#i was gonna do pole fitness but i was shy - maybe later on if i get more comfortable with this place

[long-cold-winterr]

.

[mizunetzu]

omg i’m so excited i like,, spam read all of your writing and now i can request,,, anyway, could i request maybe something similar to your Tanaka x femboy reader, but with Oikawa? like he mistakes him for a girl and maybe flirts with the reader a little bit and the reader i just like ,,”you do,, you do realize i am a man correct” and hijinks ensue?? sorry if this is too vague i suck at describing things. lotsa love your writing is literally my favorite 💕

Omg wait Oikawa??? And femboy reader??? Hijinks???? Take me now—

——————

Oikawa x reader - Oikawa Tooru Goes Both Ways

⚠️warnings - reader is mistaken and referred to unintentionally as a girl. I assure you, this is a male reader. Femboy reader, if that triggers you.

Pronouns - male, he/him

——————

Oikawa couldn’t help but stare as a...rather cute girl stepped into the gym.

“Oi! Shittykawa! Focus!” Iwaizumi was about to hurl a volleyball at Oikawa’s head when he caught sight of where he was staring. He looked from the newcomer, back to Oikawa’s eyes tracing their form up and down.

“Iwa-chan...” Oikawa held his breath as he pointed subtly. “Who is that?”

Iwaizumi looked over back to the intruder. Sure enough, some girl with (h/c) styled hair stood at the foot of the door awkwardly. They weren’t sporting the school uniform, instead wearing a skirt with a cafe apron tied around their waist. Oikawa recognized the cute logo on the somewhat dirty apron as the coffee shop he’d visit on days he wasn’t particularly busy.

All in all, this stranger was incredibly attractive.

Eventually, coach Irihata emerged from the storage closet, and motioned the stranger over. The stranger perked up, pulled out a slightly-wrinkled paper from their back, and timpered off into the office.

Oikawa sighed dreamily. “Iwa-chan...is this what I think it is? Are we fiiiiiinally getting a cute girl manager to manage our team?!”

He draped himself over Iwaizumi’s shoulders. “Aaaaah~! I’m so happy~! And it’s such a cutie too!”

“Get off me, dumbass. You have like...millions of girls throwing their panties at you, literally all that look like her. And you go for the one who decides to join our club?”

Oikawa huffed. “What’s so wrong about that! She’s cute! And she looked so shy standing there...aaaah, I’m swooning just thinking about wrapping her up in my arms-!”

“I’m saying,” Iwaizumi bonked Oikawa on the head. “If you manage to get with her, then break her heart, or at the very least make her uncomfortable, she’ll have to see your annoying face all day at practice, and then she won’t wanna be manager anymore! Because she has to see you!”

Iwaizumi pinched at Oikawa’s scalp. “I want a cute girl manager and to have them actually stay! And who knows? We get brownie points if it’s not another one of your fangirls trying to get in your pants by joining the club!”

“Ow! Mean Iwa-chan, bad!”

“I’m not a damn Pokémon-!” Iwaizumi was about to kick Oikawa in the back, before letting himself simmer down and take a deep breath. He lowered his legs, and turned towards the office door. “...I’m gonna go look at that girl’s application and see what class she’s in. Maybe we can, I dunno, make her a welcome basket of fruit or some corny shit like that.”

“Let me come with you-!”

“No! You’ll just scare her away, and you have cleaning duty! All you need to do is take down the net, and I’ll meet you outside when I’m done. If you be good, I’ll tell you her name.”

Oikawa thought about it for a second.

“Deal.”

He disappeared to take down the net from the poles. Iwaizumi sighed, and walked towards the door. They were the only two left in the gym, as they were in charge of cleanup for the day, so no one else but him should be in the office. Well, minus the new girl and coach Irihata.

Iwaizumi slid open the door. “Yo.” He greeted. He looked around the room, only finding coach Irihata.

“...Didn’t someone come in here with you with an application form?”

Coach Irihata chuckled. “Oh, yeah,”

“He just wanted to drop in his member application before his part-time job made him go back to work.”

Iwaizumi froze.

“...he...?”

“Yeah, he wanted to join the club as a (Position name). He’s not confident about his jumping or spiking abilities, but he claims to be really dang good at digging and receives.”

The two looked at eachother in silence. Wasn’t she-well, he—wearing a skirt? Now that he thought about it, everything about him looked like...well...a him, minus the skirt. Iwaizumi dashed to the table and picked up the application resting there peacefully.

‘(L/n) (Y/n) - 2nd year, class 4’

‘Position - (Position name)’

Iwaizumi scanned the page. He wanted to doubt this was the ‘cute manager’ they laid their eyes on, but they even had a school photo clipped onto the corner of the paper. Sure enough, that was him. His eyes eventually landed on something printed on the middle of the page.

‘Gender - male’

That proved it. The ‘cute girl manager’ Oikawa was just fawning over turned out to be a guy. And their future teammate, no less. Iwaizumi wanted to laugh in Oikawa’s face.

“Is there something wrong, Iwaizumi-kun?”

“Pfft-no! N-no, sirrrrr....” Iwaizumi set the paper down and walked out the the room, doing his best to keep in his snickers.

Oikawa jogged up to him excitedly once he stepped out of the gym. “So? Did ya find out her name? Her class? Is she our manager?”

Iwaizumi opened his mouth to say something, before letting his mouth clamp shut.

“Nah, coach said I couldn’t see it.”

He watched as Oikawa deflated, trudging his way over to the club room to change and go home. Iwaizumi did his best not to bust out laughing on the spot.

This should be fun.

——

“Iwa-chan!”

“No, you stalker.”

“But Iwa-chaaaaaan!” Oikawa whined. “Why not?! Practice ended early, and we could use some coffee! Come buy coffee with me!”

“You just wanna use me as an excuse to see that bo-that girl who came into our club yesterday, idiot! That’s stalking! You’re acting like your little fangirls!”

Oikawa pouted, and Iwaizumi prayed he didn’t catch him on his little slip-up. He turned around, walking off out of school gates. Oikawa dejectedly trailed behind him.

“I’m going home. Don’t bother me if it’s about that manager again—“

Just then, a text tone pinged from Iwaizumi’s pocket. He stopped mid-sentence, fishing out his phone and opening his messaging app.

‘Mom - no ones going to be home because we have to go out real quick. The house is locked, and you left your spare keys with me again. Go out and have fun with Tooru-kun before I come back!’

Iwaizumi deadpanned. Oikawa had his chin resting on his shoulder, with a shit-eating grin Iwaizumi didn’t even have to look at to know was there.

“Yeah, Iwa-chan. Listen to Mrs. Aina and hang out with Tooru-kun for a bit. We can go to the cafe and hang out like your she said, Iwa-chan~”

Iwaizumi pushed past Oikawa bitterly. “Don’t... fuckin’... call my mom by her name... dumbass... stalker... Shittykawa...” he grumbled as he trudged his way in the direction to the cafe. Oikawa let out a small “Yay~!”

——

Hiding behind the big, laminated menus the cafe provided, Oikawa kept glancing over to the cashier-area to try and find (Y/n). Iwaizumi deadpanned, sitting back in his chair nonchalantly.

“You’re acting stupid.”

“I’m being sneaky.”

“You look more suspicious than if you were to act like yourself.”

“As if you would know!” Oikawa whisper-yelled to Iwaizumi, momentarily letting his menu fall flat. “I’m trying not to get caught, unlike one of us-!”

“Hello?”

Oikawa and Iwaizumi froze. Oikawa rigidly turned to the voice, while Iwaizumi almost fell back in his seat.

There stood the boy—well, the ‘girl’, in his work apron, this time, up close. Oikawa could see the detail in his eyes, the way a few of his hairs fell onto his face and stuck because of the small layer of sweat on his forehead, even taking in the small kitty hair clip resting in his hair.

“Hu...huaai...” Oikawa breathed out. Iwaizumi bit his lip. If he started laughing now, Oikawa would tell his mom he was bullying him again.

“Hello! I was wondering if I could get you two anything to drink! No worries if you aren’t ready to order yet.”

His voice had a soft tamber to it, a warm, welcoming aura that fit the vibe of the cafe perfectly. Iwaizumi could see how Oikawa, and probably other people, could mistake him for a girl. Especially with the way he dressed and carried himself as evident to yesterday’s practice.

Iwaizumi tilted the menu infront of him up a bit. “I’ll get a small black coffee. Whabout you, Oikawa?”

When he got no response, other than the hum of acknowledgment from (Y/n), Iwaizumi looked up. Oikawa was staring dumbly at (Y/n) again, and seconds later (Y/n) was caught under his gaze. He stared back awkwardly, waiting for Oikawa to say something or at least order something, until he suddenly jolted up in pain.

Iwaizumi dug his heel deeper into Oikawa’s foot. “Say something, dumbass! Stop staring!” He hissed, covering his mouth from (Y/n) in petty attempts to mask their conversation.

“Ow! Ow! I’ll get a peppermint tea please-! Stop it!”

(Y/n) scribbled down Oikawa’s order, smiling patiently as he did. Iwaizumi removed his foot. There was a beat of silence, until Oikawa smoothly rested his chin on his hand.

“Soooo, (L/n) (Y/n)-chan, is it?” Oikawa said, as he peered at (Y/n’s) name tag. “Pretty masculine name for a cute girl like you~”

Iwaizumi choked on his spit. (Y/n) tilted his head to the side, looking up from his notepad to peer back at Oikawa.

“What...did you say?”

“Sorry, sorry!” Oikawa rubbed the back of his head cutely. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I think (Y/n) is a cute name~”

Iwaizumi didn’t know if he wanted to die from laughter or embarrassment. He was going to pop a vein trying to keep in his cackles.

“Ah. It’s the clothes, isn’t it?” (Y/n) mused. He took a step back, looking at his rather-feminine clothing choices for the day. “I understand why. I get that a lot.”

“...What does your clothes have to do with your name?” It was Oikawa’s turn to sound confused. Iwaizumi let out a few haggard, stifled snickers at his dense expression. (Y/n) raised an eyebrow.

“You...” He pointed at himself with his pen. “You do realize I’m a man, correct?”

Oikawa choked. His eyes widened as his smile cracked a bit. Iwaizumi had to hide his face in his jacket to prevent himself from bursting out into hackles. Oikawa gave a nervous smile.

“Aha...haha...funny joke..”

“I’m not joking, though...” (Y/n) smirked. He wouldn’t deny that seeing the faces of people flirting with him after he told them he had a dick was a guilty pleasure. “Want proof?”

(Y/n) grasped Oikawa’s wrist, tugging it forcefully, and moving his apron to the side. He brought it down closer to his groin until Oikawa sputtered and flailed on the table.

“No! I-I believe you! I-I can see it from here—I don’t need to touch it-!” Oikawa shrieked. Iwaizumi clutched his stomach from laughing too hard, already given up on keeping it in. He snorted loudly, choked on that snort, and erupted into a series of cough-laughs.

By the time Iwaizumi’s laugh turned into the kind where no noise came out-but it hurt in your stomach anyways—Oikawa was laying his head on the table, embarrassed, while (Y/n) chuckled along.

“You knew, Iwa-chan! You knew!” Oikawa hissed, holding his poor, abused hand. “You set me up for failure!”

“You did that to yourself.” Iwaizumi said between breaths. “He’s actually gonna start attending practice as a (position name) starting next week. We don’t have a manager after all.”

“And you got my hopes up for what?!” Oikawa cried out, making Iwaizumi snort again. (Y/n) raised his eyebrows.

“Manager?”

“Oikawa thought that when you came to drop your registration form in yesterday, that you were signing up to be a manager since he thought you were a girl. I saw your form though, so I knew but this guy here didn’t.”

Iwaizumi nudged at Oikawa, who was hiding his face in his hands. “You better be nice to him, though. He’s your new captain starting next week.”

“Ah! How fun! Having my new playboy captain flirt with me before I even join the club. ” (Y/n) mumbled, as he scribbled down something else in his notepad. Iwaizumi heckled when Oikawa whined with his head down.

He didn’t raise his head back up until a slip of paper was placed gently on top of his head. He heard a “I’ll go get your drink ready.” From (Y/n), before he looked up and noticed he was gone. He caught the slip of paper falling off his head as he sat up.

“What’s that?” Iwaizumi said lazily. Oikawa was staring giddily at the paper. He turned the paper around smugly, holding it up for Iwaizumi to read.

‘Call me. If you’re feeling fruity, that is. (xxx)-xxx-xxxx. -‘(Y/n)-chan’’

Iwaizumi stared at the neat handwriting, then back at Oikawa’s smug face.

“...Were you not just listening? He just tried to make you touch his dick? He’s a dude?”

“Eh. Cute girl, cute boy, he’s still cute~” Oikawa dreamily sighed as he watched (Y/n) make his tea behind the counter. “I’d still hit it till he breaks~”

“Pervert.”

“Says you.”

Oikawa earned a sharp thunk to the head.

——————

[ackerlert]

Sneaky Link

Pairings: Porco x fem reader x sugar daddy!zeke

Summary: University reader becomes Zeke’s sugar baby after meeting each other at her work, which is a stripper, ofc. Eventually develops a relationship with Porco Galliard, of whom Zeke employs ;)

TW: alcohol usage, oral (m / f receiving), food (icing) play, mirror sex, phone sex

You needed some money during college, and tutoring stupid high schoolers wasn’t making the bills. Plus, you couldn’t put up with their slowness one second longer.

When Sasha took you out for a night at the strip club to relieve some stress, her joke that you could always make bank shaking your ass for old men actually sounded quite appealing. It was a lot more fun than tutoring, anyways. 

Out of curiosity, you found yourself browsing the internet for openings at nearby nightclubs. Soon you were watching YouTube videos of strippers going through their daily routine, counting their tips, and describing their success in the industry. You were hooked.

You ask Hitch to take pole dancing lessons with you, and she doesn't suspect any of your true intentions, since this was on your bucket list of things to do together.

Soon you secured yourself a job at a local strip club. The first person you confided in was, unsurprisingly, Hitch. She was surprised you actually pursued being a stripper, but the shock didn't really last for long considering her knowledge of your freaky tendencies.

Hitch advised you to be careful, and she was particularly worried about how you would manage to fit this new job into your tight school schedule.

It was simple: you would take your classes, do your assignments, and report to your job at night. You’d work through the closing shift and get back to your shared apartment with Mikasa, Sasha, and Hitch sometime past 2am.

Zeke is a regular.

He gives you larger tips than any of the other girls.

He even pays for private sessions, which consist of you dancing for him mostly an hour at a time.

Eventually you two fuck it out in a booth of the club.

He asks if you'd like to “do this again sometime”. Naturally, you agreed. He exchanges phone numbers with you and asks for your cashapp. 

Blushing because you didn't realize he intended on compensating you for your arrangement, you agree to give him your account number.

You and Zeke continue this for a couple months, growing more addicted to the orgasms he gives you every time.

You had two generous sources of income now.

You found out a lot about zeke: he owned a decently large company, fucked a lot of women before he met you, and he was even more freaky than yourself. 

One day after a session with Zeke, you're sprawled out on the side of his bed, toying with the golden hair that trailed down his torso, and staring up at the ceiling, mind completely fucked out.

“I have a business event coming up soon,” Zeke states.

You hum in approval, not expecting zeke to continue on.

“It’s plus one.” He pauses, “I was wondering if you would like to join me.”

You turn your head to look at Zeke, almost asking him to repeat himself. Was this like a date thing?

Zeke turned to look at you too. His eyes glossed over at the sight of your surprised face and post-sex hair floating around the crown of your head. He smirked, visualizing the way he had made that sex hair. Gripping your h/c locks and pulling your head back, pounding into you from behind.

Your lips were swollen from being stretched around his thick cock, making him cum round after round. Now they were parted, unsure as what to make of his question.

Zeke repeated himself, “Are you free next Saturday?”

“Y-yes. I’m free.” You said, “I would love to go to your work thing with you.” A smile graced your lips. He fucking loved that smile. Loved seeing it bloom on your face when your eyes rolled to the back of your head, begging to take more of his cock.

“Alright,” he grabbed for his phone, pulling up the information from his calendar. Your phone dinged, no doubt zeke sending you over the event details. “It’s formal attire. Do you need to buy something to wear?” He glanced up lovingly from the screen at you for a mere second. “Fuck it, never mind that.” His eyes reconcentrated back onto the phone. Your phone dinged again, the familiar melody of the cashapp notification filling your ears.

“Let’s take you shopping, princess.” His legs swung over the side of the bed. A back completely full of endless scratches faced you while he stretched those long arms of his. His back muscles rippled as he did so, the sight making your stomach flutter with butterflies. 

“Wait!” You say desperately and propping yourself up on the bed. You didn't intend on opening your mouth, but now you had to commit to it.

Zeke side glanced at you, acknowledging your pathetic request.

“Let me suck you off one more time,��� you said. You added, “before we go.” A husky chuckle escaped from zeke’s throat. “Such a slut for me.” “What a good girl, knowing just the way to make me hard.”

Porco and you meet each other at the business event, it’s an instant click. He’s employed by Zeke. Soon you're exchanging numbers with him.

These business parties became more frequent with Zeke. And every time, Porco was there. You two would sneak off to help yourself to drinks while Zeke was bombarded with potential buyers inquiring about his product.

Porco makes you laugh so much. Honestly, it’s probably the alcohol, but every joke he cracked earned a cute giggle from you. It only made him harder for you than he already was.

“I could go a lot longer than him, you know.” He whispers in your ear.

Sooner than later you’re texting Zeke that the alcohol was killing your stomach, and you just had to get out of there right away. 

Porco didn’t wait to stick his strong hands in your pants when you tumbled into the taxi.

“Gonna take you away from that old man’s dick, yeah baby? Give you this big cock like you deserve?”

You make it back to his large apartment, practically humping his clothed leg on the elevator ride.

By the time you’re inside his place, your panties are soaked and the black lace Zeke bought you is falling from your shoulders.

Porco throws you on the bed, not leaving you any time to remove your heels. 

He climbs over you and just starts completely obliterating you with open mouthed kisses across your collarbone.

You don't fail to notice the mirror above Porco’s large bed, seeing the way he straddles over your small body.

Porco sits up from his position on the end of the bed and grabs for your ankles, yanking you closer to him. Just as he hums into your folds, a buzzing emerges from your purse in the middle of the living room.

“Shit,” you say, recognizing the pattern as Zeke’s contact. “It’s Zeke,” you groan.

“Answer the phone, pretty girl.” Porco says with a devilish smirk.

“Wha-?!” Your face fills with terror.

“I said answer the phone.” Porco grows stricter in tone.

“O-ok” your hands shake as you make your way across the floor to where your purse was.” As you accept the call, Porco motions you back to the bed.

You nod, doing as he says.

“Hey princess,” Zeke says with a smile on the end of the phone.

“Hi,” you say shakily. Porco gives you a menacing look.

“Not feeling good?” Zeke refers to your text. 

You let out a shy “Nuh-uh” in response.

“I’m sorry baby,” Zeke says, “I can pick you up so you can spend the night with me in case you feel any worse.”

“No!-“ You say startled, “I mean, no, my girlfriends have me all bundled up back at my apartment.”

Silence from Zeke.

“Oh, well, that’s too bad.” He adds, “I wanted to make you feel a little better than they could tonight.”

You look at Porco, a little intimidated by his intense stare on you. He can hear Zeke’s toying with you from the other end of the phone. He nods, urging you to play along.

You giggle softly, a bad attempt at sounding sicker than usual.

“Really? How so?” Porco slides down the edge of the bed, focused on your legs.

Zeke clears his throat, obviously getting off at the anticipation of phone sex.

Some shuffling is heard on the other end of the phone before Zeke says, “You know, maybe cook you some food. That layered strawberry cake you like yeah?”

You hum in satisfaction, but quickly noticed how your approval angered Porco.

He aggressively pushes your legs apart, eyeing your wetness.

“Use that icing on you.” Zeke says, “Make you filthy when I run it over that pretty body of yours. I’d fucking lick it off you because you taste so good.”

Porco starts to kitten lick between your folds, earning a whimper from you.

You imagine Zeke piping the vanilla icing onto your torso as he pushes himself into you, smearing it across your breasts and stomach with his rough hands.

The pressure between your legs rises as the licks grow longer and rougher across your clit. Porco suckles on that bundle of nerves, and you can’t help but cry out a moan.

The sounds from Zeke’s side of the phone indicate he’s jerking off vigorously at this point. “Say my name, kitten.”

You look wildly down at Porco, who stops his motions to shake his head at you. No way he’d let you moan another man’s name on his own bed.

“Daddy,,” you drawl out. You earn approval from Porco, who resumes lapping at your pussy.

Porco taps your thigh, indicating to you that it was time to hang up on Zeke, who hadn’t cum yet. 

“Oh gosh, Zeke baby” you start, “One of the girls is coming in i have to go-“

“Wait, y/n-“ but you didn't let him finish. You sigh with relief knowing you can fully indulge in Porco now. He grips your thighs roughly, leaving bruises to be discovered tomorrow.

“What’s Zeke doing now, huh?” “Pumping his weak cock thinking about this tight little pussy of yours?” “I wonder what he’d think if he knew your pussy was taking my tongue so well right now. Acting like such a whore for somebody else.”

Porco pulls himself off of your sweaty body, panting and licking up your wetness. 

His eyes are dead set on you, and you felt small under his glare. His hands grab under your arms, quickly flipping your positions. “Bounce on me for it,” he growls.

You nod eagerly, situating yourself above him. Your face reddens as you align your entrance up to him, nervous about his judgement. 

Porco softens, noticing your hesitance, “It’s okay baby girl,” His warm hands caress the side of your cheek, thumb grazing your plump lips, “You’re doing really good,” Porco looks earnestly up at you, flashing you a soft grin. You press into his hold on you, strands of hair covering your forehead that tangled around Porco’s fingers.

You finally push yourself down on Porco’s length, his large girth stretching you full. Porco moans at the new feeling, and you can’t help but whimper at the burning pleasure. Your hands roam around Porco’s strong torso, feeling down his thick abs and rubbing circles into his sides. A low groan emits from his chest, and you admire his expressions from above.

You begin moving along his hard length, his tip hitting just the right spot each time. Keeping a slow pace, you tease Porco a little longer, but he’s quick to bark at you to go faster. You let out a playful giggle, “Okay, you’re the boss.” “Doing so good putting Zeke in his place, hm?”

Porco groans at your words, and you swore he was growing larger inside of you at the thought of demoting his Zeke.

Your movements quicken and Porco continues to let out strings of curses.

“Yeah ride my cock baby, just like that. Just like you do for Zeke.”

The thought of another man puts butterflies in your stomach, and you feel yourself falter. 

Porco doesn’t miss a beat, however. He quickly thrusts up into you, earning a gasp from your mouth. His hands fly to your sides, balancing you while he does all the work. You whimper at his rapid pace, nearing your climax.

“Porco,” you moan, “I-ah, g’nna cum.”

“Ok, baby,” he says in between thrusts, “Cum then.” 

That was all you needed to hear before spilling your release over Porco.

He continued to milk you out, eventually finishing not too long after. He lets you fall on top of his frame, palms rubbing circles into your and easing you from your high.

“Good job, y/n.” You lift your head up to look at Porco’s face. He smiles back at you tenderly. “Alright let’s clean you up.” 

He settles you on the bed next to his side and slides off the bed to grab a clean towel from the linen closet and discard the condom in the trash. You watch his muscle-y body move across the apartment floors, his clear focus on grabbing the right things for you. 

He comes back with an iced water and starts cleaning up your thighs. 

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you smile, “I can do it myself.”

He looks up at you, eyebrows screwed up in confusion, “What? No, I’m doing it.” He continues his work at cleaning you off. 

“..oh, ok.” You say shyly, butterflies in your stomach from his actions. 

“Does he not do this for you?” Porco asks, not looking up from fixing up the sheets below you.

You replied slowly, “No, not really.”

Porco sighed, “He’s such a selfish dick.”

You laugh at Porco’s attitude. But now that you think about it, Zeke was always thinking about himself. The thought passed as soon as it came, and you did consider the fact that he was paying you.

Porco nestled himself on the side of you after he was done, grunting a little from his tired state. His big arms hugged around your smaller body as he pulled you in close.

“Porco?” You called.

“Hm?”

“Thank you,” you muffled into his chest.

Porco blushed at your comment, but simply toughed it over and patted your ruffled hair, “Mhm”.

A few pings were heard from your cell phone as you drifted into sleep, no doubt from Zeke, and each time Porco pulled you in tighter. A smile curled crept onto your lips, “It’s not like I’m gonna leave, Pokko,” you giggled.

“Good,” he said, “I wasn’t planning on letting you anyways.”

[bobohu4eva]

Pink Lace - Chapter 7 (M)

Characters: Baekhyun x Reader (feat. EXO members)

Genre: College AU, stripper AU, fluff, smut, slow burn

Summary: Baekhyun, a philosophy professor with mysterious wealth, got himself completely fucked over a girl who can’t let him into her life.

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: sex work, mentions of sexual assault, adult themes/situations, smut (nothing too wild this time)

Tag list: @smolbeanmika @leave-me-in-the-summertime @totallynerdstuff @bbhmystar @nana-banana @kimyhappy @thegreatandi @geniusloey @deligxt @baekswifey @bbhyun506 @lovebuginlove @bellamendoza @baekyeonoreo @bobohumyonlyboo @wooya1224 @strawbaeri-s

Masterlist

Friday went by in a blur. You finally wrote your essay, which was sent to Baekhyun after you got home from class. Class. It had been hard. Really hard. The material was challenging too, but you were more focused on how sexy Baekhyun looked in his nice professor clothes. How had you gotten this lucky? You laughed like an idiot when he saw you and innocently pulled down the hem of his shirt with one eyebrow raised at you, making fun of the marks he had so graciously placed on your neck. Lucas had seemed to notice the marks as well, since he seemed weirdly focused on his work and didn’t speak to you at all, a nice change from his usual nagging about why you wouldn’t text him back.

You couldn’t stop thinking about work the next day. Baekhyun would be there again of course, and this would be the first time for you to see him there after admitting your feelings. It gave you whiplash how quickly your opinion of him had changed in such a short time, but you had no regrets. If the last two weeks had taught you anything, it was to not second guess yourself. You were ready to get in there and give the man the lap dance of his damn life, and hopefully more. Oh how you looked forward to it.

Saturday morning, you got down to business. Of course you always tried to look a little extra nice when he’d been there in the past, but today was the real deal. You needed to be fully exfoliated, face-masked, and beautiful. There was no such thing as over preparing. Not today. You even used one of those bath bombs with glitter in it so your whole body would shimmer under the club lights. 

You made a point of it to wear the same outfit you’d worn the first night he’d met you; a baby pink lace bodysuit with generous cutouts, a thong, and sparkly white heels. 

You left ample time to make sure your hair and makeup would be perfect as well. For the hair you’d opted to keep it down and add a little bit of curl, as for makeup, you wanted to positively sparkle. For the first time since you’d started working as a dancer, you tasked Mia with doing your makeup since she was more skilled at it than you. 

“So you want a lot of glitter and glowy-ness, right?” She asked as she dabbed foundation on your cheeks.

“Just make me look like the goddess I am.” You said, closing your eyes and smiling at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue beating your face. 

“Got it boss.” 

After what felt like forever, she finally turned you around to look in the mirror. Your jaw dropped. She’d done your makeup before for stuff like prom when you guys were younger, but she had really outdone herself this time. 

Your skin looked like it was glowing from within, with flecks of holographic glitter sparkling every color of the rainbow across your cheeks. Your eyeliner was perfect, and she’d even overlined your lips a bit and added some highlight onto them to make them look extra kissable. It wasn’t too much, just the perfect amount to spice up your features and make you feel like a million bucks.

“Holy shit Mia I love you. I look hot.” 

“You’re really gonna give him a hard time tonight.” She winked at you, and you decided you wanted to give him a bit of a preview, tease the man a little. 

You and Baekhyun had been texting each other pretty consistently for the last couple days already. You slipped into your designated outfit for the night and took a few pictures to send him, only showing little parts of you at a time. You selected your two favorites, and hit send. 

You: (5:46pm) I can’t wait to see you later ;)

Baekhyun: (5:52pm) Holy fuck. You know what that outfit does to me. 

You grinned down at your phone at his reaction, heart fluttering and butterflies flying about in your belly. This feeling was so disgustingly sweet, but you loved every second of it. 

After changing back into your regular clothes, you packed your outfit and got ready to leave after having dinner with Mia. 

The club opened at 7pm sharp, and you were there right on time. You went back into the dressing room to change into your carefully selected lingerie and shoes, adding a spray of your favorite perfume as a final touch before getting back out onto the floor to start your night. 

“Holy shit Candy.” You heard your manager say as you signed in for the night. “special occasion?” 

Tonight, not even his comments could dampen your mood. “You could say that.” You replied cheerfully before sitting down at the bar where you usually waited until Baekhyun arrived. 

After sitting for a little while you were called up on stage, so you walked across the room, making sure to sway your hips on the way, and walked up the stairs to the platform with the pole. 

You walked slowly around the pole a couple times, getting into the feel of the music. Luckily the dj was on your side tonight, and was playing something slow and sensual enough for you to really get down to. You started to do your usual thing, a couple little spins on the pole, a bend over and shake of the ass here and there, before slowly laying down for some floor work. There were already a decent amount of people in the club, and a few had come up to the stage now to tip you. For maximum tips, you spent a little while in front of each of them either playing with your boobs in front of their face or turning around and shaking your ass as they threw money at you. 

The way your club worked was you did one song with your outfit on, and the second song topless. When you heard your fist song coming to an end you stood back up, turning around to face your back to the room as you took it off, to make for a more dramatic reveal. You slowly peeled the thin fabric of the bodysuit off, stepping out of it leaving you in only your thong and shoes. 

When you turned back around, Baekhyun’s eyes met yours from across the room. He must’ve walked in as you were facing the wall. 

Immediately you grinned, and he looked just as thrilled to see you as well, sitting down at the empty table closest to the stage. He never tipped on stage, you assumed because he was shy about standing up there in front of everyone. Not that you minded, since he always paid you generously anyway. But tonight you didn’t even care about his money. 

It seemed he’d put some extra effort into his look for tonight as well. 90% of the time when he would come in he was in sweats, but not today. His black jeans hugged his thighs in a way that made your mouth water, and the fitted white shirt he wore showed off the broadness of his shoulders wonderfully. His black hair was styled out of his face and his glasses were hanging off the neckline of his shirt, further defining the swells of his chest. 

Oh how you had missed this. Seeing him here, absolutely enamored with you. 

You snapped yourself out of your thoughts and got back to dancing, this time paying special attention to his side of the room. You made sure to send little smirks his way as you did your thing. Once you’d made your way back onto the floor of the stage, you laid on your back on the edge closest to him, arching your back and running your hands up and down your bare body suggestively as you locked eyes. 

He looked like he was about to faint. 

Eventually the song came to an end. You gathered all the cash that had been thrown at you and got your outfit back on before walking off stage and directly onto Baekhyun’s waiting lap. 

“If you’re trying to kill me, it’s working.” You giggled at his words, blushing. 

“Thank you, I know this is your favorite outfit on me, right?” You asked, gesturing down to your lacy pink bodysuit. 

“Of course.” He was smiling so widely, you thought this might be the happiest you’d ever seen him before. “You look so good tonight, you always look good of course, but holy shit. You’re really so beautiful.” 

Your face turned an even deeper shade of red, the way he was looking at you would’ve made any girl swoon. Oh how beautiful he was as well. 

“You’re literally sparkling.” He observed, looking down at the skin of your thigh and all the little silver flecks that were reflecting the spotlights as they moved around the room. “I’m gonna be covered in glitter when I get home aren’t I?”

You laughed, “Yeah, sorry.”

“Oh the things I do for you.” 

“I missed this, the two of us hanging out together here, like this.” You whispered in his ear. 

You could feel just how warm Baekhyun was. His cheeks were the cutest shade of pink. 

He cleared his throat before speaking. “Are you gonna be mad if I take you upstairs before ordering us drinks? I don’t think I can wait tonight.” He swallowed. 

“No, I think that’s a great idea.” 

“Then I need you to get off my lap babe.” You happily obliged. 

As you made your way across the room towards the stairs together, your heart rate began to increase. Never in your life had you been this nervous to give someone a dance. Or maybe nervous wasn’t the right word. Anxious. You were anxious, not nervous. You weren’t scared, you just wanted to do your best to make him enjoy himself.

 The both of you knew it wouldn’t be a normal lap dance today. You wouldn’t just dance for a few songs and then sit and talk like usual. There was no way either of you would have the self control to keep it at that. 

When you finally got into the room Baekhyun handed you the usual stack of cash, and you started pulling down the straps of your bodysuit when he stopped you.

“I, um, can you keep it on actually? Nothing against your boobs, they’re great, but I just really like this on you.” He said as he sat down and put his glasses on. 

You laughed, but put the straps back in place. “Whatever you want.” 

Usually, you’d set a timer for an hour. Tonight you didn’t bother. 

You got right to it, sitting yourself in between his spread legs and leaning back against his chest. You rolled your body over his to the music, before turning your head to once again whisper in his ear. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

“I’ve been looking forward to this all week.” 

You turned your body to face him, both hands running up and down his chest. You could feel how fast his heart was beating beneath your palm. 

“Can I touch you?” He asked. 

After considering it for a moment, you leaned in towards his ear again. 

“You can do whatever you want.” Your bottom lip grazed his earlobe as you said it, and you saw him shiver. 

Not a second later you felt his hands start to explore your lace covered torso.

“God, this is a criminal piece of clothing. Why is it so soft.” His hand eventually found it’s way to your neck, where he moved your hair out of the way to admire the marks he’d placed upon it. “So beautiful.” He murmured as he traced his fingers across the trail of bruises he’d left you with. 

You stood back up straight in front of him, turned around, and bent over, running your hands across your whole backside and down your thighs. For the first time, his hands made contact with the bare skin of your ass. 

“Let me know if I’m making you uncomfortable at all.” 

You turned to face him again, planting a knee on either side of his left thigh. “I told you. Whatever. You. Want.” You paused between each word, just to make it a little more dramatic. He swallowed. 

It was true. If he decided he wanted to fuck you right then and there, you weren’t going to stop him. 

“Really? Anything?”

“Anything.” You repeated. 

He was still staring into your eyes, looking slightly concerned, but he found no reason in them to not believe you. You truly wanted him to do whatever he felt like doing with you.

“Come here then.” He grabbed you by the waist firmly and lifted you off his thigh, instead placing you atop his lap completely, one knee now on either side of his body. 

You’d never sat with a customer like this. Of course you’d sit on their laps facing away from them all the time, but this felt so much more intimate. You felt the hardness beneath his pants against you, close, too close, to where you wanted him the most. You put your hands back onto his chest and just stared back at him with wide eyes.

“And I can touch you anywhere?” 

“Anywhere you want.” You confirmed. 

He looked down from your eyes to your chest. One of his hands crept up from your waist, over your ribcage, until he let it rest over the fabric supporting your chest. He ran a thumb over your nipple where it was hiding beneath the lace, causing you to inhale sharply. 

Immediately his eyes shot back up to yours, still worried that he was somehow making you uncomfortable, but the look on your face quickly washed his worries away. He felt your heart beating beneath his palm the same way you’d felt his earlier as well. 

“Are you s-sure you want me to keep it on?” You asked shakily. 

Instead of answering he slipped a finger beneath each of the straps and dragged them down your shoulders until your chest was once again bare. He hadn’t been lying when he said he wanted you to keep it on, but taking it off himself seemed like an even better option now. He bit his lip as he watched the fabric give way, exposing you to him. He stayed silent for a second before finally speaking. 

“So, so, perfect.” 

You were sure he noticed your whole body flush red at his statement. 

His hands were soon back on your ribcage, pulling the bodysuit further down your torso until your entire upper body was naked. Your cheeks were starting to go numb from the excitement and your heart was beating so hard you were sure he could hear it too. 

The entire time he undressed you, your eyes were fixed on his pink lips. Oh how they were tempting you. You didn’t remember ever being this turned on in your life. Once he’d had a minute to stare at your chest you quickly took the item off the rest of the way before returning to your previous position straddling his lap. 

His hands were warm on your waist as he pulled you closer towards him, until your chests touched. His face was close enough to yours that you could feel his breath on your cheeks. You both just stared for a moment, until something in you snapped and you closed the distance, bringing your lips to his. 

You swore there was something about the taste of his lips that was like a drug to you. The second you touched your mouth to his, your whole body felt electrified. Was this that fireworks bullshit people always talked about?

He returned the kiss the passion, but you could tell unlike in his office, he was now taking his time. Your lips moved against each other slowly as you let your fingers run through his hair. It wasn’t rushed, he let his lips move at a relaxed pace as he started to explore your mouth with his own. You felt his tongue ask for entrance and parted your lips, allowing you to taste each other. 

You felt one of his hands start to move upwards from your waist, to your ribcage, until it found the soft flesh of your chest, squeezing slightly, causing you to let out a soft moan. 

“I’ve fantasized about this so many times.” He broke away from the kiss just enough to get the words out. “You have no idea.” 

You shivered at his words, feeling how they made the knot in your stomach tighten in excitement. When he moved his hand to your other breast and flicked a sensitive nipple with his thumb, you moaned out his name shamelessly.  

“Fuck, you sound so hot”

His kisses moved from your lips, down your jaw, and to the side of your neck. He placed a gentle kiss beneath your ear giving you chills, before pressing his lips softly to each of the purple marks, making his way all the way down to your collarbone. The whole time his hands continued kneading your chest, making you nearly lose your mind. 

You had been touched before, but not like this. You realized that the handful of boys you had allowed to touch you in the past hadn’t known what they were doing at all, Baekhyun did. His expert hands worshipped your bare skin expertly as he continued placing soft kisses down your neck, this time without any sucking or biting that would leave marks. He was enjoying you slowly, softly, but you were impatient and wanted more. 

“Baekhyun, please” you whined. 

“Please what?” 

“Touch me.”

“I am touching you.” 

You let out another annoyed whine, wanting, needing, something more to relieve the unbearable tension that was building between your legs. After another few seconds of waiting to see if he’d finally do anything more without any luck, you took matters into your own hands. You started to roll your hips against him, feeling the hardness in his pants through the thin fabric of your thong. 

His hands flew down to your hips, gripping them firmly in an attempt to stop your movements, but you continued anyway. After several more rolls of your hips over his hard length, he gave in.

“God, y/n.” He breathed out, voice shaking slightly. “Shit.” 

He began to grow needier as well, eventually using his hands on your hips to guide you, rather than stop you, as you continued grinding against him. 

Your lips crashed into each other once more, this time with more desperation. He sucked, bit, and licked at your lips, as you did with his. He kept one hand on your hip, sliding down to grope your ass as the other made its way back up towards your chest. The hand on your ass squeezed and pushed you forwards to the beat of the music, pushing you firmly against the tent in his pants. 

You still wanted more. You wanted him to touch you everywhere, and you wanted to feel him. In a feeble attempt to try to convince him to give you what you wanted you snaked a hand between your bodies, running it down his chest and then his stomach until you got to the top of his jeans. You let your hand inch down just a little bit further, until you could palm him through his jeans. 

This time you let your kisses travel to his neck, before whispering in his ear “Please, I need more.” You could hear the neediness in your voice, but you were way too turned on to feel any shame. “Baekhyun, please.” 

He already felt like he was about to burst just with the way you rolled your hips against him. It took every ounce of self restraint in his body not to just yank his pants down, rip off your underwear and shove himself inside you. Feeling your hand over his cock, hearing you literally begging him for more, was too much. 

“If you don’t stop I’m gonna come.” He said, sinking his fingers into your thigh hard enough to bruise, bringing your ministrations to a halt.

You leaned back slightly to look at him and saw his eyes closed, brows furrowed with a pained expression on his face. He was really having to hold himself back. You let out a disappointed sound that was somewhere between a whine and a moan. 

“That’s okay though.” You honestly wouldn’t have minded, it happened fairly often anyway when you gave lap dances, nothing you weren’t used to. “Please?” You continued to beg, resuming the movement of your hips as well. 

A muffled “Oh my god” was all he could get out before his hands were back on you.

He still wouldn’t touch you the way you wanted him to, leaving you more and more wound up and desperate as you whined in his ear with every roll of your hips. His eyes were still closed and his head was tipped back against the couch, giving you access to the smooth skin of his neck. You left kisses all over the soft skin as you kept up the motion of your hips, and you knew he was about to crumble. 

You weren’t doing much better yourself. His hands found their way back to your chest, kneading and pinching the sensitive skin perfectly, reducing you to a quivering mess above him. The tension in the pit of your stomach kept building, and you knew you were close as well. 

Not a minute later you felt your release crash over your body as you shook against him, letting out a sound of pure euphoria. He seemed to notice, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in for another searing kiss. You kept moving against him and soon felt him go rigid as well. When he came he held you against his body so tightly, kissed you so hard you forgot your own name for a second. All that mattered in that moment was how good the both of you felt, panting and shaking as you slowly recovered from your highs. As your breathing gradually slowed down, you rested your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes in bliss. 

To your disappointment he pushed you back by your shoulder, pulling you out of your dream-like state. 

He was shaking his head, “I-I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-”

Instead of listening to him try to apologize for nothing, you shut him up by cupping his face and pulling him into a kiss. “Thank you.” 

You smiled at him brightly and he returned it ten fold. You swore that smile was like sunshine even on the darkest day. You let your head rest on his shoulder once again, and he rubbed soothing circles onto the bare skin of your back. 

“I was gonna apologize because I really wanted to save this for after I took you on a real date.” 

You leaned back up to look at him once again, giggling at his words. “If anything you should be apologizing for not fucking me for real. But does that mean you’re asking me on a date?” 

“No! I mean... not yet. I want to do it right. Ask you out properly. But you make it so fucking difficult, you know how hard I have to hold myself back? You’re one hell of a temptation to resist.” 

You only rolled your eyes at him, “You’re the one choosing to hold back, if it were up to me you would’ve bent me over your desk Wednesday night already.” 

He chuckled, “I know the way we met is... different, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be swept off your feet. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I treated this like nothing more than some heat of the moment fling. I want more than that, I hope you do too.” He said, looking up at you with hopeful eyes.  

“Yeah, I do.” You blushed, looking down to avoid his gaze. Here he was, once again making you flustered with how honest and open he was about his feelings towards you. 

The way he smiled back at you, and the admiration you saw in his eyes told you everything you needed to know. You brought your lips to his, and this time, you weren’t fueled by lust. The two of you just enjoyed the feeling of the others lips, basking in the softness and intimacy of it. 

Eventually he pulled away, and cleared his throat “I hate to ruin the moment, but I kind of wanna get home and shower. I told you to stop if you didn’t want me to but you kept going so...” 

You pouted, but he was right. You’d brought this on yourself. “Okay” you sighed. 

After getting off Baekhyun’s lap you got your bodysuit back on, but before you could exit the room together, he grabbed your wrist. 

“Come here.” He pulled you towards him, placing his hands around your waist, and you let your arms rest on his shoulders. He looked at you again with those same eyes from earlier, but this time he held your gaze much longer, and with much more intensity. Something felt different this time when he looked at you, like he was trying to tell you something just with his eyes. He brought a hand up to your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “You’re so pretty.” 

You felt yourself go pink, and smiled as he pulled you in for one last kiss, this one even sweeter than the last. 

Eventually both of you went back downstairs, you disappeared into the dressing room to get ready to leave, and Baekhyun went straight to his car. 

On your way home you kept thinking about the way he’d looked at you before you both left. It had somehow felt different, more intimate. His gaze had held so much emotion, you wished you could look inside his head at what he’d been thinking. You had been kind of surprised when all he said was that you were pretty, something he’d told you a million times before, so why was it so different this time? Why did it feel like it meant so much more? 

The last kiss as well felt too sweet, far too romantic for the time and the place. He was always completely open with his feelings, and of course you knew he liked you, but you couldn’t help but feel like there were some unspoken words in the way he’d looked at you just then. 

Maybe, just maybe, it could be love. 

Next Chapter

[coffecatsandbooks]

Pick It Up

I put a fishing rod by your bed, right next to a Bible I leaned a guitar in the corner of your room with some Milsap on vinyl I figured the best thing I could do was put a thing or two that it wouldn't hurt to have In your way, on your path Hoping you might pick it up a one day and  you might learn a couple pretty cool things That I love to do, then you can take it and spin it, and fit it to you I don't know what you're gonna be, but I hope you smile when you think of me 'Cause I help make ya, but I didn't never try to make you pick it up. You just pick it up, pick it up.

There was no doubt about it that Peter and Tony were inseparable. When Steve first met the pair, he knew that they were going to make his life this best kind of chaos. He was right, as always, but when Steve and Tony talked about marriage, that's when it really hit Steve. He was going to be Peter's father too. Steve wasn't just signing his heart up to marry Tony, but Peter as well. When they'd originally started dating, Peter was shy around Steve and was always tip-toeing around and it had made Steve's heart ache that the little boy was so timid around him as if Steve was something to be scared of. On the contrary, Steve was big teddy bear when it came around the people he loved. And he loved Peter, even if the boy was scared of him.

After a while of dating though, Peter loosened himself up around Steve and eventually, when Peter thought it was okay too, he called him "Papa" and when Steve had asked, "why papa?" Peter had replied with, "Because Daddy is already daddy" and then had rolled his eyes as if Steve were an idiot. Tony had gotten a kick out of that and FRIDAY told them that she saved the video to Tony's Family Feed.

"Traitors," Steve had whispered.

After they got married, Steve noticed that Peter had picked up little things that Steve did. Like when Steve rolled his eyes at a terrible joke Tony had made or when Steve is cleaning or when Steve's reading the newspaper. He found that Peter copied him. Peter now rolled his eyes at Tony's jokes when he used to give him a frown instead and every time Steve went to clean, here came the little boy, gripping a wash towel in his hands, ready to clean up the counters and dishes and table with the man. He even would get up while Steve was reading the news papers in the morning and crawl up on his lap and read with him.

Steve adored every minute of it and when he brought it up to Tony, the man had given him a goofy grin. "What?" Steve asked.

"Steve that's what kids do. They look up to their parents and Peter is six. He wants to be just like his daddy and papa and while that may not last long, he wants to be you and to do that, he picks up on things he likes about you." Tony explained, lovingly.

Steve looked at Tony a moment, processing what the man had just told him. Then he smiled. He had an idea. "Would it be okay Tony, if I put things that I like in his way?"

Tony raised an eyebrow. "You lost me Capsicle."

Steve rolled his eyes. "I mean- well my mother used to put a bible in my room, hoping I'd read it and she'd put vinyl records that she had liked beside my record player, you know hoping I'd pick something up that she loved and could teach me about. She told me when I went off to go fight that she knew she'd done everything right and anyway I just thought," he felt his face go hot, but babbled on. "Well maybe I can put the things I like and my mom liked and hopes he asks about them like that. My mother never pushed anything on me and I want to be the same. With Peter."

Tony looked at Steve as if he was figuring out a puzzle and just about the time Steve was opening his mouth to ask him what he was thinking, Tony kissed him. It was a kiss that was full of nothing but adoration and love. Steve kissed back, pulling Tony closer to his chest. After a minute or so, Tony pulled back, breathless.

"I love you Steve and I think that's a wonderful idea. That will help him get to know you more as well," Tony approved and Steve kissed him again. How did he get so lucky?

The next morning, while Tony was giving Peter a bath, Steve slipped in and put a fishing rod by his bed. Steve's father wasn't in the picture, but his grandfather helped him be a man just fine and when Steve turned six, he took him out fishing. Steve had always loved those moments where it was just him and his grandfather sitting peacefully by a lake with the fishing lines strewn out so far, Steve could only faintly see the orange bobber floating above calm waters. His grandfather would tell him stories and teach him new techniques of fishing. He figured he could do the same thing his grandfather did with him, with Peter, though Steve had to look up if people had even fished anymore, being as Steve's grandfather was born in the late 1800's. Turns out they did, it was just even more, fancier fishing rods.

The rod was a kids rod. It was bright green with sky blue features and had pictures of scooby-doo on the handle and spinning reel. Steve had also gotten him and Tony one, though Tony was adamant about never going. Steve's was tall and shiny blue with red features and Tony's was a bit shorter than Steve's with gold features and a red pole. They were quite nice too and came at a discounted price. Tony always scolded Steve for being "safe" with the fuck ton of money Tony had, but it was engraved in him to save. Growing up poor had burned that into him.

Steve then laid out a pair of clothes for Peter so once he got out of the bath, he could be in a hulk shirt and blue jeans. They planned to go out later and Steve was hoping Peter would ask about the rod so maybe they could go later this evening or sometime tomorrow, but Steve let his outer exterior hide his excitement. He didn't want Peter to feel like he had to do something and Steve showing his excitement might have that effect. Peter had always been a people pleaser. Even at the ripe age of six, he braved through anything was thrown his way. Steve admired that he had gotten that from Tony, who puts on a smile and goes through it anyway. Steve knows because of the countless fundraisers and rich people parties that SI or the Avengers had to attend. It was hard to keep a straight face with people whose companies are helping in the destruction of the planet. Some of them hadn’t adapted to Tony’s environmentally safe ways. 

Once he had laid out a pair of boxers and socks, Peter was padding into the room with a plush white towel wrapped around his small body. Wet, brown hair stuck to his forehead and water dripped down his face some. When his eyes met Steve's, he smiled. "I'm all clean Papa!"

Steve chuckled. "Yes bear, you are. Time to put on some clothes, do you need any help?" He asked, holding up his underwear and pants.

"Papa I'm a big boy now. I can do it myself." He stated matter-of-factly and Steve's heart gave a squeeze. Peter was already growing up before his eyes and it was a bitter-sweet feeling.

"Of course you can, I just wanted to ask." He said lovingly. Peter grabbed his clothes out of Steve's hand and Steve looked up to See Tony standing there in a black long sleeved shirt, but the shirt sleeves had been rolled up to his elbows and the bottom of his shirt was soaked. Steve let out a laugh.

"Oh go on! The boy got soap in his eyes a few times and freaked out, you'd of done the same thing," Tony bit back, jokingly.

Steve was calming down from his laugh, when Peter goes, "What's that?"

Steve glances to where Peter is standing, he has on everything but his shirt and he's pointing. Steve follows his gaze to the fishing pole leaning on the corner of the bed and he can't stop the smile that lights up his face. "That's a fishing rod Peter."

Peter doesn't take his eyes off of it. "Is it... mine?" He asks.

Steve hoped that question was a good sign. "If you want it, yes."

Peter's lips twitched up, mouth curling into a smile. "What does it do?"

"You take it out to a lake and catch fish with it. Papa has one, would you like me to teach you?" Steve asked, a bit sheepishly. He was nervous after-all. This felt like a very big step and one he knew he was willing to take, even if Peter decided to hate him. He would always remain good and loyal to the boy, no matter what the cost, that he'd sworn to himself the day he met Peter.

At the thought of learning something new, Peter's eyes glimmered with excitement. "Oh yes papa! Please papa! Can we go today?" He turned on his heels and now gave Steve a look of wonder. "Please papa, I promise I'll be good at the store!"

Steve looked down at Peter and then glanced at Tony who just nodded. His face was also adorned with a smile. Steve returned his gaze to Peter who stood, waiting patiently for an answer. He was such a good kid, Steve gushed inwardly.

"Okay, but you have to be good and you have to put your shirt on bud," Steve chuckled and jokingly glared down at the boy who still had yet to put on his bright green HULK shirt.

Peter whooped with excitement and grabbed his shirt that rested on the edge of his bed. Tugging it over his head, he put it on. It was still a bit big for him, but with how fast Peter is growing, he was going to fit the shirt in no time. He was all of Steve's heart and then some.

And Steve was enthralled. He was going to teach Peter how to fish.

Early to rise, headin' to work, open a door for a stranger Yes sir, yes ma'am, red dirt on my hands, showin' you the best way I can So you might pick it up one day, hoping you might learn a couple pretty cool things That I love to do, then you can take it and spin it and fit it to you, I don't know what you're gonna be, but I hope you smile when you think of me 'Cause I help make ya, but I didn't never try to make you pick it up Yeah you just pick it up

A few years down the line, Peter is thirteen and has a project due at school about his parents and their jobs and they must go into detail in an essay on why their chosen parent's job is important to them and what it has done to impact their life. When he brought it up to Steve and Tony, they were thrilled. They both explained to him that no matter which parent's job he picked, they'd be happy, which seemed to ease the boys nerves. He had come in stuttering and sweaty which was always a sign that his anxiety was high.

When they both assure the boy that neither would be offended, they'd expected Peter to think about a while and come back to them, but they were surprised when a smile spread across the boys face that was now older. He was growing into himself and now was slowly starting to distance himself from his fathers. They still had a great relationship, but Tony and Steve both knew that it was just Peter growing up which broke their hearts, but always gave him distance. Peter never gave them a reason to not.

As the years went on, Steve still left little things in his room like old Ella Fitzgerald records and some others that he has accumulated before and after the 1940's. He left a guitar in the corner of his room that his grandfather had taught him to play and left a few books along the way too. In getting older, he learned and grew from not only Tony now, but Steve too.

When Peter's face lit up, Steve and Tony looked a bit confused, but pleased that they had made their son so happy. "I've decided already," Peter said slowly, voice tinged with excitement.

"Oh?" Tony raised an eyebrow and glanced at Steve, but then back to Peter.

Peter nodded, brown curls bouncing. Steve noted to himself that the boy may need a haircut soon. "I'd like to interview and go to work with Papa, if that's okay Dad," He blushed as if he was still a bit worried on what Tony would think.

Tony rolled his eyes, but his smile gave away any ill feelings the boy may have thought he had. "I see," Tony's voice faked hurt. "I've been replaced. Et tu Brute?" Then he went limp on the couch and though Peter glared at him, he let out a little giggle.

"Is that okay Papa?" Peter looked towards Steve now, a look of interest on his face.

Steve's heart swelled. "Of course bear. Whatever you need me to do, I'm there."

"Well I was thinking that I could start off the essay with you going to war and what that was like and then in the middle I'll touch on you after the ice and pairing with the Avengers and then end it off with what you do now, like train new avengers!" Peter explained excitedly. "Maybe you can even take me on a mission!"

Tony and Steve gave each other a look. "I doubt Director Fury would let a child go on one of our missions, but," Steve said, stopping the whine that Peter had started to release. "I bet he could get you some really cool footage of me and your Aunt Nat taking down some bad guys."

Peter went into a wide grin. "Yes! I can start tomorrow on the project?"

Steve smiled. It was times like these that he kept near and dear to his heart. "I can take you to work with me tomorrow, yes."

Peter hooted in joy and Tony chuckled, moving over to kiss Steve and Steve kissed him back.

"Ugh! Guys gross!" Peter moaned, covering his eyes.

-

The next day, Steve pulled into a parking garage. Peter was practically bouncing in the seat next to him, he was so excited.

"Pops can you train me today with the new avengers?" Peter asked, all doe-eyed and voice filled with hope. "I couldn't ask you in front of Dad, you know he'd say no. Please Pops! It can be our secret!"

Steve put the car in park and turned to look at Peter seriously. Peter was biting his bottom lip, bouncing with nervousness. Steve sighed and gave him a leveling look. "Fine, but you're only going to learn the basics! No flips or anything, nothing dangerous, okay? And please don’t tell your father."

Peter looked a bit disappointed about the fact that he couldn’t do everything, but nodded, nonetheless. "Okay Pops, but I can one day can't I? I mean, I know you and Dad-"

Steve put up a hand, smiling. "Peter I know you wanna be a hero and-" he took a deep breath, placing his hand on Peter's shoulder. "Maybe one day you can," Peter gave him a bright smile. "But as of right now, can we put that talk on the back burner? I would love it and your Dad would revel in it, if you just stayed a kid a little while longer okay? The world is a nasty place and I know you wanna grow up, but can you please wait? If only a couple years?"

Peter looked at his Pops for a second and then gave him a small smile. "You guys can't keep me a kid forever Pops."

"I know, but do you blame us for trying?" He chuckled lightly and Peter shook his head playfully.

"No Pops. Thank you." Peter said, beaming at the fact that he was even here and his Pops was going to teach him some fighting moves, even if it was just the basics.

Once out of the car, they were walking into the building when a group of people came up behind, talking to one another and Steve stopped Peter, holding the door open for them. An older woman stopped to thank him.

"Oh my! Not many left like you, are they dear?" The woman smiled.

Steve chuckled. "My mother taught me it was the right thing to do and if I wanted someone, I best learn to be a gentleman."

The woman nodded. "Your mother was a smart woman," she glanced behind Steve. "Is this your son?"

Peter smiled shyly and Steve nodded. "Yes ma'am. Gotta show him the ropes to being that gentleman."

The small, plump woman was all smiles and a light pink covered her cheeks. Steve had her swooning. "Well hello," she said to Peter. "Your father is a very smart man, you could learn a thing or two from him." She then looked back to Steve. "Thank you so much, I must head inside now. Have a blessed day to both of you." And she went inside.

Steve then went in and Peter right after. "That was really nice Pop," Peter said, stopping at the elevator where his Pops pushed LVL 8.

Steve looked at Peter while waiting on the elevator to open. "You should always try and do that, especially if you want a lady."

Peter giggled. "Well what if I like men?"

Steve looked at Peter. "You know if you like boys or girls or trans or whatever, I'm going to accept you no matter what Peter."

Peter hugged his father as the elevator doors opened. "Thanks Papa," he whispered and Steve hugged him back.

Peter was always going to be his boy.

Dancing and kissing your mama in the kitchen Treatin' her like a princess Hoping you might pick it up one day Hoping you might learn a couple pretty cool things that I love to do Then you can take it and spin it and fit it to you I don't know what you're gonna be, but I hope you smile when you think of me 'Cause I help make ya, but I didn't never try to make ya pick it up Yeah you just pick it up, pick it up You just pick it up, pick it up yeah I hope you pick it up You just pick it up

Tony was in the kitchen, cooking an Italian dish that Steve couldn't pronounce when Peter came in and placed his book bag on the chair near the counter. Tony and Steve both gave him a look to which Peter, now 16, rolled his eyes and grabbed his bag going to put it in his room. Steve walked into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around his husband who was boiling what looked to be pasta.

"Mmm smells good baby," Steve smiled into Tony's shoulder, kissing up his neck. Tony was smiling and laughing lowly.

"Stop, Peter's in there," Tony laughed.

"Well maybe I want to show him how much I love his Dad. Maybe I want to show him how to treat and be treated in a relationship," Steve said, lifting his head up and tightening his arms around Tony who just leaned into his husbands touch.

"I love you and I want you to know that there's not a day that goes by where I am not grateful that me and Peter have you, ya know." Tony said, stirring the pasta.

Before Steve could respond, he heard music coming from Peter's room and realized that he was listening to the Frank Sinatra record that he'd bought him last Christmas for his record player. Steve smiled knowingly. Sinatra's smooth voice was coming in through the record speakers and Steve stepped away from Tony, bending down and holding out his hand.

"Can I ask you for a dance sir?" Steve bowed and Tony chuckled, letting Steve take his hand and press his lips to it. Then he came up and pulled Tony close to him. Tony wrapped his arms around Steve's shoulders and Steve placed his around Tony's waist. Pulling him in, Tony rested his head on Steve's shoulder as they swayed back and forth to the soft music in the background unaware of Peter who was watching them from across the room, smiling.

Steve wouldn't of cared if he knew Peter was watching or not. Steve wanted Peter to know that this is what love is. That all his father wanted from him was to be the best version of him he could be and leave this place a little better than he found it. It was really important to Steve that Peter learned these things, because he didn't want Peter to accept anything less than the best and he didn't want Peter to bend to a world and succumb to the cruelty that can lie in it. He wanted Peter to fight for things and believe in things and be his own person. A leader, a lover, a fighter. He's sixteen now and soon he won't be in the house, he'll be off living his own life and being his own person and while a part of Steve's heart ached, he knew that when he did send him off, he sends him off prepared and ready to face whatever life throws his way. And if that didn't work, then he could always use the Iron Man and Captain America bit.

When the song finished, Tony lifted up onto his tip toes and kissed Steve once more and Steve kissed back. The kiss was filled with warmth and love and before Steve could deepen it into something more, Tony pulled back to go over to the stove and finish cooking. Steve whined.

Tony chuckled, "later babe, Peter needs to eat and so do you."

Steve glared playfully, “but what if I wanted you for dinner?”

Tony’s face turned a scarlet color and he went to open his mouth, but just then, Peter plopped down on the seat where his bag just was beside the counter. He placed his head in his hands and his elbows on the counter. He was upset.

"What's wrong bear?" Steve asked, leaning against the other side of the counter and looking at Peter, ignoring the way Tony was spluttering, but eventually he just grumbled under his breath and turned away to cut some herbs.

Peter blushed. "There's just- there's this guy-"

"Guy!?" Tony whirled around, completely forgetting about Steve’s comment, and narrowing his eyes playfully at his son. "You like a boy?"

Peter groaned and put his head on the cool, granite counter top. "Forget I said anything."

"No, now wait, your Dad is just excited, that's all. You've never come to us about a boy before." Steve explained, shooting Tony a look that said quit you're going to scare him off. Tony huffed and turned back to the stove, placing the herbs in the boiling water the pasta was in.

"Your pops is right Peter. I just- what happened between you and MJ? Didn't you like her?" Tony asked, clearly confused.

Peter lifted his head again and looked at his Dad's back since he was turned away to focus on the food. "Well yeah, but we decided we were better off friends. She's really great, but there's this boy and his name is Wade and he's really nice! He holds the doors for me and he says nice things. We're friends, but I don't know how he feels and..." Peter trailed off, looking down at the counter, and gnawing on his bottom lip.

Tony turned the oven off that held the garlic bread and turned to look at Peter again. Steve was waiting for him to respond, but when he didn't, he decided to speak up. Silence was never good when it came to Peter. "But what?"

Another blush, this time a more scarlet color than pink, coated the boys cheeks once more. "Well... he's kind of... the teachers don't like him." His face was so red, his ears started to tinge with the color. "I mean he's-"

"A bad boy." Tony finished. "He's a bad boy."

Peter cringed and looked up at his father's who were giving him looks that were a mix between shocked and scared. "Well I mean that depends on your definition, but yeah I guess, but you guys don't understand. He's- he'd never- he's just a stickler for rules-"

"Rules are in place for a reason," Steve said, being the first parent to speak up.

"I know Pop, but it's more complicated than that. He's had a pretty rocky life, but he's a great guy." Peter defended and Steve sighed.

"You guys are dating, aren't you?" Steve asked and Tony gawked.

"Steve don't be ridiculous, Peter wouldn't date and not tell me-" Tony started, but Peter interrupted.

"Well, I wouldn't say we're dating-"

"Oh my God," Tony groaned. "My past is coming back to bite me in the ass, I knew this day would come."

Steve rolled his eyes at his over-dramatic partner. "Finish what you were saying Pete."

"I just mean that he asked me out and I said yes and we've been on one date."

"When was this?" Tony asked, arms crossed.

Peter frowned at his Dad, but Steve turned to look at Tony. "Tony. Peter is sixteen and when have you ever known him to do anything that we truly didn't approve of?"

Tony glared at Steve for making such a good point. "But I- he- Steve. He's our boy."

Steve nodded. "That's right, but he's also growing. We can't punish him for liking someone. Besides, I remember everyone telling me not to go after you."

Peter perked up at this. "Dad you were a bad boy?"

Tony grumbled under his breath and took a hand, dragging it down his face. "My past really is coming back isn't it?"

Steve turned back around to look at his son who had a hint of a smile on his face. Steve smirked and bent down to rest his elbow on the table and slack against the counter more. He leaned in. "Your Dad, Peter, was known back in the day as a billionaire, philanthropist, playboy. He slept with anything and everything that came in his wake and he didn't care who it hurt. He used to be a self-centered ass."

Tony scoffed, turning pink. "I cared! Just... not at the time. And I didn’t sleep with everyone."

Steve smirked, "And your father told me that when we first met. He was infuriating you know, but he-" Steve stopped, his smirk being replaced with a look of nostalgia and love. "He went and proved us all wrong. That's the thing about your Dad, Peter. Don't ever tell him he can't do something or to feel a certain way. He doesn't like it. He went and saved all of New York and blew our minds. Then I decided, hey maybe he's not so bad, and then we started hanging out more and one day, after a really long battle, we came home and everyone was so worn out, so they went to bed, but your Dad and I? He poured some drinks and we sat that night and we talked for hours and in our tired state, we kissed. We ended up in my bedroom where we kissed until we literally passed out and everything's been different since. Everyone went wild when they found out though," he chuckled lowly to himself. "Aunt Nat told Tony she'd hogtie him and leave him for dead in the desert if he hurt me. The media kept saying stuff in the tabloids about how he might be cheating on me with your Aunt Pepper and all this crazy stuff."

"Did you ever believe it?" Peter asked, looking up at Steve. His eyes were misted over in curiosity.

Steve shook his head. "No. Tony was a lot of things and he was a cheater, but he was different around me. Never could figure out why."

"Why?" Tony asked, flabbergasted. "Excuse me, I literally had the epitome of American Patriotism worshiping my ass and you want to know why I didn't cheat? That and-" Tony looked towards Peter. "Your father here," he gestured towards Steve. "Well he knew exactly how to put up with me. If I got hot-headed he never yelled. Well, he did when we were on missions, but never in our relationship. He was patient with me and he stayed when I would have breakdowns and push people out, he'd just come and sit and draw until I calmed down or he'd just take me in and kiss me until I didn't know what I was even stressing or mad about anymore. I don't know when I started to care about him as more than just a friend and teammate, but when I kissed him, I just remember thinking that I didn't want to kiss anyone else ever again."

Steve smiled and kissed Tony and Tony kissed back, smiling as well. They were both disgustingly in love and Peter couldn't help but want that kind of love. "You guys, I'm still here." Peter said and they broke away, still looking at each other, but then turned to look at Peter again.

"So when was your date Peter?" Steve asked.

Peter went pink again. "The other night. You know how I told you guys I was going out with friends? And that's not a lie! Technically we are still friends! But that night I went out with him. We went to dinner and then he-" Peter went red and this time both fathers were leaning in, eyebrows raised. "He took me to the library."

Steve and Tony were taken aback. "What?" They both asked, in unison.

Peter rolled his eyes. "It was closed guys. Wade has a key because he's a library assistant and he closes a lot. He had set it all up, so when we went in, the bookshelves were lit up with Christmas lights and he had candles set up and he picked out my favorite books. He says he likes it when I read to him, so we just sat and um- yeah."

"You guys made out," Tony deadpanned and Peter went beat red. "Please tell me you used a condom."

"Dad!" Peter squeaked out. "We didn't sleep together! Wade knows that- he knows I'm not-"

"It's okay Peter, you don't have to tell us," Steve said and Tony slapped a hand on his face.

"Just please use a condom when you're ready okay?" Tony mumbled.

Peter groaned. "Yes Dad okay! I know all about sex please!"

Steve waved Tony off and looked Peter in the eyes. "So his name is Wade?"

Peter nodded shyly. "I was wondering if maybe he could come over tomorrow night and have dinner with us?"

Steve looked at Tony. When Tony didn't do or say anything, Steve narrowed his eyes. It looked like it hurt, but Tony finally nodded. "Yes Peter, that's fine."

Peter smiled wide. "Really dad?"

"I want to meet the young man who has decided to steal my sons heart," Steve said. "So yes."

Peter jumped up. "Thank you thank you thank you! I have to go tell Wade." He turned to run towards his room when Steve stopped him.

"If he hurts you, I won't hesitate to call The Cap and Peter? I want you to know that you deserve the best and only the best. You won't settle for anything less okay?"

Peter looked up at his Pops, again with those wide doe-eyes he used to do when he was little. "I know Pop. You've taught me that really well, among other things."

"I have?"

"Of course you have! You're the reason I like vinyl and why all the teachers love me. You're the reason I like to go fishing and camping. You're one of the main reasons I want to grow up and help people. I won't settle for anyone who doesn't treat me the way you treat Dad and I won't ever treat anyone bad, because you taught me that even if they're bad people, that doesn't make them any less of people." Peter said. "Don't worry Pops. I got this," he gave him a crooked grin and Steve kissed his forehead, messing up his hair a bit to which Peter laughed.

"Of course you do bud."

Steve watched Peter walk into his room and his heart swelled. Peter would be okay and some of that was thanks to Steve, who couldn't of been more proud.

Thanks for reading! The song this fic is based off of is ‘Pick It Up’ by Luke Bryan

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

How bout “Are we really gonna do this in public?” And “Someone’s gonna hear you.” For which ever character these spark your writing muses for. 😁😉

We both know who these prompts were made for 😉 I hope you enjoy! 

Warning: Smut below the cut 💓

* * * * *

“Gene—this place is amazing!” you gushed, wrapping up your childhood friend in a tight hug.

Gene laughed in your ear and the sound filled you with a warmth that rivaled the heat radiating from the huge fireplace in the center of the ski lodge.

“It’s good to hear you laugh,” you said as you grasped his upper arms and looked over his face, taking in the way his eyes sparkled.

“It’s amazin’ what a change of scenery can do for a fella.”  

“I’m glad you invited me.”

“Let me introduce you to the rest of the gang. This is Burgie and his gal Florence. Bill, Jim, and Charlie and his sister Candace. That’s Marilyn and her cousin Frances in the corner chattin’ up the ski instructors. And this is Snafu.”

You smiled and said polite hellos until your eyes reached the last of Gene’s friends and you suddenly found yourself without even the simplest of words. You knew your cheeks flushed at the way the man looked at you as if he were peeling back each layer of your identity so he could take a peek at the part of yourself kept the most hidden away. You’d never really met anyone who could look at person like that—or maybe it was just you because everyone else seemed unaffected by his presence.

Doing the only thing you could, you gave him a small wave and turned back to Gene to ask which room you would be staying in. He hopped around the counter and produced a key for a room on the third floor.

“It’s small, but it has the best view,” he grinned.

You thanked him and waved off his efforts to carry your luggage upstairs. As you walked by the mantel Snafu was leaning on, you could feel his eyes on you, taking in every step of your movement.

When you slipped the key in the lock, opened the door, and shut it behind you, you felt such an immense amount of relief that you sighed and dropped your bags right by the door.

And then, with a sharp intake of breath, you looked out of the spectacular window that framed the outermost wall of your room. Gene was right—it was small, but the view was breathtaking. You could see snow for miles and miles; the trees were coated with it and the mountains were a greyish blue in the background with snow-covered tops, just like in magazine pictures.

The cold was a welcome change from the dull warmth of the south in winter. You’d only ever really seen snow once when you were a child. An anomaly of a storm came through and snowed six inches, effectively reducing Mobile to a state of chaos for nearly a week.

But this, this kind of white brilliance as far as the eye could see was breathtaking. You wanted nothing more than to don your snowsuit and jump in it.

And as it turned out, over the next few days, you did get intimately acquainted with the snow as you fell down time and time again while learning to ski. You were starting to grow concerned for the state of your backside, as you were now certain that the bruise on it was never going to heal.

As it turned out, though, the mysterious Snafu picked up skiing like it was in his nature. When you fell for the third time in as many minutes, he extended his hand to help you back up.

“I feel like we haven’t been properly introduced,” he said, his voice a soothing bass, startlingly masculine for his small frame.

“I’m Merriell Shelton. Snafu to Sledge n’ the boys, of course.”

“Southern Louisiana?” you asked, recognizing the Cajun accent.

“Yes ma’am,” he said as he finally wrestled you into a standing position.

“Thank you. This is a lot harder than it looks. How long have you been skiing?”

“Bout as long as you,” he said with a dazzling grin.

“You’re lying.”

He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.

“Swear on my momma’s grave.”

“Fuck,” you said, eliciting a deep laugh from the Cajun that you knew, instantly, you wanted to hear again.

“How ‘bout I stick with ya? Try to teach ya at least as much as I’ve learned so far?”

“Thank you, Merriell. I would appreciate your attention since the ski instructors have clearly already chosen their favorites,” you said glancing up the hill at Marilyn and Frances, skiing slowly, side by side with the instructors, laughing as they learned to turn their skis to a point and come to a stop, something they had neglected to teach you.

Merriell followed your gaze but said nothing, and instead, pulled you back to catch the rope that led up the bunny slope.

Merriell was an excellent teacher. He was patient, and just laughed on the two occasions you managed your get your skis tangled and ended up taking him down with you. By the end of the day, you had conquered the bunny slope and the least steep beginner’s trail.

“Success!” you cheered, sliding to a stop as Merriell waited for you at the bottom, that same wide grin on his face, his teeth flashing just as brilliantly as the snow, his skin a gorgeously dark contrast made even more pretty by the way the cold turned his cheeks and nose a little red.

“How ‘bout we celebrate with dinna and a drink?”

“Gene doesn’t have anything on the agenda for tonight?”

“He may—but I’m suggestin’ we make our own plans.”

You bit your lip and looked into those overpowering green eyes, so bright as they reflected the last light of the sun as it hit the snow.

“Alright. I need to change into something much less … wet.”

“Let’s get you outta dem skis,” he said, leaning over to pop your boot loose with his pole.

About an hour and three dress changes later, you met Merriell in the living room of Gene’s lodge. He was dressed in dark grey slacks and a green turtleneck sweater that made you want to drag him straight up to your room so you could beg him to fuck you against all that glass as you watched the last of the skiers’ runs down the mountain.

Your final outfit seemed to have the same effect on Merriell as you watched his eyes unabashedly look at you from head to toe.

“Stunnin’,” he whispered as you approached, pulling a shy smile from you.

“Not so bad yourself.”

“I know. I could tell I picked the right sweata by the way ya looked at me.”

Your mouth popped open, completely knocked off your game by the way he read your body language and by the way he was arrogant enough to tell you about it.

“Catchin’ flies now, are we?” he said as he reached out to push your chin up and close your mouth.

“Let’s go to dinner,” you said slowly after taking a breath, looking at Merriell Shelton as if he were the first genus of an entirely new species of man.

Dinner was nothing more than foreplay, both of you flirting, laughing, and using any excuse at all to touch each other until you finally said, “Merriell—I have to be honest. I’ve never been so interested in a man so suddenly before. You’re quite … special.”

For the first time that night, you managed to say something that really surprised him, and he turned shy.

“I’m nothin’ special, Y/N. I just like ya. Sometimes, it’s nice to let someone know instead of havin’ to play all the games.”

“I don’t want to play games,” you said, your hand reaching beneath the table to grasp his thigh. “In fact, I don’t want to wait a minute longer to show you that I do think you’re special.”

Merriell’s eyebrows shot up, clearly taken aback by what you assumed was a role reversal. You were certain it was always Merriell Shelton doing the initiating, but there was something, something about him that gave you the confidence to tell him you wanted him, needed him.

You leaned forward, your hand still grasping his thigh, and when your faces with only a breath apart you whispered, “Kiss me.”

And he did.

It was a soft, close-mouthed kiss, but you worked to memorize the way his lips felt beneath yours, around yours, but before either of you could deepen the kiss, your waiter cleared his throat.

“Your check, I presume?”

You had forgotten you were in the middle of a dimly lit, romantic, but extremely busy restaurant.

“Oh,” you said, leaning back into your chair as Merriell chuckled and pulled out his wallet.

“Yes, sir. We’d like the check.”

The waiter disappeared, and you dissolved into a fit of giggles, hiding your blushing face behind your hands.

“Merriell—I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. My mother, god love her, was probably just struck with an inexplicable desire to clutch her pearls.”

Merriell laughed and laid his arm across the back of your chair as you picked up the last of your drink and drained the glass, a smile still on your lips.

The waiter returned and Merriell paid for your dinner. You took an extra few dollars from your purse and left a large tip.

“Atonin’ for scandalizin’ the serva?”

“I think so, yes,” you said laughing again as Merriell chuckled and pushed in your chair.

“I think there’s somethin’ else I need to teach ya,” he said, a wicked gleam in his eye as he seemed to regain the upper hand, your assertiveness feeding his own.

Merriell took your hand and led you to the restroom at the far end of the restaurant. It was large and fancy and clearly marked as the ladies’ room.

He swiftly locked the door behind him, and you marveled at the fact that it was unoccupied.

Merriell read the expression on your face and smiled, “Must be fate.”

You shivered as you moved closer to him and dropped your coat on the little couch in the center of the outer powder room.  

“Are we really gonna do this in public?”

“Ya wanna wait?”

“No,” you said wrapping your arms around his neck, your fingers bunching in his sweater as you pulled him closer for a real kiss.

It was clear within minutes of kissing that Merriell Shelton was born to do just this—to defile ladies like yourself in restrooms, in train cars, in taxi cabs, anywhere he fucking liked. The man had you worked up into such a frenzy with just his lips and his tongue, that you moaned loudly at the thought of what he could do with his fingers or his cock.

He laughed softly as he pulled his lips off your neck and said, “Someone’s gonna hear you.”

“I can’t bring myself to care,” you said your eyes clouded with desire as you palmed him through the front of his trousers, your nails scratching along the bulge of his cock as a moan then escaped his throat.

He pushed you over to the sink and lifted you on top as your hands worked open his trousers. His fingers slid up your dress and swiftly pushed aside your panties, his grin wolfish as he felt how wet you were.

When he slid a long, thick finger into your center, you clenched around him and you both moaned at the sensation.

“You’re fuckin’ perfect,” Merriell breathed, his forehead resting against yours as you scooted to the edge of the sink, aching for him to fill you up.

“Show me—show me how perfect I am.”

Merriell pulled back and looked at you, his eyes roaming your face, his gaze stripping away any remaining inhibitions, leaving you feeling just as raw as you felt the first time he had ever looked you.

He pulled his finger out and swirled your wetness over the tip of his hard cock. He pulled you even closer to his hips and you wrapped your legs around him as he slowly slid into you, inch by inch until you could feel him bottom out.

Your leaned back and you sighed with content, squeezing around him and encouraging him to move.

“Show me,” you demanded again.

And Merriell Shelton moved, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back into you. He fucked you at a steady pace, both of you ignoring the delicate, intermittent knocks on the door. In the back of your mind, you knew that someone would tell someone on the staff eventually, but you prayed to god it wasn’t before your orgasm.

Merriell shifted his hips and pulled your panties further to the side, allowing him to work your swollen clit with his thumb. A few quick, hard circles of pressure was all you needed and you were coming on his cock, his hand pressed against your mouth to stifle your moans. He slowed down and let you come, but as soon as your breathing evened out, he pulled you against him and fucked you, bouncing you off the sink as he chased his orgasm.

You were so excited by the way he fucked you, another orgasm began to build with each brush of his cock against your inner wall, and when he bit down on your shoulder to stifle his own groan of pleasure as he came, you yelled his name when stars burst behind your eyes, completely giving away just what was going on inside of the ladies’ restroom.

As you heard the turn of a key in the lock, you and Merriell scrambled to put yourselves in order. His cum filled your panties as you hopped off the sink and yanked your dress into place while standing in front of him as he zipped up his trousers just as the door burst open with your poor, poor waiter being the one who had retrieved the key to unlock the door.

“I should’ve known,” he groaned, standing aside to let you and Merriell rush out the door, your laughter echoing as you dashed out of a restaurant you knew you could never show your faces in again.

“So,” you asked, turning to face him as you reached the snow-covered walkway outside of the restaurant, “your room or mine?”

Merriell scooped you up, the snow falling heavily and quickly, and spun you around until you giggled.

“I hear ya room has the best view.”

“It does,” you said with a wicked grin, thinking back to the idea of Merriell Shelton fucking you against that big, gorgeous window.

“And I think I know a way we can make it even better.”  

[whatarubberchicken]

The Dress

@sinfulpapillon‘s lovely job on my commission gave me the inspiration I needed to finally finish this little piece that’s been floating around in my head.

The Dress

It started off as a joke. Messing around at Nino’s one day (his father had finally allowed him to hang out with his friends for once). He and Nino had been playing video games, while the girls gave each other makeovers in Nino’s bedroom. They’d come out, looking as hot as always, and Alya had laughingly suggested that the boys get a makeover too.

“C’mon, Adrien! You’re a model! You’re supposed to make everything look good!”

And so, laughing, he’d agreed. Laughing, he’d allowed Alya to do his hair and makeup while Marinette picked out his outfit. Laughing, he’d put it on, and let them fuss over the little details. All of them had howled with laughter when he’d strutted across the living room like a catwalk, because he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to OWN this. He even blew the girls a few kisses, (and one very special wink to Nino, who pretended to fan himself).

But he wasn’t laughing when he went back into the bedroom to change. When he finally got a good look at himself in the mirror.

He didn’t recognize himself.

In the mirror was a confident, carefree girl, gazing back at him with light and laughter still in her eyes.

The hair and the eyeliner… he could take. It was hardly the first time a makeup artist had gone to town on him, after all.

But the dress….

It was light and airy. Carefree, but still coy. Shy and sweet and fun—

He tore his eyes away from the mirror, forcing himself to remember how to breathe. Because, right now… he glanced back up at his reflection—right now, he didn’t look like his father’s son. That was no Agreste heir staring back at him. His father would have his head for even suggesting an outfit like this. That person wasn’t someone with duties, or responsibilities, or a thousand things written on a daily schedule that absolutely must be kept—

Adrien gave a short gasp and quickly covered his mouth before a whimper could escape.

Because, oh God, he wanted…. He wanted so desperately to be that person in the mirror.

He quickly took off the dress and changed back into his normal clothing. He didn’t dare look at the mirror again until after he’d washed his face. Twice.

Then, and only then, did he chance another glance. And then he felt both relief, and disappointment. Adrien Agreste was staring back at him in the mirror. Poised, and guarded, and two steps away from losing everything he cared about every freaking day and he knew it—and, damn, if it wasn’t hard keeping up appearances for so freaking long and—

Breathe, Adrien reminded himself, glancing down at the dress now laying haphazardly on his best friend’s bed.

He took another deep breath, trying to get his emotions back under control. Trying to distance himself, in a way, from that one, shining moment—

He shook his head and stood up straight, squaring his shoulders. He was an Agreste. Adrien Agreste. He had duties. Responsibilities. Dressing up had been fun for a few moments, but it could never happen again. He couldn’t allow it.

He spun around to go join his friends in the living room, not daring to look back at the dress.

……

A few days later, he was ready to rip his own hair out (despite all the objections that would cause). He couldn’t stop thinking about The Dress. He couldn’t stop thinking about his reflection in the mirror, and how badly he wanted to be that person again.

A few casual questions had revealed it was Marinette’s dress. But how to get her to let him borrow—NO! Adrien, no!! he scolded himself, shaking his head to clear it. That is not allowed! You have an image to maintain!!

“Adrien, did you not understand the homework??” he heard Miss Bustier call.

“Oh, uh, sorry, Miss Bustier,” he replied, flushing bright red, as he realized he’d shaken his head in the middle of her lecture. “I couldn’t quite hear you.”

He forced himself to pay attention as she repeated herself.

This was getting worse. He couldn’t even concentrate in class.

……

He still had mixed feelings when he approached Marinette the next day. What if she laughed at him?! What if she—God forbid—told other people about his deviant ideas?!?!

WHAT IF IT GOT BACK TO HIS FATHER?!?!?

He froze and very nearly turned around to run out of the school.

But, no. This was Marinette. She was sweet. She was kind. She’d never do anything to hurt him. He had to believe in her!

“Um, Marinette?” he asked shyly. To his surprise, she jumped almost a foot in the air, spun around and turned beet red. Oops. “Sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Wha--?? Oh, Adrien!! Ha ha! You didn’t—you didn’t startle me!” Marinette stammered, laughing awkwardly and rubbing the back of her neck. “You’re fine! So fine!—I mean, I’m fine!! I mean, what’s up??”

“Well, you know… um,” he cleared his throat nervously. “You know that dress I tried on before?”

“Yeah?”

Keep it cool, Adrien. Keep it harmless. A joke. A prank. Nothing major.

“Well, errr… I was wondering… if I could, maybe… try it on again?” he asked quietly. Marinette blinked at him in surprise and he quickly added, “I just, I thought I could try a few more poses with it, you know? For my modelling career! I’ve never worn anything like that before—and my father will probably never let me—but sometimes the photographers want odd poses, and I thought maybe—”

“Sure,” Marinette said.

Adrien froze, mid-tirade. “Really??” he asked. She wasn’t going to question him? Or ask for explanations??

“Why not?” she shrugged easily. “It’s just hanging there in my room. That shade of green turned out to not be my color at all; makes me look jaundiced. But it really brought out your eyes before! Do you want to go try it on after school?”

“Yes!” The exclamation burst out of him before Adrien could stop it. He coughed a bit to hide his excitement. “I mean, yeah, sure,” he agreed, trying to look casual. “That’ll work.”

“Ok! See you after school!”

Adrien waved goodbye (completely missing the fact that Marinette ran into a pole while she was walking away from him). He was excited. Giddy. He was going to put The Dress on again, right after school—

CRAP! Right after school?!

He dove for his phone and texted Nathalie, worried that he might have a photoshoot he’d forgotten about. To his relief, she assured him that he didn’t.

Then, the next few minutes were spent drowning in guilt as he made up a story about doing a group project with Marinette after school. Nathalie, completely oblivious, agreed easily.

It’s for a good cause, Adrien reminded himself, as he got ready for his next class. Once I get this out of my system, I’ll be fine. I’ll be able to concentrate again. I won’t have to think about The Dress ever again. It’ll be done.

After this, everything goes back to the way it was.

………

After school, Adrien stepped out of the building and felt his stomach drop when Marinette waved to him from where she was talking with Alya.

Oh noooo, he’d forgotten to ask her to keep it all a secret!! What if she told Alya?? What if Alya decided to post pics all over the Ladyblog?!?!

“Hey, Adrien,” Alya called slyly as he drew nearer. Adrien gulped, feeling a trickle of sweat run down the back of his neck. “Marinette says you two have a ‘special project’ you’re gonna work on together... ~Alone.~”

“Al-ya,” Marinette grumbled, pushing her bestie towards Nino. “Stop it! Don’t tease him about it! I’ll send you pics later!”

“Okay!” Alya sang happily, giving them a wink before taking Nino’s hand and practically skipping away. “I’ll see you later, kitty!!”

Adrien stared after them, confused.

“Sorry about that,” Marinette sighed beside him. “She saw us talking together, and I let it slip that you were coming over. So, now she thinks you’re going to be modelling some Chat Noir merchandise that I’ve made.”

Now I’m uncomfortable on a number of levels, he thought wildly, staring at her.

“Don’t worry!” she assured him. “It’s just a scarf and a hat and maybe the jacket—we’ll see if it fits. Then we can say you left immediately afterwards.” She gave him a wink.

Adrien breathed a sigh of relief, and they headed for the bakery.

“So… you have… Chat Noir merchandise?” he couldn’t help asking.

Marinette giggled. “I have a lot of things I make in my spare time. But superhero stuff is the best way to get Alya sidetracked whenever she starts sniffing around, and you looked uncomfortable when you asked me earlier, so I assumed you didn’t want me to tell anyone else about what we’re really doing.”

The ball of tension in Adrien’s stomach uncoiled a bit. Marinette really was perceptive sometimes. “Thanks.”

She promptly tripped on her own feet. “No problem,” she laughed, grinning awkwardly.

……………

They got the pictures with the Chat Noir stuff done first. Both he and Marinette posed with different items, and Adrien could feel himself loosening up as they laughed together about some of their funnier poses. It was still a bit awkward, what with this being his alter-ego and all, but he had to admit, he felt a bit… touched.

Safer.

Marinette truly cared about him. Both in the mask and out of it. So, when she sent the last picture to Alya and brought out The Dress with a big smile on her face, he was relaxed enough to smile back.

Finally.

They both giggled a little as she shooed him into the changing area. Adrien took a deep, calming breath before he stepped out again. Marinette approached him, still smiling, and fixed a few last-minute draping issues. Then, she gestured behind him towards the mirror.

“It really does look good on you.”

Adrien turned, and this time, he couldn’t contain his squeal of glee when he saw his reflection. There she was! A bit less done-up than last time, but there was the girl he wanted to be!!

He froze as he fully-digested that last thought.

He wanted….

He wanted to be….

He looked away from the mirror, shame washing over him.

“Adrien?” he could hear Marinette ask. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said quietly.

“Are you sure?” she asked, sounding uneasy. “Do you want me to do your makeup and hair again?”

“No thanks.”

I…

I can’t.

I can’t be this person I want to be.

No matter how much I might want it.

It’s not allowed. I’m not allowed.

I have duties. Responsibilities. A life. And I might not want it, but it’s the one I’ve got.

No use in pretending.

No use in dreaming.

I’ll never truly be free.

“Adrien? Adrien, why are you crying? You’re beautiful!” Marinette’s voice broke through his thoughts. He felt her hand on his shoulder. Supportive. Caring.

“I just… I just…” He couldn’t stop the hot tears streaming down his face. God, he must look awful right now! And he was getting salt-water on her clothes!! Furiously, he wiped the tears away. “I can’t—I can’t! I want to… but I can’t!!”

“Can’t what?”

Poor Marinette. She sounded so confused. Here he was, having a mental breakdown in her room, and he could even tell her why!! God, get it together, Adrien!

“I CAN’T BE WHO I WANNA BE!!” he cried, before he could stop himself. He regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth. “I’m sorry,” he choked out, curling in on himself again. “I shouldn’t have—”

I shouldn’t have said anything. I shouldn’t have come here at all!

I SHOULDN’T EVEN BE HAVING THESE THOUGHTS!!

Most of all, I shouldn’t have burdened you with all this crap!

“I’m sorry,” was all he managed to say.

“Oh, Adrien, don’t be sorry,” Marinette said softly, drawing him into a hug. He froze, shocked at her tenderness. “You’re my friend. Of course I wanna help you!”

His body trembled. He wanted to trust her. He wanted to tell her all about these past few days. How hard it had been, suddenly so focused on how uncomfortable he was in his own skin, suddenly seeing girls in a new light—not just, ‘oh, she looks hot,’ but ‘oh man, I bet I would rock that outfit if I just changed this, this, and this…’

…and wondering what kind of person that made him.

He didn’t even know who he was anymore.

“Please don’t tell my father,” he mumbled.

“I promise,” Marinette giggled. “If I ever have a conversation with your dad, I’m going to talk his ear off about fashion, and fashion alone, until he runs away.”

That won’t take long, Adrien thought wryly.

“Now,” she said gently, touching his arm, “do you wanna talk about it?”

Sooo badly. But….

“I don’t know what to say,” he choked out. “I don’t know—I don’t know anything anymore. I’m so confused….”

“Okay, let’s take this one step at a time,” Marinette said patiently, leading him over to sit on her chaise lounge with her. “You said you couldn’t be who you wanted to be. So…,” she paused for a bit, fishing for the right words. “Do you want to change who you are completely? Or do you just want to wear dresses from time to time?”

“I don’t know,” Adrien whispered. “I don’t know.”

God, his head was spinning a hundred miles an hour. If he wasn’t himself… if he wasn’t Adrien Agreste: model, heir, dutiful son… who was he? Who could he be?

“All right then,” Marinette said, nodding. “Why don’t we take little steps? Just dresses for now. In secret. Or, did you want to go outside in it?”

I would love to go outside in it, Adrien thought, his imagination running wild. I would love to laugh and play with you guys, my friends, while feeling freer than I do as Chat Noir. Even Chat has a reputation he has to maintain. And duties to all of Paris. But, this new girl… who I want to become….

“It doesn’t… seem wrong to you?” he rasped, looking over at Marinette. “That I’m… I’m weird?”

“You’re not weird.”

“I’m a guy,” Adrien deadpanned. “Who wants to dress like a girl.” Marinette studied him silently. And, seeing himself in her eyes, Adrien finally spoke the words he’d been dreading.

“I’m a freak.”

“You’re not a freak,” Marinette said immediately.

“I am a freak!” he insisted. “Normal guys don’t want to dress up like girls!”

“Oh, what, so you’re going to be all macho now? ‘Grr, grr, I’m the man of the house, I demand meat and potatoes and I’m gonna grow my muscles out and be mean to everyone to prove how manly I am!!’” Marinette said, deepening her voice as she gave a very bad impersonation. Adrien chuckled a bit.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Different people like different things,” she shrugged in return. “And you and I both know how easily fashion can change. So, you like dresses. So what? It’s not like it’s hurting anybody.”

“My father will probably see it as a personal attack,” Adrien muttered.

“Your father’s self-importance issues aside, is anyone really getting hurt?” Marinette asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’re still gonna be the you inside, right? Just, maybe, a little less closed-off on the outside?”

Adrien nodded weakly. “That’s what I want,” he said breathlessly.

“Well, then, baby steps,” Marinette decided, nodding and standing up. “We’ll start with dresses and work our way up as you feel more comfortable. Do you wanna tell Alya and Nino? Alya can do a killer smokey-eye.” She winked at him.

“Maybe,” he said, still feeling uneasy. “Maybe… later?”

“Sure. We’ll take this at your pace,” she agreed. She started pacing in front of him, already thinking up plans. “When we actually go out for the first time, you’re probably gonna want a wig, so we can be sure nobody notices you…but that’s not until later. Until then, would you like me to play with your hair?” she asked.

Adrien blushed at the thought of her brushing and fixing his hair. It sounded really nice.

“If… if you wouldn’t mind?”

“Oh, Adrien,” she sighed. He looked up to see her already holding a brush and giving him the biggest shit-eating grin ever. “I thought you’d never ask.”

End.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Southern Man (Part 3)

Summary: Dean and the reader get some one on one time...

Masterlist

Pairing: Ranch hand!Dean x reader

Word count: 2,800ish

Warnings: language, mentions of previous unhealthy relationship

“Hey,” said Sam, knocking on your door late that night, slipping inside quietly. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you said, Sam shaking his head.

“Dad said no more early wake up calls. No last minute meetings. You’ll plan out your schedule every Sunday with him,” said Sam.

“I wish I hadn’t have thrown up,” you said.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Sam. “Dad’s cleared your schedule the rest of the week if maybe you want to tag along with me tomorrow, get to know the ranch again. Dean’ll be there too.”

“Okay, Sam,” you said. He reached into his pocket, handing over a folded up sheet of paper.

“Oh and this is from your secret boyfriend on account he can’t be texting you down from his place,” said Sam with a smirk. “I think it’s a love letter.”

“No it’s not,” you said, ripping it out of his hands and unfolding it anyways.

“He’s in mom and dad’s good graces at the very least. Shout if you need anything,” he said.

“Night, Sammy,” you said, waiting until he was gone to look at the paper.

Hey. Sorry your meeting didn’t go well. You looked upset earlier. I tried to swing by to see how you were but I realized I didn’t have a good excuse to knock on your front door. Sam’s nice enough to sneak this up to you for me at least.

If it’s true that guy cheated on you, he totally deserved to get thrown up on. Guy’s a freaking idiot. I just hope you’re feeling better and I get a chance to see you tomorrow when you look a bit happier.

Forget I said that, that was too sappy. Feel better, Y/N.

-D

“You’re as sweet as honey, aren’t you Dean,” you said with a smile, folding the paper up and tucking it in your nightstand drawer. You lay back down in bed, twitching your lip up when you caught sight of his flannel hanging innocently with your own in your closet.

You’d figure out a way to return it someday...probably.

“Good morning, shrimp,” said Sam with a smile, showing Dean around the horse barn from the looks of it.

“I come bearing coffee,” you said, holding a mug out for him and one for Dean. “Two cream, one sugar?”

“Thank you mam,” he said, taking a long sip, surely burning his tongue, Sam whistling as he walked away for a minute, pretending to be interested in a tumbleweed.

“I read your letter,” you said, flush spreading over Dean’s cheeks. “It was nice.”

“Yeah,” he said nervously, shifting on his feet.

“I can’t figure you out yet. You’re a bit cocky, bit shy, bit sweet...” you said.

“What can I say, I’m a complex guy,” he said with a smirk.

“That’s my line,” you said, pushing on his shoulder.

“Pretty good line,” he said, Sam sighing as he wandered back over. “Boss is back, time to behave.”

“Alright, Dean. Unfortunately as youngest and newest, you’re going to get stuck with some of the crap jobs and when I say crap...” said Sam, looking over his shoulder at a horse.

“You mean crap. Got it,” said Dean.

“I’ve sort of shown you where everything is. Go through and clean all the stalls, make sure the horses get nice cold water. Gary’s in charge of feeding so don’t worry about that,” said Sam. “If you do it right, it should keep you busy most of the day. You’re done after that.”

“Sounds good,” said Dean, tugging on his work gloves.

“You got any plans this weekend?” asked Sam.

“Plans?” asked Dean.

“Well you do get Saturday and Sunday off,” said Sam. “You’re only seasonal so we don’t work you on the rotating schedule. You’re not local so unless you plan on sitting in your tiny abode for two days straight, let’s do something.”

“You did mention wanting to go camping,” you said.

“Yeah, we’re due for a trip anyways. You up for a camping trip Saturday?” asked Sam. “Bring your own beer.”

“Sure. Looking forward to it.”

“You kids going camping tomorrow?” asked your dad at dinner, Sam humming, Charlie nodding her head. “You invited that Dean boy?”

“Yeah,” said Sam. “I figure it’s better he hangs out with us than the old timers.”

“Teach him about the coyotes. I don’t need one of you three risking their neck for his if he finds himself in trouble,” said your dad.

“He knows how to use a knife. He’s pretty good with cars and engines too,” said Sam.

“I know. He said one of the gears in my truck was slipping. Fixed it up like that,” said your dad. “Make sure to get him on the machinery maintenance twice a week if you can.”

“Is everything always about work?” you asked, poking at your dinner.

“Is there something you wanted to talk about honey?” he asked. You shrugged, his shoulders relaxing. He felt bad about earlier in the week still, deciding it’d be better for you, and Sam too really, if you had some separation from work and home. “You know what, how about we go out for ice cream after dinner?”

“We were sort of going to pack up tonight,” said Sam. “But we can always do that when we get back, right guys?”

“Yeah, ice cream sounds fun.”

“This spot seems good,” said Sam, pulling his four wheeler to a stop when you got to a clearing. Charlie pulled up beside him as you parked and saw Dean do the same.

“I gotta get one of these,” said Dean when he pulled off his helmet.

“I got some gear from when I was going through a growth spurt that’d probably fit you if you want to go real off roading some time,” said Sam.

“You make it sound like he’s little,” you said, unclipping your pack from the four wheeler.

“He is little compared to me,” said Sam.

“Is that supposed to be a not so subtle threat?” asked Dean.

“Dude, I got to be a big brother a little bit,” said Sam with a smile.

“Speaking of which, Sam and I will see you guys later,” said Charlie, revving her engine. “We’ll stop by for dinner later but otherwise, you two lovebirds got this pretty spot all to yourselves.”

“Guys...” you said, Sam pulling his helmet back on.

“Later, shrimp,” he said, giving you a wave before they both headed back into the woods.

“So should we set up camp?” asked Dean, letting you take the lead. You shrugged, returning to grabbing your pack. Dean went about grabbing some firewood while you worked on the tent, hearing a big laugh from him when the top kept falling over your face.

He gave you a smile as he lifted it up for you, holding it in place while you slipped the poles through. It was big enough for two people and you had to bite back a laugh when he went about unpacking his own tent.

“You’re not gonna share with me?” you asked, Dean staring over at you before zipping his tent back up in it’s bag.

“I didn’t want to assume anything. I’m still not assuming anything,” he said, dragging his backpack over with a smirk. He rolled out his sleeping bag, tucking his bag away in a corner as you watched, sat back on your heels. “It will be warmer this way.”

“Yes, it will,” you said, Dean leaning over to give you a chaste kiss.

“Want to start a fire?” you asked. Dean smiled and leaned his head outside, just in time for you to see rain start to spit and pour down, Dean leaning back in the tent with a wet face. “Or not.”

“I guess we’re getting to the cuddling early,” he said, pulling a lantern from his backpack out and flicking it on to give the tent some light. You pulled off your boots and zipped up part of the tent flap, Dean chuckling as he pulled off his own boots and you nearly knocked him over to unroll your blanket.

“Sorry,” you giggled, crawling over top of him to get the blanket, shaking it out as Dean settled in behind you, tugging you back to his lap. “Comfy?”

“Definitely,” he said, letting you twist yourself around so you could see his face.

“Your hands are getting beat up,” you said, lifting one up, covered in nicks, blisters and the start of callouses.

“I keep forgetting my gloves,” said Dean, letting you drag your fingers over the lines in his palm. “I like this work. Being outside, doing something with my hands.”

“It’s one of the perks,” you said, dropping his hand to rest on your thigh.

“The job has other perks,” he said, wrapping his arm over your waist, kissing the side of your neck before he moved away and started digging through his backpack. “Since we seem to be indisposed for the time being and you’re a southern gal, you want to play a little Texas hold ‘em?”

“You’re on, Winchester.”

One Month Later

It’d been a few weeks since Dean had started at the ranch. You were setting up camp for the fourth weekend in a row. Your crush hadn’t subsided in the slightest and even though neither one of you had brought it up, you were pretty sure you and Dean were dating. It was strange, stealing a few short kisses and hugs here and there throughout the week, getting in a meaningful conversation or two when you could...it made the weekends that much more to look forward to.

“Dean,” you said, leaning your head on his shoulder on a starry Saturday night, one of his flannels on as he roasted a marshmallow. “I like you.”

“I like you too,” he smiled, plucking the marhmellow off the stick and plopping it in his mouth.

“I really like you,” you said.

“I really like you too,” he said, grabbing a marshmallow from the bag, chuckling when you ate it out of his hand. “You’ve been extra quiet today.”

“The last guy I really liked...” you sighed.

“I’m not a dumbass. I would never do that to you. Like I said, we take this as slow as we want,” said Dean, nuzzling his cheek against yours. “Okay?”

“I feel like you’re dancing around me sometimes,” you said.

“This is dancing,” he said, hopping to his feet, pulling you up with him, swinging you around the clearing with no rhythm at all. You laughed despite not wanting to, finally turning his grand movements into small ones, swaying back and forth to a song on the radio you didn’t recognize.

“I thought I told you I don’t like to dance,” you said.

“Oh, you did,” he said. “But here’s the thing...everyone likes to dance. It’s the shy folks that don’t like to do it in front of other people. Out here, there’s only you and me though so why not dance?”

“I’m not shy,” you said, Dean spinning you around with a giggle he rarely let out. “Maybe a little.”

“You’re so careful, scared of something. But then I get you alone and it’s like you forget that. You light up,” said Dean, resting his hands on your hips, leaning his forehead against yours. You’d gotten used to the excuse of it all just being stress from learning the ranch, from the things you’d been doing the past month.

“I won’t lie to you,” you said, putting a hand on his chest. “But give me some more time.”

“As long as you need,” said Dean, smiling when you brushed your lips over his. “I don’t want to hide you anymore.”

“My dad will fire you,” you said. “Or murder us both.”

“You see,” said Dean, moving his hips in time with yours, “I have this sneaking suspicion I’m falling for you. A lot harder than I’ve let on too. Someday I’d like to be able to take you out to dinner, pick you up in a suit, you could wear a dress...no more hiding.”

“Me too,” you said, resting your head on his chest, turning to look at the fire. “Just wait a little while longer for me. I want to enjoy this in case it falls apart.”

“It won’t fall apart,” he said. “Trust me.”

“Give me a little more time before I start inviting you to dinner,” you said. Dean nodded, resting his head on your shoulder. “We don’t...have to go slow...in every department though...if you know what I mean.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“If you think you can handle this that is,” you said with a smirk, Dean giving one right back.

“I will certainly try,” he said, guiding you over to the tent, a faint warmth from the fire filling the air there. “Or at least die happy.”

Packing up the next morning, you wished you could have the open relationship with Dean you wanted. Dean was happy to let you decide when the right time for that was but you knew the longer you waited, the worse it would get.

Sam had been right. Your confidence had been whittled away and it was only slowly building back up, too slow for your liking.

“Sweetheart,” said Dean, a finger under your chin lifting your head up. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“I know we’ve never had a fight but...” you said, Dean’s hand falling to rub your arm. You stared at his chest, taking a deep breath. “When we end up having a fight you’d never...”

“I’d never what?” asked Dean, your eyes squeezing shut, too late to get out of this coversation now. “Y/N, I’d never what?”

“You’d never, like, scream at me, right?” you asked. Dean went rigid, blinking at you when his face started to drop. “I just...”

“Your ex...” said Dean quietly, looking you up and down, his head cocking. “He used to scream at you?”

“Not like we’re having an argument and we’re raising our voices sort of thing. It was...I really like you and i know it won’t be all rosy sweet forever but when it’s finally not, I don’t want to be scared of you. I am so tired of being scared of a fight, Dean,” you said, taking a hard gulp. “Vinnie made me scared of him when he got mad and having my own opinions and I know you’re not like that.”

“Never. Never in a million years would I want you to be like that,” he said. You nodded, Dean pulling you tight into his chest, a sigh escaping you. “Does anyone else know?”

“No,” you said, ducking your head down. “It was a while ago. I just kept it to myself. It is getting better, honestly.”

“Did it happen more than once?” asked Dean.

“Yes,” you said quietly. “I was too stubborn for him and when he finally got me not to be that way, just go along with whatever he wanted, he cheated and dumped me.”

“Well it’s like you said, we will have fights but I promise, I won’t scare you or belittle you when we do,” said Dean. “I won’t tell anyone either, not unless you want me to.”

“Someday when I’m ready but not right now,” you said. “Thanks.”

“You know, I’m not really rich,” said Dean.

“I sort of figured that out, Dean,” you said with a smirk. “I don’t care either. Anything else we should get off our chests?”

“You’re very beautiful,” he said. You blushed but managed to keep his gaze, a big smile spreading across his cheeks. “See? Your confidence is there. It’s just hiding. Plus, you sort of told me my first day that we got each other’s backs and all that.”

“Do you want to come to dinner with me on Friday?” you asked.

“Don’t you have a family dinner on Friday?” asked Dean.

“Yes,” you said. “It’s like I said, I’m tired of being scared. I feel better around you and if my dad has a problem with us, he’ll have to take it up with me.”

“Damn, you’re a ball of spitfire when you get going,” he said, kissing your temple. “I’d love to come to dinner, sweetheart.”

A/N: Read the final part here!

@me-han10​ @newtospnfandom​ @alex-zeppelin​

@baconlover001 @emilymorgan1994 @jensenackesl @captainemwinchester @imissyoualittlemoreeveryday @xfanqirlinq @anokhi07 @akshi8278 @fandom--shipper @xxwinchester-22xx

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[secretagentspydetectiveninja]

Splataclysm! - chapter 5

Hey does anyone remember that really weird Splatoon AU fic I was writing? I promise I didn’t forget about it. I’m gonna try and get it finished as soon as possible because I have been in such a Splatoon mood lately. Anyway, have some Octoling appreciation :D

Also on AO3 as always

It wasn’t long before the next Splatfest was announced in Inkopolis. The difference was that this time, it was the final Splatfest. The Squid Sisters were becoming too busy to regularly host them.

“It’s so unfair!” Nath complained to Rose as they walked towards the voting booth to pick their teams. “I didn’t get here very long ago and I’m only ever going to experience one Splatfest while everyone else got to participate in loads!”

“At least this is the most interesting one!” Rose said. “Usually our team choices were things like Barbarian vs Ninja, or North Pole vs South Pole. But this time? Mireille vs Aurore! That’s much more exciting!”

Nath sighed. “I don’t even know who I’ll pick. They’re both equal to me.”

“Same! I’m going to feel ever so bad for having to choose between them!”

Of course Rose would. She was just too nice for her own good. Nath was slowly starting to feel weirdly protective over her, like a little sister, and he wasn’t sure he liked it.

There was the voting booth up ahead, where people picked their teams and were given a “Splatfest Tee” to wear for the duration of the event to signify which side they were supporting. Nath was about to go up and just flip a coin to pick a random side when he noticed who the inklings standing at the booth were.

The Slaughter Squad.

“Let’s just stay back a second,” he muttered, grabbing Rose’s arm and pulling her aside.

The Slaughter Squad seemed to have trouble choosing too. They didn’t appear to notice that they were completely blocking off the voting booth from anyone else who wanted to vote and had already made up their mind.

“What do you think, Max?” Kim asked.

Max just shrugged, his sunglasses obscuring his expression but body language betraying that he seemed rather bored.

“Mireille does tend to always win,” Alix said.

“Yeah, duh, we all know that. No need to point out the obvious, jeez.”

“Alright, I was just saying!”

“So anyway, I think we should pick Team Mireille. Everyone always picks Aurore’s team so the multiplier will be in our favour and whatever other maths stuff Max told us about last time.”

“But if everyone knows that Mireille always wins, and this is the final Splatfest, then more people might pick Mireille and the multiplier might boost Aurore’s team instead…”

“Oh shut up,” Kim snapped, shoving her aside. “We’re voting Team Mireille and that’s final. Right Max?”

Max just shrugged again, very much looking like he was stifling a yawn.

“Okay, that’s settled. Team Mireille it is.”

The three of them pressed the left side buttons on the machine and were given three magenta-coloured Splatfest Tees.

“I hate these stupid t-shirts,” Alix said, scrunching hers into a ball.

“Of course you do, you’re way too small to fit in them properly.”

“Actually I hate them because all the abilities I worked so hard to earn on my hoodie just go to waste for these two days when we’re forced to wear these instead–”

“I don’t care. Let’s go.”

Nath watched the Slaughter Squad walk off, suspecting that he might have been gripping Rose’s arm just a little too tightly. How were the Slaughter Squad so fresh? How did they become so good? Was it practice? Luck? Were they just born like that?

Well, he suspected in Kim and Alix’s cases it might be luck and practice. But Max? Max “Unsplattable” Kanté? That guy just oozed freshness, so easily, so effortlessly, with his E-Litre 3K Scope slung over his shoulder, that 3-star triple Damage Up jacket, those sunglasses catching glints of the light from the sky and buildings around them, the way the sun seemed to shine its rays on him specifically, basking him in some kind of ethereal glow like a sort of immortal omnipotent being–

Nath looked away quickly, blushing. He hadn’t realized he was staring.

“Have you decided on a team yet?” Rose asked, distracting him from his rather overactive mind.

“Hm?... Oh, yeah…” He loosened his grip slightly and led her over to the voting booth. “I’m picking Team Mireille. I don’t want to lose my only Splatfest, and if she always wins, well…”

“Good choice!” Rose said, beaming up at him. “I think I’ll pick Mireille too! Then the two of us can be on the same team.”

He smiled back, feeling oddly comforted at the thought of Rose being his teammate. She was pretty much still his only friend here. It was good to have her around.

They cast their votes, then were given Splatfest Tees to wear. The actual Splatfest would begin the next day, so they didn’t have to wear them until then. Meanwhile in the plaza, a large stage was being set up near the television booth. Apparently every Splatfest, the Squid Sisters would perform their songs standing up on here. Nath couldn’t wait to see it. Of course he’d heard them perform live before – he had been there to watch them win the Youth Folk-Singing Contest in the first place – but here in Inkopolis, where they were celebrities, it would feel much more exciting.

“Oh! I’ve got a new message!” Rose pulled her phone out of her pocket.

“Let me guess, it’s from Juleka?” Nath asked. Juleka seemed to be the only person Rose got messages from these days.

“It is, it is! And oh listen… she’s asking me if I’d want to get a coffee… that’s so sweet…”

“You don’t even like coffee,” Nath pointed out.

“I know, but still! It’s the thought that counts!”

“Have you even met Juleka before? In person?”

“Of course I have!” Rose frowned at him, looking slightly annoyed for once. “I know I don’t tend to battle much, but I have asked her to update my gear with more ability slots before. I’ve spoken to her a lot. She’s just shy, she doesn’t like going out of her way to talk to people. It doesn’t mean I can’t get to know her well. And where better than a coffee date at Arowana Mall?”

She had a kind of fire in her eyes that he hadn’t seen before. Huh, she really cared about Juleka, didn’t she?

“You should ask her to be your girlfriend,” he said on a whim.

“You think so? I mean, I would love to, but… she’s… a sea urchin…”

“No one bats an eyelid at Mylène the anemone and Ivan the inkling.”

“True! You’re right, maybe I should ask Juleka!” She giggled a little. “So, what caused your sudden dramatic turn-around, Nath? According to Juleka you weren’t even willing to give her my number at first…”

Oh drat, Rose knew about that? How embarrassing.

“I was just being stupid,” he said quickly. “Seriously though, you and Juleka deserve each other. You both seem to like each other a lot, so why not?”

“Aww, Nath!” Rose hugged him. “Do you really think she likes me back?”

“Well why else is she asking you on a coffee date to Arowana Mall?”

“Good point! Anyway, I’d better reply and then head off to go find her. I’ll see you later, okay?”

She started typing away on her phone as she walked off.

Well, now what? Nath found himself wishing he had more friends. People often tended to go battling in groups, but he just wasn’t close enough with anyone else. It wasn’t like Rose ever battled much anyway.

He sighed, watching all the other inklings milling around in the area. Why couldn’t he just talk to them? He had always been so shy, so reserved, so quiet. And now, here in this city, he wasn’t fresh enough either. How long was it going to take?

Octo Valley was slowly becoming more unforgiving as the Octarians were improving their forces. Some of the foes that Marinette and Adrien had to face were much more difficult than before, with advanced weaponry that could only have been stolen from the inklings. How was that possible? Did they get the information from Nino? And where were they keeping him? How long would it be until he could be found?

The most difficult of the Octarian enemies so far were the Octolings. They were essentially the Octarian versions of inklings – humanoid creatures that could shift into octopus form at will and swim through their own ink, with weapons and bombs just like the inklings used. It was far more tiring to fight them than any of the other, simpler Octarian enemies.

“This kettle looks a lot like Kelp Dome,” Marinette said to Adrien as they entered a new area. “It’s like they’ve copied it.”

“I was thinking the same thing…”

“Beware of the Octolings!” Fu warned them through the radio. “There’ll be plenty ahead, no doubt!”

“It’s no problem,” Marinette said. “We know this course inside out. Adrien, you go right. I’ll go left. We’ll meet back in the centre. If you need any help or find the butterfly before me, just let me know by radio.”

“Are you sure we should split up?” Adrien asked.

“It’ll be fine.” Marinette smiled at him, hoping she looked encouraging. “You can do it. Octolings are just like inklings, right? Pretend it’s a Turf War or Ranked Battle and you’re just splatting your opponents. I’ll be close by to help if you need it.”

“Alright. Thanks, Marinette.”

He put his Krak-On Splat Roller on the ground and began running off down one of the side paths. Marinette turned to the left and headed the other way.

It wasn’t difficult at first. Sure, Octolings were tougher than other Octarian enemies. But Marinette was a battle veteran, she was used to difficult situations. This kind of thing didn’t feel particularly out of the ordinary for her. She splatted Octoling after Octoling, keeping her eyes out for the butterfly, trying not to feel too guilty. Octolings really did look like inklings to her. At least they would respawn – though hopefully not too soon.

She had reached the opposite side of the dome when she heard something that sounded incredibly familiar. Was that… the Squid Sisters? Singing?

Marinette ran towards where the sound was coming from, though cautiously in case it was a trap of some sort. Sure enough, as the music got louder, she did recognize it. That definitely was the sound of a Squid Sisters song, and not just any song. “Calamari Inkantation”, as it was called, was the inkling song. The most famous melody in existence. The Squid Sisters had covered it and their version was topping the charts, it was such a favourite among the citizens of Inkopolis.

Hiding behind a wall, Marinette slowly inched forwards and had a look around the corner. There! A radio was sitting on one of the platforms, playing Calamari Inkantation. And someone was sitting in front of it, quietly singing along.

Not just anyone. An Octoling.

Marinette lowered her weapon slightly. Why was an Octoling listening to inkling radio stations? And singing along? Marinette hadn’t even thought Octolings could understand the inkling language. It usually took jellyfish and other sea creatures long enough to learn.

The Octoling… she had a lovely voice, that was for sure. She was sitting facing the other way so only the back of her was visible. Her tentacle hair was longer than most Octolings usually kept theirs, a beautiful auburn colour with gentle curls. It swayed slightly in the breeze.

Huh, a breeze? Here, underground? Maybe the Octarians pumped air into their caves or something. Or perhaps this Octoling’s hair just moved like that on its own. Marinette watched in fascination.

The song came to an end, and the sound of the radio presenter followed.

“…And that was our good old Calamari Inkantation, by the Squid Sisters we all know and love! I hope everyone out there was singing along! Now for the Splatfest news – our final Splatfest, Mireille vs Aurore, has begun! We can’t say for sure what the results will be yet but surely it’ll be close…”

“I’m missing a SPLATFEST?!” Marinette yelped, unable to stop herself. She quickly put her hand over her mouth and dipped into squid form.

The Octoling switched off the radio and jumped up, looking around. Marinette stayed as still as possible.

“Hello? Is someone there?”

The Octoling had spoken in inkling – oh, she had spoken in inkling. Singing a song was one thing, but she had really said a sentence in the language. She could speak it. Her words had a strange lilt to them, her voice sounding slightly lower and smoother than that of inklings. Marinette held back a gasp.

“I know I heard someone…”

The Octarian turned around. Her tentacles were cut short at the front into a fringe, and she had little foxtails dangling down by her shoulders. Most Octolings wore visors but this one didn’t – her eyes were green, a beautiful, leafy green that was surprisingly uncommon on this wasteland of a planet.

Marinette moved backwards a little. It was a mistake. The Octoling’s eyes snapped down to where Marinette was hiding in the ink.

“You’re there, I know you are! Please come out! I promise I won’t attack you!”

“Don’t fall for it,” Fu muttered through the radio. Marinette had forgotten he was there. “She’s just luring you into a false sense of security. Better to splat her on sight.”

It was true. Octolings were not to be trusted.

But this Octoling… she didn’t have a weapon with her. She was entirely defenceless. And anyway, how could she be all bad? She had been listening to inkling radio, right? Apparently she liked the Squid Sisters. She couldn’t be an enemy to the inklings.

Marinette slowly stood up into her full humanoid form, still keeping her weapon close just in case. The Octoling’s expression softened as she watched.

“You’re an inkling,” she said quietly, keeping her distance. She looked a little afraid. “You’re one of the ones travelling through our lands and taking the butterflies away.”

“I’m taking the butterflies back,” Marinette clarified. “They were ours to begin with.”

The Octoling sighed. “That’s true…”

“What are you waiting for?” Fu said. “Splat her! She’s right there!”

“Why were you listening to inkling radio?” Marinette asked, ignoring Fu for the moment. She was too intrigued now. She needed answers.

“I love the Squid Sisters,” the Octoling replied. “They have such amazing voices! And amazing songs! I want to be a singer too, so it really inspires me.”

“Don’t you have any Octarian idols of your own?”

The Octoling shuffled around nervously. “We’re not supposed to make our own music. Our leader likes us to listen to his music only.”

“Your leader doesn’t sound very nice…”

The Octoling shrugged. “What can we do? Inklings won’t let us have any land up on the surface, and we can’t go back in the sea. Our leader and our kettles are all we have.”

Oh, so was that why they were stealing butterflies? Because they didn’t have anything else? To them, the inklings must seem so privileged. Marinette was starting to feel rather bad indeed for how many Octarians she had splatted recently. Weren’t they just doing exactly what she was doing? Trying to protect her home and her friends?

“You’re not as bad as they’ve told us the inklings are,” the Octoling continued. “Are all inklings like you?”

“Every inkling is different, I suppose. Maybe some are good, some are bad.” Like Octarians, she thought to herself, though she didn’t say it out loud. Fu was still listening, after all, and he hated all Octarians no matter what.

“You seem like a good inkling. You just want to get your butterflies back. I understand.”

“And I want my friend back too,” Marinette said, feeling stronger as she thought of Nino. “He’s been kidnapped and we don’t know what’s happening to him down here. Me and my fellow agent have to rescue him.”

The Octoling nodded. “I know who you’re talking about. Your friend. He’s… well… please don’t be too shocked when you find him, okay?”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“He might be a bit different now. Well, a lot different. I don’t know exactly what our leader has done with him but I’ve heard some rumours.”

“What rumours? Please, tell me what’s happened to Nino!”

“I don’t know!” The Octoling looked scared again. “Even if I did, how could I tell you? You’re an inkling! You’re… you’re an enemy…”

“Exactly,” Fu said, sounding impatient. “She’s your enemy, now just splat her already!”

“We don’t have to be enemies,” Marinette said.

“I know,” the Octoling replied. “But what can I do? I’ve already betrayed my people enough by telling you all this. And listening to your music. And wishing I could move to Inkopolis and be as fresh as all of you are–”

She snapped her hand over her mouth, looking around as if she was expecting someone to be spying on her.

“It’s okay,” Marinette said. “You don’t have to tell me anymore. I’ll, uh, leave you alone now…”

“Wait! I just want to know… what’s your name?”

Marinette hesitated. No one was supposed to know her identity, not even people back home.

“Ladybug,” she replied finally. It wasn’t a total lie. “What’s your name?”

The Octoling hesitated too. After a few seconds she said, “Volpina.”

That must be a lie. Marinette just nodded.

“Volpina. Thank you. I wish you luck in your singing career.”

“And I hope you can rescue your friend.”

“WHY AREN’T YOU SPLATTING HER?!” Fu screeched.

Marinette hurried away, back towards the outer edges of Kelp Dome. How could she have splatted “Volpina”? Sure, Volpina would have respawned, but still. It would have seemed so unfair.

Things were still not sinking in. An Octoling who was a fan of the Squid Sisters? Who wanted to move to Inkopolis and be just like the inklings? Marinette carried on trudging through the dome, but she just couldn’t get her mind off it. She couldn’t get her mind off Volpina.

This Splatfest was not going well. Nath had decided to try out a Blaster, and his teammate Ivan was just staring at him in dismay.

“What?” Nath asked.

“You’re using a Blaster,” Ivan replied, his voice completely monotone. He sounded more disappointed than Nath had ever heard him.

“Yeah? So? I like trying out new weapons.” More like, he kept trying out new weapons because he still hadn’t found one that fit, and Tikki wouldn’t help him with it.

“You’re using a Blaster. For a Turf War.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

Ivan rubbed his forehead. “Blasters are for splatting. Not for inking.”

“Well so are Chargers, right? And Max uses a Charger!”

“Max is an exception to every rule. Some people might be alright at using Blasters during Turf War, but you? On your first try? During a Splatfest, when it actually matters whether we win or lose?”

Ouch. Did Ivan really have such little faith in him?

“Relax, Ivan, it’ll be fine,” he said. “Okay, so I know Blasters have a low fire rate and stuff. But they have exploding bullets! I’ll be able to splat people way more easily, so they won’t be able to ink any turf, and we’ll win. That’s how it’s going to work.”

Ivan just sighed. “I sure do hope so, Nathaniel…”

The match that followed was a disaster. It was true that Blasters did not cover much turf. Nath had hoped that the bullets would make up for it, but the low fire rate meant that if Nath missed his shot, the opponent would have time to splat him before he could take another shot. And that happened far, far too often. Nath was terrible at aiming. The only thing that kept him going through the match was the Squid Sisters music that was blasting through the speakers, keeping his motivation up.

“I knew our team would lose,” Ivan said once the match results had been announced. The rest of the team members were trudging away solemnly. It seemed that people took losing Splatfest battles much more seriously than normal battles.

“It’s my fault, isn’t it?” Nath said, looking at his Blaster. “You’re right, this weapon sucks for Turf War. I should have thought about that first.”

“Hey…” Ivan looked like he was trying to smile, though it didn’t look particularly genuine. “You still did pretty well for a Blaster, though.”

“No I didn’t! 400p? That’s awful!”

“And what did you get on your very first match here in Inkopolis?”

Nath thought back. It suddenly felt like a long time ago. “I think it was about 140p…”

“See? So you are improving!”

Well, that much was true. He wasn’t anywhere near as bad now as he used to be. Alright, so he wasn’t amazing yet. But at least things were changing.

“Thanks, Ivan,” he said, really meaning it. “Hey – are Heavy Splatlings easy to use, by any chance?”

Ivan picked his Heavy Splatling up off the floor beside him. “Not that much. It took me a while to get used to it. But this is the exact kind of weapon I love. I can keep back, away from the front lines, but still protect my teammates when they need it. And unlike a Charger, I don’t need to bother with single, accurate shots. I can just pummel the opponents until they give in.”

That sounded amazing. “Maybe I’ll try that next.”

“Sure, but remember, it’s still hard to get the hang of. Most weapons are. Maybe a Mini Splatling would be better for someone as… well…” Ivan looked down at Nath from his rather high-up point of view.

“Yeah, okay, I get it,” Nath muttered. “I’m small. But I can lift a Heavy Splatling, don’t worry.”

Ivan’s smile looked a lot more genuine now. “I’m sure you can. Good luck, Nath. I know this is your only Splatfest so I’m really hoping we win.”

“Me too.”

“Will you two hurry up and go away?” Plagg called from the centre of the arena. “I need to start the next match!”

Oh – of course! Nath quickly Super Jumped away.

Heavy Splatling didn’t work so well. Mini Splatling didn’t either. Just like Chargers, those weapons had to be charged up before being fired. And Nath was constantly being splatted while waiting to charge. It was just so, so tedious.

“Tikki, what kind of weapon should I be using?” he asked her after yet another lost Turf War. At this rate Team Mireille were going to lose the Splatfest for sure.

“That’s not up to me,” Tikki said.

“But I’m trying out so many different things and it’s not helping!”

“Well, you do seem to be very good at using a Splattershot these days…”

“Everyone’s good at using a Splattershot. And anyway, I’m not above average when I use it. It just doesn’t feel like the kind of weapon I should be using. I know there’s something out there that’s perfect for me, and I just need to find it!”

“In that case, here is my advice.” Tikki took a deep breath. “Watch your teammates and opponents very carefully. See what weapons they’re using, what playstyles they are employing. Do they play aggressively? Cautiously? Defensively? Are certain strategies better with particular weapon types? Do some analysis. See if you can imagine yourself in their positions, whether or not you would feel comfortable playing the way they do. Use that to help you narrow down what sort of weapon you want to use.”

That was pretty much what he had been trying to do already. But getting mad at Tikki wouldn’t achieve anything – she was just trying to help him.

“Thank you,” he said. “I think I’ll stick with a Splattershot for now…”

“That sounds like a good idea. But let me know if there’s anything else you want to try out!”

“I will. But I’ll wait till the end of the Splatfest first.”

Tikki glanced at a clock on the wall. “Isn’t that in about 2 minutes?”

What?! Nath looked at the clock to see–

No! The Splatfest was about to end! Did he have time for another battle?

Without even bothering to say bye to Tikki, he raced out of the door and across the plaza towards the Lobby. Surely he could make it in time?

But he didn’t. The doors were closed. And a few seconds later, the screen in the plaza lit up with an announcement from the Squid Sisters. He turned to look, trying not to feel too grumpy.

“And that’s the end of the final Splatfest!” Mireille said, punching a fist up in the air as usual. “I can’t wait to find out the results!”

“Same!” Aurore said, a rare smile on her face. “We’ll let you all know when the results have been calculated. In the meantime, carry on with all your regular battles, and stuff.”

“And now to announce the Turf War stages…”

Nath didn’t bother to listen to any more. This Splatfest was over, and he had hardly contributed at all. He’d lost most of his matches. It wouldn’t be a surprise if his team lost.

The next morning, he sat in his apartment drinking a rather large mug of coffee and feeling more glum than usual. He had been intending to psych himself up to find out the results of the Splatfest and then go into the plaza when he was ready. But the morning newspaper had arrived and already told him the bad news.

TEAM AURORE WINS FINAL SPLATFEST DESPITE GAINING FEWER VOTES

Wasn’t that exactly what Alix had been warning her teammates about? Most people would have voted for Mireille, expecting her to win, and the mysterious “multiplier” (whatever that was) would give enough of a boost to Aurore’s team to drive her to victory instead.

So that was it. Nath had lost his only Splatfest. He would never get a chance to participate in another one again, ever, in his life.

He grabbed an energy drink off the counter beside him and dunked it all into his coffee mug. He was definitely going to need it today.

[sleepy-peachie]

Frenchies

On Saturday AnnIsabelle took Ariel and I to the circus festival in town.  it was a lot smaller than I expected but the performance itself was really amazing.  The festival was set up where the antennas for the first video tellecommunication between France and the US were and there were still 2 antennas standing out of 7 and a big ball shaped museum left to commemorate it.  The festival was a bunch of tents set up outside and there were a bunch of old timey games for kids like we’d see at an appalachian festival and we tried a few out that were fun.  The show was inside a huge tent and it was kind of like a maze to get to the place you actually sat to watch the show.  The performance we watched was mostly dancing and acrobatics but they also had horses and birds that were trained to do things.  The horse pooped in the middle of it but we honestly questioned whether or not it was intentional (we think not ‘cause they’d have to later roll around in said poop since they were doing so much gymnastics and dancing).  They spoke mostly in french but there were english parts as well as spanish and Italian.  People were throwing each other into the air on their hands and the muscles on these people were astounding.  One girl climbed a pole that a man was holding in his belt just by sheer strength and it was beautiful.  THey also had this weird bush dance where everyone except one girl had hay all over them and htey looked like bushes.  I could see them sweating under the stage lights and this was near the end of a 2 hour show. I can’t imagine it was fun dancing in hay.  

AnnIsabelle also knew this woman we know as Madame Fraise who was selling hot ginger and hibiscus drinks out of an old style baby carriage dressed as a strawberry.  She said the drink was a potion that would transform you into anything you wanted later that night.  She also said she would grant us a wish and whipped out a genie in a bottle type bottle and had us close our eyes and hold out our hands and she poured gold glitter from the bottle into our hands and we had to rub the glitter on our cheeks or hair or clothes to make the wish come true.  It was a cool experience and the ginger drink was what you’d imagine, spicy water.  

I also got a gallete with fromage and it was soooo good but expensive and i was so hungry but i was afraid to order again because french and it was pretty crowded.  We were going to stay for the concert that night but it wasn’t until 11 and our show was done at 9.  We stayed in the bar tent until 10 before she offered to take us home.  I would’ve like to have stayed, the people that were left at the festival seemed to fit the punk scene so i was thinking it was gonna be a pretty cool show but it was cold and getting late of course.  

however when we got back to the crous Rebekah, Gwendyl, and Raphael were making crepes in the kitchen. So I went and hung out with them and ate some homemade nutella crepes and Rebekah made some Morrocan tea.  I took a 5 minute shower and came back and Gwendyl was playing his guitar and we all sang any songs we knew.  I asked if Never Shout Never was ever popular over here ‘cause I know he has accoustic songs.  The answer is no but Rebekah pulled up his song Trouble which is exactly what i was gonna suggest so i was singling along and everyone was looking at me and they were like “shes good” and i’m like LOLOOOOLOLOL wut.  and then they made me sing the rest of the song and that was honestly really cool.  I couldn’t sing in high school and I was too shy to sing in front of anyone really even to the radio with friends until recently.  I just happened to notice that i’m comfortable singing to the radio in front of people only recently. Maybe this means I can do musicals in the future. We also sang boulevard of broken dreams by green day and gwendyl really likes john mayer so a couple of his songs and a couple maroon 5 songs too.  and of course Jolene but replaced w/ Pauline instead for Wassim.  We also tried to find an accoustic version of All Star by smash mouth which didn’t work out and we did sing hallelujah so some of the Shrek sound track got in there.