by him rolling the condom down his length, and pumping himself a few times, hissing when he brings his thumb over his tip.

“How do you want to do this?” he asks. “Do you have a preference?”

You think for a second, and then look back at the size. You think it would be the easiest for you to sit on first to get adjusted and then he could do whatever he wanted with you the rest of the night, break you in two for all you care.

“Could you lay down first?” you ask and point to the bed. “Just so I can adjust to your um size?”

He nods, and doesn’t make a snarky comment like you thought he would just at the sheer size of him. He lays down and you hold on to his shoulders, swinging one leg over his lap to straddle him.

“Never thought this would happen,” he whispers, looking up at you.

Your hair falls in your face and one of his hands reaches up to tuck some of it behind your ear. Instead of responding, you grind your hips against his length and you both moan out. You grind just a few more times to lube up his length with your own slick before stopping and lifting your hips up. You grab hold of his length in one hand, positioning it underneath you to help guide it straight in, and you sink down ever so slowly, inch by inch, gasping when you feel him nearly tear your walls apart.

“Holy mother of god,” he moans into the air, hands gripping your hips for dear life.

“Oh my fucking god,” you moan in response.

Finally, you sink all the way down. Your pelvises are touching. You have to pause and breathe, never having been this full in your entire life. You didn’t even know this was possible to feel this full, but here you are. Pussy full from Steve Harrington’s massive dick.

Once you’ve regained your breathing, you anchor yourself with one hand on his shoulder and the other on his chest. 

“I’m gonna move, is that okay?” you ask, eyes opening slightly into a squint and you see Steve’s eyes staring at where you’re connected.

“Mhm,” he groans, sounding pained but his face looks like he’s in bliss.

You slowly grind your hips in a circle, not moving up and down just yet. You both moan out at the movement, his hands finding your ass cheeks to help guide you in whatever rhythm you choose. He tosses his head back, exposing his throat while a moan rips through him.

You lean down, one hand moves to his stomach to still help stabilize you while the other one moves to his hair, and your lips attach to his now exposed neck. Your lips kiss soft kisses all over his throat, occasionally sucking small bruises into the skin. He’s a moaning mess beneath you, especially when you find his own sweet spot right on the corner of his throat. You suck harshly and his own hips buck up in response.

You sit back, making eye contact with him and you see him gulp. Eyes half lidded, he looks royally fucked out, giving you the biggest ego rush of your life knowing that you were the person that made Steve Harrington like this. Now that you’re finally used to his sheer size, you know that you can move in other ways.

You plant your knees, and slowly lift yourself up and down, in addition to the grinding, the rhythm never once faltering. Steve’s reaction is just to let out yet another obscene moan that rips out of his throat, eyes rolling into the back of his head.

“You like that?” you ask, not sure where this confidence came from considering you’re barely ever talkative during sex.

He nods at you, trying to maintain eye contact but you’re fucking him so good that he can’t even remember his own name. Even though you know he feels good, some power trip comes over you and you want him to answer you verbally. Your hand that was on his chest creeps up slowly towards his neck and you pause before touching it. His eyes get wide when he realizes what you want to do and you can feel his dick twitch inside of you.

“Is this okay?” you check in and you swear he laughs before saying yes, so you continue.

Your hand goes to his thick throat, not being able to wrap around fully, but enough that it looks like a pretty little necklace. You squeeze just a little, and his eyes flutter.

“I ask you a question,” you say, keeping the light pressure around his neck, never once cutting off airflow. “Do you like this?”

When he doesn’t answer as fast as you would like him to, you squeeze a little tighter and he finally nods his head yes, nearly screaming in response.

“Yes, yes y/n,” he moans out. “Holy mother of fuck, yeah I do.”

You can feel the fire in your lower belly growing. You aren’t one to typically get off on only vaginal intercourse but the grinding is giving your clit some stimulation. It feels amazing, but soon you’re going to have to take matters into your own hands.

Your legs finally start to get tired, but you don’t want to finish just yet so you try to position your hands better to hold more weight on them. You don’t know that Steve can tell that you’re getting tired, but he’s going to let you go for as long as you want to.

Finally, you reach behind you and place your hands on his thighs. This gives you enough momentum to bounce without your legs giving out just yet. Steve’s hands remove themselves from your ass and when you look down you can see that he’s transfixed on your boobs bouncing with each movement you make. His hands finally cup your boobs, and this time it’s your turn to moan out into the air. He kneads them, not letting either one feel left out.

“Oh my fuck,” you moan out when he pinches your left pebbled nipple.

“Yeah?” you can hear a hint of cockiness come back into his voice after having been a whimpering mess for the past however long you’ve been fucking him stupid. “You like that?”

“Yes, oh my god,” you nearly shriek when one of his fingers finds you clit.

“Have you had your fun?” he asks and before you’re even able to question him he says “Because it’s my turn now,” and flips you over.

Before you know it, you’re laying on your back and Steve is above you wrapping your legs around his waist. He wastes no time at all to pound into you, and your moans are music to his ears. He has a death grip on your thighs, keeping them open for him and you know that you’ll have bruises there tomorrow but you couldn’t care less.

“I believe I asked you a question, doll,” he says and you can feel one hand leave your hip and trail up your abdomen, over your chest, and stop just below your own throat. His eyes go to your own asking for permission and your head nods so quickly you would be embarrassed under different circumstances.

He bends now, never slowing down his thrusts, and you think he’s about to kiss you. Instead, he kisses your throat so softly you thought you’d imagined it at first before his hand moves up and wraps around your throat. The difference in your hand sizes is comical. His one hand covers your throat, and while you’re 100% sure that it makes a wonderful necklace too, this one would be more of a statement piece than your small one.

 “The question was, did you have fun?” he says and squeezes his hand right at the end causing a rush of euphoria to flow to your brain. “Come on, use your words. I know you know how to.”

You gain partial sense of your brain back, finally understanding what he’s saying and you open your mouth.

“Mhmmm,” you moan, barely able to form a coherent thought. “I d-did.”

“Well I’m glad,” he says and squeezes a little tighter, causing your walls to clench around his length and his groans in response. “But it’s time for me to have my fun. Can I have fun with you?”

You nod your head again, but the look he gives you makes you think twice and instead you choose to speak.

“Yes, yes please have your fun, Stevie,” you practically slur and you can feel his dick twitch again at the nickname falling from your lips. “Use me to have your fun.”

“Oh fucking christ,” he mutters and removes one leg from around his waist, hauling it up over his shoulder so that with each thrust his mushroom head is beating into your cervix.

“Oh my god,” you scream and your hands find his shoulders to keep you grounded.

“You feel so good for me, doll. So so good,” he grunts into the air.

All of a sudden you can feel your orgasm approaching, with barely any warning. You can practically see it, about to ram into you like a freight train.

“Steve, Steve, Steve,” you attempt to get his attention to warn him but he’s already one step ahead of you, feeling your walls nearly trap him, and he snakes one hand down in between the two of you to rub your clit in tight, fast circles. “Holy fucking shit!” you scream, letting your orgasm wash over you. Your eyes roll into the back of your head and back arches off the bed.

Little did you know Steve had been holding off his orgasm for a very long time (ever since he kissed you in the car he’d been trying not to cream his pants). While he works you through your orgasm, he finally gives in and lets himself go. Your walls milk him completely dry and his arms give out, causing him to fall on top of you. He was able to move at the last second so he didn’t crush your face, but he’s still a blanket on top of you.

You both lay there, panting. You feel him grow soft inside of you, though you’re on a different planet so you honestly have no idea what’s even going on. Steve finally leans up to look at you, the blissed out expression on your face and eyes closed. He knows you aren’t asleep but needs to get you ready in case you do fall asleep on him.

Slowly, he sits him and pulls himself out, hissing at the feeling. You squirm and it makes him feel bad, though he does get very distracted by the way your abused pussy looks all swollen from your multiple activities tonight.

You’re slowly gaining your consciousness back, finally coming too when you feel something scratchy wipe at your thighs. You try to squirm out of the way but Steve holds you still with his strong hands, continuing to clean you up.

Finally you open your eyes and Steve can sense you looking at him. His eyes dart up to you, a relieved smile gracing his lips, and he stands up quickly to give you a quick kiss on the lips before he crouches down again.

“Welcome back,” he says and you give him a tired smile in response. “Here, sit up for me.”

He grabs your hands to help you sit up on the bed, only leaving you for a second to grab the tshirt that was laid out next to you to help you put it on. He has already put on his boxers and sweats that he leaves here for the times he spends the nights unplanned, which happen more often than not.

“Come on, you need to get ready for bed,” he says and scoops you up effortlessly in his arms. 

You’re glad because you know your legs wouldn’t have worked even if you begged them to, so you just let him carry you. He sits you on the toilet so you pee, then helps you move around so you can brush your teeth and wash your face. It’s like he knows your own nighttime routine like the back of his hand. When you make it back to your room, you launch yourself face first onto your bed, ready to let sleep wave over you. You don’t even feel Steve get in after you, or hear him turn off the light. You just feel his strong arms wrap around you and pull you closer to him.

When you wake up, the bed is empty. The first thing that you think is that you had an insanely wet dream about your best friend that you need to forget about. But then you see his polo hanging off the top of your bookshelf and his jeans on the floor by your desk chair. All the memories of last night come flooding back to you and your cheeks heat up.

Instead of sitting in your room, stressing out over what happened, you decide to pee and then eat something so you can think everything through level headed. Only when you go to stand up, your legs nearly give out. You curse under your breath because you don’t know if your parents are awake and while you know they won’t care, you’d rather not have them think you’re grown up just yet.

You slowly make your way to the bathroom, peeing and then brushing your teeth. You look in the mirror and your hair is a mess with a mix of bedhead and everything that went on last night. You attempt to smooth down the friz but you did get your mother’s hair in the sense that it always looks messy so you give up. You tie it up just to wash your face and you’re shocked by no hickies. You swore Steve went to town marking up your neck last night but you don’t see any so you wash your face quickly, let your hair back down, and head downstairs.

Before you get to the kitchen you can already smell breakfast. You think it’s probably your dad cooking for you and your mom but when you get around the corner you see Steve turned away from you, cooking something on the stove. He’s shirtless, just wearing his sweats with a hint of his blue boxers peeking out from the top. You walk over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist to hug him, and you press a kiss between his shoulder blades.

“Morning,” you whisper, nuzzling your head into his back.

“Morning, doll,” he says and turns around in your hold to give you a quick peck. You aren’t fully enough to comprehend the kiss but it makes you smile nonetheless. “How’d you sleep?” 

“Okay, my legs are sore though,” you say and he gets a shit eating grin on his stupid face.

“Oh yeah?”

“Oh shut up, Harrington,” you say and turn around to get a drink.

Before he says something else, you can hear your dad whistle before he walks into the kitchen.

“Smells good in here,” he says and goes over to the coffee pot to pour two cups. “Whatcha making there, Steven?”

“Morning Jeff,” Steve says and motions to the stove. “I made bacon, some eggs, and I made pancake batter but I didn’t know what everyone liked for toppings so I was waiting.”

“What did I ever do to deserve you, Steven,” your dad says and claps him on the shoulder before taking a mug upstairs. “I’m going to attempt to wake the missus with the promise of breakfast. You two go ahead and eat, I’m sure we’ll be a minute,” he winks walking up the stairs.

“God I wonder how much she drank,” you say and pour two glasses of orange juice.

“I didn’t hear them come inside last night so they must have stayed out late,” Steve replies and slides a plate in front of you.

You look down and there are two blueberry pancakes, some scrambled eggs, and then a few pieces of bacon. Then another plate slides over next to yours only with two plain pancakes instead. 

“What is it with you and not eating flavored things?” you ask, grabbing your plate and sitting down at a stool.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” he says and wipes, what you’re assuming is orange juice, off the side of your mouth with his thumb before bringing it to his mouth to clean off. You nearly fall off your chair right then and there. “I had my favorite thing to eat last night. It had a nice sweet flavor, a little silky, and oh so moist.”

Your mouth falls open at what he says and he just smirks in response before sitting down next to you.

You both eat in comfortable silence, and after you finish your pancakes you lean your head on his shoulder because you’re tired and also just want to touch him. You can finally hear some movement coming from upstairs so you know your dad got your mom out of bed.

“Good morning,” your dad calls from the stairs again and you can hear your mom tell him to shut up, her head feels like there is a drum set in there pounding.

You look behind you when you hear your parents come into the room. Your mom walks over to you, more like shuffles over, to give you a kiss on the cheek and then she collapses on the stool next to you while your dad makes her a plate of bacon and eggs to eat while he makes her a pancake.

Steve stands up to refill her coffee mug and before your mom can say thank you, something catches her eye.

“Steve, what on earth happened to your back?” she gasps and you look over at his back as well.

There are scratch marks covering the top part, and small bruises where your fingertips were gripping onto him for dear life. You nearly choke on your orange juice, coughing because you inhaled it and also because you’re so uncomfortable.

“That would’ve been Dustin Henderson,” Steve says and looks at you like you’re crazy for nearly dying due to orange juice. “We went to the pool and he thought it would be fun to play chicken. I didn’t realize he would try to water board me at the same time.”

You parents laugh at that, then your dad tells Steve to get Dustin back the next time he tries to kill him in the pool.

“Oh don’t worry sir, I’ll make sure to let him pay for what he did to my back,” Steve says and gives you a wink.

[lured-into-wonderland]

She didn’t really understand what was happening with Hibiya. Nunnally was looking at him (almost staring actually) trying to understand what was that she said that made him so confused. She was trying to brush off the thoughts (coming to her again and again since not so long ago) that her fiancé didn’t truly want this union. And was he trying to delay an unavoidable? Or did he think that their future together might be changed? Did he want to break their engagement? Was he missing his former fiancée? Was her, Nunnally, just a poor substitute for someone he considered his true love?

( "Don't cry. Just don't cry!" )

If she thought she could, Nunnally would have probably left the room, and finish this conversation. The conversation that none of them seemingly wanted to have. But she couldn’t. Whatever was to happen depended on her father’s will, and that will was spoken out clearly. Nunnally thought the relation with Hibiya depended on her, but obviously that was another lie she was telling herself. She felt the lump building in her throat and, therefore, was happy Hibiya was speaking. Even if she wasn’t sure if she liked (or disliked) the meaning of his words.

He seemed confused and uncertain about their wedding date. Or only pretended to be? Truth to be told, Nunnally didn’t put much thinking into when "the big day" was to happen. She didn’t want summer or spring wedding as that would be a cliché, but autumn or winter would work fine for her.

Then he started to think about flowers. She could also agree on roses. She didn’t like them. Peonies seemed like an odd choice for her because of their meaning. ‘Happy marriage’; well, it didn’t seem she’d be having one, but she would not be the first or the last princess (or perhaps even woman) married to a man who didn’t want them. At least her position wasn’t bad. She started to assess her situation and that helped. She was a princess. Her father was rich and powerful. Hibiya was handsome and was at least trying to be nice and accommodating to her needs. It could always be worse. She forced herself to send him a smile. Nunnally was almost sure it must have seemed awkward, but that was all she was ready to give him. She again smoothed the dress of her skirt. Hopefully he was too busy with himself to notice that.

She nodded: --

“I like the autumn idea. But I’d rather wait for some time and not have it immediately after summer. I…I wouldn’t like our wedding be in summer.” – her voice was gentle, but a bit distant – “I am happy you’re not up for roses. I have never liked them… I like peonies. Maybe with the lilies of the valley…” – she was sometimes called 'Lily', and that would be a nice personal touch for her. She was thinking to share it with Hibiya, but gave up this idea. If he didn’t want to call her with her full name, he’d have to come up with something himself.

“I wouldn’t like to have a white dress…if that doesn’t break any important code here.” – she finally opted for some honesty.

A small pause. Now Nunnally was truly wondering if she was to ask her next question. It was important for her, but she didn't intend to break any rules of her new…home?

“Are blusher wedding veil a must here? Would you like me to wear one?” – she was not looking at him, but outside the window now having this thought she shouldn’t have come here.

( “No, you should Nunnally. You did right. Hibiya’s mother did right, too. It should either happen soon…or not.” )

“But if you prefer we can discuss such things with our wedding planner, master of the ceremony and ambassadors. They could correct us, if our wishes would not match…expectations and traditions.” – she wasn’t sure why she was giving him a chance to finish this conversation before it even truly began.

Reality suddenly smacked him in the face as he saw the words in his own handwriting, blinking a few times as if to wake up from this terrifying dream Hibiya found himself living in. Her outburst sounded nothing more than a whisper, spinning the pen on a finger before placing it down to focus better on her. "I thought a planner would help with the basics." A statement rather than a question, though he seemed genuinely confused. It seemed Hibiya actually didn't know the first thing about organizing a wedding, hence why a professional sounded like the best option.

No matter what he thought was best, Nunnally was obviously eager to get whatever ideas they had out in the open and he would have to make do without someone else's expertise. "I'm not quite sure." Did that even matter? "Perhaps late winter? December is already too busy of a month and January isn't enough time to recover from that." But was February closer to being spring? "Mm, but if that's spring, everyone wants a spring wedding. Maybe autumn, then."

He was starting to disconnect from his emotions - it was much easier to think clearly that way - permitting logic to take over a bit. It allowed Hibiya to be in less of a panic state, regaining a safe disconnection from reality once again. He knew he needed to give her something to work with, an opinion he could stand behind whether Hibiya honestly believed it or not.

Staring at the desk, which was equally unhelpful, he was forced to pick up his stare to meet hers. Seeing Nunnally's disappointed eyes, the light from the window behind her silhouetted his fiancee beautifully. "I don't want roses." The prince finally spoke up. "They're gorgeous, but cliche. And totally incapable of having an accent flower, they always steal the show."

"Peonies make more sense of weddings. They're more expensive, take up more space but are also more dense looking. Plus, peonies don't attract honeybees, they repeal them. Unlike roses, which we would risk having quite a headache if we went down that path. Most importantly, they share the spotlight better than roses for bouquets. They would look nice with lilies of the valley or jasmine I think."

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

A weekend in Quantico | Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Summary: You surprise Stiles and visit him in Quantico

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Word count: 1.3k

-

After graduation, Stiles got accepted at the FBI National Academy - as he should. You were very proud of him and both happily cried together when he received his acceptance letter. He was finally going to put his investigating talents and heightened intelligence to good use.

It also meant being apart.

The first week was alright. You missed each other, but made sure to call every night.

The second week, Stiles started his program and fell asleep on the phone. He was tired from his new schedule and you couldn't blame him.

The fourth week, you started your senior year. It was lonely without Stiles. Thankfully, you had friends to sit with at lunch, but they kept talking about how cool it must be to have a boyfriend who was in college. Sadly, dating a college boy was one of those things that's only cool outside of the picture. When you're the one in the long-distance relationship, things are much less cool.

The sixth week, Stiles was calling you two times a week and you started showing up to school wearing one of his flannel button ups. It was soft and smelled like him.

The eleventh week, he told you he wouldn't make it to Thanksgiving because the buses were expensive and he had a lot of work on his hands and studying to do too. You were really bummed out by the change of plan, but understood that college came first. That night, you cried.

The twelfth week, a traitor, who you assumed was Scott, told Stiles how you really were doing - which wasn't too well - and a package showed up at your door coming from Quantico. You opened the box with a curious eyebrow and found one of Stiles' hoodies and a short but cute hand-written letter.

I'll be home for Christmas, the letter promised. Christmas was in six weeks. There was no way you would last six more weeks without seeing your boyfriend.

It was late afternoon when you arrived in Quantico. The crisp wind was filling through your jacket, causing goosebumps to raise on your arms. You should have worn something warmer. Perhaps a hat too? But it was too late for that.

Your bag was slung over your shoulder as you crossed the street and followed the indications on your phone that would lead you to the campus.

After getting lost three times, you finally made it to the building where Stiles had his last lesson of the day. You didn't dare go too close to the classrooms, scared someone would ask for your access card and kick you out.

Stiles saw you before you saw him. He was turning a corner, walking down the hallway to take the stairs and stopped in his tracks when he saw you, startled. ''What the hell.'' At first, he thought his vision was playing him tricks, but you looked back at him, confirming that he wasn't hallucinating.

You grinned, finally seeing him after weeks of being apart. ''Missed me?''

Instead of replying, Stiles closed the distance between you and him to pull you in an embrace, snaking his arms behind your shoulders as yours wrapped around him tightly. You felt him exhale in your hold, his face finding home in your neck and shoulder.

There was no better feeling than holding the one you love.

The hug was longer than it should have, being in the middle of a hallway, but neither of you cared that students were passing by.

''What are you doing here? Not that I'm not happy you're here, because I'm fucking ecstatic that you're here.'' Stiles smiled down at you, brushing your cheek with his thumb as if to check if you were really there. ''It's just that I suspected my dad would be visiting this weekend. Not you.''

Noah had called Stiles last night to check on him and casually ask about his weekend plans. Clearly, he had failed at not evoking suspicions from his son.

Stiles re-adjusted his book bag on his shoulder and you looked at him up and down, taking in his dress pants, white button up and tie. It was the mandatory dress code for the FBI Academy and, honestly, it wasn't unpleasant for the eyes. You weren't into men in uniforms, but he looked hot.

You glided your fingers along the hem of his tie. ''You are looking mighty fine, Agent Stilinski.''

''I'm not an agent yet. I'm just an intern,'' Stiles reminded you. ''But, I'll take the compliment.''

.

The two of you walked to his dorm, which he shared with someone named Vincent - who was currently at the library.

The bed on the left was made in a very Stiles fashion. The comforter was neatly pulled with his pillow on top, hiding the wrinkled sheets underneath. His desk was a complete mess. There were piles of textbooks and miscandelious papers and pens everywhere. You couldn't even see the wood of the desk.

Stiles dropped his bag on the floor, tired of carrying it all day. ''I'd love to give you a tour of the campus, but I have a lot of reading to do and I need to solve this new mock case for Monday. If you had given me a heads-up that you'd be visiting this weekend, I would've cleared my schedule a bit.'' His face was conflicted.

''If I told you, it wouldn't have been a surprise.''

''I know... But I don't want to confine you to my dorm all weekend because I have work to do.''

You had travelled all the way to Quantico and he felt bad for not making the weekend interesting, knowing how expensive plane tickets were.

''I don't care what we do. I just want to spend time with you.'' You snaked your arms behind Stiles' neck, your fingers brushing the bottom of his hair, and brought him down for a kiss. ''And, we can always kiss during study breaks.''

''Of course we will,'' Stiles said, refusing to break tradition.

Although you weren't in the same grade, you and Stiles would study together a lot. You'd go to his house after school and he would help you with maths - because maths is hard and he aced his exams last year. And, most importantly, you'd take study breaks - aka kissing breaks. They would sometimes last longer than intended, but neither of you complained.

''You know what? Let's go out for a pizza,'' Stiles suddenly decided, changing his mind about staying in. ''There's this Italian place just outside the campus that makes the most delicious pizza. Dad and I ate lunch there when he dropped me off.''

Getting pizza with Stiles was a classic activity. You went almost every Thursday since you started dating. Sometimes, Stiles' dad would even join in - if he didn't have too much work at the station.

''Are you sure?'' you asked.

Stiles nodded. ''Well, we gotta eat and I'm tired of the healthy food they have here. I want pizza.''

You sat on his bed, waiting as he changed out of his school uniform. As hot as he looked in his fancy clothes, you liked the familiarity of Stiles' flannels and hoodies.

He unclasped the tie from his shirt, shocking you. You gasped. ''It was fake?!''

Stiles scratched the back of his neck. ''Eh, yeah... I used to wear a real tie, but I'd feel stressed or anxious, the tight feeling around my neck was making the situation worse. But, don't tell anyone.''

Although there was nothing to be embarrassed about, you could tell by his voice that he was embarrassed. You were actually proud of him for finding a solution instead of being frustrated for the way his brain worked. Stiles had gone a long way with his anxiety. He no longer let it control him or stop him from living.

''Your secret is safe with me, babe,'' you promised.

[izukult]

what type of jewelry haikyuu boys get a girl

request: Hello, i must ask what type of jewelry they’d get their girl? 🥺 i saw this on tik tok and thought it was cute and wanted to know your thoughts, you can either show pics or describe them, whatever you prefer! -anon

i don’t even have my ears pierced but if *** bought me those i’d force them thru my ears don’t even test me. sorry y’all but necklace supremacy

characters: hinata, kageyama, oikawa, sugawara, yamaguchi, tsukishima, bokuto, akaashi, iwaizumi, matsukawa, atsumu, nishinoya

hinata shoyo

a wire ring! it’s a cute little homemade ring (just because it’s homemade doesn’t mean it came from his home), he picked a gemstone for you ‘based on which one was prettiest’.

kageyama tobio

a friendship bracelet. one of the ones made of yarn, yknow? it doesn’t sound like much, but he made it himself. the ends are frayed and the pattern is a little bit messy, but he spent a Long ass time trying to figure out how to do it. he does not have money, it’s personal, it’s not flashy, and you can wear it any time. he made that for you and he’ll act like it doesn’t but it means a lot to him.

oikawa toru

promise ring. this is so on brand toru. idfc. IDFC. he gets you a buncha little gifts and throws that one in there and tries to act like super suave and cool about it! probably also gets you something with his initials (tastefully).

sugawara koushi

hair clips and a necklace. sugawara is built different, he gets two. he would absolutely buy you a cute, simple necklace on a special occasion, but he adores buying you little hair clips to wear just all the time. and some of them are super fucking nice too. sugawara kiss me challenge.

yamaguchi tadashi

charm necklaces. like the cheapish kind yknow? wide variety of cute little ones! some examples could be like a mushroom necklace, those cute layered necklaces, ones with safety pins, just a lot of  tchotchke cute necklaces. they’re afforadable, pretty, throw outfits together, and he loves seeing you wear them knowing he bought them. 

tsukishima kei

personalized leather bracelet. he got an inside joke engraved, but it’s on the inside of the bracelet. it’s so intimate? on the outside, it’s just a simple, thin leather bracelet. but the inside is him literally verbally showing how much he cares about you. you got this shit in writing, he’s gone gone.

bokuto kotaro

an anklet. i forget that people actually wear these, but i think he’d get super excited about it! it would follow dress codes for work or sports, and he could make it your favorite colors or put charms on it and it was just that ‘kinda always there’ thing and that’s his goal 😏

akaashi keiji

earrings. akaashi is absolutely a hopeless romantic, and he thinks there are just the most practical. he picks them based off your preference, of course (i.e. if you love hoops, he’ll buy you hoops. if you hate hoops clearly he won’t buy you hoops yknow?). loves em, kisses your ear when you have em on.

iwaizumi hajime

stackable rings. simplistic, cute, screams hajime. much like akaashi, he’ll always hold your hand and kiss the finger your ring is on. they’re super minimalistic and he knows you can’t go wrong with that, so it doesn’t make him anxious. plus, you can mix and match!

matsukawa issei

scannable spotify necklace. absolutely. ABSOLUTELY. spends longer picking out the song than he does the necklace, but he makes it really really matter. (however, he absolutely considers putting a gag song on there, instead chooses something that describes how he actually feels (nah, he buys both)).

miya atsumu

one of those bar necklaces with his name. yea, it’s kinda tacky, but so is he. he actually gets a pretty tasteful one, and he wouldn’t get mad at you if you didn’t wear it all the time. he wants to give you the option to, and it’s not like he hasn’t already told everyone who would listen that you two were dating.

nishinoya yu

bond touch bracelets. even though you’re literally not long distance he is so clingy. he bought them without telling you and was super duper excited about the idea (“now i get your touch even when you’re gone!!!!”). comes up with little codes for taps and soon enough you two have literally learned morse code and are communicating via bracelet. if he knows you’re anxious, he’ll send ‘i love you’ even if he’s in the same room.

[byunbaekby]

title: haven’t been caught pairing: badboy!haechan x goodgirl!reader word count: 1.7k genres: fluff, established relationship au, high school au, secret relationship warnings: mentions of weed, suggestiveness, one cuss word, not proofread additional: based on the song “good girls” by 5 seconds of summer. also, big thanks to @florence-cvrt​ for all their help <3

-

She's good at school, she's never truant She can speak French, I think she's fluent.

“Lee Donghyuck, if you don’t get your hand off my thigh right this instant, I will tell Mr. Qian to fail you.”

You bring a light slap down on his hand, which is threatening to slide up your skirt. Your boyfriend’s hand immediately leaves your leg, innocently tucking it back into his lap. When you turn to him, his pretty lips are spread into a fake virtuous smile and his long hair barely covers his entertained sparkling eyes. Still, he complains, “Wait until I tell the student body that their vice president is actually violent and manipulative.” 

He tsk’s as you show no reaction, instead flipping through the pages of the French textbook. “What would you tell them?” 

Donghyuck leans back in his desk chair where the two of you reside in an empty classroom, adjusting the collar of his leather jacket before running a hand through his hair. “That even though you walk around school smiling at everyone and kissing teachers’ asses, you love hitting your boyfriend and threatening him.”

“You, my boyfriend?” You laugh at him, eyes never leaving the book. “They’d never believe you.”

You’re right, because the school has no idea that you, the It Girl and vice president of the student body council, are dating Lee Donghyuck, the guy who smokes weed behind the school and always skips class for no important reason other than to entertain himself. How you even started dating is another story, but now your relationship is on the infinite downlow.

“You’re right,” he relents, but he’s obviously not given up yet as he leans closer to you. You try not to get swayed by the sudden infiltration of his scent, and continue scanning the pages of the French book. “They won’t. But it wouldn’t be a surprise. I mean, we’d be the hottest couple ever. So, maybe I should put a nice big hickey, right there on your pretty neck. Maybe then they’ll believe you’re not as innocent as you pretend to be,” teases your boyfriend, his voice dipping lower into dangerous territory. 

You roll your eyes. “Sure,” you respond sarcastically.

“If you say so.”

Before you know it, your boyfriend has leaned in to kiss you, lips inches away from yours. When you realize what he’s up to you put a hand up, so his lips meet your palm instead of their intended destination. “No.”

A whine leaves him, a stark juxtaposition from his dark appearance. “Why not?”

“Because it’s not appropriate.”

“Not appropriate?” he questions, crossing his leather covered arms across his chest. “You’re my girlfriend.”

A shake of your head tells him no, along with a teasing smirk upon your lips. “Not right now. Right now, I’m your French tutor. Now pay attention,” you tell him, gaze skimming the textbook page. 

“Fine,” he scoffs, leaning back in his chair. 

“Je suis allé au café et j'ai pris une tasse de café. Translate that for me.”

“That means,” he starts, rolling his neck back to stretch it out, looking less than interested in the lesson. “My boyfriend is so sexy and I wish he would kiss me right now.”

Your eyes narrow, and you shake your head. He speaks up again. “I was kidding, actually it means, Donghyuck, I love when you wear your leather jacket, it makes you look so sexy.” 

You lean forward, capturing your head in your hands in frustration. He just laughs. “Tu es une telle honte, pourquoi je sors avec toi,” you sigh out, exasperated. 

“Oh,” he hums, leaning forward to hold your hands instead. “Maybe that one means, My girlfriend is so beautiful and smart?” You look up at him, raising an eyebrow at his sudden attempt to appeal to you. “Because you are.”

You roll your eyes, a smile spreading over your lips. “Actually I was calling you a disgrace and wondering why I’m even dating you.”

“Not surprised,” he chuckles softly, but immediately closes the French textbook on the desk before the two of you. “Come on, you know I’m not good at this school thing. Mr. Qian already knew that when he asked you to tutor me. How about,” he tilts his head at you, about to put up an offer. “We ditch this tutoring session and go get some ice cream? On me.”

A purse of your lips tells him you’re considering it, and he adds, “If anything, I’m just studying more by being with a beautiful lady who speaks fluent French.” 

You chuckle, leaning forward with pursed lips. “Je t'aime.”

“That one I know,” he smiles as he presses a sweet kiss to your lips. “Love you too. Now let’s go,” he says, standing and pulling you along by the hand. 

'Cause every night she studies hard in her room At least that's what her parents assume But she sneaks out the window to meet with her boyfriend.

Carefully you climb down the side of the house, trying your best not to make any noise against the wall but also trying not to fall to your death. A sigh of relief leaves your lips as both your feet touch the solid ground.

“Going somewhere?”

Immediately you jump, eyes widened as you turn to meet the owner of the voice. “Donghyuck!” You hiss, voice still low. “I thought you were my dad!”

“Well, you can call me daddy too,” your boyfriend says as he approaches you to press a kiss on your cheek. The tip of his light chin stubble brushes on your skin as he does so. 

“Don’t even joke about that,” you roll your eyes, allowing him to slide an arm over your shoulder and walk you down the street to where he parked his car out of view from your house. “So, where are we going?” “A friend’s party. His name is Mark.”

A cautious eyebrow is raised by you. “Will anyone from school be there?”

He shakes his head in response, knowing you can’t be spotted together especially with you under his arm at a college party of course. You’ve got to protect your precious reputation. “Nah, he’s in college. There’s no way he’d let high schoolers in.”

“We’re high schoolers, silly.”

“Well, yeah,” he shrugs before turning and grinning sinfully at you. “But we’re cool.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” you tease as he releases you and unlocks his car.

She may be clever but she just acts too square 'Cause in the back of the room where nobody looks She'll be with her boyfriend, she's not reading books.

As you slide up onto your tiptoes, the feeling of your boyfriend pressing against you is much too present and you scoff. “Can you stop being a horndog and get this book for me?”

“Darling,” he chastises, reaching up to grab it easily above you. “That’s what I was doing.”

As he hands the book to you, you roll your eyes. “Sure, like you weren’t trying to rub up on me.” 

“Not at all,” responds Donghyuck, dark eyes glinting with mischief. You leave him behind as you turn into the next aisle, searching carefully for the next book you were looking for. As you get deeper into the library shelves, the light gets further away and the tall shelves begin to cast a shadow upon your hidden figures. “Why do you even wear your uniform, anyways? You know it’s not required by the school.” 

“Yeah,” you respond matter-of-factly. “But as the vice president I should adhere to the suggestions set by the administration. Clearly you don’t care,” you say, glancing over his usual outfit of ripped jeans (which definitely didn’t fit normal dress code anyways) and his trademark leather jacket over a white Adidas shirt. 

“Okay, but your president Huang Renjun is a lame virgin with a stick up his ass and even he doesn’t wear his uniform everyday,” retorts your boyfriend.

“More reason why I should have been president instead,” you respond, scanning over the back of a book sounding not at all petty.

“That’s because at the time, you were more focused on becoming my girlfriend than campaigning, you minx,” Donghyuck teases as you slide the book back into its place, unsatisfied with its synopsis. When you don’t respond, instead turning into yet another aisle, he follows you, fingers tugging slightly at your skirt. “That’s okay, I like the skirt anyways,” he says, his famous smirk over his lips as your mouth gapes and a flustered warmth slides up to your cheeks. “S’cute.”

She said to me, forget what you thought 'Cause good girls are bad girls that haven't been caught

“Oh my god, Y/N,” Donghyuck already starts as he approaches you in the front of the school, already losing his bad boy personality in the fear that you’d be upset at him. “I’m so sorry.”

The two of you had been caught making out in the bleachers by a few members of the football team after school yesterday. Okay, perhaps it wasn’t the most discreet of places but you swore they’d announced over the intercom that football practice was cancelled for the day! Unluckily, it seemed a few players still wanted to get some practice in. 

Surely, rumors flew in less than twenty-four hours. Y/N, with Donghyuck? No way. Impossible.

Yeah, that was what you thought too, until it happened. You fell for him, for all his rough edges and playful teasing. He doesn’t deserve to be hidden. 

The smile you give him must throw him off, because he blinks. He’s probably forgotten his pre-made apology; he knows how important your reputation is to him. In his silence, you speak up.

“I don’t want to hide anymore. Let’s,” you propose as you interlace your hands, surely feeling eyes on you already. “Show them what a hot couple looks like.” 

He blinks, eyes flying to your hands and it’s probably the first time you’ve seen the snarky Donghyuck speechless. He recovers smoothly, smirking and nodding. “Okay. Let’s blow them away.” 

“But if you fail your French test in third period, I will break up with you.”

A boisterous laugh leaves his lips as he kicks open the doors to the school hallway. “Noted.”

Before the two of you enter the hallway to expose your unlikely clandestine romance to everyone, you lean up and whisper in his ear. “Je t'aime.”

“I know what that means,” he smirks as he presses a proud kiss onto your temple, and takes a step inside. 

[warriorteam1924]

Shooting star - Part 1

John x Veronica

Author note : Hello my beauties. I’m quite proud to be able to be posting this one. At last lol. At first, I thought I could include it in the Johnica week, but it clearly cannot fit in there. This story took time to get figured out, for the plot to mature, for the writing itself to be done. I’m not sure it’s something anyone expects, but this is what I wanted to do. I hope some of you will enjoy it anyways. Thanks in advance to anyone who will be giving honest feedback, it’s always very appreciated. Also, I remind you English isn’t my mother tongue, apologies in advance for the mistakes.

Warning (1): this is a smutty thing. If you are not comfortable with this kind of writing, just pass. (Ideally, only +18 please). Also note that during an intercourse, consent must be given and communication is also required. Last but not least, this one depicts unprotected sex, but please in real life, take care and wrap it before you tap it …. (in short, use protection with your partner please….)

Warnings (2): Mentions of a sad past, a bit of depression. Intense feelings, good and bad. Please be aware this is a mature writing, not only because of sex intercourse, but also regarding the matters it’s dealing with.

Summary : A man and a woman, named John and Veronica. Feelings, love. Ups and downs. Real and raw.

Words count :  3,095 words 

Permanent tag list : @reavenedges-lies @thosequeenboys @born-to-loseorn @orionis8689​ @queenlover05​ (please feel free to let me know if it’s now useless to tag you, i wouldn’t want anyone to feel like they have to read anything i might be posting. unwanted tags are as annoying for me as they are for you seriously. please communicate)

Part 1

This hotel bedroom isn’t fancy at all. Bed, bedside tables, a table to put a few things on, maybe to have a cup of steaming tea. There are also a TV in a dark wooden unit, a little wardrobe and a safe, like it is now ordinary in the hotels. Right next to the main room where the bed is, there is a bathroom with a shower and a bathtub, and another room with the toilet. Yes, this is definitely a very random hotel room.

 A hotel room like John has seen many in the past, while he was touring. Performing here and there, nights after nights, rhythm firing the audience as the crowd was clapping and singing in a relative harmony with the band. John used to be the bass player for this world-famous band. This is past now. He officially retired a couple of years ago, approximately. Sometimes, John feels like he doesn’t want to recall any of this.

 John is lazily laying on the bed, a bit lost in his thoughts. The remote control is still in his hand, even if he has settled on a concert. He isn’t particularly fan of Tina Turner, but he has to admit she also is a hell of a performer. She is moving all along the stage, with her musicians in the background. She is wearing her usual high heels, and John can’t help but wonder how she is able to handle them during a whole concert. He wore high heels in the past, he recalls with a side smile. It was such a long time ago, a life ago it seems. It was when he used to follow fashion and its codes, sometimes weird. It was when he used to have long hair and put make up on, playing on stage with fancy clothes. All of this is past now. His hair are now more greyish and except to get dressed as a Native American when the family was gathered and heavily insisted, he doesn’t see the point in putting make up on.

 John’s eyes are randomly staring at the TV screen, as the singer is shown under different angles, as the audience is acclaiming her when she is singing her most famous hits. The musicians are good and the concert is very pleasant to hear. But John is somehow focusing his attention on the person in the bathroom. He doesn’t really notice it, but he is listening to the shower sounds and the soft hums that are coming from there as well.

 The song she is humming is different from the one Tina Turner is singing on TV. But John doesn’t mind. Veronica’s presence is always a blessing as far as he is concerned. He feels good with her. Happy. Safe. Reassured. Soothed. Alive.

 When she is with him, he is able to forget all the rest. And most importantly all his pain and his grieving seem less heavy. When she’s next to him, he noticed he smiles more and willingly jokes. He never feels like he has to grin to reassure the others, a smile that would just be a facade while deep inside, the flame that is filling him with life is slowly fading. With Veronica by his sides, he doesn’t have to pretend. He can fully be himself, entirely be John.

 Maybe it’s because Veronica is much younger than John is. Some would see this age difference between the two of them as an obstacle, but he never thought of it this way. After all, age is a just a number. John never chose to be older and Veronica didn’t choose to be born at this date and place. If they weren’t supposed to meet, fate probably would never have let them come across each other. After all, they were both adults, both over the age of majority when they met. It isn’t as if John had been hitting on Veronica while she was a teen. This would have been a problem. But Veronica is in her thirties, she’s a grown-up woman. She also knows what she is doing.

 Yes, Veronica is much younger than John, but she never expressed it was something bad or something that was annoying her. She even once joked about it, asking John when was his last check up before announcing some exciting news. As John recalls this anecdote with a smile, he remembers he laughed so hard that tears came to his eyes. Tears of joys actually. It had been such a long time he hadn’t felt that way.

 The sound of the shower echoing from the bathroom stops, bringing John back to reality, bringing him back to this hotel room. Veronica is still softly humming as she is putting on a bathrobe on her shoulders and a tower around her long hair.

 She emerges from the bathroom with a soft smile on her lips. She sits right next to John, putting her head on his shoulder and the two of them silently stare at the TV screen. The concert is coming to an end and Tina Turner is bowing, thanking again the audience for its tremendous support. As the ending credits are now flashing up on the screen, John turns to Veronica.

 “How was the shower?”, he gently asks.

 “Good. Something was missing, though….’, she complains.

 John suddenly straightens up, looking at her.

 “Really? Why didn’t you tell me, I would have called the reception to bring you what you needed.”, he replied.

 “Well, I’m not sure there was something they could do about it, since I was missing you in the shower….”, she teases him.

 “Well, maybe, but….”, John starts to say but soon understands what she meant. “oh…. Well in this case, I suppose I could be helping now.”, he softly replies.

 “I hope so….”, she replies with a smirk and a wink.

 Veronica takes the tower off her hair and randomly tosses it on the floor. Her hair is still wet but not soaking. John looks at her with a side smile and gets closer to her. He very softly cups her face and kisses her. Their lips get used to the sensation of the other once again, and Veronica gets closer, as if this kiss between the two of them wasn’t enough already.

 Yet, John interrupts the kiss and looks at her, his strong hands still cupping her face.

 “You’re so beautiful.”, he cannot help but say in a whisper.

 Veronica smiles again, blushing. She knows he means it, he’s told her so many times before.

 “You’re not too bad yourself.”, she replies, putting a soft kiss on his nose. She is aware John had a hard time accepting their age difference and the fact that she wasn’t complimenting him just because it was nice to do so. John has his flaws, and he now has more wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. But she never cared about this. To her, John was the most handsome man she has been given the chance to be with. And his imperfections make him even more gorgeous.

 Veronica knows what she said makes him a bit ill at ease so she stands up and very slowly takes off her bathrobe and lets it slide along her body. Just like the man facing her, she’s aware of her imperfections, but the way he looks at her genuinely makes her think she might not be perfect, but she’s just perfect to him. And at this very moment it’s all that matters. He gives her so much confidence, she feels beautiful and desired.

 John stands up as well. He gets closer to her, turning around her like a predator ready to jump on its prey, but it’s not an animalist urge that’s consuming him at this moment. He wants Veronica to feel safe, so he very slightly and slowly presses his finger tips on her soft skin, making her shiver. He stands behind her, wrapping his arms around her naked body. She titles her head instinctively on one side and John immediately starts conquering her neck with kisses. Making sure not to miss a single spot, he carries on caressing her belly as he does, her hands on top of his. The smile that was on her lips slowly fades as she feels shivers down her spine already and starts biting her lips.

 Veronica turns to face John, her eyes meeting his. She cups his face and kisses him, and this time the kiss deepens, becoming more passionate. Her hands move from his cheeks to his shirt as she starts to unbutton it. John shows no reluctance, letting her fully take his shirt off and toss it on the floor very mindlessly. Her hands caress his torso and soon reach his belly. She then carries on lowering her hand, eventually touching his crotch.

 Their lips still pressed on the others’, John lets out a loud moan all the same. Veronica’s hand on his hardening shaft spreads electricity within his whole body and he gently rubs himself against her long fingers. Their kisses deepen even more and soon, John grabs her arms and leads her to the bed. His body on top of hers, her back pressing on the mattress, their kisses are becoming more urgent as their body temperature is starting to get higher.

 John has a sudden urge to feel Veronica’s labia on his lips. He knows she tastes delicious and he’s been craving this wonderful savor for quite some time now. As a result, he carries on covering her body with soft kisses, pressing his lips on her erected nipples on the way. Her back arches as he does, and he runs his hands on both her sides, his fingertips on her delicate skin. He then eventually reaches out for her groin. He looks up all the same, even if he’s done it many times before. Understanding he still needs consent, Veronica nods and lets her head fall on the fluffy pillows.

 John’s licks are first slow and gentle. God, he loves her savor so much, he could totally eat her out for every meal. She tastes like a mix of sweet juices and soap and it seems to John he’s home again. He licks her soft and pinky pussy down to her clitoris. She is absolutely exquisite.

 Feeling Veronica is now fully turned on, John carefully and gently inserts a finger inside her, his fingertips feeling her walls tense under every single one of his touches, every single one of his licks. His mouth alternating between licking her labia and sucking her clitoris, he adds another finger. With a come either motion, he carries on teasing her, aware he’s building her climax. Both his mouth and fingers fully teasing her, John feels she’s on the verge of climax.

 “Come for me baby, give it all. Every atom of it.”, he whispers, encouraging her.

 Veronica grabs John’s free hand and their fingers intertwin. She also seizes the sheets and her fingers tighten their grip. She lets out a long and quiet moan, as electricity spreads within her whole body. It’s not the most intense orgasm John has ever given her, but she’s out of breath all the same. She blinks a bit, readjusting her eyes to the dim light in the room.

 She leans forwards a bit and cups John’s face to lead him on top of her. They exchange yet another passionate and deep kiss, both smiling. Their hands are on each other bodies, softly caressing their respective skins. As their lips only part to catch their breaths, a wrestle-like cuddle starts in the bed, until Veronica is on top.

 She smirks at him and places her hands on his belt. John smiles as well and lets out a dull chuckle.

 “Seems like someone is getting uncomfortable in his pants….”, she teases him as a bulge is visible under his pants.

 John carries on smiling and merely nods. Veronica’s eyes never leave his, she doesn’t want to miss a single one of his expressions. She calmly takes his belt off and randomly tosses it with the rest of their clothes that are already on the bedroom’s floor.

 She likes to tease him a little all the same, but not for too long. She gently presses her hand on his growing bulge and John lets a moan escape from his lips. Delicately unbuttoning his pants, she first takes them off and she takes John’s colorful socks on her way. The man she loves remains there, smiling at her, only wearing his boxers.

 But they are superfluous as well. So, Veronica gets back to face John and places yet another kiss on his lips and then covers his body with more pecks, just like he did on hers. She takes both sides of his underpants on her way and guides them to his feet. Since he’s been very excited, John’s penis is now very hard and fully erected. As Veronica takes his boxers down, his shaft almost bounces out and slightly slaps his lower belly.

 Veronica crawls back on the mattress and the two lovers let their bodies almost naturally interlace. Their lips are almost crashing on each other’s skins, a competition starting to see who will cover the other with more kisses. They merely feel safe in each other’s arms, they’re home.

 They do not need to speak as their cuddle make one be on top and then the other. Sensuality and intimacy are what they are both craving right now and they know they will find it with the other.

 Eventually, Veronica is on top again and she very gently rubs her groin on top of John’s. She holds his face softly between her hands, kissing him all over again. They’re both panting already and passionate moans are now spreading in the hotel’s bedroom.

 Their bodies need to be one again and once more, they don’t even need to say a word. John finds her entrance almost instinctively and Veronica sighs in pleasure. She feels complete again. The lovers’ motions are slow at first, but always synchronous. Veronica’s hips are rocking sensually, her hands leaning on John’s hairy torso. As for John’s, his hands are on her curvy hips. He is guiding her, even if he perfectly knows it’s not necessary. It is as if they’ve known each other forever, their body naturally interacting with the other’s.

 Veronica leans forwards, willing to reach out for his lips again. John grabs this opportunity to wrap his arms around her gorgeous body and presses her tightly against him. They are one.

 John is still holding her tight and he very gently guides her to be on top of her. She relaxes as she gets comfy on the pillows. Her lover is standing on top of her, but his weight is never too much for her. She just loves the feeling of him on her, in her.

 He teases her again a bit again, gently slapping his shaft on her labia, but then he guides his cock inside her again, making her gasp. She feels complete again. John starts his thrusts, very gently at first, making sure he’s not hurting her. Yet, Veronica’s face is only showing love and pleasure, reassuring John. He covers her lips with more passionate kisses. But he also knows her weak spot is her neck to he makes sure to carry on his urgent thrusts while making her moan as his lips are on her  bare skin.

 Soon, John’s moves become faster but he still wants to take his time so he tries to focus on Veronica’s pleasure. He slows down a bit and almost leans on top of her. She wraps her arms and legs around him, locking her eyes in his.

 She looks at him, caressing his cheeks and passing her hands in her greyish hair. He stares at her as well, and suddenly considers things. He and she. Them. Questions in his mind, like it happened in the past when he was doubting.

 Yet, he focuses again and stares deep into Veronica’s eyes. And he sees nothing but love. She smiles at him and all of a sudden, nothing else but her matters at this moment.

 He places another kiss on her delicate lips and slightly changes his position on top of her. He gently spreads her legs a bit more to adjust himself between her legs. She knows him very well now so she puts her legs on top of his shoulders. He smirks and she bites her lips.

 John’s thrusts are now deeper and pleasure comes in waves. John’s arms are on both sides of her body and she grabs them as he is penetrating her even more profoundly. Both on the verge of climax, they feel the intensity of the moment, the urgency of their love making prevailing over anything else.

 Eventually John lets out a loud moan as his whole body tensed, as his semen fills Veronica’s vagina. The man carries on his motions, but less hastily. His hot sperm starts to get mixed with her honey juice. John gets his second wind and resumes his thrusts. This time, he lets Veronica spread her legs again. This way, he can apply a slight and pleasurable pressure on her button to make her reach orgasm again. He is out of breath, and the sight of her lover on top of her and his expert motions soon send her to heaven as well.

 John almost collapses on top of her and they both exchange yet another passionate kiss.

 The two of them hate this sensation but eventually, they have to part. Even if they carry on this moment of absolute intimacy with a cuddle. Skin to skin, Veronica is wrapped in his arms as he is holding her tightly. He presses soft pecks on her forehead and in her hair. Soon, she falls asleep, a smile still visible on her pink lips. This is bliss after this moment of ecstasy.

 John enjoys this moment as well, appreciating the softness of her skin under his fingertips. Smelling her sweet perfume, now mixed with his manly sweat. He takes some hair away from her face, to be able to see her again, fully appeased. Safe against his body as the blankets cover their naked bodies.

 That’s when John sees again his wedding ring. And he suddenly recalls this moment he is spending with her is only temporary. Soon, he will have to get back home with his wife and his kids.

Tomorrow will be another day….

[wheresmynaya]

Hate to Date Ch.7 | Brittana

A/N - And just like that, Lockdown 6.0 is upon us LOL. Good news, more time to write. Bad news, boredom looms. Anyway, thank you to those who have left lovely reviews and/or have gifted me with a coffee through ko-fi. I hope you all know that those emails are some of the first I read when I wake up in the morning - instant happiness! 🥰

Available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) & under the cut!

Being ambushed by parents ends up turning into a trend for Santana when the following weekend Maribel decides to make a spontaneous trip to New York. Apparently there’s some banquet dinner Eddie is attending which Maribel’s accompanying him to.

The invite was extended to Santana as well, but those dinners are always super boring so she blew it off with an excuse about spending time with Brittany instead since their schedules have been so busy.

What she didn’t expect is for Maribel to make an unexpected pit stop at hers and Puck’s place beforehand, hoping to at least say hi to the happy couple.

Problem is – half of said couple isn’t here.

“Mami, we’re just really busy with this assignment,” Santana tries – hoping that it would be enough to deter her mom for awhile considering Brittany isn’t around. “It’s really getting down to the wire, can’t we see you tomorrow?”

“Ay Santana, I’m already on the way,” Maribel replies in a huff. “It’s only a quick visit and we’ll be on our way.”

“Can’t you just like…skip it and continue on your way?”

“I haven’t seen you since New Year’s and I came all this way to see you – “

“You’re not even here for me, you’re here for Eddie.”

Suddenly there’s a pause and Santana wonders if that little comment just got her into some hot water.

“Why don’t you want to see your mother?” Maribel asks instead. “Are you hiding something from me? You and Puck aren’t up to something again, are you? Roping in Brittany?”

Santana’s eyes go big and it feels like she’s just swallowed a handful of sand. Her heart rate’s picking up and she’s struggling to come up with an answer. She feels like she’s got a hot spotlight on her; thank God her mom can’t actually see her right now!

“We’re not,” Santana finally says. “Like I said, Brittany and I are just a little busy with this assignment…but I guess we can take a break for you.”

“That’s my girl,” Maribel praises. “We’ll be around in about twenty minutes.”

Santana gulps, “Great. See you then.”

Once she hangs up, she grabs the nearest pillow and yells into it. The muffled screams have Puck running out of his room so fast that he clips the doorframe with his shoulder. A loud thud echoes throughout Santana’s room as Puck stumbles and looks around frantically.

“What? What’s wrong?” He asks.

“We’ve got a Code Red,” Santana tells him.

His eyes drift down to her lap then back up as he starts to grimace, “Oh. Do you like…need things?”

Santana scrunches her brow but then she realizes what he’s talking about.

“No, not that Code Red,” She explains. “Mom’s on her way. I need to get Brittany over here ASAP!”

“Oh shit!” Puck curses and takes off to the living to start tidying.

The last time Maribel came around for a surprise visit, she basically tore Puck a new one. Long story short, his version of clean isn’t the same as Maribel’s and they spent an entire afternoon together going through the various cleaning products that should be used around the house and what they should be used for.

Meanwhile, Santana rushes to make the call. She just hopes that Brittany won’t give her a hard time for this, hopefully she answers the damn phone!

“Hi?” Brittany answers questioningly.

“Hey,” Santana replies.

“Did you butt dial me or something?”

“What? No.”

“You just – you never call me.”

“Yeah well…I don’t have much time to explain, but I need you to come over like right now.”

“Uhh, I’m kind of in the middle of something.“

“Brittany, please,” Santana begs. “My mom’s on her way over and she’s fully expecting you to be here too.”

“Oh! Okay, yeah. Why didn’t you lead with that?”

“Because I’m freaking out, that’s why!”

“Okay, well don’t freak out. It’ll be fine. How much time do I have?”

“Not much.”

“Great. Thanks for the warning.”

Santana rolls her eyes, “Look, it took me by surprise too.”

“Alright well, find your cool. We can’t have her suspecting anything’s up.”

Santana nods, already feeling a little calmer. “Just hurry, okay?”

“I’m on my way now. Don’t worry.”

\\

When Maribel comes knocking on Santana’s door, the brunette loses all cool once again because Brittany’s still nowhere in sight. Santana’s looking at Puck, but he has no idea what to do either. Maybe they can stall until she gets here, but how? Maribel would totally think something’s up if they refuse to let her inside!

“Just let her in?” Puck whispers, “We can say Britt went to pick up our take-out?”

“And further confirm that I don’t fucking cook here? No way.”

“Well, what else can we do?”

“I don’t kn –“

“Santana?” Maribel calls out from the hall after another knock. “Hello?”

Puck’s eyes go wide, “She can hear us.”

“No shit, she knows I’m home.”

“Okay, okay. I’m thinking, fuck! Why am I so stressed out?”

Santana and Puck go back and forth trying to come up with some way to stall, but it’s impossible under the pressure.

“I think we have to let her in,” Santana tells Puck in a grave tone.

Puck looks at her uneasily, “I think so too.”

After checking her phone once more for an update from Brittany – there isn’t one – Santana goes to let Maribel and Eddie in. They’re both dressed to the nines, must be a fancy banquet dinner.

“Hi!” Santana greets, attempting to mask her uneasiness.

She’s quickly embraced in a motherly hug while Puck compliments his coach on his sick suit.

“How are you, mija?” Maribel asks as she cups Santana’s cheek. “You’re looking a little pale.”

“Am I?” Santana feels the nerves rattling within her. Where the hell is Brittany?!

“Yes,” Maribel looks her over. “You’re not getting sick are you?”

Santana swallows dryly, “Just tired.”

“Because exams are coming up,” Puck clarifies.

“That’s right,” Santana nods. “Lots of studying to do if I want to ace them.”

Maribel nods, seemingly pleased by Santana’s work ethic.

“Yeah, plus her and Britt have also been super busy with this assignment they’re doing together,” Puck adds. “It’s a lot.”

“Ah yes,” Maribel looks around. “Where is Brittany?”

Santana clenches her jaw and looks to Puck. There’s a guilty smile on his face as he secretly mouths out a sorry. Still though, she has to think on her feet.

“She’s in the bathroom,” Santana replies. It’s not her best work, but it was the first thing she thought of. Maybe they can work with it?

“Yeah, I think she had a bad salad for lunch,” Puck tries again.

Santana glares at him and mouths a shut up that goes unnoticed by Maribel and Eddie.

“Oh, that’s unfortunate,” Maribel frowns.

“Those salads are always a hit or miss,” Eddie confirms. “I try to stay away from them.”

“Don’t listen to Puck. It’s nothing like that,” Santana assures them. “Anyway, exam prep; super intense, long nights, tedious studying. I’m so ready for it to be over.”

Maribel looks apologetically at her, “Don’t work too hard.”

“That’s not what you taught me,” Santana quips.

“I know,” Maribel smiles. “I hope you’re at least wearing your glasses when you’re meant to. You know what all that reading can do to your eyes.”

“I am…”

“And rest, you still need it,” Maribel insists. “A tired mind won’t retain a thing.”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to tell her.”

The four swivel around to find Brittany coming out of Santana’s bedroom. Her cheeks are a little pink – probably from the run over – but she’s her usual cool and collected self as she saunters over.

Santana’s never felt so relieved to see the girl! Question is though, how the hell did she pull off such an entrance?

“Brittany! Hi,” Maribel greets happily. “Are you feeling okay?”

There’s a glimpse of confusion as Brittany looks to Santana for an explanation.

“Mami, I told you she’s not sick. She was only in the bedroom to finish up a call with her mom,” Santana lies.

“Yeah. That was my bad, Mama Lopez,” Puck speaks up.

“Right,” Brittany quickly catches on. “Just my daily phone call with mom. Sorry about that, we can get carried away.”

“Oh don’t be,” Maribel smiles then glances to Santana. “Where’s my daily phone call?”

Santana fights the eye roll, “I’m clearly not as great as Brittany.”

“Now that’s a first,” Brittany smirks as she curls her arm around Santana. “I think you’re plenty great though.”

Santana finds herself blushing, “Thanks.”

There’s another pleased smile on Maribel’s face as she admires the couple. It’s a look Santana has rarely seen when it comes to her past partners and it makes her chest fill with pride. Even months later, her and Brittany still got it!

“Well, as promised this is only a quick visit,” Maribel tells them. “We really need to get going now, but while I’ve got you here: when are you coming home for a visit?”

Santana and Brittany exchange a look. They weren’t looking to make a visit for another few weeks, at least until after Spring Break. Free time is hard to come by now that they’re getting closer to the end of the semester.

“You know Abuela would like to see you both again,” Maribel adds.

Santana’s brows rise, “Would she now?”

“I think she’s warming up to things,” Maribel says vaguely but Santana gets it. “Wouldn’t hurt to come see her though. You know seeing pictures of you two together on Facebook has become a highlight for her.”

“Told you we’re cute,” Brittany jokes as she hugs Santana to her side.

“I should’ve known, she likes every single one them,” Santana quips.

“She wants to spend time with you,” Maribel explains and looks to Brittany. “She wants to spend time with the both of you.”

Santana quirks a brow at that, “Really? Has something changed?”

Maribel only shrugs. “You’ll have to ask her for yourself.”

Santana and Brittany glance at each other, both suddenly curious about Abuela’s change of heart.

“How about you come down for Spring Break?” Maribel suggests.

“Uhhh,” Santana stammers as she looks to Brittany, “We’re going to have to talk about it first. Brittany might have to – “

“Spring Break is fine with me,” Brittany shrugs.

“I thought you were planning on going home?” Santana lies – trying to get Brittany to catch on. “Spend time with your family?”

The blonde only shakes her head, “Nope. I’d rather stay here with you.”

Santana feels herself deflate; usually Spring Break is her time to finally let loose but she guesses there’s not much else she could get up to since she’s fake dating Brittany. She might as well just use the time to reinforce that she’s capable of being in a long term relationship.

By then, her and Brittany would be together for four months – that’s the longest relationship yet! Surely, that’ll have to mean something to her family.

“Well sure,” Santana sighs in defeat. “I can’t imagine spending my Spring break any other way than by returning to Lima.”

Maribel gives her a gleaming grin, “Perfect.”

\\

Once Maribel and Eddie head off to their banquet, Santana and Brittany collapse together on the couch. Puck hands them both a beer before cracking one open for himself and taking a seat opposite them.

“Way to sell it,” Puck raises his bottle. “Great work! It was cool to see you two in action like that. I can see why everyone eats this shit up. You’re pretty believable.”

“Glad you enjoyed the show,” Santana quips.

“Looks like I came right on time too,” Brittany says.

“Yeah about that,” Santana looks to Brittany. “How the hell did you get into my room?”

“The window?” Brittany shrugs. “I’m surprised it wasn’t locked.

Santana’s eyes go wide, “You climbed through the window?”

“Well yeah, how else would I have gotten in? Through the vent?” Brittany jokes.

“Good thing we’re on the first floor,” Puck chuckles.

Brittany nods and clinks her bottle with his. Meanwhile Santana just stares at the blonde with her jaw slack. Not only did she run over here, she went through the effort of climbing through the window too!

The girl is crazy.

Santana doubts she would’ve gone to the same extent. No way she’d try getting her ass through a window, that’s just too much. But still, she supposes some thanking is in order.

“Well, I appreciate you going through all that,” Santana says bashfully. “I didn’t expect my mom to just pop up like that so…thanks for coming here so quickly.”

There’s a half-smirk on Brittany’s face and Santana anticipates her poking fun at how Santana’s actually thanking her for something, but it doesn’t come. Brittany just continues smiling as she clinks her bottle with Santana’s.

“That’s what fake girlfriends are for,” She tells her.

\\

Over the following days, Santana and Brittany often run into each other at the library. It’s not Santana’s preferred place to study but it’s hard for her to concentrate sometimes with Puck around.

Although Santana and Brittany are in the same place, they often sit separately.

Brittany keeps to her lone table in the study area while Santana sits somewhere in the upper level because she likes the view of the exit. It’s kind of like seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, that tunnel being the designated hour she makes herself study.

However, on one particular day all of the tables in the upper level are occupied. Santana finds herself scowling at the randoms before making her way down to the level beneath – where the study area is kept.

Like always, Brittany’s sitting alone near the back and Santana finds herself walking over to her without a second thought. She wasn’t planning on sharing the table with her, just maybe say hi and leave her be, but as Santana approaches the table she finds something unexpected there:

Spanish for Dummies

Intrigued, Santana’s eyes roam the table and find all sorts of similar books on the Spanish language mixed in with Brittany’s actual coursework. Then Santana takes a peek at Brittany’s laptop, trying to figure out what has her so consumed that she’s yet to notice her standing there.

There’s a little green owl going over conjugations – Spanish conjugations – and Santana watches as Brittany jots down notes as she mouths whatever words she hears through her headphones. Santana’s completely dumbfounded and pulls up a chair, the motion finally causes Brittany to jolt and turn.

Blue eyes spark with surprise before the headphones quickly come off. The girl looks like she’s just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, but Santana can’t help the fascination.

“Santana!” Brittany gasps. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

“It’s the library,” She answers simply. “I’m here to study.”

“Oh, duh. Of cour – “

“Are you teaching yourself Spanish?” Santana interrupts.

Brittany looks from her screen to the books on the table to Santana. She seems a little timid as she minimizes the program on her laptop. Santana wonders if she’s going to attempt to lie, but there’s too much evidence against her. There’s no way she could convince Santana that she’s doing otherwise.  

“Yeah,” Brittany admits with a nervous laugh. “I am.”

Santana quirks her brow, “What are you doing that for? Surely not for fun?”

Brittany shrugs, “The shows on Univision are great but I’m tired of reading subtitles.”

“Really?” Santana doesn’t seem convinced. “That’s like…a lot of work. Besides, I thought nerds like to read?”

Brittany gives her an unimpressed look, “Well…I also figured that if I knew a little Spanish then it’ll give Abuela and I something to bond over. I remember your aunts mentioning this one show she likes so I’ve kind of been binging it.”

“You’ve been binging telenovelas?” Santana asks in disbelief.

“Well yeah, the drama is addicting.”

“Oh wow,” Santana sits back. “So you’re serious about this?”

“Aren’t you?” Brittany replies.

“Yeah, but this is a new level.”

“Don’t you want to be as convincing as you can be?”

“There’s convincing and then there’s this,” Santana jokes. “Your over-achiever tendencies are showing again.”

“You jealous?” Brittany fires back. “I know how much you love it when your mom compares us.”

“I’m not jealous,” Santana turns up her nose.

Brittany smirks, “Just checking. Afterall, this whole thing was your idea.”

“Technically it was Puck’s.”

“Whatever,” Brittany says. “I’m going to do all that I can to make this work because I’m committed. You continue doing…whatever it is that you do.”

Santana tenses her jaw at the jab. It reminds her of the game they played before– the constant one-upping of each other – and she wonders if they’re still playing it.

She thinks about how she accidentally introduced herself to Brittany’s parents as her girlfriend. She remembers how Brittany now has to keep up this façade with them too thanks to the slip-up. She thinks about who this Artie guy is and why Brittany’s parents were wondering where he went.

But most importantly, she thinks about how underwhelming she is as a girlfriend.

She’s nothing like Brittany; she isn’t kind and sweet and she isn’t someone people take home to meet their parents. Santana’s the girl that helps you get over your ex, she’s the one college girls experiment with, she’s down for one night stands, down for no-strings-attached kind of hook ups – she’s not actual girlfriend material.

And oddly enough, she kind of feels bad that Brittany’s stuck with her for the time being. This fake relationship thing wasn’t meant to go beyond convincing Maribel, but that’s exactly what’s happened now thanks to her big mouth.

“You really don’t have to do this, you know,” Santana says after the guilt starts setting in.

“I want to,” Brittany tells her.

Santana sighs; yet another reason why they’re so different.

“Learning a language just to get Abuela to like you?” Santana explains. “Don’t you think that’s kind of going overboard?”

“Not really. It’s kind of fun.”

“Fun?”

“Well yeah, I’ve always wanted to learn another language,” Brittany replies. “Why not start now? Plus I meant what I said about the subtitles thing. It would be so much easier not having to read.”

Santana chuckles as she shakes her head, “How do you find the time? I’m swamped with studying and assignments and cheer practice. Here you are learning another language for fun.”

“I kind of have a photographic memory.”

Santana rolls her eyes, “Of course you do.”

“I’m joking,” Brittany smirks. “I have a bunch of techniques that help cut down on the amount of time you’re actually studying so you don’t spend all your time doing it. I could…teach you some if you want?”

Santana lifts her chin, “I don’t need a tutor.”

“I didn’t say you did,” Brittany laughs. “Why are you always so quick to be on the defense?”

Santana crosses her arms and looks away, “I’m not.”

“Uh-huh,” Brittany grins. “I’ve got a study session with Puck on Thursday. I think it’s actually going to be at your place. We can not share study tips then if you want?”

Santana lets the offer roll around in her head but she doesn’t want to seem too eager.

“I might be around, depends if practice lets out on time.”

“Okay,” Brittany nods then looks at her laptop screen before glancing back at Santana who has yet to move. “So are you sitting with me now or…?”

“Oh!” Santana jolts to stand up. She gathers her bag from the ground and looks around for an empty table, but they’re all occupied.

“I’m not kicking you out, you know,” Brittany tells her without looking away from the screen. “You can stay if you’d like.”

Santana looks around indecisively. She’d rather study alone, but that doesn’t seem to be an option at the moment. She can’t go home either with Puck around, so she guesses staying with Brittany is the next best thing.

“Okay,” Santana replies. “I’ll stay.”

“I’ll clear some space for you,” Brittany says.

Santana moves to the opposite end of the table while Brittany gathers her things in order for Santana to have more room on the table for hers. They sit silently like that working on their respective things for awhile, getting lost in their work.

Brittany ends up leaving the table for a moment and Santana barely notices until she’s placing a coffee in front of her.

“Oh thanks,” Santana smiles at the unexpected gesture.

Brittany doesn’t say anything, just returns the smile as she sits back down.

Another moment later when Santana gets peckish, she pulls out a bag of trail mix. She barely gives it a second thought when she places it between them so that Brittany can have some too if she wants.

\\

When Thursday comes around, Santana ends up leaving cheer practice on time for once. She’s quick to get out of there so that she can wash up and change out of her uniform before Brittany arrives, but she finds that the blonde is already there by the time she gets home.

“What up, Lopez!” Puck calls out to her as he sits with Brittany at their tiny dining table.

Brittany looks up too, her eyes moving from their work to Santana who lingers by the front door. There’s a small smile that begins to curl her lips and Santana finds herself returning it with her own little grin.

“Hi,” She greets as she kicks of her tennis shoes. It was meant for Puck but it seems that it’s directed at Brittany.

“Hey,” Brittany replies.

“How was practice?” Puck asks, just now lifting his head from the work before him.

“Got bumped up to flyer,” Santana says casually although it’s pretty exciting news. She comes around to the kitchen for a drink, “Erica apparently has brittle bones from what Coach says.”

“No way!” Puck cheers, “That’s so awesome!”

“What’s a flyer?” Brittany asks, looking between the two.

“The girls that do stunts in the air,” Santana answers.

“Oh,” Brittany’s brows rise. “That’s…isn’t that kind of dangerous?”

“You worried about me?” Santana teases as she comes around to sit on the stool next to them. She crosses her legs, her cheer skirt hugging her thighs tightly. “Didn’t you say cheer was boring?”

Puck grins as he looks to Brittany for a rebuttal, but the blonde looks stumped.

Actually, the blonde looks distracted.

When Santana realizes that she’s staring at her legs, it’s like a personal victory for her. It was only a matter of time before the skirt wins!

Puck notices the distraction too and glances between his friends, a knowing smirk starting to form.

“Anyway,” Santana says as she finishes off her glass of water.

The sound of her voice breaks Brittany from her trance, but blue eyes are dark with something Santana’s familiar with but has yet to see on her. It makes her smirk; she’s missed having that kind of power over someone. It’s the sexual magnetism, it never fails her.

“Might hit the shower now,” Santana adds before looking to Brittany. “You going to be here much longer?”

Brittany nods, “Yeah. I only got here a little before you did.”

“Okay,” Santana can’t help the flirtatious tone now that she knows she’s got Brittany wrapped around her finger. The teasing is the most fun she’s had in awhile! “Maybe you can show me some things once you’re done with him?”

Brittany gulps, “Yeah sure.”

Puck notices what Santana’s doing and interrupts, “Uh…what’s happening right now?”

“Can it, Puckerman,” Santana waves off although her smile remains devilish. “What’s the point of having a fake girlfriend if I can’t fake flirt with them too?”

Brittany’s face goes a little red as she finally snaps back to reality.

“You call that flirting?” Brittany jokes.

“Fake flirting.”

Brittany shakes her head as she smirks, “I still don’t understand how you pick up any girls.”

“Judging by the look that’s been on your face since I walked in, I think you do.”

Puck looks back and forth between the two again like he’s watching an intense tennis match.

“How about I order a pizza for later?” He suggests in attempt to break up the bickering before it escalates.

“Sounds good,” Santana says without taking her eyes off Brittany.

“Yeah,” Brittany nods. “Sounds awesome.”

“Cool,” Puck replies and looks to Santana. “Go shower now. You’re distracting everyone.”

“She’s not distracting me,” Brittany said pointedly.  

Santana quirks her brow and smirks, “Keep telling yourself that, Britt-Britt.”

She lets her hips sway in that well-practiced way as she leaves the room. She doesn’t have to look to know that Brittany’s yet to stop staring and she struggles to hold back the laughter as she gets ready for a shower.

\\

Despite the teasing game she played earlier, Santana sits in Puck’s place at the tiny dining table across from Brittany with a scowl on her face. This studying thing? She’s had enough of it.

“This is pointless. Education is pointless. I’m gonna become a stripper instead,” Santana huffs.

“You'd probably make so much money!” Puck jokes from his place on the couch.

“Probably? Please,” Santana lifts her chin. “I'd make it rain every night!”

Puck laughs and throws his arm over the back of the couch to look at the pair.

“What do you think, Britt?” Puck presses with a smirk. “Think Santana would make it rain?”

Santana smirks too and looks to Brittany for answer.

“I think…I'm kind of hungry,” Brittany says. “How far away is the pizza?”

Santana’s smirk falls at the way Brittany deflects the question. Since Santana’s return, Brittany’s been a little quieter. Santana figured she’s just stuck in study mode and that she’d loosen up eventually, but she’s still waiting.

“I should probably head over now actually,” Puck realizes after checking his phone.

“Take me with you,” Santana jokes. “I think my brain is turning to mush.”

Brittany sighs, “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“You know that’s a struggle for me.”

“True,” Brittany jokes. “Hey, if we finish this chapter tonight I’ll let you use my pretty pens to take notes?”

"Tempting, but I don't need your pretty pens,” Santana says flatly. She rests back in her chair and stares at the ceiling. “What I need is alcohol and several orgasms. I clearly didn't think this fake dating thing through. I've never been so sexually deprived.”

Puck goes to grab his keys, “And on that note – I’ll be back in a few.”

Meanwhile, Brittany just snickers to herself but she isn’t laughing with Santana and it has the brunette frowning.

“What?” Santana questions as Puck leaves.

Brittany shakes her head, “It must be so hard for you to keep it in your pants for once.”

“You have no idea. Who knew that the last time would be the last time. I sure didn’t!”

Brittany shakes her head again and goes back to her work. It makes Santana feel a little on edge and straightens up in her chair.

“I'm obviously joking,” Santana adds and it makes Brittany look up. “What's it to you if I wasn't though?”

“What are you talking about?” Brittany asks.

“Your interest in my sex life.”

Brittany scoffs and looks back to her work, “I'd hardly call it an interest.”

Santana folds her arms across her chest, “So you're secretly some kind of prude?”

“It's not that.”

“Then what is it?”

Brittany sighs and looks up at her again, “Why are we even talking about this?”

Santana notices the change in her tone and perks up. She abandons her work all together in favor of leaning in.

“Because it's way more interesting?” Santana presses. “I know you're trying to deflect, you might as well just answer. If not, I'll assume the reason it gets your panties all in a twist is because you're secretly jealous.”

“I'm definitely not jealous.”

“So it’s the other option,” Santana says. “You’re a prude.”

“No!” Brittany huffs. She softens when she realizes she raised her voice. There’s a timidness to her when she explains, “I just, I guess I believe in developing the feelings part first before the physical happens.”

Santana softens too but for a different reason. It’s more so confusion than anything else.

"Why?” She asks.

“Because with feelings it's better,” Brittany says simply.

“Are you kidding?” Santana quips. “It’s better when it doesn’t involve feelings. I think it’s better when it doesn’t involve eye contact.”

“Wow. Seriously?” Brittany looks at her sympathetically. “That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. God, who hurt you?”

Santana didn’t expect her comment to strike a nerve. The memory of short blonde hair and a cunning smile sneaks its way past Santana’s defenses as she mutters, “One guess.”

Brittany looks at her curiously before something clicks, “Oh. The girl.”

Santana doesn’t like where this is going and pushes away the overwhelming feelings that beg to bust through. She walls herself up, holds her chin high and swallows back the lump.

“Yeah well,” Santana brushes off. “I think it's pretty unrealistic to go out there thinking every potential lay has to be relationship material first. Where's the fun in that?”

Brittany continues to eye her like she’s wounded and Santana hates it.

“The fun part is getting to know someone first so when it does happen,” Brittany pauses as she bites her lip. “It's meaningful.”

Santana averts her eyes, because staring into Brittany’s makes her feel far too exposed. Instead she retreats in on herself to place she’s comfortable, she takes the attention off of her.

“Gross. Who knew you were such a hopeless romantic,” Santana jokes.

Brittany sighs through a soft smile, “Call me old fashioned I guess.”

“Super old fashioned,” Santana quips. “Like, are you telling me you've never had a steamy quickie with a random? Everybody's got one.”

Brittany looks away and as she smirks, “Of course I have. I’m not that innocent.”

Santana perks up, “Really? Miss Goodie Two Shoes getting down and dirty without before being properly courted? God, I want details…”

Brittany snickers, “Not happening.”

“What?” Santana shifts in her seat excitedly. “Come on, what's a little girl talk between friends or are you the type that doesn’t kiss and tell because lame.”

Brittany looks up at her and smirks, “You saying we're friends?”

“Will it get you talking?”

Brittany laughs, “We should get back to work now. You've derailed us for long enough.”

“Come on, Britt-Britt,” Santana coos jokingly. “We've been at it for hours. I'm burnt out, sober and in dire need of sex.”

“None of that is my problem.”

“Sure it is,” Santana jokes. “The least you can do is tell me a couple of your kinky stories to get me through the night.”

“No.”

“Please?”

Brittany gives her a look, but Santana just bats her eyelashes. It makes Brittany laugh and she softens once again.

“Actually, I might be able to help you out.”

Santana sits straighter, “It was only a matter of time…”

Brittany rolls her eyes, “Get over yourself. Not every girl on campus wants you, including me.”

Santana laughs, “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Britt-Britt.”

“Anyway,” Brittany continues, “I'm talking about a swanky party – a ball even.”

“A ball, you say?” Santana’s interest is piqued.

“Totally.”

“You've got my attention…”

“Well, there’s going to be an open bar, free food, an excuse to dress up and let loose. That ticks off two out of three on your list.”

Santana quirks a brow, “And the catch?”

“No catch.”

“There's gotta be a catch.”

“Okay fine,” Brittany slumps. “It's the Brainiacs’ Ball.”

“The what?” Santana deadpans.

“The Brainiacs’ Ball,” Brittany clarifies. “It's open to all the academic decathlon clubs across the city, this year we’re hosting. The team with the highest winning percentage is named and also the award for Most Brilliant Brainiac is given out. It's the biggest night for the club.”

“Oh, hell no,” Santana chuckles. “There’s not enough free alcohol in the world to get me to go to that. Count me out.”

Brittany starts to frown, “What? Why?”

Santana shakes her head, “One of your matches was enough. I'm not going to a party where I have to be surrounded by all of you at once.”

“It won't be that bad,” Brittany sighs. “It's a night for celebrating. No trivia unless you count the bad puns you might hear.”

“I've seen the guys on your team,” Santana explains. “I can't be liable for the feelings I'd definitely hurt if I were to be around them. I’d be triggered by pocket protector.”

“But you'll mostly be with me,” Brittany tries.

“That doesn’t really help your case.”

Brittany gives her a look, “Well, I kind of need you to go.”

“You need me to go?”

“Well yeah, I don't want to be the only one there without a date,” Brittany reasons. “Plus wouldn't it be suspicious if you didn't go considering we're a thing?”

Santana lets out a laugh, thinking that she’s finally caught on.

“So that it explains it,” She says.

“Explains what?”

“The coffee the other day, sharing study tips, being here,” Santana goes on, “You’ve been setting yourself up to ask me to your dumb ball.”

Brittany tenses, “'First of all, it's not dumb.”

“Sorry. I should've said nerdy,” Santana clarifies.

“I wasn’t doing those things for this,” Brittany tells her. “I was… I did them to be nice. We don’t always have to be at each other. It doesn’t always have to be a competition.”

Santana shakes her head as she gets to thinking. She knows Brittany’s cunning too, she knows that she can play games so who’s to say she wasn’t playing this time?

“I'm not going,” Santana replies. “You can tell people I'm sick or something.”

Brittany lets out a bitter laugh, “Right. So this relationship thing only works when it's in your favor?”

Santana frowns at the harshness of Brittany’s tone, something that doesn’t feel right coming from the blonde.

“What are you talking about?” Santana huffs. “That’s not – “

“We always do what you want,” Brittany interrupts. “Whatever makes you look good but this one time I ask you for something and it's just a flat out no?”

Brittany’s face has gone a little red and Santana’s further surprised – she didn’t think it was this big of a deal. She doesn’t grasp why Brittany’s so worked up all of sudden. Why would she want someone there with her if they didn’t want to be there in the first place?

“Look, it's better if I don't go because if one dork in clunky black glasses wearing suspenders and a hideous bowtie crosses paths with me I won't be able to contain myself,” Santana argues. “I'll end up hurting someone's feelings and you said it yourself, it's a night for celebration.”

Brittany looks at her like she’s hit a new low. Hell, maybe she just did.

“You're unbelievable,” Brittany huffs as she stands and starts gathering her things.

“What?” Santana watches her with a sudden ache in her chest. “You’re leaving?”

“Clearly,” Brittany mutters. “I can’t be around you right now.”

“All because I don’t want to go?”

Brittany shakes her head, another bitter laugh escaping her.

“No,” She says gravely. “It’s because you’re the most selfish person I’ve ever met.”

Santana tenses at the way her words drip with disdain, but at the same time it puts her on the defense.

“Well sorry that I’m not like you,” Santana argues. “Sorry I can’t just slip into character with ease and be your perfect fake girlfriend whenever you want. Sorry I’m not on all the time like you are.”

Brittany just stares at her for a moment, studying Santana’s face before she speaks again.

“Just when I think I’ve figured you out,” Brittany continues. “Just when I think you’re actually a half-decent person and that maybe beneath this prickly exterior of yours, there’s actually something – someone – deserving of…of a friend you go and prove to me that I’m wrong.”

Santana slumps back in her chair, dejected and defeated.  

Even if Brittany didn’t physical hit her, those words sure did. She can’t even speak as she watches Brittany gather the last of her things and storm out. What’s worse is that she swears she sees blue eyes tinging red just before she turns away.

Santana slaps her hand at the table when the door slams shut behind Brittany. She instantly feels the sting of wood on her open palm.

Why? Why does she always have to screw things up like this?

\\

Puck comes through the door just a minute later, looking confused as well.

“So I just passed Britt in the hall,” He says hesitantly.

“Yeah, she left.”

Puck slowly closes the door behind him, “Why?”

“Because,” Santana lets out a long puff of air. She feels the lump forming again in her throat, strange and unwelcome. “Because I’m an idiot.”

“Dude,” His face falls. “Please tell me you didn’t try to make a move on her. The games earlier were cute and all but – “

“No,” Santana quickly answers. “I didn’t do that.”

“Then what happened?” Puck asks. “She looked really upset.”

Santana presses her lips tightly together, she’s almost ashamed to admit the truth.

“She wanted me to go to some ball with her,” Santana says dismissively. “I told her no.”

“You told her no?” Puck quirks a brow.

“I can’t.”

“You can’t?” Puck frowns. “After all the stuff she’s done for you, you can’t?”

“Look, I can see where I fucked up okay?” Santana snaps. “I don’t need you adding to it.”

Puck shakes his head as he backs off. “You really are an idiot.”

Santana agrees but she doesn’t tell him that.

“You know it’s not a good idea,” Santana tries convincing him. “It’ll be nothing but those academic decathlon nerds and not just the ones from Brittany’s team. It’ll be like ten times that! They’ll be from all over the city and you know how I am around the general public especially when I’m provoked. I could screw up and expose us both. It’s too risky.”

Puck doesn’t say anything, just listens to her excuses.

“I can’t do it,” Santana tells him with finality. “I can’t. Brittany might be pissed at me right now, but she’ll see it’s for the best. I’d just ruin her night because I don’t know how to act anyway. She’ll come around, she has to.”

“Sure Santana,” Puck dismisses and goes to flip open the pizza box. “So…does this mean I can have her pizza too?”

Santana just shakes her head, “Shut up.”

[firstofficerwiggles]

Beskar and Lace

Pairing: Mandalorian x female reader

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only

Warnings: SMUT! swearing, masturbation, voyeurism (just a touch), oral (m receiving), unprotected sex (be safe in the real world, people)

Summary: Mando takes issue with what you wear to bed, so you decide to show him some other options and spiciness ensues.

Word Count: ~8700

Author’s Note: This was an idea I had when I wrote Dress Code but I couldn’t find a way to make it fit into that story so I wrote it as a stand-alone. If you’ve read my other stuff, you should know this is the smuttiest thing I’ve written to date, but while it’s not the softer Din I’ve written in the past, he still manages to be romantic in his own way. In any case, I hope you enjoy!

“Do you always dress like that for bed?” Mando’s voice catches you by surprise. He sounds a bit incredulous and you’re caught off guard because usually you’re already in bed fast asleep before he’s down here. You look down at your simple knee-length cotton nightgown, why should he care what you wear to bed?

“Yes? It’s a nightgown,” you reply, unsure of his reason for asking.

“It’s rather skimpy.” His voice sounds gruff, and disapproving?

You just blink back at the visor in his helmet for a moment and then glance down at yourself again in confusion.

“Skimpy?” He must be joking. “This is just like a longer shirt? I know it has short sleeves but, really, skimpy?” Now your voice sounds incredulous. This nightgown doesn’t even have much shape to it anymore having been washed and worn so often. Mando is standing there rigidly though, seemingly serious. You watch him as he tips his helmet down and up as if he is looking you over thoroughly and you feel your skin heat up under his gaze.

“It’s skimpy. I can practically see through it.” He says definitively. “You should cover up more. Space is cold.” His voice is still gruff and his commanding tone is starting to irritate you a bit, although you do have to tamp down your excitement at the see-through comment. Who does he think he is? You’re not some bounty he can push around. And why are you interested in him seeing through your nightgown??

“I’ve been wearing this every night since I took this job, and I’m perfectly comfortable” you tell him “besides, I don’t see what business it is of yours.” You reply a little haughty in an attempt to keep this conversation somewhat professional, Mando is your boss after all. You’ve been caring for his foundling for about six months now.

“It’s my business if you get sick.” Mando retorts.

“I’ll be fine.” You roll your eyes at his suggestion. He’s being ridiculous. “You’re worrying about nothing.”

Mando lets out one of his long-suffering sighs as if you are the burden of his existence before telling you, “We’ll be in Canto Bight tomorrow. There are plenty of shops there and I expect you to buy yourself some new to wear to bed.”

“Alright, fine.” His tone implies that you shouldn’t argue with him about this. He turns abruptly and heads to his bunk, closing the door without another word.

What the hell was that? You stare after him, utterly perplexed by that conversation. Again, you look down at the nightgown, and while you have to admit it is looking rather old and maybe a little ratty, you would never see it as something skimpy or even something that Mando would see necessary to comment on. You wonder for a minute if something else could be bothering him, perhaps he was just taking a bad mood out on you? You rack your brain but things have been rather routine lately and you chalk it up to Mando being under a lot of stress as per usual. You head to your sleeping area, a little space you’ve carved out for yourself in a corner of the hull, and try to will your mind to sleep. Yet, you can’t stop replaying the whole conversation in your head. You also can’t stop the evil part of your mind that wants to jump for joy that Mando was looking over your body so intently. Ok, so maybe you have had one or two (or three or four) improper thoughts about your boss. I mean you’re not made of stone. He’s so tall and big and built it would make any woman a little curious. Then when you add in that constant bedroom voice that he has, it’s completely understandable. At least that’s what you tell yourself. Plus, he’s also a great father, so kind and caring towards his adopted son – your evil mind has no mercy on you. You roll over with a groan, mentally kicking yourself for your full-blown crush on the Mandalorian. I am an idiot.

I am a total idiot. What the fuck must she think of me? Din can’t sleep either; he is also plagued with thoughts of you. Not that this is anything new for him. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you for months and months now. Din knows that he needs your help to care for the little one and he has tried so hard to be professional around you and not scare you off. From the moment he hired you he thought you were way too pretty, but he was so desperate for the help that he told himself he wouldn’t become distracted. Clearly, that was a lie. Whenever he’s around you, he can’t stop himself from being distracted, watching you tenderly care for the child, listening for your laughter and happy words, and living for the moments when you turn towards him with a smile or a kind gesture. Oh and if he thought you were pretty when you first met, now Din realizes that you are the most beautiful woman he’s ever known. Everything about you seems to turn him on, the curve of your lips when you say his nickname, the scent of your hair when it’s still damp from the shower, the sway of your hips when you rock the baby to sleep, the few times you’ve touched his bicep between his armor, all of it.

Ugh, but tonight, tonight was the closest he’s come to losing control around you. Usually Din tries to give you as much space as possible, waiting until he knows you’re in bed before going to bed himself. Except tonight, he came downstairs earlier than usual, and saw you wearing that thin little excuse for a nightgown. His heart skipped several beats when he realized he could see the outline of your figure right through it. It had him hard and wanting in seconds and so, he had picked a bit of a fight with you to preserve some semblance of normalcy. He sighed to himself again, he had sounded like a prudish jerk. But it was the right choice, and besides, you should get new nightclothes, something that would cover you up and keep his eyes off you. Who the fuck are you kidding? You’re still going to look at her. He groans at himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With the baby in tow in his little satchel, you explore the wealth of shopping in Canto Bight. Mando wasn’t kidding when he said there were plenty of stores here. It seems like the only things to do here are gamble, shop, and party. Mando is meeting with a client and for once, he’s given you some freedom to explore. You’re in one of the nicer casinos here and there are plenty of other tourists around, so you know that it must be safe or Mando would insist on accompanying you. Fortunately, you haven’t had to make many purchases in the time that you’ve been with Mando. He never lets you chip in for food or fuel, so you’ve mostly been saving your credits all this time. As you pass through the shops today, you marvel at the beautiful clothes, shoes, the fancy housewares, and so much more. You can’t resist buying the child a couple adorable plushy toys, including a frog that he immediately tries to eat before you gently explain to him that it is a toy. You decide to focus after that on your mission to buy a new nightgown and maybe some pajamas. You’ve made a few purchases, finding a couple soft pairs of pajamas that will be very relaxing and a very boring nightgown that comes down to your ankles, Mando’s style exactly, shows almost no skin. There’s no way he can find fault with these. As you continue through the shopping center, the baby suddenly reaches out as you pass a shop to grab something blue and silky. When you pry his little claws off the material, thankful that he hasn’t damaged it in any way, you realize it is a beautiful negligee. You look up at the rest of the store to see a lovely collection of mouth-watering lingerie. Evil You is back in a heartbeat. Maybe you should show Mando the true meaning of skimpy?

“Come in, come in!” The friendly sales woman sees you lingering at the entrance, “Everything is on sale today and we have so many fabulous items for you!” Her spirit and energy are captivating and you can’t help yourself. You follow her into the shop, letting your wicked thoughts get the best of you. You find yourself telling her that you need some sexy items for bedtime and the next thing you know you’re in the dressing room trying on increasingly delectable pieces of silk and lace. The baby has made himself at home in the waiting area sitting on a satin pillow and being fed fancy macarons by another sales woman, acting like the little prince that he is.

You admire yourself in the mirror, and although you have to admit that you look great, you can’t stop the debate going on in your head.

I am being ridiculous, buying lingerie to impress a man I’m not even involved with.

Yet! You’re not involved with him yet.

Shut up, I shouldn’t be thinking of Mando like this.

Why not? He’s hot, you’re hot, stop overthinking it.

I do look pretty hot in this.

Yes, you do! And you can buy it for yourself too. You deserve to look hot!

It’s ok if it’s for me. I can buy this for me. I’m a strong, confident, sexy woman who buys herself lingerie.

Of course you are!!!

And who is Mando to tell me what I can and can’t wear? If I want to wear something skimpy, I will.

That’s right, girl! You’ll show him!

You’ve completely talked yourself into buying several of the negligees, one of which is so sexy you’re not sure if you really have the confidence to wear it, but you’re feeling daring. You justify it in your mind by reminding yourself that everything is on sale, and who knows when you’ll have another opportunity to shop like this. You even end up getting a bottle of scented lotion that the saleswoman recommends as guaranteed to drive your man wild. Not that you care about that, you lie to yourself, it’s for you, the strong, confident, sexy woman.

“That was completely necessary,” you tell the baby as you brush the cookie crumbs from his robe and resettle him in his satchel while the sales women box up all of your purchases. They even include a bag of macarons for the child for later; he’s thoroughly charmed the women working here, and gives everyone a happy coo and waves goodbye like you taught him. You head back to the Razor Crest, thinking that you should probably quit before you get yourself into too much trouble.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It takes a while to get the baby to bed that evening as he’s still wound up on all the sugar and is likely reacting to the buzzing energy you have going on. Evil You has decided to be sure that Mando sees you in one of your new negligees tonight. He saw all of your boxes and bags earlier and gave you a brisk nod in seeing that you followed his instructions. You even went so far as to pull out the modest nightgown to demonstrate how well you listened to him, all the while, Evil You was cackling about what you really have in store for him. While he’s still up in the cockpit, you take your time getting ready for bed. You moisturize your skin all over with your new lotion, it does smell divine, and then you put on a beautiful black silk chiffon chemise with pale pink lace trim. It’s sexy without giving too much away, but still the hemline reaches only to mid-thigh and the neckline provides a generous view of your décolletage. And unlike the shapelessness of the old gown, this shows off your figure flawlessly. Your timing is perfect as you are just coming out of the fresher when Mando’s boots hit the floor of the hull. When he turns and sees you he stops dead and is so still you’d think he’d been frozen in carbonite like one of his bounties except you can still hear him breathing, rather heavily, you think. You decide to feign innocence, blinking up at him to say, “Oh, good night, Mando! Just on my way to bed.”

He stares at you for what feels like an eternity, not moving at all, until he grits out, “What. Is. That.”

“Oh! It’s one of my new nightgowns,” you keep up the wide-eyed act, “The sales woman said it was one of the most popular styles.” You even give a little half twirl to show it off, oh Maker, I am too much. You desperately want to ask him what he thinks but something tells you that you shouldn’t push him anymore yet.

“That is not the nightgown you showed me before,” his voice sounds accusatory.

You give a dainty shrug and say, “I was feeling too warm for that one.”

Mando doesn’t respond, but you watch as his hands curl into fists making the leather of his gloves squeak with the tightness. He watches you for a few more seconds before he abruptly turns away from you and stomps back up the ladder to the cockpit. Uh-oh that wasn’t the reaction you were hoping to get from him. Should I go apologize? Did I offend him by flouting some type of Mandalorian modesty rule?

In the cockpit, Din is absolutely shuddering with the strength of his need for you. His beskar feels claustrophobic and he has to rip the helmet off his head just so he can draw a full breath. He throws himself into the pilot’s seat and is already undoing his trousers to free his rock-hard cock before he even knows what he’s doing. He pulls off his right glove and quickly licks his palm, before gripping himself roughly, so he can fuck his own fist at a punishing pace. Seeing you in that lingerie, Maker, it was better than anything his imagination had invented. Plus, the way you smelled, like some type of delicious fruit mixed with an earthy spice. He thought he was going to pass out from how fast all the blood in his body had rushed to his groin. As he pumps himself, Din moans your name and thinks about you wearing that negligee while riding his cock right here in his chair. He fantasizes about how he could tug down those delicate little straps and free your breasts with almost no effort, and how good that silk would feel swishing against his skin as he thrust up into you. It was enough to send him over the edge, cumming with another loud moan of your name. Does she have any idea what she’s doing to me?

Well, you had some idea now. Your entire body was tingling and hot after hearing Mando’s sounds of self-pleasure coming from the cockpit. After his abrupt departure, you had stayed dithering for a few moments in the hull, until you had started to climb the ladder with a plan to check on him and possibly apologize. However, as soon as you realized what he was doing up there you froze and remained out of view. You knew you should have crept back down and given him some privacy, but when you heard him call out your name, it was like nothing could move you from that spot. He wanted you. It made you giddy with desire and you felt a surge of feminine power that you could bring out such a feeling in him. Hearing Mando like that had turned you on like nothing before and you were eager to touch yourself too, but the shuffling sounds of his boots suddenly brought you back to reality and you dashed to your bed as stealthily as you could. You resorted to squeezing your thighs together under the covers and pretending to sleep as you heard him return to the hull. It wasn’t until you were certain he was shut away in his own sleeping quarters, that you finally allowed yourself to dip your fingers into your soaking folds. Holding your other hand over your mouth to stifle any moans, you drew rapid circles around your clit and remembered how Mando had groaned your name. You were so excited that all it took was one finger into your wet heat and you were seeing stars as you reached your climax. You fell into a blissful sleep, dreaming about what you were going to wear tomorrow night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day you woke up cheerful, still high from your discovery the night before. You remembered that Mando had said his next bounty was far away and that you’d be in hyperspace for almost four days, which meant you would have plenty of time to spend with him. You practically bounded out of bed, eager to start your day.

Din noticed your happy mood right away as it was such a contrast to his own frustrated and grouchy disposition that morning. His dreams had been full of you, and he had woken up hard and needy but was too angry at his lack of self-control to let himself indulge in jerking off again. He had been banging around the hull like an angry bear for most of the morning, but when you softly approached him with a plate of food and hot cup of tea, and that beaming smile on your face, he felt himself give in a little to your positivity. Then, the friendly way you had patted his pauldron and wished him a good morning, had stifled any desire to grumble at you. It’s not her fault you’re like this.

The rest of the day had passed surprisingly well and Din found his mood lifting substantially. His usual plan to shut himself away somewhere hadn’t panned out as you seemed to seek him out all day long. First, you had him playing games with you and the baby, then, you had decided it was lesson time and you asked Din to help you with that (you were trying to teach the child colors), and then later when the child was napping, you had come to sit near him, drawing him into conversation. In addition to being around him, it also seemed like you couldn’t stop touching him. All day you had found ways to make contact, a small squeeze of his bicep to get his attention, a brush of your hand on his back as you passed him, a little pat on his knee when he praised the child for knowing what blue was, and a couple others that didn’t appear to have any particular meaning. Not that he was complaining; Din lived for those small touches. The day had turned out to be pleasant and he was looking forward to getting some better sleep tonight.

Din had just finished putting away his dinner dishes when he heard you coming out of the fresher and heading towards your sleeping area. He knew you would need to pass by him and he had steeled himself for seeing you. He felt confident that he could keep everything in check tonight, telling himself it had only been the shock of seeing you in such a revealing outfit that had provoked him so much last night. Now that he knew what you’d be wearing, he could handle it, he was prepared. Except you weren’t wearing the same thing, oh no, tonight you had some silky red number on that clung tightly to every curve and only barely covered your ass. To make matters worse, he could see your hard nipples right through the material.

“Dank farrik!”

“Excuse me?” You startled at the sudden curse being uttered.

Shit, he’d said that aloud, “I uh, I stubbed my toe” he lies to you, like an idiot. He tries to turn away from you in hopes of putting you off.

“Oh no, are you ok?” You head toward him with concern in your eyes. Fuck, fuck, fuck you’re getting closer to him and reaching out a hand like you intend to touch him again. If you touch him right now there won’t be any way he can control himself, he’ll have you up against that wall in a heartbeat, or maybe tossed over those crates, shit, get it the fuck together. He practically jumps away from you, mutters something about the fresher, and makes a mad dash to the shower. He turns the water to the coldest setting and rips off his armor and clothes as hastily as he can. The jolt to his system from the icy stream is enough to help his mind calm down a little but it’s doing nothing for his raging erection. He groans and reaches to stroke himself. Before he knows it, he’s painting his stomach with his release, coming so hard he pounds his other fist against the wall as he cries out your name. He’s thankful that at least the water should drown out any sounds.

Out in the hull, you’re lounging on your bed, trying to stay awake so you can see Mando one more time before he bolts away from you again. You know he has to have gotten a fairly decent look at you in tonight’s lingerie, but banging his toe seemed to have distracted him completely. Which was odd because you’d known Mando to sustain much worse injuries with little to no reaction in the past. Unless he was only using the toe as an excuse? Maybe he’s not really that into you? Had he dashed away to spare you any embarrassment? Perhaps last night had been a one off. But then today you could have sworn he was responding to your flirting. You’re going back and forth in your mind when you suddenly hear a loud bang coming from the fresher followed by a loud groan of your name that you can hear even over the running water. Oh, he’s into me. Evil You surges to the surface and has you readjusting your position on the bed to look as seductive as possible. When Mando finally comes out of the fresher, he is wearing nothing but his helmet and his trousers, giving you a fantastic view of his gorgeous chest and torso, bare and still wet from his shower. It’s the most of his skin you’ve ever had the privilege of seeing. You can’t keep your mouth from dropping open as you stare at him.

“You’re still awake,” Mando stops dead when he realizes you’re watching him.

“Uh, yeah, just uh, wanted to make sure, uh, you were ok?” You try to keep your eyes trained on his visor, but you keep failing, getting distracted by the muscles in his chest. Maker, looking up at him from this angle he is so tall and broad.

“I’m f- fine.” He pauses for a long moment remaining statue like, before saying, “Go to sleep. I mean, uh, you should, uh, go to sleep.” It doesn’t seem like he is going to move while you watch him.

“Ok, well, good night then.” You feel disappointed, but roll over and wrap yourself in your blankets. His sigh of relief is small but noticeable in the quiet of the hull. Mando switches off the lights and then you hear his soft shuffle as he heads to his own bed. He pauses though when he gets closer to you. It seems like he’s just standing there looking down at you in the dark, and then you hear his deep voice, “Good night.”

“I hope you sleep well,” you reply softly. He makes a slight sound that almost sounds like “yeah, right” but you can’t be completely sure before he shuts himself away in his bunk. Oh well, you’ll try again one more time tomorrow, you can wear the really sexy one, at least Evil You is still optimistic.

Meanwhile, Din is trying to figure out what the hell is going on. He can’t stop picturing the expression on your face when he was standing there shirtless. Had you been looking at him with shock or desire? It didn’t help matters that you had been sprawled out on your bed looking like the Goddess of Temptation making him painfully hard yet again. He isn’t thinking clearly, it had to be shock, you had never seen him like that, he was always covered, even if it was only in the clothing he wore under the beskar. But what if it was desire? He groans to himself. Even if it had been desire, he’d made a complete ass of himself, and what was he supposed to do now, go back out there and try to get into bed with you?

Yes, do that, you idiot.

Why so she can punch me?

She might not.

Shut up, dumbass!

Din rolls over, sighing to himself, resigning himself to another long night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s your turn to groan under the water in the shower, but sadly not from pleasure. It had been a trying day. To say that Mando had been in a mood was an understatement. He had been downright grouchy bordering on sullen. To make matters worse, the child fed off his adoptive father’s terrible disposition and had been extremely fussy all day. You had poured enthusiasm into trying to rouse their spirits, but the more you tried, the more your two boys dug in their heels and refused to be cheered. Eventually, you had given up and just settled for quiet, but the baby had taken that as a personal affront and had a very loud tantrum that had included magically flinging things around the ship. Thank the Maker you still had the bag of macarons from Canto Bight, which you promptly bribed him with to get him to stop. You’d let him eat the entire bag and yeah, that was a parenting don’t, but you were at your wits end and would have given him anything to just make the screaming end. Of course, afterwards, you had the exhausting job of chasing after him all over the ship as he celebrated his sugar high, but at least he was happy. Mando, on the other hand, had taken to working on fix-it projects on the ship, which seemed to really be an excuse for him to swear and bang at something all afternoon. You’d hoped it might help him work out some frustration, but he seemed just as grouchy as ever, barely saying two words to you since you brought him his dinner. So yeah, you aren’t feeling stellar this evening.

The plans for your spicy surprise for Mando have all but disappeared. Before coming into the fresher, you had taken a long look at both the incredibly sexy lace lingerie and the ultra-modest, covers-everything, I-give-up nightgown. You had grabbed both before coming in here, but you still weren’t sure which one you ought to put on.  As you turn off the water, you see them both sitting there, hot versus ho-hum. You know if you put on the boring nightgown, ho-hum is exactly how you are going to feel. Fuck that, I want to feel hot, even if Mando doesn’t care. Mind made up, you grab the new bottle of lotion with a smirk, rubbing the delicious scent all over your skin. Finally turning to the lingerie, you put on the gorgeous set. You weren’t kidding when you said this one was sexy. This negligee is black lace with a metallic silver thread sparkling throughout. The bodice consists of two lace panels that just barely cover your breasts and end in a deep vee right above your navel. The lace of the very short skirt is so sheer that if it weren’t for the matching panties you’re wearing, everything would have been visible. The whole look leaves very little to the imagination, but you don’t care, if this doesn’t get a reaction out of the Mandalorian, your only other option is to walk around naked in front of him. Hey, now there’s an idea! Evil You is ready to be unleased.

Din has been finishing up fixing some wiring in the hull and he is finally letting himself relax a smidgen. He’d see the bunch of fabric you’d taken with you to the fresher and he realized it had to be the modest nightgown. Finally, it seems like you’ve come to your senses. Nonetheless, he’d had to tamp down the part of him that was disappointed. This is for the best. He hears the fresher door open and before he can lift his head, he can smell that intoxicating fragrance again. It will be ok, he can get past that, he’ll just say good night and go to bed, that’s all, but then he turns and sees you. The tools in his hands clatter to the ground.

“Fuuuck” Mando swears like he’s in slow motion, drawing out the word in his surprise.

“Hi, Mando,” you say simply, but flirtatiously.

“Hi?!?” He sounds incredulous, “Is that all you- you just stand there, like that and just hi?”

“What do you want me to say?” You tip your head, coquettishly blinking up at him.

Mando makes a choking sound and then grits out, “I don’t know, maybe an explanation for how you’ve lost your mind, or at least your clothes.”

“You told me to buy something new for bed. This is definitely meant to be in a bed.” You gesture towards your lace-covered figure. “Plus, I do remember you using the word skimpy quite a bit during that conversation.”

“I meant for you to buy something that wasn’t-- hell, this isn’t even skimpy; it’s practically non-existent.” He sounds like he is in pain. “Maker, woman, how much self-control do you think I have?!?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to find out,” you retort with a little smirk. Apparently, you’ve reached the end of it with that statement, because suddenly he is advancing toward you pinning you up against the bulkhead with his hips pressed hard into you and his hands on either side of your head. You can feel the hot, hard length of him against your hip and you let out a little groan.

“Have you been taunting me all this time?” His voice has a dangerous edge to it that sends a delicious shiver down your spine.

“I wouldn’t say taunting, more like enticing you.” You drag one of your legs up the length of his until you can hook it around his hip and pull him in closer to you.

Din can’t believe you’ve been doing this deliberately the whole time. He also can’t believe he ever bought your whole innocent act. It’s clear you planned this out to get back at him for being an asshole about your nightgown in the first place. To be honest though the thought of you shopping for lingerie for him, has him so turned on he doesn’t really care. But that doesn’t mean he’s not going to have to pay you back a little for torturing him these last few days.

“Enticing me?” Mando repeats with a small snort, “You sure you want to do that?” His body doesn’t really wait for your answer though as his hand comes down to grip your raised thigh tightly and urge it higher while he grinds his hips into you.

“Yes,” you pant out, “yes, I want to do that.” His movements are making you hotter than ever as you can feel his cock rubbing against your core. Mando brings his hand back up so he can grope your breast, kneading it roughly before rolling the sensitive peak of your nipple between his fingers and then moves to give its twin the same attention. He leans in closer to you so he can speak right into your ear.

“Do you like this? Letting me rut up against you, touching you, squeezing your tits. Getting you all worked up.” He rolls his hips up to rub his cock right across your clit. You let your head fall back against the wall and you gasp out in pleasure. “Or were you already turned on from teasing me?”

“I like it,” you breathe out.

“And the teasing?” He pinches your nipple hard making you cry out. He’s turning you into a mess, but his voice sounds controlled.

“Wasn’t-- wasn’t trying to tease,” you try to sound convincing but it’s hard when he’s distracting you so well.

“I don’t know, I think you were,” Mando sounds smug now, “I think you were enjoying it. Maybe I’ll enjoy teasing you.” And then suddenly he pulls away from you completely, dropping your leg with a small thump.

“What? No, no don’t stop.” You can’t help the whine in your voice.

“Why? Too hot and bothered? Not so fun, is it?” He tips his helmet at you and it feels like he must be smirking under there. You’re a second away from just begging him shamelessly, but that head tilt does something to you; a spark of competitiveness flares within you. Evil You started this game and she’s not ready to back down now.

You roll your shoulders back, take a deep breath, and look at him, “Are you saying you’re not worked up?” You let your eyes flick down to the absolute tent in his trousers and then back up to his visor.

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Hell, what do you think I’ve been doing up until now?” Mando runs a hand across his crotch, palming himself, as if to prove his point and maybe hoping to shock you.

“Oh, I’ve heard.” He flinches at that, seems like you caught him off guard. You push ahead, “But what an excellent idea.” You flounce past him and climb onto your bed. You lie back into your pillows and then bring your hands up to caress yourself, your fingers trailing down over your throat and chest in a seductive fashion. Your hands cup your lace-covered breasts, slowly running your palms over them and pushing them together before letting your fingertips brush over your nipples. You look straight into Mando’s visor the entire time.

“Wait, what’re you doing?” It’s as if he’s on a two-minute delay and Din’s mouth has only now caught up to the scene unfolding in front of him. This isn’t what he wanted; he wants to be the one to pleasure you.

“Well, since you don’t seem interested, I guess I’ll just have to take care of myself, like you suggested.” You let your hand drift down your body and into your panties and you let out a suggestive moan. You exaggerate your movements, performing for him.

“I am, I’m interested,” Mando insists.

“Tell me what you want.” You’re not letting him off the hook yet.

“I want to touch you like that, I want to be the one making you moan, making you wet.” Oh, he’s good.

“Ooh, Mando, you’ve got me so wet already.” You let your fingers glide through your folds.

“Let me see.” His voice sounds gruff.

You pause, considering him for a moment, “Why don’t you come feel for yourself?”

With that, Din is pulling his gloves off and striding to bed. He settles himself between your thighs, and reaches for your panties, yanking the little scrap of lace down your legs. He pushes your hand away and then just stares at you, open and glistening for him. Finally.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he tells you, “every part of you. And I’m going to touch it all.”  

His hands come to rest on your knees and he tugs your legs open wider before gently squeezing his way up your thighs.

“And how do you always smell so good?” Mando asks.

“I bought scented lotion too.”

“No, it’s more than that,” he says suggestively. You can’t respond though because Mando’s hands have finally reached their destination and the leisurely way he is just dragging his fingers against you has robbed you of all your breath. He’s gentle at first, exploring softly and driving you absolutely crazy.

“Mmm, you are wet, sweetheart,” Mando drawls out, pleased. He adds more pressure and starts to draw lazy circles around your clit making you moan his nickname. “And so responsive to me too.”

“Mando, please,” You can’t help the plea falling from your lips when he’s being so maddeningly slow.

“I like the sound of that.” The smugness is back in his voice. “Please, what?”

“More, please, touch me more” you manage to breathe out, and thank the Maker he complies. He rotates his hand so that his thumb is now on your clit and he increases the pace of those fantastic circles while letting his thick middle finger push inside your pussy. Meanwhile his other hand has been making its way up your body, caressing you through the lace, until he reaches your tits again. This time, however, he’s pushing the lace aside so he can tweak and tease your nipples directly.

“Man- Mando, feels so fucking good, wanted you to touch me like this for so long,” you say between moans.

“Could’ve just asked me, ‘stead of parading around in these flimsy little things,” he chuckles.

“You like these flimsy things though, I could tell,” you respond.

“Yeah, I do,” he admits, “Let me show you how much.” He increases his thrusts into you adding a second finger and then bending both upwards to sweep across pure bliss inside you. You feel like you’ve been on the brink of an orgasm for hours even though he’s only been touching you like this for a few minutes. You feel the waves of pleasure building up and your moans turn into cries of his name until finally the waves crest and feel yourself cumming all over his hand.

“Yes, that’s it, sweetheart,” Mando encourages you, “look so beautiful when you cum. Wanna see it again.” He doesn’t stop his momentum even slightly.

Din is enjoying watching you fall apart completely on his fingers; you’re so hot and soft around him. He knows you will feel unbelievably good on his cock, but he wants to draw out your pleasure as much as he can right now. He feels high on the control of being the one to make you feel like this.

“Mando,” you breathe out, “I- I don’t know-- if I- I can a-again.”

“You can, you can give me another one. You’re gonna give me another one, you little tease.” His voice is firm, but it’s so sexy when he’s demanding that you cum for him. “Besides, this cunt is so tight, need to stretch you out, get you ready to take my cock.”

Hearing him say such utter filth to you is such an incredible turn on that he’s right, you can give him another orgasm and you do. The second one hits you even harder making you clench tight around his fingers, gushing wetness all over as you collapse boneless on the bed.

“That’s it, good, that’s my girl.”  

He finally slows his hand and pulls himself away from your dripping center. You watch as his fingers disappear under his helmet and knowing that he’s tasting you on them makes your already spent cunt clench again. He moves off the bed so that he can remove his armor and finally take off his clothes. You watch him, fascinated as more and more of him is revealed to you, until finally he’s standing in front of you naked except for the helmet.

“Oh, Mando, you are incredible; an absolutely gorgeous tank of a man,” you tell him, letting your eyes rake over his broad, muscular form.  You see his cock twitch at your words and he seems to widen his stance as you watch him, making himself look even broader. You admire him further, “I love how strong you are, and how big.” As you say the last word, you let your eyes drop to his erection.

“Yeah?” Din asks. He loves that you are so turned on by his body, and your praise is making him blush so much he wonders if you can see it in his neck and chest. You haven’t even touched him yet and he’s aching for you.

“Mmm, yes.” You say appreciatively as you slide off the bed and take his hand, pulling him back to you with a wide smile. You maneuver him to the bed pushing lightly at his shoulders until he takes the hint and lies back. You slip the negligee over your head tossing it to the floor so that you’re naked too. He reaches out one of his large hands and tugs you down with him until you land on top of his body in a tangle of limbs. You push up gently so that you can straddle his narrow hips with your knees bringing yourself up over him to give your hands access to his beautiful golden skin. You let your palms run over his torso and chest, up across his shoulders, lowering yourself down on him as you go so that you can place kisses on his neck, collarbone, and chest. He tries to pull your hips down but you resist so you can take your time exploring him first.

As you make your way down his body, your kisses become more passionate, opening up to let your hot tongue run over his skin. He moans out at the sensation, encouraging you to do it more so you can hear him again. You kiss his nipples, letting your tongue flick each one into a hard nub and making him arch up against you. You continue trailing your lips down his torso, and when you dip your tongue into his navel, he cries out your name and you smile into his skin. Finally, you settle yourself between his legs, looking up at him as you take the head of his cock into your mouth. The sound he makes is somewhere between a groan and a whimper, making you feel a rush of power at being the reason for that sound. You swirl your tongue around the head adding a deliberate flick to the sensitive spot just underneath. You pull off him with a teasing suck before dropping your head back down to allow you to lick up and down his shaft getting him as wet as possible. Mando is practically writhing beneath you trying to get you to take him back into your mouth. You run your hands along the inside of his thighs, shushing him gently, before wrapping your hands underneath him to cup his buttocks. You bring your mouth back up to the head of his cock and then glide down taking him in as deep as possible. You keep your tongue flat and wide to aid you as you go, and give a little hum to help open your throat. You bob your head back up before doing it again and again, each time getting him a little deeper, until you are able to take all of him.

Din has never felt anything so incredible in his life. He’s enjoyed blowjobs before but they were never anything like this. How are you able to swallow him like that? Where did you learn to do this? The way you’re sucking him feels like pure heaven. And the way your tongue is just gliding along the underside of him on your downward stroke, ugh, he feels like he’s fighting off his orgasm the entire time.

“Fuck! So good! How? Shit!” Mando sounds like a complete wreck above you letting out a string of curses and garbled sounds as you continue your oral worship of him. You look up to see his helmet thrashing about in the pillows and his fists practically ripping the blanket underneath him as he’s pulling at it so tightly. It’s too much for him and he begs you to stop, almost shoving you off him.

“St- stop, please, stop, n- not yet.” You release him and he takes in a shaky breath, calming himself. You climb out from between his legs to lay next to him for a moment as he comes back down from the precipice of his peak.

“You are just full of surprises, aren’t you?” Mando says between breaths.

“I’d like to be full of something else,” you quip back at him.

“Oh I bet you would.” And lightning fast Mando is somehow towering over you on his knees, prying your legs apart so he can wedge himself between them. As soon as you realize what he’s up to you’re more than happy to help, bringing your legs up to hook around his hips. He rocks against you letting his cock rub up through your wetness. You’re still sensitive from your earlier orgasms and you’re even more turned on after going down on him.

“Do you want this?” Mando asks, teasing your clit with the head of his cock.

“Yes, Mando, please.” You lift your hips up in a vain attempt to get him where you need him most.

“Tell me again.” It’s a command but his tone is soft, sultry.

“Yes, I want you, Mando. I need you.” You look up at him, hoping that your expression can covey all that you feel for him, everything you’re not quite able to tell him yet.

“I need you too, sweetheart.” He says as he gradually starts to push into you, the blunt head of his cock spearing you open. He is only in about halfway when he pauses, letting you adjust to his size before he pulls out almost completely. He repeats with slow, shallow thrusts only giving you a fraction more of him each time.

“Your cunt is so amazingly tight,” Mando moans out, “feels so perfect.”

“I need more, Mando, please.” You try to keep from whining but he’s making you desperate for him. His movements are so languid and unhurried. It’s both fantastic and frustrating at the same time.

“Patience, my little tease, I know what you need.” Mando stretches down over you as he thrusts forward, gripping your hands to place them on either side of your head as he interlocks his fingers with yours. He’s still moving slowly, but this time he keeps going until he is fully sheathed with your tight passage. There is a slight burn as he stretches you open more than any of your previous lovers could, but the feeling of utter fullness is so wonderful any pain is quickly gone. Mando holds himself there for an instant before bringing his helmet down to meet your forehead in the only kind of kiss he can give you now. It’s a lovely moment, but after a bit you can’t stop yourself from grinding against him in a silent plea to make him move.

Mando chuckles at your attempt to move him, and then asks, “Are you ready, sweetheart?”

You barely get out a cry of “Yes!” before he pulls back and then drives himself up into you with such force it punches all the air out of your lungs. Gone are the leisurely teases from before. Instead, now he is moving at an inconceivable pace, fucking into you with abandon. Maker, he’s fast, and the way that he moves his hips is causing him to hit that magic place inside you each time. It’s all you can do to roll your hips up to meet his in counterpoint to his plunging thrusts. A constant string of moans is forced from your lungs along with occasional cries of his name.

“Oh fuck, you’re so good, taking my cock so well, like you were made for it.” You love hearing Mando’s filthy praise, his rich baritone voice encouraging you and making you gush around him with every word. And apparently he can feel that extra wetness, as he tells you, “You like it when I talk dirty to you, don’t you?”

“Maker, yes, Mando,” you respond breathlessly, hoping he’ll keep it up.

“D’you know how much I imagined fucking you? Taken you all over the ship in my mind. Gonna make it real. Gonna show you how badly I’ve wanted you.” The promise of acting out Mando’s fantasies pushes you even closer to the point of no return. The pleasure that has been mounting in you begins to burn white hot inside you. You wrap your legs around Mando’s waist lifting your hips up more, changing the angle just enough to let him penetrate you even deeper than before. You feel your thighs begin to quake, your internal muscles clenching down on him as your climax overtakes you in sparks of blinding ecstasy.

“That’s it sweetheart, cum on my cock, yes.” Mando keeps fucking you right through your orgasm, ramping up his speed even faster than before helping you prolong your high. It’s so good that you can feel another one building right behind it, crashing into you before you even realize that it’s happening. The pleasure is so strong your entire body is spasming with the force of your release and Mando sounds completely wrecked above you. His thrusts are getting erratic and you know he’s getting close.

You are clamped around him like a searing velvet vice, and Din is sure he has never felt anything better in his entire life. Each time you cum for him, you get wetter and the sounds of him pistoning in and out of you echo obscenely in the hull. He wishes this could last longer, but it feels too wonderful, and he can feel his balls tightening. He just wants to stay inside you as long as he possibly can. He begs you, “Please let me cum in you, please. Gonna cum, p- please wanna b- be in you.”

“It’s safe, Mando, you can cum in me,” you tell him, “I want you to cum in me, wanna feel you fill me up.”

That is exactly what Din needs to hear and he lets out a loud groan. He brings one of his strong arms around your lower back to hold you closer to him as he drives into you even harder. His entire body tenses and he cries out your name like it’s being ripped from his throat as his cock begins to pulse inside you and ropes of his cum explode out of him, covering your walls.

Mando tries to lower himself back down to you gently, but ends up collapsing a little on top of you as his strength finally gives out after the force of his orgasm. You don’t mind at all though and you wrap your arms around his back holding him close, enjoying the feel of him still inside you. He is content to stay like that for a few moments too, until he’s murmuring something about crushing you and is rolling onto his back, pulling you with him until you are curled up against his side. You cuddle with him for a bit before he gets up to get you a wet cloth from the fresher to help you clean up before you fall asleep.

When Mando gets back to you, he asks, “So, how many of those skimpy things did you buy?”

You smile up at him, “Oh there are several more,” you assure him, “Couldn’t think of anything better to spend my credits on.”

“Yeah? Good. That means I can get rid of this.” He holds up the modest nightgown you had left behind in the fresher.

You let out a laugh before asking him, “I thought you were worried about me being cold?”

“If you keep wearing those skimpy little things around me, you don’t have to worry about being cold. I’ll be in your bed every night keeping you warm.” His voice is rich with promise.

“Good. You can start now.”

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

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!

Tag list: @mandosboobiez @tv-zepeda @remmyswritings @mudhornchronicles @hoodjarin @mackycat11 @sleepwithacommunist @haley7242 @boomtownboy​ @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @rueblogsthings

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Cult Girl (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 5

Alright we're finally at the wedding part. Hope it was worth the wait. The next part is probably also gonna take part at the wedding too.

Trigger warning: confronting abusers, gaslighting, mentions of death, brief mention of child sex abuse

Life with your grandmother and cousins was a neverending war. But this was a battle you intended to win.

Anna was getting married on a beach near the Eastern Shore, about fifty minutes away from Baltimore. The ceremony would take place at the waterfront, while the reception would be held in one of the grand ballrooms of your grandmother’s exclusive country club. This was clearly for a tactical advantage. Your grandmother used the country club as her own personal castle. Throwing obscene amounts of money into events was her favorite intimidation strategy.

The beach was overrun with people. That was her second intimidation strategy. She undoubtedly forced Anna to add the entire country club to her guest list, because half the guests were far too old to run in the same circles as the young couple.

You were relieved to see that none of the guests adhered to the supposed dress code, which revealed itself to be just a last-minute power grab. She just wanted to see you blindly obey her one last time.

Hannibal laced his fingers between yours, reminding you of your one major advantage. You weren't alone anymore.

"That woman in the coral dress," He leaned over and whispered to you. "That is Theresa, yes?"

Your eyes scanned the crowd. Even though her back was to you, you could recognize that aggressive auburn updo anywhere. "That's her."

"And the woman at her side," he continued. "The one that understands that it's rude to wear white to a wedding but did anyway-"

"Yep." You sighed. "That's her."

As if on cue, Theresa turned around and saw you. You could barely make out a flash of excitement on her face before she plastered on her characteristic fake smile. She whispered something to your grandmother. Something too long for a simple utterance of "[F/N] is here". Something that visibly caught your grandmother’s attention. Without so much as excusing herself from whatever conversation she was clearly in the middle of, she and Theresa approached you.

You felt like a baby gazelle dipped in steak sauce in the middle of the serengeti. The lions were closing in on you. You briefly considered causing some kind of distraction, but you knew it was too late. You tightened your grip on Hannibal's hand as your grandmother and cousin stepped into earshot.

"[Y/N]!" Your grandmother exclaimed, her voice jumping to an unnatural register. She pulled you in for a hug, which you weakly returned.

"I didn't think you would make it." Theresa said, her voice full of venom. When she hugged you, you fully expected to break the embrace with a serated kitchen knife sticking out of your back.

"And who is this," Your grandma paused, scanning Hannibal up and down. Her expression was unreadable, which was never a good sign. "Charming gentleman?"

You looked back at Hannibal, wearing your sudden excitement on your face. "Grandma, Theresa. This is Dr. Hannibal Lecter, my fiancé."

"So nice to finally meet you, Mrs. [L/N]." Hannibal offered her his hand.

"Oh, it's Ms. [L/N]." Your grandmother corrected. "I threw [F/N]'s grandfather out with the garbage."

You vividly recalled the day you found your grandfather's urn in the trash compactor. Hannibal knew about it too. Six year old [F/N] had nightmares for months.

Theresa's expression was significantly more legible. She offered him the back of her hand while glaring at you from the side of her eye. "Dr. Lecter, it's a pleasure."

"Theresa, yes." Hannibal tucked his hands into his pockets. "[F/N] has told me all about you."

Theresa clutched her wine glass between her talons. Beneath her plastic smile, she was coiled and ready to strike.

"[F/N], how did you meet this fine man?" Your grandma asked, running her hand down his arm.

This was an approach you'd never seen her use, but it didn’t surprise you to see her using it either. Hannibal was only attractive to her because he was yours. Even though you knew this, you still felt a tad possessive of him. You snaked your arm around his and held him close.

He looked down at you lovingly. "She and I have a field of study in common, so it was only a matter of time, really. She's a brilliant conversationalist."

"She gets that from me." Your grandmother, always ready to take credit for anything and everything, said. "So you're a psychologist?"

"Yes, ma'am." He nodded. "A psychiatrist, to be precise."

"So you're gonna charge me when I complain to you about [F/N]?" She joked. "This one gave me more than a few grey hairs."

"Beatrice?" A passing woman interrupted, stealing your grandmother's attention.

"Gladys! Thank you so much for coming!" She said before wandering off without so much as a goodbye. That left you, Hannibal and Theresa.

"[F/N], I'm a little surprised." Theresa commented, taking a sip from her wine glass. "I would have never guessed that you were a gold digger."

Okay, so we're doing this, you thought. Grandma had left you unsupervised and the gloves were coming off. Let's fucking dance.

"And how's your husband, Theresa?" You matched her sickly sweet tone.

"My husband the senator?" Theresa perked up. "He's wonderful. We're enjoying the East Coast summer. It gets so dreadfully dry in Utah."

"Must be hard to enjoy your vacation while fighting off all those abuse allegations." You added.

She seemed to have forgotten that you too could switch from passive-aggressive to aggressive-aggressive on a dime. That you did learn from your grandmother.

Theresa tensed up, though her smile didn't falter. "Well, you know. It's a witch hunt out there. All those women just want to ruin a poor man's life."

"Children." You corrected, finishing your wine in one swig. "I think you meant to say children."

The wedding bells began to ring, alerting the guests that the ceremony was about to commence. You thanked the maker that you'd gotten the last word in.

"Well, I have to go join my sister at the altar." She placed her empty wine glass on a table. "It's been a pleasure."

"Theresa, how long are you and your husband in town for?" Hannibal asked, seemingly out of nowhere. "[F/N] and I would be honored to have both of you for dinner."

"Well, at least one of you has manners." Theresa sneered at you. "We would love to join you, Dr. Lecter. Thank you ever so much for the invitation."

Once Theresa was out of earshot, you let the confusion and outrage overtake your face.

"Hannibal, I ask this with love," you began, choosing your words carefully. "But are you going to poison them?"

"No, love." Hannibal snickered.

"You're right. Poisoning would be too good for her." You said through gritted teeth. "She doesn't deserve a quick death."

"All in due time, darling." He stroked your hair in reassurance. "Come, let's take our seats. The ceremony is about to start."

[flowerpowelltales]

Until You Hate Me (Liam x MC)

PART THREE - THE BEGINNING

A/N: Yes, I do feel ashamed I forgot about this series for TWO years. I also am aware most of you, who have been tagged, dont even remember ever reading this series. If you’d like to be taken off the taglist just let me know because I don’t want to bother anyone. If you want a refresher - it’s the series where Regina pays Riley to be the worst suitor ever so that in two weeks, Liam would have to marry someone Regina picked for him. Previous parts are on my masterlist. Shoutout to the Nonny who motivated me to write this part. Hope y’all enjoy! Characters belong to PB. 

Rating: G

Word count: 1692

Tagging: @gardeningourmet @delightfullypinkglitter @blackcatkita @badchoicesposts @jared2612 @princess-geek @desiree-pow-35-1986​ @emichelle​ @ao719​ @cordoniantrash @kinggliam @needalittlerain @flyawayboo @nazariortega @jlpplays1 @kimmiedoo5 @annekebbphotography​ @ladyangel70​ @eadanga​ @kingliam2019​ @nz1091​ @emceesynonymroll @texaskitten30 @mskaneko​ @custaroonie @drakesensworld​ @janezillow @ritachacha​ @lodberg​ @msjr0119​ @gkittylove99​ @sweatyrysconnoisseur​ @dcbbw​ @potter1-7harry​

“Welcome to Cordonia,” Liam said when the Royal Jet finally landed. He looked at Riley warily as she took in the sights. The flight was a total disaster and made him rethink his whole life. If he hadn’t known better he’d think she wanted to sabotage his mission.

“Looks sick,” she said and Liam sighed.

“Liam, Riley, the car is here. Come before anyone spots us.” Regina nodded towards their driver.

“Whoa, we have our own driver? That’s mad!”

Regina raised an eyebrow in a ‘do-not-overdo-it’ manner but Riley ignored it. For her it was either go hard or go home. Literally, because if she failed she’d go home with no money.

The ride from the private airport to the palace was silent; Riley was admiring the views, Liam was thinking if he made the right choice and Regina was already planning Liam’s wedding to Madeleine.

When they arrived, Regina excused herself and went straight into her office.

“What do you think?” Liam asked politely when they were the only two left.

“It looks so… majestic. Like something I’d expect a palace look like but at the same time like something I wouldn’t expect. It’s gorgeous.”

Liam turned to her stunned by her words. What happened to “sick” and “mad”? Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad, after all.

“Come inside,” he said and extended his hands towards her. She took it and then gasped at the interior.

“It’s so regal and so big and oof—” Riley was almost knocked out by a small, fluffy ball that jumped at her.

“Ah, this is Chance, Maxwell’s dog. He must feel you’re a good person because he is never that happy about strangers.” Liam smiled as he leaned to take her coat. She handed it to him and when Liam walked away to hang it, she bent over to Chance. 

“Hey, buddy! I’m super flattered you like me but can you please bite me or start barking at me so Liam doesn’t think I’m good?” She asked and Chance titled his head in confusion. “You see,” she lowered her voice, “I have a mission to complete.”

When Chace still couldn’t understand, Riley tried to speak his language.

“Woof woof woof woof,” she barked at Chance in low voice.

“Um… is everything okay, lady Riley?” Liam asked, suddenly appearing behind her. Shoot.

“Mhm. Just talking to that cute little muffin. And please, call me Riley. I’m no lady.”

“If you insist. Would you like to see your room?”

“Sure! Does it have a mini fridge? I bet it’s totally dope!”

Liam shook his head in disbelief. Riley changed her mood every few minutes. He couldn’t figure her out. Sometimes she was serious and really fun to talk to but then she changed again and acted like a spoiled teenager.

“Here we are.” Liam motioned the room when they finally reached the guest chamber. “It doesn’t have a mini fridge but you can call any of the staff members to ask for whatever you’d like, anytime.”

“Cool.”

“Ah, Liam! Riley! I am so glad to see you both here!” Regina exclaimed with a smiled on her face. “We have a dinner today with a few of our friends. Liam, please help lady Riley to prepare for it.”

“Of course, Regina. Who are we expecting?” Liam asked.

“Duchess Olivia Nevrakis, Lord Neville, Duchess Adelaide, her daughter and Duke Godfrey, lady Hana Lee and her parents, and a few of the court members.”

Liam nodded politely but started to panic internally. Lord Neville, Godfrey and Adelaide weren’t exactly the first people he wanted Riley to be introduced to. He knew too well how they treated commoners and how awful they could be. He had only about two hours before the dinner to go through the royal protocol, table manners, dress code and how to address who. When he looked up at Riley he noticed she was already studying him.

“Everything’s alright?”

“Yes, it is. I just thought we would have more time before your debut.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that! I was born ready!” she said reassuringly, which, ironically, made Liam even less reassured.

~~~~

“So when I see Hana Lee’s dad I should say ‘ni hao’, right?”

“Correct! And can you please repeat how you would address Duchess Olivia?”

“Your Grace,” Riley replied.

“Exactly. And Lord Neville?”

“…Also your Grace?”

“Yes. How would you address me, then?”

“Your Majesty?”

“No, Majesty is used for Kings and Queens. I’m not a King yet so I ought to be addressed ‘your Highness’.”

“So Regina is her Majesty?” Riley asked.

“Precisely. Now, what is my title?”

“Prince?”

“Full title.”

“Prince Louis of Cordonia.”

“Ye—What? What Louis?”

“Your name isn’t Louis?”

“No,” he shook his head. “It’s Liam.”

“Oh, right! Sorry, I’ve always had a problem with remembering names.”

Liam smiled but wanted to scream. Remembering names was probably one of the most important things Riley had to learn. And she forgot even his.

“Let me get this straight, when I talk to you I always have to use ‘your highness’?”

“When we’re with nobility, yes. It shows respect. When there’s only me and you, or friends and family, you can call me by my name,” he explained.

“Which is Louis!”

“Liam,” he corrected. Again.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Riley apologized. “I’ll just need something to associate you with… Oh! I know! I used to listen to One Direction a lot and Liam was the name of one of the singers! I liked him a lot!”

“Whatever works for you.” Liam smiled, feeling less and less enthusiastic about his mission.

~~~~

Two hours and three braincell losses later, Riley was walking arm in arm with Liam, into the ballroom. She was wearing a very expensive dress, more expensive than everything she owned altogether. She was very stressed and started to regret coming here. Pretending to be the worst suitor in front of Liam was one thing, but pretending to be the worst suitor in front of all Cordonian nobility was a completely different thing.

“Look, there’s Xinghai, he’s coming here,” Liam whispered and Riley nodded as the man approached them. Liam nudged Riley.

Okay. Show time.

“Hey hoe!” She yelled, making everyone freeze.

I hate myself.

“Riley!” Liam hissed, pinching her arm.

“Excuse me?” Xinghai asked as if not believing his ears.

“I think Riley tried to say ‘ni hao’, is that right?” Liam raised his eyebrows and Riley felt sick.

“Yes! Ni hao! I’m so sorry, I’m very bad at languages!”

Xinghai shook his head. “If you say so.”

“Hi, I’m Hana! And this is my mother, Lorelai.” A girl with a very friendly face extended her hand as if she hadn’t noticed that huge faux-pas. Her mom barely smiled at her.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Your Highness.” A man approached them and raised a glass. “I feel deeply honored to be invited here today. Her Majesty mentioned you would bring an American suitor, is this that lovely lady?”

Riley didn’t know who it was but she sure hated him already. She looked at Liam and realized she wasn’t the only one thinking so.

“Lord Neville. I am very happy you could join us. Yes, this is lady Riley, my suitor. Lady Riley, this is Lord Neville.”

“Lord? Like Lord of the Rings? Is that even a real title?” she asked.

“Excuse me?” Neville was confused and Liam embarrassed. From the corner of her eye, Riley could see Regina smiling at the sight.

At least someone is happy with what I’m doing.

“I believe we haven’t met.” A blond woman interrupted them, holding a glass of champagne in one hand and a very unhappy man in the other.

“This is Duchess Adelaide, Duke Godfrey and their daughter, Countess Madeleine. And this lovely woman by my side is lady Riley.”

“Hi y’all! Louis told me so much about you!” She heard Liam sighing.

“Hmph” was all Godfrey said. The rest of the family looked confused.

“Who’s Louis?” Adelaide asked.

“What happened to One Direction association?” Liam whispered to her when the family wasn’t looking.

“I forgot Louis was in the band, too,” she replied.

“If you excuse us,” Liam turned to Adelaide, “but we need to say hello to Duchess Olivia. Thank you for coming.”

He quickly led Riley far from Adelaide and Godfrey, avoiding other court members on the way. He couldn’t do this. At least not today. Riley clearly wasn’t ready.

“Why hello there,” a lady with red hair and a matching dress greeted them.

“Olivia. Hello. How are you?” Liam started a small talk and Riley noticed he was more relaxed talking to her than he was talking to other people. She must be a friend, she thought.

“I’m great. Haven’t been to a party that is as much fun as this one. And it’s all thanks to you. I’m Olivia.”

“Riley. You’re the Ice Queen?” Riley asked remembering Lythikos was a winter wonderland. She hoped Olivia would be offended just like the others but to her surprise the Duchess burst out laughing.

“Ice Queen! I like her already,” she said as she wiped a tear from her eye. “Absolutely loved when she questioned Neville’s title. The man’s pain in the ass.”

“I’m glad you find it funny,” Liam said firmly. Olivia shrugged and turned to take another glass of wine.

“I’m really sorry I embarrassed you, Louis.”

“Liam,” he corrected.

“Liam,” Riley repeated. “I’ve just came to Cordonia and had only two hours to take it all in. I’ll be better in time.” Not sure how better at making you hate me I can get though.

“It’s fine. Listen, it’s me who should be apologizing. As you said, you just came here and within a few hours you had to learn things I learned throughout the years.”

Riley’s eyes widened. She embarrassed him, she humiliated him and he still apologized? She felt awful.

“I still feel bad. I promise I won’t let you down,” she lied and Liam smiled.

“I’m happy to hear that because we’re visiting our apple orchard tomorrow and the press will be there to meet you, too.”

Riley gulped as she smiled at Liam.

That only meant she had to try even harder.

[gumnut-logic]

Callisto (Arrival - Bit 2)

Prologue Incident - Bit 1 | Bit 2 Fallout - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 Voyage - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 Arrival - Bit 1 | Bit 2

Well, these posts seem to be getting longer. I’m pondering if I should make them shorter and more often.

As always, many thanks to @tsarinatorment​ @scribbles97​ @janetm74​ and @onereyofstarlight​ for their amazing support and who without putting up with my crazy this fic would likely not exist.

We are finally there and things can start happening. Wow, planning makes for longer fics apparently.

I hope you enjoy it ::hugs you all::

-o-o-o-

As the rest of the family exited the cockpit, Michael watched John deploy the last of the long chain of communication buoys into orbit around Callisto and held his breath.

The space monitor was frowning at his console as they both waited for that final connection to click into place.

A moment and John’s face relaxed.

And Michael with it.

His own board flashed up with a connection confirmed through the chained micro-tunnel drives.

John hit his comms. “Tracy Island, this is Thunderbird Excel. Do you copy?”

They waited.

A heartbeat.

“Thunderbird Excel this is Tracy Island. Great to hear your voice, John.” Even Michael could hear the smile in Kayo’s voice. “I have a lot of green and pretty lights here. Send me the tests and I will bounce them back.”

“Sending now.” John’s fingers darted across his board and Michael watched the system take on the workload and churn data all the way back to Earth. “And I must say, Kayo, it is lovely to hear your voice, too.”

“Looking forward to hearing yours often. Data incoming. Will apprise results.”

“Looking forward to it, Thunderbird Excel out.” John’s fingers flicked again and the comms signal closed.

“Thunderbird Excel?” Michael arched an eyebrow at the astronaut.

John shrugged. “Well, I think she’s earned it now, don’t you?”

“Mmmm.” He looked back down at his board. The thought of having contributed to creating an actual Thunderbird...

He was startled when a shadow passed over his hands. “You’ve done well, Michael. Thank you.”

He looked up at the red-headed Tracy floating beside him. John was an enigma. He was a brother like any Tracy, but unlike the eldest who hated him with a passion that saw no border, John was quiet, even kind. Michael had been working alongside Brains and John and occasionally the youngest, for over a year now, and while he doubted he and John would ever be close friends, there was a mutual respect.

Plus, the distinct feeling that if Michael ever laid a finger on any of John’s brothers ever again, he would not survive the attempt.

It was definitely the quiet ones who should be worried about.

Not to mention Eos.

Michael really wished he could get his hands on that piece of code.

But again, he felt that it would be his last action in this universe.

Not that John had ever threatened him.

He didn’t need to.

“Are you feeling okay?” Turquoise eyes were peering down at him.

“I am well. No need to worry.”

The astronaut smiled. “Good. Monitor the comm network and liaise with Brains regarding the T-Drive’s performance. Let’s see if we can cut down on the jumps on the way back. I’d prefer to go through as little of the nausea as possible.”

“Agreed.”

John arched an eyebrow and his lips curled up. “I’ll be in Thunderbird Five assessing the danger zone and coordinating with Thunderbird Three.”

“FAB.”

The astronaut stared at him for just an extra moment longer before pushing off Michael’s console and throwing himself towards the cockpit exit.

“Thank you, John.”

A flicker of a smile and the last Tracy disappeared through the door, leaving Michael alone.

-o-o-o-

Virgil hated the IR spacesuits. They were far too tight and left nothing to the imagination.

Also, the red baldrics clashed horribly with his green stripe enough to rip his eyeballs out.

But although his standard uniform was satisfactory for short forays into space, it was not enough for a space mission of this magnitude as it did not have the survival and safety mechanisms needed in an emergency. So, here he was dressed like some kind of spandex wearing superhero, his heavy lifting muscles providing a great anatomy lesson to any within eyesight.

“Looking good, Virg.” Gordon’s eyes were laughing.

“Shut up, Fish.” The aquanaut was used appearing all but naked in front of thousands. Hell, Virgil had nothing to be ashamed of, it was just difficult to keep a straight face in a professional capacity.

How the hell John lived in one of these things was a mystery Virgil had no interest in exploring.

The alternative was wearing something like Alan’s spacesuit, but that had its own issues regarding his exosuit and despite the...exposure, this was the best option.

At least he had a little security with the addition of his exosuit support padding and his harness – never leave home without it. That and his baldric covered a little of his modesty.

Didn’t stop his brothers’ comments though.

Alan actually snorted in laughter.

Scott raised an eyebrow, but then their commander was dressed the same and, much like John, was giving the Greek gods a run for their money in the process.

Virgil felt like a dwarf from The Lord of the Rings. What was his name? Gam? Gim? Gimli? Standing next to that bleached elf.

Virgil grunted. “Let’s do this, already.”

Okay, the grin on Scott’s face was both worth it and damned annoying.

Dad had chosen a version similar to Alan’s suit. Due to his health concerns, Virgil had recommended extra support with arm guards and greaves built into his boots. He had glared at Virgil, but Virgil was a Tracy and just as stubborn as his father and if he wanted to go on this mission he could damn well meet him halfway.

Dad wore the protection.

They had Uncle Lee’s ‘space skivvies’ measurements on file and the IR fabricators had churned out an IR uniform echoing their father’s. Considering the astronaut’s skillset, Virgil had coloured his baldric stripe as green as his own and thrown in some of his own kit.

The colour combination still ripped out eyeballs.

Thunderbird Three was nestled into the Excel much like she had been into the XL, but higher up, leaving the massive thrusters behind her and nestling instead of providing the main superstructure of the craft.

To compensate for the loss of One and Two, the Excel now had a third engine on her dorsal plane to offset the two massive pectoral lightspeed engines. Together the three engines provided the huge ion thrust needed to propel them vast distances. And when the T-Drive was required, the third would go dark, the original two engines would flare up and give him his next case of nausea.

Three still connected with Five for extra stability, but she was no longer mandatory for the Excel. Where the XL had basically been an exosuit for Three to break the lightspeed barrier, the Excel was now more Five’s exosuit as she was the one Thunderbird the Excel needed to operate at her best.

Johnny’s ‘bird now had wings.

Very, very big ones.

The cockpit was crowded but quiet as Alan smoothly disengaged Three from the bigger craft, spinning her in space and pointing her towards the moon.

Virgil shifted in his suit, uncomfortable as hell. Not enough to be world ending, but annoying. Beside him, his father glanced in his direction with a concerned frown.

“Are you okay, son?”

That, of course, prompted an equally concerned frown from Scott in front of him.

“I’m fine.” It wasn’t a complete lie, he could live with the suit. His arm was still aching and his stomach had yet to forgive him despite the food he had shoved into it, but he could probably get away with that.

The worst of it was the lack of sleep.

Scott’s eyes were far too knowing.

The medic in him knew that they were going into a potentially dangerous situation. Hell, they were in space right now, not exactly Tracy Island’s pool patio for relaxation. They needed to be alert and ready.

He had tried to sleep. He had sent all of his brothers to nap during the voyage out here. But he doubted any of them managed much.

He certainly hadn’t.

Scott knew because Virgil could see it reflected in those blue eyes of his. He still looked worn, though he tried to hide it, ever the professional.

Dad.

Dad was still looking at him with questioning eyes.

Virgil sighed. “I’m just tired. I can manage.”

Those lips pressed together, obviously displeased.

Typical.

His father was so like Scott in so many ways that having both of them to contend with on this mission was going to send Virgil grey.

It was okay for them to go out on a limb, risk their lives for the greater good, but if someone they cared about did the same, they were all worry and you can’t do that.

As if to emphasize that thought, his father’s frown fixated on Scott. Virgil followed his gaze, but from his angle could only see the back of his brother’s head.

Another glance at his father and the concern was clearly there.

Perhaps something was starting to sink into Dad’s head. Maybe he was realising what he was risking.

Who he was risking.

Three shook a little as she breached the minimal atmosphere of the moon. Alan was muttering orbital calculations. Each large planetary body was different and required a catered approach.

The Base had sent vectors and the conditions that constituted ‘weather’ on the barren moon, but there were many firsts in this mission and this was one of them.

For the benefit of the rest of them, Alan threw up a hologram of their approach.

The massive crater known as Asgard swelled on the screen. It was very bright, even in the weak sunlight. Probably ice. To the north of it lay an even brighter splash of white, rays extending out across the heavily cratered surface for miles.

As they sank, the horizon formed in a sharper curve than Virgil was used to. Sharper than Mars which was the only other planetary body beyond Earth’s Moon Virgil had ever set foot on.

“There it is.” Alan, ever enthusiastic in his element, pointed out a spot quickly growing on the display. “Callisto Base.”

It was a white cross with a massive airlock at its centre. Surrounding the arms of the cross was machinery, storage tanks and energy production facilities. It shone ever so bright, like a blunted star plastered on the side of the moon.

As they drew closer, the Tracy Industries logo could be seen branded across the airlock doors.

The base was a massive endeavour. Almost entirely underground taking advantage of a small crater in the Doh crater wall, it had capped the landform and sealed off the space creating a series of caverns to house the transport ships moving between the Base and the Jefferson or any other destination they chose.

Entirely self-sufficient, TI’s hydrogen technology gave it power, TI’s heavy duty excavation equipment gave them the power to dig the base out of the rock and ice. It had helped to find unexpected caves under the surface. All and all the Base was a robust structure, protecting its fifty-odd inhabitants from the hazards of living on an exposed and radiated moon.

“Callisto Base, Thunderbird Three requesting permission to dock.” Virgil was suddenly irrationally proud of his little brother.

Commander Walters answered immediately. “Permission granted Thunderbird Three. Hold in the airlock for repressurisation and permission to proceed.”

“FAB, Callisto Base.”

“One of these days, Jeff, you are going to tell me what that means.”

Both Alan and their father snorted.

As they approached, the big airlock doors slowly began to open, splitting the TI logo in half. The hologram stayed fixed on their destination, but Three pivoted her nose to the darkness of the sky bringing the ever-hovering presence of Jupiter back into view through Three’s windows. Alan flicked a wrist and the Thunderbird started lowering into what was now a gaping maw below.

Three slipped into the airlock and the doors closed behind them.

-o-o-o-

Alan was a professional, but he had to admit that he was internally bouncing around in joy. The air was still thick with tension, his family caught up in this thing with Dad, but Alan was doing his best to ignore it and focus on his job.

And oh my god, he was landing on his second moon of Jupiter! This had to be a first. He could go down in history as the first person to land on several moons, another planet and multiple random comets and asteroids.

Okay, so Virg and Scott had been with him, even Gordon on Europa – that had been one hell of a mission that still gave him both dreams and nightmares – but he had been the only one to land on all of them.

Alan Tracy, astronaut extraordinaire. He couldn’t help but grin as the airlock repressurised and the Callisto Commander finally gave him permission to land.

He slowed his ‘bird to a perfect touchdown as the secondary airlock doors closed above him.

He killed her engines and let her begin her cool down sequence.

The whole cockpit sighed a little in relief. A pause as if to reset and then everyone was moving.

-o-o-o-

Gray Walters rubbed the back of his neck as Thunderbird Three coasted smoothly from the decontaminating airlock into the main hangar. The pilot of that ‘bird had to be a Tracy. The huge red rocket barely fit nose to tail with only inches to spare between the two massive sets of doors. After all, they had never expected such a large craft needing to dock.

He had Kate to thank for arguing the hangar’s size...with Ju backing her up as usual.

The thought of his wife froze him for a split second. Ju was going to be okay. Jeff was here now. He had always been their good luck charm. Hell, the guy had survived eight years in space alone. Ju could manage a few days.

Couldn’t she?

“She’s docked.” Mary, his second, looked up from her station. “Shall I shunt her into a bay?”

“Leave her in central for now. We’re not going anywhere and they may need to leave in a hurry.”

“That will piss Benji off.”

“Benji can stew. His team still has a week left of their Jefferson rotation.”

“He will cite regs.”

Gray turned away. Let him cite regs. “This is an emergency and takes priority.” He sighed. “Run decon in the central core. Anyone not crucial to this operation is to steer clear of International Rescue. Lock off environmental systems. Keep the two crews contained to keep the risk of contamination as low as possible. We can’t afford an accidental bug in the system.”

“Will do.” She paused before bringing up the topic he knew she would. “What about Jeremiah?”

“What about him?”

“You need to tell them.”

“One thing at a time, Mary.”

“But-“

“First we find Kate and Ju.” He swallowed. They had to find Ju.

They had to.

-o-o-o-

Stepping onto a new world was never as grand as it appeared. Hell, landing on Mars for the first time had been a trip over his own toes’ moment.

Stepping onto Callisto was no different.

It was Scott who grabbed him before he could flip head over heels across the gantry. Changes in gravity always took time to get used to and less than twenty-four hours ago, it had been Earth oppressive.

Callisto gravity was a relief…if a little disorientating.

His eldest’s strong grip wrapped around his arm and held tight. Jeff looked over at Scott and was pinned with such worried bright blue eyes that his heart clenched.

All the tension, the argument, the resistance to his presence on this mission boiled down to the emotion in those eyes.

Love.

And fear.

Scott was terrified.

Jeff did it without thought or care for what anyone would think. He grabbed his son and yanked him into a hug, holding him close. The squawk across comms and the scrape of their helmets against each other did nothing to stop him.

“I’m sorry, son.”

“Uh...”

Scott’s arms wrapped around him, ever so hesitantly.

That hesitation hurt almost as much.

He clung that much tighter.

“Dad?” It was breathless.

He clung a second longer, but… Yes...right.

It was a moment stolen.

Because they were on a mission.

Jeff let Scott go.

His son pulled away slowly, not quite fully releasing him, and again those blue eyes were fixated on him in worry.

So much worry.

“You okay, Dad?”

Jeff straightened with more ease than he had managed in a long time and became aware of all the other eyes on him.

The ever-present echoes of Lucille’s beautiful brown eyes were assessing him. That was a given. But another two pairs of blue and a frowning fishy amber had him targeted as well.

He looked at each of them before turning back to the massive cavern around them. A mix of rock wall, structural support and storage, the docking cavern was lit with strong lighting, the red of Three reflecting on patches of frozen water embedded in the walls.

They were standing on a walkway that had been extended out to Three’s hatch. It was obviously of variable height and length and Jeff couldn’t help but admire the design.

He wondered who was responsible.

He wondered if it was Kate.

Her green eyes smiled at him at the back of his mind.

His lips pressed together as his sons and brother-in-law continued to shoot concerned expressions in his direction.

A breath.

“Let’s do this.” And he led them out and into Callisto Base.

-o-o-o-

Next

[devendrasbeard]

The Goat Is Part Of The Family

Prompt: Meet The Family Relationships: Ciri/Cahir Rating: T Content warnings: Just a slice of life, oh and Lambert being Lambert Summary: Ciri and Cahir are newly engaged, so it's time for the guy to meet her family. He quickly learns Ciri's family is unlike any other. And there's also a goat.

Also on ao3! 

My final prompt! I DID IT FOLKS!

"Hey mom," Ciri put her phone on speaker as they drove through the interstate.

"Hey daughter, grandpa wants to know how far away you are - he and Eskel are too eager to start grilling but they don't want the food to grow cold before you arrive." 

Ciri shot Cahir a questioning look and he quickly checked his watch. "Thirty minutes," he whispered.

"Yeah, we should arrive within half an hour," Ciri smiled at her phone, even though Yennefer couldn't see her. She listened for a moment to the background noises coming through the speaker. "Is there... Did you really invite the whole family over?" she huffed.

"You know that if it were for me, I wouldn't even invite your father," Ciri could exactly imagine that evil grin and raised eyebrow on her mom's face and she was damn sure she's heard Geralt's groan in the background. "Your family has invited themselves over, as soon as they've heard the big news. You better prepare your lover for the goat." With that she hung up.

Cahir gave Ciri a suspicious and only slightly scared look. "Is 'the goat' like your family's code for something?"

"No, unfortunately," Ciri laughed. "It's a literal goat. My uncle owns it."

"I'm both intrigued and scared," Cahir admitted. "I thought I was only going to meet your parents first... As in mom and dad."

"Yeah, I thought so too," Ciri looked out the window. "But alas! You're gonna meet everyone," she slapped her knees, her palms tightening around her thighs for just a second.

"Then walk me through it, is there anything I need to know about anybody before we arrive?"

Ciri looked out the window, worrying her lip between her teeth. A smirk was dancing at the corner of her lips and Cahir noticed that little spark in her eye that always showed up when she was deeply amused but didn't want to admit it. She turned to him after a while and exhaled.

"The only thing you really need to know is that my mom hates hugs and kisses, so don't try that with her. My uncles on the other hand are extremely huggable people, so expect to become a part of a hugging pile as soon as they feel comfortable around you."

Cahir hummed. "I think I can work with this," he smiled.

"Oh, and of course don't put any valuables on the floor or the goat will eat it," Ciri said with an absolutely serious expression. "Last time I was home and Eskel brought her over, she ate my brand new pair of Converse, and I've only put the box on the stairs for a moment to hug Dad!"

Cahir couldn't help but laugh, which earned him a smack on the shoulder. "Okay, It seems that we're here!"

They parked the car and got out, Ciri leading the way to the house. A white haired man, clearly Ciri's dad, leaned out of the kitchen window and waved at them with a slight smile on his lips. "Get in the backyard, everyone's waiting for you there!" he shouted at them.

"Ready?" Ciri asked, grabbing Cahir's hand reassuringly.

"I guess I never will be, so let's just do it."

Ciri opened the little gate to the backyard and they stepped into the garden.

"I swear to god, I'm gonna kill that fucking goat!" A red-haired man, equally red in the face was screaming at a taller, bulkier man. 

"That goat is part of the family, so watch your tongue, you bastard!"

"I'm gonna kill it and I'm gonna cook it! Next week we're gonna eat goat shish-kebabs!"

"Don't you fucking dare!"

Ciri and Cahir stopped in their way and stood dumbfounded in the middle of the garden, watching the two men, Ciri's uncles, fight. The goat's bleating was heard above the men's raised voices. Cahir squeezed Ciri's hand just a little bit tighter.

A man materialised suddenly at Cahir's side, moving smoothly and quietly like a cat, and patted his shoulder. "Welcome to the family, boy. I hope you don't mind people being loud." 

Ciri rolled her eyes and turned to the man, hugging him. Cahir watched him discreetly, noticing his tall muscular physique and the long dark hair and beard, and the tattoos.

"I was hoping that Mom and Dad would be the first ones to introduce themselves to you, but as you have probably noticed, my family is unlike any other," Ciri smiled and introduced the man to Cahir. "This is Aiden. He's married to my uncle - the shorter but definitely louder one."

Aiden shook Cahir's hand and raised a brow at Ciri. "Since I'm married to Lambert, your uncle, this makes me your uncle too, kiddo. Time to call me that too," he pointed finger guns at her and started walking backwards to the garden table. "C'mon kids, let's get you something to drink, you must be thirsty after the trip, and then we can introduce Cahir to the rest of the family." 

As they took the first sips of their cider, a man, seemingly in his late twenties, came out of the house, carrying a big plate of various cakes. His jeans were ridiculously tight and he wore a flowery shirt that had already half of the buttons open.

"Ah kids, finally! I couldn't wait to meet you, Cahir!" the man stretched out his arms to hug both Ciri and Cahir and then he placed kisses on both their foreheads.

"That's uncle Jaskier - definitely the most affectionate one," Ciri winked at Cahir.

"Hey! I hear you call him 'uncle' and he's also only married to your dad's brother," Aiden shouted at them from the snacks table and frowned theatrically.

"Ugh, that's because uncle Jaskier has been around since I was a child," Ciri replied sheepishly. "And you're," she gestured towards Aiden. "Well, you're pretty fresh!"

"He's fresh meat!" The shorter of the quarrelling men shouted to their group, loudly. "As in his meat is-" he got cut off by the other man's big hand on his lips.

"Jaskier, can you please tell your idiot husband to stop fighting with my idiot husband while we're having guests over?" Aiden sighed.

"Excuse me, but in my marriage, I am the idiot husband," Jaskier flicked his hand. "And also, what is today's fight about?"

"Lambert wants to grill Lil' Bleater again," Aiden replied deadpan.

"Same shit different day," Jaskier sighed and turned to Cahir. "Okay, since you've already met the cutest members of the family, besides Ciri of course. Are we doing mom and dad, or dad's crazy brothers?"

Cahir looked even more dumbfounded than in the moment they'd arrived, so he gave Ciri a questioning look. Or maybe a desperate plea for help, since his pupils were unnaturally wide and his eyebrows were almost at his hairline.

Ciri grabbed his hand and moved her lips in a silent "I'm sorry" and then dragged him into the house.

They made their way straight into the kitchen, lured in by delicious smells and the sounds of quiet chatter. The first people Cahir noticed were the two completely different women, who were chopping vegetables for some salads. One of them had deep black hair and was wearing black skinny jeans and a simple white t-shirt, her only jewelry being a thin choker with a purple stone. The other woman had fiery red hair, freckled skin and was wearing a maxi dress with a flowery print and a lot of bracelets.

"Hi everyone!" Ciri shouted, pulling Cahir to her side.

The woman in black nodded at them with a delicate smile from her spot over the kitchen counter. The other one left her stuff immediately and approached them, pulling Cahir into another hug this afternoon. "Ciri has probably told you that her mom hates hugging, but luckily I'm quite the opposite," she laughed.

Ciri rubbed the back of her neck, sending her mom a faint smile and getting a nod of approval in return. "So, this is my mom, Yennefer, and her wife, Triss, and these two grumpy snowmen in the back, these are my Dad and Gramps."

"Hey, I might be old, but I can still hear ya," the older white-haired man pointed his fork at Ciri. "Hello, boy."

The younger of the men stepped closer to them, wiping his hands in a towel. "Hi, Cahir, I'm Geralt. Nice meeting you in person and not seeing you sneak out of Ciri's room while we Face Time," he laughed, stretching his hand out to shake Cahir's.

Ciri suppressed a groan. "For gods' sake, Dad, just once could you not embarrass me on the spot?"

"Not possible." Geralt replied with a grin and returned to his station at the kitchen counter. "Cahir, care to help me and Vesemir with the steaks?"

Cahir felt his cheeks turning redd and he smiled sheepishly at the men. "Guess it's not the right time to tell you I'm a vegetarian?" he said quietly.

"There's room for everyone in the family," he heard a low, rumbling voice coming from the back door. One of the men who were quarreling earlier entered the kitchen, taking up almost all the free space. He was tall, bulky and would've looked threatening if it wasn't for the soft eyes and the baby goat cradled in his arms. "I hope you like goat cheese, though, 'cause we have a lot of that," he laughed.

Ciri gave up on trying to pretend that any of her family members were normal, letting her arms drop to the sides. She motioned towards the man with a smile and he approached her and hugged her awkwardly while also trying not to drop the goat. "Yes, this is my uncle Eskel and his baby goat, Lil' Bleater. He, obviously, owns a goat farm and is married to Jaskier."

"Hi," Cahir waved at him, laughing at the way the goat stayed cradled in Eskel's arms like a baby, but also silently admiring the man's strength and posture. "I love the goat," he added.

"Great, you're already one of my favourite family members." Eskel smiled.

"Okay, get that dirty baby out of the kitchen," Yennefer let out an annoyed huff and ushered them all out into the backyard. "I don't want her eating up all the apple pie again."

"Yeah, bring her back here, you fucking coward!" the red-haired man shouted at Eskel, clicking theatrically with the grilling pliers. "Asshole ate up all my bacon and broke half a dozen of my beer bottles," he complained while approaching Ciri and Cahir. "And this bastard still keeps defending her, can you believe?"

Ciri threw her head back in laughter and turned to Cahir with a theatrical whisper, "Final family member to introduce - uncle Lambert. He taught me all the cuss words I know," she added with a grin.

"And did a fucking good job while at it," Lambert laughed, shaking Cahir's hand firmly. "Alright, let's start eating, before the fucking omnivore wreaks even more havoc. C'mon, kids!"

Later that evening, with their bellies full of delicious food and eyes still prickling from tears of mirth, Ciri and Cahir snuck out to her room upstairs. They sat on her bed - or rather Cahir did, while Ciri plopped on her back with a resigned huff. 

"Okay, so this is my crazy family. You sure you still wanna marry me?" she asked with a cocky smile. She tried to play it cool, but a flicker of doubt was seen in her eyes.

Cahir cradled her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. "Of course, stupid. What you have is so different from what I had, being just me and my mom for the most of our lives... So this is totally new but so exciting. I can see your family loves you and they all have each other's backs. Even the uncles that have different views on the goat issue."

Ciri laughed and sat up. "So we're doing this?"

"We're definitely doing this. But I will have to think of a way to keep the goat out of our house. Don't tell Eskel."

------

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

[isitgintimeyet]

Just a Friend

So I finally started to write another story...

I will try and post weekly, but can’t promise on account of real life and my inability to actually focus on translating what’s in my head onto paper (or screen!)

Getting the courage to post never gets any easier, but here goes. I hope you enjoy this frothy bit of fun. I will also post on AO3.

Thanks to @wickedgoodbooks for being an excellent beta.

Chapter 1: From Airport to Aggravation

Bank holiday crowds, on the whole, are hell.

And this one is rapidly turning into an even deeper level of purgatory. The hottest May for years in Scotland and I’m stuck at Glasgow airport with a dozen women, collectively known as ‘Geillis’s Hen Party Posse’, each displaying varying degrees of inebriation, hangover or general sleep deprivation, and all aiming for the luggage carousel showing the flight from Barcelona. Which apparently is where several hundred other disembarked passengers are also heading.

Eventually, I manage to get a view of the bags and cases slowly making their way around the belt. They’re pretty picked over by this time, apart from the couple of boxes covered in gaffer tape that always seem to be first off a plane—any plane—and last to be collected. They’re always there, on every flight. Why is that?

I pause from my musings to wave frantically at Geillis, who now has a trolley and is clearing a path straight towards me.

“I got us a trolley.” she informs me, stating the obvious. “I thought it’d be easier. Have ye seen ours yet, Claire? I canna see the others. They must have already gone through.”

“No,” I answer, keeping my eyes firmly on the little hatch, willing our bags to appear. All I want is to go home, put my sleep mask on and try and get some sleep. Three days in Barcelona celebrating Geillis’s forthcoming nuptials have worn me out, and, I glance at my watch, I am due in theatre in approximately seventeen hours time.

"It's there, it's there," Geillis points excitedly at the neon pink and green leopard print bag making its way towards us.

She makes a grab for it as I continue to look for my bag. Predictably, it’s one of the last ones on the carousel. I recognise it immediately from the piece of red gift ribbon tied to the handle of the plain black Samsonite. I load it onto the trolley and Geillis and I head through customs to join the rest of the posse.

We say our goodbyes loudly, with much hugging and kisses. A stranger viewing this scene might imagine we won’t be seeing each other again for weeks or even months. In truth, I’ll be seeing most of them in the next week or so at the hospital as our schedules coincide.

“Shall we two get a taxi, then?” Geillis asks me.

I start to answer as my mobile pings — a text from Frank...very nice, very caring, very predictable.

Darling, it’s been a long three days without you. I am ready to collect you from the airport if you would like. If not, might I see you later this evening? xxx

And that is very clearly Frank. Correct grammar and punctuation, even on his texts. I shake my head as if to drive away my inner bitch and pretend I haven’t read it. I will respond, of course, just later when I’m back at home.

So, I smile at Geillis and agree. “Of course, we can go halves.”

***********

As I walk into my flat, the peace and quiet and sheer bloody calm wraps itself around me like a swaddling cloth. It’s blissfully cool too, with all the shutters closed.

It’s not that I didn’t have a good time in Barcelona. It was actually great. But being in the company of others twenty four hours a day is wearing, much as I love them. And we all had to do everything together. No sneaking off for a solitary walk, or escaping to bed for a little siesta.

I deposit my suitcase by the bedroom door, slip off my converse, pour myself a glass of orange juice, settle down on the sofa and figure out how best to tell Frank not tonight without offending him.

Frank, Sorry but tonight isn’t —

I delete and try again.

Thanks for the offer to pick me up. I was already in the taxi when I got it. Can we give tonight a miss? Theatre in the morning and I’m knackered totally exhausted. You know what Geillis is like. Speak tomorrow, I promise. C

Frank knows what Geillis is like. Frank thinks Geillis is a bad influence on me, with her larger than life personality and wild ideas. I think Frank doesn’t really know me at all if he believes I can be influenced like that. I hang out with Geillis and my friends because they’re fun and we laugh… a lot.

Without realising, I feel my shoulder muscles relax as soon as I’ve sent the message. These are not good signs for my relationship with Frank. He’s investing far more into ‘us’ than I am willing to do. But as long as I’m honest with him…

There are advantages to being with Frank, of course. He’s punctual, very organised and a proficient and considerate lover. He always makes sure I come, even if I sometimes...er… exaggerate my reactions to hurry things along. So much for honesty, then.

I finish my orange juice and plan my evening. Four things to do - unpack, grab some food, shower and sleep. Not even going to wash my hair. That would really be too much effort, struggling with my untameable mane, and it’s going to be stuck under a surgical cap for most of tomorrow anyway.

It takes a bit of effort to actually move from the sofa. I could quite happily fall asleep there. But then I’d wake up in the middle of the night—starving hungry and still smelling of sweaty airports. Reluctantly, I haul myself into a vertical position and head for my bedroom picking up my suitcase en route.

Opening the suitcase, I am not greeted with the expected haphazard mass of sun dresses, t shirts and shorts—all with the evocative aroma of Hawaiian Tropic—but a layer of white dress shirts, immaculately folded and the faint scent of a musky cologne.

Shit, shit, shit!! Some else has walked off with my black samsonite with the red ribbon on the handle. My evening plans are rapidly going awry. I delve into my handbag praying that I kept my boarding pass with the sticky bar code luggage receipt. The relief when I find it lurking in the bottom of my bag is immense. Quickly I google the airline lost baggage number and dial.

After a few bars of some god awful plinky plinky hold music, I hear a recorded message. “Your call is important to us, please hold. Your call is important to us, please hold.”

Good to know, then back to the plinky plinky before another message. “The office you are trying to reach is now closed. Please try again during office hours nine am to five thirty. Thank you.”

“If my call is so important to you, why is no one there at six o’clock?” I yell down the phone, but the plinky plinky ignores me and continues its irritating melody.

I sigh. I don’t want to have to wait until tomorrow morning to sort this out. Besides, by nine am tomorrow morning, I will be somewhat unavailable - reshaping the hip bone of a seven year old boy. So, I have no alternative. I will have to have a bit of a dig around this stranger’s suitcase, looking for any clue or contact details.

As I start to have a feel around, it occurs to me that some stranger might, at this very moment, be doing exactly the same thing — having a poke around my suitcase in the hope of finding my details. No doubt judging me based on my choice of holiday attire.  And, I suddenly realise, his judgement may well be coloured by the discovery of some items of a more adult nature.

I say ‘he’, based on the XL white shirts, the pair of battered jeans and faded Scotland rugby shirt, but I could be wrong. I don’t have to dig any further into the case as I spy, in a mesh pocket, a neat rectangle of card with a name — James Fraser — a mobile number and an email address.

Relief sweeps over me. Perhaps we can get this all sorted tonight. Unless this James Fraser lives miles away and was just passing through Glasgow on his way to, say, the Outer Hebrides. That could be a whole other level of problem.

I quickly reach for my phone. Another message from Frank awaits.

Are you sure, darling? I’m looking forward to seeing you. Would tomorrow evening work for you?

I ignore it for the moment. Let me sort my luggage issue out first.

I dial the number on the card and begin to pace around my bedroom as it rings and rings. I am just about to give up when, thankfully, it’s answered.

“Hello?” A female voice asks warily.

I clear my throat and put on my most pleasant phone voice. “Is there a James Fraser there please?”

“Ye’ve the wrong number.”

“Oh, sorry, I must have mis—“ I begin, but find myself apologising to dead air.

I try again, carefully comparing each digit to those written, very neatly, on the card.

“Hello?” The same female voice answers, more than a hint of annoyance in her voice.

“I’m sorry, but this is the number I have for James Fra—“

“And I already told ye, ye’ve the wrong number. Dinna bother again.”

In the days before mobiles, I’m sure this would have been accompanied by a deafening crash as the receiver hit the cradle. Pressing a soft key doesn’t have the same dramatic effect. But I get the message anyway.

So, new plan needed. All I can do is email this James Fraser and hope he actually has written down the correct email address. If not, I’ll have to sort it out with the airline tomorrow afternoon.

My stomach rumbles and I suddenly realise that I’ve not eaten since breakfast, unless you count the slices of fruit in my jug of sangria. I wander into the kitchen and peruse the contents of my cupboards and fridge. I’m not the most gifted cook, but I’m not too bad and can usually rustle up something edible and fairly tasty. The bread feels a bit on the dry side but will be fine toasted, and I know I have eggs.

I put a knob of butter in a pan and text Frank while I’m waiting for it to sizzle.

Think tomoz will be ok. Talk 2morrow. C

I don’t normally use text speak at all,  but something about Frank’s perfectly formed text messages always makes me want to rebel. I can imagine him wincing right now.  He’s a professor at the university and is forever complaining about the standard of literacy amongst his undergraduates. If he thinks he has problems, he should try dealing with junior doctors.

With my scrambled egg on toast all eaten, I focus my attention on the email to James Fraser. I write it quickly, brief and to the point: I have your suitcase and therefore presume you have mine, can we meet to swap them over and here’s my phone number.

The longing for a shower and then bed is now overwhelming. I strip off and bundle all my clothes into the laundry basket, tie my hair up with a scrunchie and step into my shower. This is undoubtedly one of my favourite places on earth and possibly the reason that I bought this flat. Large enough for two, I suppose. Although none have yet been invited to partake in this heavenly experience. Maybe I’m saving that for someone extra special. It has a huge overhead rainfall shower head and a handheld shower head too.

My indulgences are all in here — a selection of expensive shower gels, scrubs and lotions and an assortment of huge fluffy bath towels. I choose a lavender scented gel and scrub all traces of the day from my skin.

Wrapping myself  in one of my pristine white towels, I slather shea butter lotion on my slightly sun-burnt skin, noticing the uneven red patches where the sun cream hadn’t quite reached but at least it’s not sore.

A quick check of my emails shows there’s no word from James Fraser as yet, so I decide to just settle down to sleep and leave luggage worries until the morning. Fortunately, I had changed the sheets before my weekend away, so I simply unwrap my towel, leaving it in a heap on the floor and slide into bed. The feeling of the cool, crisp bedding against my skin is wonderful. I assume a sort of diagonal starfish position, not having to worry about any other occupants. It crosses my mind whether to reach for the tiny vibrator in my bedside drawer, but I’m too comfortable and drowsy for that, so instead I check my alarm and settle down for sleep.

[doctor-reid]

True Colors

MASTERLIST

Summary: The team finds Reid with his girlfriend (reader) on their day off. Only, he doesn’t look the same. (This fic works best if you imagine Spencer with his short hair)

A/N: This one’s in second person because I am ~indecisive~ when it comes to POV. Also this is super OoC but punk Spencer owns my soul.

Shout out to @linguinereid who was posting about this topic so much about this the other day that it inspired me to write this little fic. I love everything they post!

Warnings: It’s literally just fluff and teasing from Derek.

Paring: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Word Count: 1k

----------

Spencer woke up early, despite the lack of alarm. The world just wanted him to suffer. He looked over to his girlfriend, who was curled up in a little ball. He just smiled to himself. This was his one day off and he wanted to spend every second of it with her. He gently put his hand on her, attempting to wake her.

“Y/N, baby, it’s time to get up.” His voice was so soft it was barely audible.

You just groaned and turned over, burying your face in your pillow.

“It’s my one day off, do you really want to sleep through it?” he whispered in your ear. It sent chills down your spine.

Immediately, you sat up. You forgot all about that until he mentioned it. You were now excited to get ready for the day. Spencer just chuckled at how easy it was to wake you up.

“I will start making coffee while you get ready.” He placed a soft kiss on your cheek as he walked out of the bedroom.

It didn’t take you long to get ready. Sometimes you joked that Spencer was the girl out of the two of you with the time he took in the mornings. This was especially true on his days off. He didn’t have to worry about dress codes, so he had a lot more options. You played with your lip piercing for a minute, deciding what you wanted to do with it today. After a minute, you decided to leave it in. You walked into the kitchen, completely dressed, just as the coffee was done. 

Spencer grabbed your mug from the drying rack along with his own, and poured you both a full cup. He drank his quickly before heading off to get dressed. You decided to savor yours while playing on your phone. You were going to be sitting here for a while.

When Spencer finally emerged from the bedroom, you couldn’t help but just look at him. He was always handsome, no matter what he wore. But damn, his day off outfits were something else.

As always, he was wearing his converse, but that’s where normal stopped. He was wearing his favorite pair of black ripped skinny jeans. He was also wearing a Blink-182 crop top that had been worn out. You didn’t mind when he wore crop tops though, because then you could see his amazing belly button piercing that matched your own.

He had in his other piercings too. When he put in one, he put all of them in. The tongue, the three ear piercings in his left ear, and the two in his right. The tattoo on his right arm was visible as well. He looked good like this, and you wish he could dress like this every day. Stupid FBI and their boring rules.

----------

It was a lovely day outside so the two of you decided to have a day at the park. You packed a basket of food and a blanket. The two of you were just laying there. You were tucked underneath his arm, both of you watching the clouds. Then, Spencer heard somebody call his name. He immediately sat up and looked around. That’s when he saw Derek and Penelope walking right towards him.

“Hey guys!” Spencer shouted out, attempting to not look scared.

“Woah,” Derek said as he got closer, “Where’s pretty boy and what have you done with him? And who’s the lovely lady?”

You stifled a giggle and Spencer lightly slapped you on the arm. Obviously he didn’t think this was as funny as you did.

“Derek, Penelope, this is my girlfriend Y/N. Y/N, this is Derek Morgan and Penelope Garcia, I work with them.” He motioned to the two people standing in front of them. Both of them had extremely shocked looks on their faces. Is it possible his coworkers never knew about you?

“That still doesn’t answer my other question Reid,” Morgan smirked. Was he enjoying this? Probably.

“You must be a really bad profiler if you didn’t notice this before.” Spencer had jokes too. “It’s not like I am hiding it. You can clearly see the holes in my ears. Maybe you just chose to ignore it though.”

“Fair point. I just never expected this from you.” 

Spencer said something back, but you couldn’t hear it over the conversation that was starting between you and Garcia.

“So, Y/N, how long have you been with our dear doctor?” She seemed nice.

“1 year, 8 months, and 19 days.” you said matter-of-factly. Spencer wasn’t the only one in this relationship with an eidetic memory.  You just didn’t have the same ambition as him.

“Wow, that’s specific. Though, Reid is the same way so that doesn’t surprise me.” She just chuckled.

Spencer grabbed your hand to reassure you. Even though you had been with Spencer for a while, this was your first time meeting any of his coworkers. Every time he planned something, a case got in the way, or you had to work. You were glad you were getting to meet them. 

“Well,” Derek spoke up, “My and Garcia got to go. Things to do. We will see you both later.” The two of them walked off. Spencer waved them off before laying back down. You did the same. 

“They seemed nice.” you turned to Spencer.

“They are nice. I am glad they got to meet you.”

“And they got to meet the real you too.”

“What makes you say they haven’t?” Apparently he didn’t like your implication.

“I may only be a tattoo artist, but I know when somebody receives shocking information. They were obviously taken aback. So, they probably have never seen you like this before.”

“Okay, you make a fair point. You’re right.”

“Of course I am. Maybe now that they’ve seen this side of you, you will be a little more like this all the time?” Your eyes were begging him. Yu knew it was entirely his choice though. That doesn’t mean you can’t persuade him.

“Maybe, but I will only do it if you agree to come into work with me the same day to meet them.”

“Tomorrow?” You pleaded.

“Sure, Tomorrow.” He placed a kiss on your forehead before laying back down. He brought your head with him and rested it on his chest. “For now, let’s enjoy the rest of this beautiful day.”

“That sounds wonderful. I love you Spencer.”

“I love you too.”