#the moment it reached that length I was dragged to a hairdresser

[frekless]

One girl’s trauma of never being allowed to cut her hair becomes her daughter’s trauma of never being allowed to grow theirs.

#mum had hair down to her thighs murder was in her twenties #I was never allowed to grow mine past my chin #except for three times #once when I was 12 and spent a year abjectly refusing to get a haircut before being forced to #once when I was 17 and growing it so I could shave it for charity #and once when I was in my early twenties and decided I wanted to donate my hair to a wig charity and it had to be a certain length #the moment it reached that length I was dragged to a hairdresser #Because: long hair doesn’t suit you #and what’s the point in having long hair if you just keep it in a ponytail? #I know she loves me #and I know she has her own traumas #but it doesn’t make it easier either

[angelicyoongie]

desolate (7)

— summary: you just wanted a cute little normal cat to keep you company. so, you're not really sure how you ended up with the grumpiest hybrid on earth that seems hellbent on making your life difficult.

— pairing: cat hybrid yoongi x human reader

— genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut

— word count: 4.7k

— tag list: @mrcleanheichou @ladymidnightt @cheese123344 @xanny91 @dinorahrodriguez @best-space-boy @dulcaet @moccahobi @keijaycreates @staytrillswag @xsmilebitesx @serendipityoreuphoria @jiminot7 @beyond-the-swag @nananaum1 @mult1wh0re @ditttiii @faithsummers11 @twomilkmen-gocomedy @theonewholovestoread @karissassirak @veryuniquenamegoeshere @yourlipssoirresistible @ayoo-bangtan @murderyoursoul @btsxdoll @see3milyblog @gukiyi @officialcarly9701 @mtgforall @narcissism-iskey @sp3ak-yours3lf @cesthoney @imluckybitches @hd-junglebook @sugarrimajins @multifandomgirl29 @beach-bitch-bitch-beach @bangtansleftnut @theresa-nam-nam-me @angeltothecore @ghostkat23 @deathkat657 @awixxx @httpmedxsa @veronawrites @bubbletae7 @serious-addiction @chogiyeol-utopia @nomimits7 @lorielulu7 @1am9root6 @sana-b @diamonddia-mond @jiminiessipabo @myhearttteu @rainbowmagicpixecorn @lidda @rosiethefairy​

Part one Part two Part three Part four Part five Part six Part eight Part nine Part ten (M) Part eleven Part twelve Part thirteen Part fourteen (M)

It’s the fifth day in a row you’re waking up to your hand tightly clasped between Yoongi’s. You realized your initial mistake pretty quickly, having given your own rule such a massive loophole. Apparently when you had pointed at Yoongi’s human form and told him he wasn’t allowed in bed when you were there, that didn’t apply to his cat form too. So, you had resigned pretty quickly to the fact that cat Yoongi snuggled up on your bed every night.

You didn’t really mind it too much; you could practically trick yourself into thinking he actually was one. What was harder to ignore however, was the very human man you woke up to every morning. You assume his transformation drops after a certain amount of time if he isn’t awake enough to continue it, and that’s why you find yourself face to face with Yoongi’s pale skin and long lashes every morning.

You’re pretty sure he does wake up during the night to get dressed though, considering the fact that he’s never naked when you wake up – which you’re very thankful for. He could technically transform back when he wakes up, but you also get why he doesn’t. He had been forced to keep up his transformation for such a long time at the shelter, and you don’t want to make him feel any worse. You know he needs a break from it.

The first morning had nearly given you a heart attack, but you found it hard to banish him to the couch when he looked so comfy next to you. And he was technically still on top of the covers, so you’ve let it slide, for now.

You know it before you even open your eyes – the feeling of slender fingers slightly intertwined with yours, the puffs of air hitting the small inches of skin that aren’t covered. Yoongi seems to somehow always manage to bring your intertwined hands close to his face, and you can feel each exhale as he breathes out.

He looks peaceful when he sleeps; cheek pressed into the pillow below him, and pink lips slightly parted. There’s no tension in his face, no frown to pull on his features, and you find that with each morning you wake up to seeing his face like this, the more you wish you could keep it that way.

You sigh softly, slowly trying to worm your hand out of Yoongi’s grasp. His face pinches right away at the moment, annoyed that the warmth in his grasp is moving. He drags your hand even closer, the back of it ending being pressed up against his lips. You feel heat creep into your cheeks as Yoongi lets out an incoherent mumble, his soft lips moving against your skin as he speaks.

He’s inhaling more harshly now that your hand is closer, his fluffy ears twitching slightly with each breath. It would be a lie if you said you hadn’t thought about touching them, the silky fur seeming tantalizingly soft. You haven’t, of course, and there’s no way you’re going to ask Yoongi if you can. You know certain parts are more sensitive for hybrids than they are for humans, and you would never want to put Yoongi into an uncomfortable situation.

You’re so caught up in watching his ears that you hardly even register the wetness on your wrist. Your eyes flicker down to Yoongi’s mouth just as his tongue peeks out from between his lips, giving your wrist another kitten lick.

You suck in a breath, unsure and overwhelmed in the early morning. It becomes obvious to you now that Yoongi is scenting you despite being asleep, and him holding your hand so close every morning makes a little more sense too. He seems to have subconsciously grown attached to your scent, and his instincts probably make him try to get as close to you as possible while still respecting your boundaries.

You bite your lip, wiggling your fingers to test how easy it would be to slip away without waking him up. You don’t know if it’s a good idea to let him know what he’s doing or not. You don’t want to embarrass him now that he’s finally starting to open up, but you don’t know if it’s right to let him go on unknowingly either.

Yoongi suddenly lets up on his grasp around your hand to shift his position, and you use the opportunity to quickly slip out of his hold. He gets an adorable pout on his lips as he loses your touch, but it doesn’t seem to wake him up.

You’re too awake to try to go back to sleep, so you decide that you might as well get up. Sundays are always a little bittersweet. You have the day off, but you also know that you’ll be back at work in less than twenty-four hours.

You shuffle out into the hallway, deciding you might as well do laundry first. Despite your apartment being older, you still consider it a steal since it has its own washing machine in the bathroom. Sure, it makes it pretty cramped, but it beats having to go to a laundromat to get clean clothes.

You rummage through your hamper, pulling out all the dark colours to do the first load. You pause as you pull up your hoodie, a dust bunny still clinging to the fabric. When you first found it under the couch you had just shrugged it off as your cat being weird, but now that he can actually talk? You need an answer to sate your curiosity as to why he would even bring it under there in the first place.

It’s the smell of food that brings Yoongi out into the kitchen, eyes puffy with sleep and black hair sticking up in every direction.

“How do you feel about a haircut?” You ask as you place a plate of eggs, bacon and toast in front of him. He glances up at you suspiciously from his seat at the small table.

“I noticed your hair keeps getting into your eyes, and it can’t be comfortable,” You shrug as you place down your own food, taking your seat on the opposite side.

“How would I get one? I can’t go to a hairdresser,” Yoongi grumbles as he takes a bite of the toast.

“I was thinking that I could do it,” You offer. Yoongi chokes on a mouthful of eggs, sending you a glare as he tries to wash it down with water.

“You?” He scoffs, pale fingers reaching up to tug at his locks.

“Yeah. Why not? If it turns out bad then no one else will see it anyway,” You reason. You have been cutting your own hair for years, and you feel fairly confident you can do a decent job. It’s just hair after all, it shouldn’t be any different whether you did your own, or Yoongi’s.

Yoongi narrows his eyes, gaze sweeping over your hair as if he’s assessing your work. You can’t really figure out what he’s thinking about, his expression so carefully blank that you struggle to read him.

“I guess,” He huffs, blowing a piece of hair out of his eyes before he takes another bite of food.

You dig into your own, pleased that Yoongi trusts you enough to let you try. You don’t think you need to do much, just trim enough that it won’t irritate his eyes. Lost in your thoughts, your gaze briefly slips up from your plate to Yoongi, fork freezing mid-air as you catch the intense glare he’s sending your way.

“Don’t make me regret it.”

“Sit still,” You mumble, tugging the towel tight around Yoongi’s neck. Yoongi watches the scissors with distrust as you study his hair, trying to figure out the best way to go about cutting it. At least your kitchen has good enough lightning so that you can see everything you’re doing.

“Let’s start with your bangs?” You reach out to gently take the first lock between your fingertips. You bite the inside of your cheek in concentration as you start cutting it, nerves at an all time high as Yoongi’s eyes doesn’t leave your face. You slowly work your way around his head; trying your best to just trim the length, and not really change up his hairstyle too much.

The back of his head proves to be more difficult. You huff, running your fingers through the dark strands to figure out the best way to trim it. The texture is wavier in the back, and you’re scared of cutting too much and leaving it looking weird. Yoongi’s head starts tipping back into your hand the more you move your fingers through his locks, a content sigh falling from his lips as your nails accidently scratch against his scalp.

You stifle a laugh as he practically melts in your hands, slowly removing them before he gets so relaxed that he falls asleep. Yoongi lets out an annoyed growl as you tilt his head back to the position you need it to be to cut it. He keeps still as you cut through the rest of his hair, ears twitching every time the scissors slice through another lock of hair.

Once your deem yourself happy with the result, you move back around the chair to see if there’s any spots you missed. You know you haven’t cut the hair that’s directly surrounding his ears, but you’re honestly a little terrified of doing something wrong and hurting him.

“Are you done?” Yoongi looks up at you through narrowed eyes, tail flicking lazily behind him.

“Almost. I think I might have to touch your ears to cut the hair around them. Is .. is that okay?” You hesitate to ask, fingers curling around the scissors nervously.

Yoongi’s mouth draws into a line at your request, his tail stilling behind him.

“Just be quick,” He mutters. You fight off the blush that threatens to colour your cheeks as Yoongi spreads his legs, allowing you to step up between them. You know it’s only to give you easier access, but being so close feels weird. You’re not sure why it makes your stomach flutter.

You gently grasp one of his ears, moving it carefully to the side as you start trimming the hair around it. His ears are even softer than you imagined, the fur gliding under your fingers as Yoongi’s ear moves around. It proves to be more difficult than what you first thought, seeing as the cat ears can’t help but swivel every time the scissors makes a sound.

You instinctively tighten your hold when Yoongi’s ear suddenly moves dangerously close to being cut, the metal just narrowingly missing the muscle. Yoongi’s hands shoot out to grab your legs, fingertips digging into the flesh of your thigh as he lets out a startled hiss.

You freeze, eyes flying down to Yoongi’s face. The cat hybrid is already staring up at you through hooded lids; pupils so blown out that you can hardly see any colour.

“They’re sensitive,” Yoongi growls, the low sound sending a shiver down your spine.

“Oh, I–“ The fingers wrapped around your thighs give you a warning squeeze, making you lose your train of thought.

You’re struck dumb by how handsome Yoongi looks, how flawless his skin seems up close, how warm and big his hands are splayed across your thighs. He tilts his head back slightly, pink lips parting just an inch.

He has a mole on his cheek, you realize. You don’t know why you’ve never noticed it before, but you suddenly find yourself desperate to commit every inch of Yoongi’s face to your memory, not wanting to leave a single detail out.

Yoongi’s tongue peeks out to wet his lips, the action catching your attention. The cat hybrid is watching you watching him, the corner of his lips twitching up into a smirk as he realizes where your focus is.

“Just hurry up and be careful.”

You have to mentally shake yourself out of your stupor as your brain registers Yoongi’s words. The grip on your thigh pulls you even closer, not stopping until your legs knock against his.

You swallow hard, dry throat dry and itchy as you turn your focus back to Yoongi’s hair. You immediately regret tilting his head forward to get better access, when you feel his breath hit your shirt. You practically hold your breath as you work through his hair, the hands on your legs feeling like they might be more dangerous than the scissor near his ears.  

“I’m done,” You step back as quickly as you can after the final snip, Yoongi’s hands lingering on you thighs for a beat too long before he drops them down into his lap.

“You should probably go look and see if it’s okay,” You gesture in direction of the bathroom, busying yourself with sweeping up the hair on the floor with a dustpan to avoid having to meet his gaze. Your heart is hammering so loudly in your chest that there’s not a chance that Yoongi doesn’t hear it.

Yoongi stands up without a word, feet barely even making a sound as he walks out of the room. Once you’re sure he’s out of sight, you smack yourself on the forehead, annoyed by how hot and bothered just standing in front of Yoongi has made you. You don’t understand why you’re suddenly so affected. Yoongi is handsome – but it isn’t like you realized that today. So why is your heart suddenly pounding a mile an hour just from looking at his face?

“It looks fine,” Yoongi’s low voice scares the living daylights out of you. The dustpan clatters to the floor as you whip your head up to look at him. He’s leaning against the doorframe, his dark hair a little wilder than what you left it.

“Shit, you scared me,” You grimace, embarrassed that you were so caught up in thinking about him, that you didn’t even hear the cat hybrid come back into the room.

Yoongi only hums in response, crossing the floor to sweep up the locks that scattered across the ground. A low peep comes from the bathroom as you watch him stand and throw away the hair, alerting you that the second load of clothes is done.

“Hey Yoongi?” You rest your hip against the counter, turning you body slightly to face him as he places the dustbin and the broom back in its place. “Why did my hoodie end up under the couch?” Yoongi freezes, the muscles under his black t-shirt tensing as he faces the wall. “What hoodie?” His voice is nonchalant, barely even interested. But his ears are starting to flatten back against his head, and his tail looks stiff.

“The black one, the one I pulled out in front of you?”

“Oh right, that one,” Yoongi turns then, the light tone in his voice not matching the tightness in his face. He picks at his sweatpants, gaze roaming over the kitchen instead of looking at you.

“It smelled like you. It was comforting. Everything else was so new and you were gone most of the time, so ..” He explains with a shrug. His eyebrows are furrowed, an uneasy expression on his face.

“I’m sorry,” You murmur, stomach dropping at his words.

Yoongi shakes his head, a tight-lipped smile on his face as he finally meets your eyes. He seems uncomfortable to admit it, and the air around you feels awkward. You’re desperate to get rid of it. You catch sight of a bag of kernels on the counter, an idea springing to mind.

“How about we watch a movie?”

The movie helps. The tension in Yoongi’s body slowly slips away as you watch the film play out in front of you, and it’s practically gone when you both laugh at a funny line halfway through it. All the lights in the apartment are off, partly so that you can be more immersed in scenes playing out on your TV, and partly to save some on electricity. Your bills are due to come in soon, and you don’t doubt that everything will be pricier than it was last month. Especially with Yoongi loving to crank the heat up while you’re at work.

You watch the cat hybrid out of the corner of your eye, the blue hue from the screen making his pale skin glow in the darkness. The haircut makes him look more mature, his jawline seeming sharper than before. You’re suddenly struck by the fact that you don’t know just how old he is. You hardly know anything aside from his first name and food preferences.

Somehow, life just carried on as if he was still just your cat. And you never did anything about it.

“Yoongi? How old are you?” His eyes are rapidly following the action scene that’s playing out in front of you, but you see his ear swivel in your direction when you speak.

“Twenty-seven.” He’s older than you, like you thought, but not by much. You’re actually a little surprised he even gave you an answer, considering how reluctant he was to even share the fact that he was human with you, but maybe there’s certain things he’s willing to talk about. His age can’t be very incriminating after all.

A loud sound from the movie snaps your attention back to the screen, and you grab a handful of popcorn from the bowl in between you. You try to time it to when Yoongi isn’t reaching for it, but for some reason you always end up brushing your hand against his as you remove it from the bowl. You tell yourself it has to be a weird coincidence – Yoongi isn’t even looking at you! But the ear closest to you stays turned in your direction despite the noise from the TV. You can almost fool yourself into thinking he’s listening to you move so that he knows when to reach out to make contact with you.

Yoongi suddenly moves the popcorn bowl from the couch to the coffee table in front of you. Holding back an annoyed whine, you’re about to reach for it when a head of black hair plops down into your lap, stopping you in your tracks.

“I’m tired,” Yoongi grumbles, cheek mushed against your thigh. You don’t even have time to become flustered before Yoongi blindly reaches for your hand, pushing your fingers into his hair.

“Pets,” You comply easily, secretly maybe a little ecstatic that you’re allowed to fully run your fingers through his soft hair. It doesn’t take long of you gently scratching along Yoongi’s scalp before you hear a low rumble coming from his chest, the sound ebbing and flowing as he breathes.

He’s purring. You bite down on your lip to stop the coo that desperately wants to escape. Yoongi would probably whoop your ass if he heard it. Despite how cute it is, the sound also makes you a little worried. The purrs sound broken, a little hitching noise that keeps interrupting what should have been a seamless flow. It makes your heart ache, but you don’t ask about it. Instead you only pay more attention to Yoongi’s hair, the movie totally forgotten. You steer clear of his ears, opting to lightly massage the base of his neck.

Something soft brushes against the hand that’s not busy, and looking down, you find that Yoongi’s tail is just ever so slightly curled around your wrist. Yoongi’s breathing is calm and slow, the cat hybrid having fallen asleep in your lap. Your lips tug up in a soft grin, the fluttering feeling in your stomach returning. He might be a bit of a pain in the ass, but it isn’t hard to figure out that Yoongi makes you happy.

“Ah, I swear to god!” Jihyo hisses as she taps furiously against her keyboard. The situation has only been growing worse – new files having been breached every time you get into work. You wince, quickly scanning through your own to see if any files have been accessed recently.

The office is a mess. It’s difficult taking on new cases when it’s such a high risk that it might get hacked into, but the company can’t just stop taking on cases either. It needs funding and clients to function, and the help it offers is invaluable to a lot of hybrid cases.

“Fuck,” Jihyo suddenly whimpers, hiding her face in her hands. You can tell it’s been affecting her too, the dark circles under her eyes still visible under the layer of makeup.

“Breached?” You ask, dreading the answer.

Jihyo nods, taking a deep breath as she spins her chair around. Everyone that has had their files breached needs to report to the boss, and for some reason, the hacker seems to love accessing hers.

“Good luck,” You whisper, Jihyo sending you a pained glance. You watch her until she rounds the corner, a bad feeling festering in your stomach. It obviously isn’t her fault that the system can’t keep outsiders, well, out – but you don’t think it bodes well that Jihyo has been hit so hard. She does take on a lot of higher profile cases, but not enough to be targeted like this.

You can’t find any breaches in yours, but it doesn’t do much to settle the anxiety you feel from just being in such a tense work place. You still have one active case you have to work on, something about an adoption dispute, and you need some files from the archive downstairs to really prove your point. You reach out for a sticky note, but you hand just grasps air. Again. Turning to look, you find that the pad of pink cat-formed sticky notes Jihyo gave you a few weeks ago is gone, no trace of it left behind. It isn’t unusual for other people in the office to take one here and there, but for the whole thing to be gone over the weekend? That doesn’t make sense.

You frown, settling back in your chair as you stare at your desk. This is the second time in only a short while that something has gone missing. You like all of your co-workers, but the fact that they don’t even have the decency to ask before taking something is irking you.

You huff, ripping a piece of paper instead to write down the file numbers. Even just going down one floor to the archives is a breath of fresh air, the atmosphere less tense than upstairs.

You give the IT workers a quick nod as you pass them by, recognizing a few of them after having worked here for so long. You’re not the most tech savvy, and so you’ve had more run-ins with the IT department than you would like to admit.

You make quick work of finding the files, moving through the boxes of files with practiced ease. It’s not that you’re eager to get back upstairs by any means, but you know Jihyo will probably need some emotional support as soon as she’s done in your boss’ office.

Collecting the papers you came for, you leave the archive room, closing the door behind you. Halfway through the room, your step falters slightly as you see a flash of pink out of the corner of your eye as you pass by a desk. You could have sworn it looked like ..

You shake off the thought, annoyed that the paranoia has started seeping into everything else. Of course other people can have pink sticky notes, it’s not like it’s exclusive to you.

You look up to see someone rushing straight at you. You swiftly move out of the way as the other person hurries through the door, not even sparing you a glance. A weird tremor runs down your spine as you notice that it’s the same lanky man you saw lurking outside your boss’ office.

You huff, pushing the reaction to the back of your mind. As you take the stairs up to your floor, you briefly wonder if you should have waited to see what desk he belongs to.

“Stop being ridiculous,” You scoff, rolling your eyes at your overly strung nerves. There’s no reason to suspect him of anything, it’s not like you actually caught him doing anything wrong.

However, even as the morning grows into the afternoon, you can’t seem to shake the feeling that something is just a little off.

“I’m home,” You call out as you lock the door behind you. You’re dead tired. Overthinking all day has left you with a nasty headache, and Jihyo being so upset about her breached cases has just made you feel even worse.

You let your feet carry you over to the couch, not even bothering to stop by your room and change before you collapse against the cushions. Yoongi watches you with curious eyes as you let your head drop back against the wall.

“Rough day at work?” Yoongi’s smooth voice is a welcome sound compared to the loud noises in the open office. You nod – wincing as the motion makes your head throb even more.

You feel the other side of the couch dip as Yoongi stands up, but you’re too tired to look where he’s going. It doesn’t take long before the soft footsteps return, something cold being thrust into your hand.

“Here,” Yoongi closes your hand around a glass of water, placing a painkiller into your other. You offer him a weak smile as thanks before taking the pill, the cool water making you feel a little better.

“Is something wrong?” Yoongi looks you over as he settles back down on the couch, brows pinched with concern.

“Some case files have been breached. It’s a whole mess,” You grimace, turning on your side to face him properly.

“Case files?” Yoongi looks at you with confusion. Ah, you never told him what you do.

“I work with mistreated hybrids. My company provides support and guidance with lawsuits,” Yoongi visibly stiffens, eyes cautiously darting around the room as if he’s expecting someone to pop out. You watch him as he shifts uneasily on the couch, hand gripping the side rest tightly. You don’t understand why he’s suddenly so worried, but you have a feeling it might have to do with why he was hiding out at the shelter in the first place.

“I see,” He finally murmurs; tail flicking back and forth behind his back. You decide that’s a conversation for another day, your brain is currently too incapable of handing any new information or emotions.

Once you realize Yoongi isn’t going to say anything else, you let your eyes glide shut. The darkness eases some of the throbbing in your head, the painkillers not having had enough time to kick in yet. It doesn’t take long before you feel yourself nodding off, your body craving a well-deserved nap.

You don’t pay the hands on your shoulders much mind, nor do you really care that the room seems to be tilting until you hit something solid, yet soft. The pillow underneath your head shifts, and you mutter something under your breath in irritation as you reach up to hold it still.

The fabric you bunch up in your hand is soft, the feeling oddly familiar despite never having it close to your face before. You burrow your face deeper into it, inhaling the comforting scent. It smells like your detergent and your .. cat?

Your eyes snap open, at least long enough to see that what your resting your head on definitely isn’t a pillow, but rather Yoongi’s lap. You’re facing the TV, mirroring how Yoongi laid only the night before.

The room is too bright, forcing your bleary eyes closed again. Maybe the right thing would be to get up from Yoongi’s lap and go to bed, but you’re tired and surprisingly comfortable, and having to stand up and move sounds terrible. So you don’t.

Cautious fingertips run down the length of your hair, stroking your head gently. It feels nice – safe – something you haven’t felt in a while. You focus on the low purr that has started up in Yoongi’s chest, the sound relaxing your body even further. Your headache is all but forgotten, Yoongi’s tentative touches and low, soothing murmurs lulling you off into a peaceful sleep.

- - - -

Hello! Hope you enjoyed the seventh chapter of desolate! Things are going to be heating up from now on, so I hope you’re ready, hehe.

Hope you’re all well and my inbox is always open if you want to chat about the story or just fics or life in general! See you all soon! <3

#hybrid bts #hybrid!bts #cat hybrid yoongi #bts au #yoongi #hybrid au #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #jihyo #min yoongi #fluff #scenting #angst #romance #bts #suga

[avengerscompound]

Bartoned - Chapter 40

Bartoned - A Hawkeye Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Rating:  E

Warnings:  nothing really

Pairing: Clint Barton x F!Reader

Word Count: 3627

Summary:  Clint’s name has become synonymous with fucking things up.  When you have a one night stand with him, your whole life gets Bartoned.

A/N: Lyrics to the song; Marry You by Bruno Mars and an extract from  ‘How falling in love is like owning a dog’ by Taylor Mali.

Chapter 40

You woke at five to your alarm, hungover, still exhausted, and regretting all your life choices.  Clint started to push you using his knees, edging you to the side of the bed.  You groaned and turned off the alarm and sat up.  “Fuck this,” you complained.  “You sure we still have to get married?”

“Yes,” Clint mumbled.  “You’re the one that had to have the d last night.  Go.  Get ready.”

You rubbed your eyes and dragged yourself out of bed and into the shower.  When you got out, Clint was deep asleep again with his mouth hanging open, looking a lot like his daughter.  You dressed in sweats and headed out still feeling nauseated and exhausted.  Kari was dragging herself up the path of your house as you stepped outside looking just as miserable as you felt.  “Hope it was worth it,” she teased.

“I don’t remember,”  you grumbled.

“Alright, come on, I ordered a car so we can sleep in the back,” she said.

You did fall quickly to sleep in the back of the car only to be shaken awake again when you arrived at the hairdresser.

The next few hours were a complete whirlwind.  You were given your first glass of champagne while they were doing your hair and it wasn’t until you were on your third at the hotel getting your makeup done that you remember you hadn’t actually eaten yet.

Wanda arrived with Nattie at 11, both with their hair already set and you ordered up room service and had lunch before you got dressed.

By the time you put on your dress you weren’t feeling hungover though you might have moved past exhausted to tipsy and a little bit loopy.  You came out of the bedroom in your dress with your blue butterfly mask in your hand and Wanda squeaked.  “Oh my god!  You look like a fairy queen.”

“Mama… mama…” Nattie said toddling over and putting her hands on your skirt and making cooing sounds. She was wearing a cute little purple gown with matching feathered wings and a filigree mask.

“You look beautiful,” Kari agreed as the photographer took photos of you and Nattie.  “Are you ready to become Ms. Barton?”

“Yeah.  I guess I am,” you said and Wanda handed you your bouquet of blue and purple orchids.

You went downstairs to where your limo was waiting and it was a short drive to the Brooklyn Grange.  You got out and put on your masks.  Kari and Wanda straightened out your skirts and checked your hair before heading up the stairs.  Barney was waiting at the door to the roof and he gave Nattie the little teddy bear with the rings attached.  While you were still hidden from view, you could see the crowd waiting for you.  The aisle was set up between the garden beds with a long purple carpet and the guests stood in the gaps on either side.  Down the length of the carpet were small jack o' lanterns and the garden was full of sunflowers.  Clint stood by the edge of the roof with the celebrant, Natasha, and Kate.  He wore a long velvet coat in purple over a black vest and dress pants.  The vest had a strip of purple embroidery down from the neck down to the hem and matched the purple of his tie.  His mask was shaped like a hawk and in purple and black.

“You ready, Nattie?”  Barney asked.

“Umm…”  she said, looking around, obviously not sure what was happening and looking up at Barney in his red suit and a simple red mask.

“You follow me okay, kiddo.  Go right up to your dad,” he said and gave a signal to the band.

A beat started that was not anything like the song you had agreed to walk down the aisle to and you looked at Kari confused.  “Just watch,” she said.

Barney danced his way to the end of the aisle where all yours and Clint’s friends and family were sitting and Bobbi got up and met him at the end.  Then Clint began to sing.

“It’s a beautiful night, we’re looking for something dumb to do, hey baby, I think I’m gonna marry you,” he sang as Bobbi and Barney did an elaborate dance routine down the aisle that included flips, cartwheels, and a part where Barney lifted Bobbi off the ground and spun her.

“Oh my god,” you said laughing.  “This is what you’ve all been up to.  You nerds.”

“Is it the look in your eyes, or is it this dancing juice?  Who cares, baby?  I think I want to marry you.”

Nattie charged down after them when she reached the aisle she began to bob and clap her hands as she watched her uncle dance with Bobbi.

“Well I know this little chapel on the boulevard, we can go, no one will no… come on girl.”

When Bobbi and Barney returned to their spots Clint danced down the aisle to meet his daughter.  He kneeled down like he was serenading her and she rushed into his arms.

“Who cares if we’re trashed?  Got a pocket full of cash.  We can blow… shots of patron, and it’s on, girl…”

He picked her up and began to dance with her as he held her back down the aisle.

“This is so cheesy,” you said, though you couldn't stop grinning.

“The song choice fits you two though,” Kari teased.  “You gotta admit.”

“See you down there,” Wanda said, giving your arm a squeeze.

“Don’t say no, no, no, no.  Just say yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.  And we’ll go, go, go, go, go. If you’re ready, like I’m ready.”

She crouched down walking to the beat of the music and clicking her fingers as she approached the aisle.  Sam stepped out into the aisle facing her in the same position.

“I hate how I have to go after her.  Her bit is so much more impressive than mine,” Kari complained, but she kept her eyes on her wife, the look of both complete love and awe etched on her features.

“At least you’ve choreographed,” you teased.  “I’m the bride and I have no idea what is going on right now.”

“‘Cause it’s a beautiful night, we’re looking for something dumb to do.  Hey, baby, I think I wanna marry you.”

Wanda took off in a bright pink ball of her light, using her powers to float down to Sam.  He caught her around the waist and the two spun up into the air above everyone.

“Is it the look in your eyes?  Or is it this dancing juice?  Who cares, baby?  I think I wanna marry you.”

They landed and Sam spun and dipped her before returning to his spot.  Rhodey stepped out and spun Wanda into his arms, her powers flared out again and the two of them moved down the aisle spinning in the air like they were waltzing.

“Wait for Nat,” Kari said.

“Oh, I’ll go get a ring, let the choir bells sing, like oohh.  Whatya wanna do?  Let’s run girl.”

You gave her a nod and she kissed your cheek before moving out in that same couched move, clicking her fingers as she approached the aisle.

“If you wake up and you wanna break up, that’s cool.  No, I won’t blame you.  It was fun, girl.”

Steve and Bucky met her at the end of the aisle mimicking her moves.  She ran to them and held out her arms.  They lifted her up and ran halfway down the aisle, before setting her to her feet and swing dancing with her in the middle of the floor.  Spinning her from one partner to another.

They lifted her up again and passed her to Tony and Bruce who stood another quarter of the way down and they carried her to the end of the aisle, spinning her between them before she took her spot next to Wanda.

“Don’t say no, no, no, no, no.  Just say yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.  And we’ll go, go, go, go.  If you’re ready, like I’m ready,” Clint sang as he carried Nattie back down the aisle.

Wanda, Kari, Natasha, and Kate all ran around the outside of the guest.  Bobbi, Barney, Tony, Sam, Steve, Bruce, Bucky, and all the kids took after them as Rhodey moved down to the very end of the aisle.

“‘Cause it’s a beautiful night, we’re looking for something dumb to do.  Hey, baby, I think I wanna marry you.  Is it the look in your eyes?  Or is it this dancing juice?  Who cares, baby?  I think I wanna marry you?”

The whole group danced down the aisle positioning themselves at various intervals down the aisle as Clint backed his way to the end again as he sang.

“Just say I do.  Tell me right now, baby.  Tell me right now, baby, baby.”

Natasha came over and offered you her arm.  You linked yours with her and tried to match the little groove she did as she moved to the end of the aisle.

“Just say I do.  Tell me right now, baby.  Tell me right now, baby, baby.  Oh!”

She kissed your cheek and added a purple feather with a gold arrow painted on it to your bouquet.

Rhodey beckoned you to him doing a side to side groove and then repeated the kiss and addition of a feather to your bouquet.  All the way down the process was repeated again and again with different dance moves.  Steve spun and dipped you.  Bucky lifted you up and twirled with you lifted above his head.  Tony did the chicken.  When you reached Clint, the band dropped out and he took your hand and sang directly to you.

“It’s a beautiful night.  We’re looking for something dumb to do.  Hey, baby.  I think I wanna marry you.  Is it the look in your eye?  Or is this dancing juice?  Who cares, baby?  I think I wanna marry you.”

Tears pricked your eyes but you couldn't stop grinning at your dork.  You leaned your forehead against his, your masks making a soft tap as they touched.  “You nerd,” you whispered.

He chuckled.  “I’m not the one crying right now.”

“Friends and loved ones,” the celebrant announced.  “We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of these two people.  A couple who for all intents and purposes did everything in the wrong order.  And yet, here they are, standing in front of all of you, declaring that they are each other’s chosen person.

“This is not a union that should be entered lightly.  It is not made simply by a legal contract between two people, but by love, respect, trust, and support.  A good marriage is not made by a wedding but by those simple quiet moments, like holding hands when no one is around, and laughing at the ridiculous joke you share.

“In that spirit, Clint’s brother Barney will be reading ‘How falling in love is like owning a dog’ by Taylor Mali.”

Barney stepped up and cleared his throat.  “On cold winter nights, love is warm.  It lies between you and lives and breathes and makes funny noises.  Love wakes you up all hours of the night with its needs.  It needs to be fed so it will grow and stay healthy.  Love doesn’t like being left alone for long.  But come home and love is always happy to see you.  It may break a few things accidentally in its passion for life, but you can never be mad at love for long.  Is love good all the time? No! No!  Love can be bad. Bad, love, bad! Very bad love.  Love makes messes.  Love leaves you little surprises here and there.  Love needs lots of cleaning up after.  Sometimes you just want to get love fixed.  Sometimes you want to roll up a piece of newspaper and swat love on the nose, not so much to cause pain, just to let love know, ‘Don’t you ever do that again!’  Sometimes love just wants to go out for a nice long walk.  Because love loves exercise. It will run you around the block and leave you panting, breathless. Pull you in different directions at once, or wind itself around and around you until you’re all wound up and you cannot move.  But love makes you meet people wherever you go.  People who have nothing in common but love stop and talk to each other on the street.  Throw things away and love will bring them back, again, and again, and again. But most of all, love needs love, lots of it.  And in return, love loves you and never stops.”

He returned to his place in the crowd and you grinned at Clint.

“We have now reached the point in the ceremony where our couple shall read their vows to each other,” the celebrant announced.

“I take you to be my wife,” Clint said.  “I promise that you will always be my home.  The person who I return to.  The person I prioritize.  My best friend and my lover.  You will always have my trust, my support, and my heart.  But most of all, I promise that when I freak out about stuff, I’ll talk it out with you.”

You smiled and gave his hand a squeeze.  “I take you to be my husband.  I promise that you will always be my home.  The person who I return to.  The person I prioritize.  My best friend and my lover.  You will always have my trust, my support, and my heart.  But most of all, I promise that I make sure I tell you exactly how I’m feeling so neither of us has to freak out.”

“May I have the rings please?”  The celebrant asked.

Natasha took the bear of Nattie who was sitting on the ground playing with a sunflower.  She untied the rings and put the bear back on the ground next to Nattie again.  Yours was white gold and shaped like an arrow on the top so it would point inward and your engagement ring would sit in against your engagement ring.  Clint’s was white gold with a band of yellow gold in the middle shaped like an arrow.

“Please repeat after me;” the celebrant said.  “I give you this ring as a symbol of my unbroken connection to you.”

You each slid the rings into place repeating the words the celebrant said.  

“Now by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.  You may kiss each other,” the celebrant announced.

You pushed your masks to the top of our heads and Clint pulled you close, you wrapped my arms around his neck and he kissed you deeply and passionately, dragging it out for as long as he could.  Just exactly how you both wanted

After the ceremony, there was the official paperwork to sign and photos to take.  Clint kept looking over wistfully at the waiters handing out little paddles with mini burgers and tiny glasses of beer and mini pizzas until Natasha went and got him some and he ate them while you were setting up for a group shot looking over the water.  The band played soft jazz as the guests waited for you and Clint to join them.

When you were finally done you wandered down to the covered area where several long tables had been set up under the canopy.  The tables were decorated with pumpkins and candles, and long dark purple runners and paper lanterns hung from the roof.  A long table ran down the wall where the different food stations would end up being set up, and right in the middle was the huge stack of donuts glazed in different shades of purple.

Steve got up to the mic and tapped it a few times before clearing his throat.  He was wearing a long blue coat and a Venetian style mask in blue and silver.  “If everyone would go to their seats,” he said.  Everyone moved to their allocated spot, though no one took their seats.  All the kids were together nearest the dance floor, though Doreen was holding Nattie.  “Our backward couple have all taken a strange road to get here, but here they are.  So if you’d all welcome for the very first time, Mr. and Ms. Barton.”

You and Clint walked down the middle of the tables to applause and the band started playing ‘Are you gonna be my girl’ by Jet.  Clint began to dance around you doing the well-rehearsed jive moves you’d both been working on.  When the riff changed he spun you into his arms, so your back was to his and the two of you moved together, your feet matching each other’s steps as you moved forward.  Nattie toddled out onto the dance floor and Clint spun you again picking her up as you twirled, the butterfly wings that made up your skirt flare out.  He grabbed your hand and started to run.  You grabbed Natasha’s hand and she grabbed Wanda’s, and so on, and so on until most of the wedding guests were running in a chain to the music, around the tables, winding in and out of each other, up and down the garden beds.  You couldn’t stop laughing and you soon became breathless and giddily happy seeing so many people joining in on the ridiculous but fun first dance you’d both chosen that drew in everyone that was important to you both.

When the music stopped you took your seats again.  Steve returned to the microphone and looked around.  The buffet tables were set up with a pizza station with several different options of pizza, a salad bar, and a few other options for people who weren’t huge fans of pizza.  “It looks like the first courses are ready.  Let’s not rush them though.  Wedding party first, then we’ll start from this table -” he pointed to the one furthest from the buffet. “- and move in.”

You got up with Clint and got yourself a small selection of things before taking a seat.  Nattie came and sat on Clint’s lap and stole pieces of pizza toppings off his pizza as you ate.  “This is good, isn’t it?”  You said.  “Fun.”

“Yeah,” he agreed.  “Everyone seems to be having a good time.  And I’m eating pizza with my favorite people.  Can’t get better than that.”

“Your favorite people?”  You asked.  “Which ones?”

“Well,” he teased.  “I think Nattie here is pretty great.”

“That’s true,” you agreed.

“Natasha, Katie,” he added.

You giggled and stuck out your bottom lip.

“Steve is alright when he’s not busting my ass,” Clint continued.

“I like it when he busts your ass,” you teased.

He laughed and wrapped his arm around your shoulders.  “You’re my favorite,” he said and kissed you.

There was a clinking on glass and you looked up to see Natasha standing.  “I’ve been told by Mr. Bossy over there that now is the time for speeches,” she said, tilting her glass towards Steve.  “Most of you all have heard the term ‘Bartoned’.  When you Barton, you’ve really messed things up.  Often there’s an injury.  Regularly it’s one that needs stitches or a cast.  Clint Barton is such a human disaster that you just mention his name and people look around to see what’s gone wrong.”  There was laughter in the crowd and Clint blushed a little.

“I have known Clint a long, long… long… time.  I was in trouble when we met.  My past isn’t exactly squeaky clean and, well, Clint had been sent to take care of me.”  She chose her words carefully due to the large number of children that were at the wedding.  “He did take care of me but not in the way he was meant to.  He became my best friend.  I’ve been by his side through good times and bad times.  New friendships and broken marriages.  Eating cold pizza on the couch and fighting off alien attacks,” she said and there was more laughter.  “For quite a while Clint and Tony had been competing for the attention of a certain EMT that kept showing up at incidents in the city.  Clint … for god knows what reason … won the battle for the fair lady’s heart.  Well, just like Clint, he Bartoned it good.  Instead of the casual friends-with-benefits arrangement, he was hoping for they ended up neither as friends nor there being any benefits and there was a baby on the way.  But as well as being a complete disaster, Clint has a way of not just seeing the best in people, but drawing out the best in people.  He’s still friends with all his exes.  He collects random strays.  There was no way he would ever let that situation stay broken.  So maybe we’ve been using the term Bartoned wrong this whole time.  Maybe Bartoning isn’t messing up really bad.  It’s having something be messed up but seeing the good in it and making it something good.  Because here we have a situation right now where Clint has gotten a crush on someone, knocked them up, pushed them away, and yet still has managed to have one of the most wonderful relationships I’ve ever seen.  She has been Bartoned in every sense of the term.  The brand new Ms. Barton.  I am so, so happy for them.  I love them both so much and I’m so happy they worked this out and realized how good they are for each other.  So I ask you all now, to raise your glasses to them at the start of this new chapter of their lives and to toast to getting Bartoned.”

You looked at Clint smiling and he leaned in and kissed you just as everyone held up their glasses and cheered; ‘Bartoned’.

~  END ~ 

#clint barton #clint barton x reader #hawkeye #hawkeye fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #fluff #bartoned

[hournites]

The Beth Text

Hournite fic (Stargirl)

Summary: When Beth has an emergency, Hourman climbs through her bedroom window.

Read on ao3

~.~

Beth: Rick, I need you. 

~.~

Rick tumbled through her bedroom window, nearly breaking the frame. The glass shook like it wasn’t sure if it wanted to shatter or not, and the flap of her curtains blew up dramatically from the gust of wind. Hourman’s golden cape fell askew in his haste. His eyes darted up, alert in his mask as he oriented himself, sunken elbows-deep in her fuzzy floor carpet.

“Beth!?”

Beth had never heard Rick so panic-struck before. She cringed, feeling bad as she dragged the bag out of her closet through all of her clothes. “In here!”

Quick on his feet, he scanned the room for Cindy or Sportsmaster or another ISA member as if they’d jump out from under her bed.  

Beth pulled out four green plastic packs of X-Pression Bahama Curls from out of the bag and waved them at him. 

Rick stared at her, lost.

It took a good moment as Beth brought in her full-sized mirror to prop up against her vanity for him to be comfortable with the idea that he could let his guard down enough to not assume this wasn’t some sort of sneak ISA attack. Beth was fine.  

He let out a breath he might've been holding too long then narrowed his eyes at her accusingly. “You said there was an emergency.”

“I didn’t say it was an emergency,” Beth replied, tongue in cheek.

Although it totally was one. After Yolanda got caught upside down in that barbed wire that afternoon, Beth had to rush home to finish her math assignment—Without Chuck’s help, she needed to get quadratics right properly for a Chuck-free test— and that ate up so much time she yelped when she realized how close it was to midnight. So she texted Rick. It seemed like the next best option. The first one wasn't worth mentioning.

“I said I needed you.”

“For what?”

Beth smiled brightly at him. “My hair!” She gestured at her braid extensions and crochet latch hook needle in an array on her bed. “They take forever to do on my own, and my hand starts cramping before I’m even halfway done.”

“You want me to use my hour on your hair?”

“Please?” The day was almost over so it wasn't like it would be a risk, and by some stroke of luck, he didn't use it today.

Rick muttered something under his breath that she couldn’t quite catch as he peeled his mask off his face. Beth did a little celebratory dance from her bed. If he really wanted to leave he would’ve already been back out the window. 

“Are your parents home?” He looked down at his very obvious JSA—ness. The tight suit, the big emblem belt, the boots. As far as discretion went—it didn’t. Just because Courtney’s parents are cool with hosting teen superheroes at weird hours didn’t mean it was the same for the rest of theirs. 

She smiled and patted a seat for him on her crisp blue duvet. “Not until five in the morning. Night shifts.”

Chuck was on her nightstand where she left him, forgotten in favour of Youtube procuring a how-to video so she could share it with him in a regular way. 

“Rick,” she pleaded in a soft voice when he didn’t move. She discovered recently if she widened her eyes at him, a look would pass his face that yielded him to her knees. And in that precious pocket of time, Beth could lull even his angriest thoughts of war to a whisper. It always baffled Courtney, who tried to replicate her model of calming Rick down after Beth's with little sway.  Yolanda called it Witchcraft™️. Beth wasn't afraid to use it, but she worried sometimes in the heat of a battle if it was taking advantage of him. 

He sighed again and rolled his eyes in a way Beth knew was harmless. 

He kicked off his boots and yanked off his gloves.“How long did you say this takes?”

Beth made a face at the memory of the length of her last hair appointment. “Three hours?” 

“Oh my god.” He approached her, successfully coaxed in. 

“Well!” she added quickly. “I don’t have super strong fingers! That’s why I texted you! It’ll probably be a lot faster with your help.” 

Kneeling on her bed, he sat cluelessly, hands hovering over her thick, kinky hair. It wasn’t witchcraft. Rick trusted her. She never took that lightly.

 Maybe his fingers wouldn’t tire looping the braids in or holding the needle at weird angles for too long, but he was afraid of tugging too hard. He’d totalled a car before, Hourman wasn’t exactly delicate.

 As if she read his mind, she guided his hand to the part she’d just made with her wide comb. 

“I have a strong scalp,” she reassured him. “Just don’t yank and it should be fine.”

“...Okay,” he whispered still unsure, but after an informative tutorial and demonstration by Beth that he studied carefully, they went to work.

 “Why do you want these in?” He was six loops in and a lot more comfortable. He tackled her right side as she took on the left, keeping that part down the middle. He was better at this than she thought he would be, nimble fingers pulling through every time with the crochet tool. “Do you not like how it looks?” He tugged on the piece he was working on. 

“My hair?”

“Yeah.”

 “I do,” she said. “But it’s been a really long time since I’ve done anything more than a perm for our family pictures. Elementary school.”

“I remember.”

“My family portraits?” She frowned curiously. “I don’t think I’ve ever pointed those out.” Although surely he’d heard her talk about them on FaceTime calls to her parents every October in the cafeteria. And they hung on the wall of her staircase. He’d been here a couple of times since the JSA rebranded. It might’ve been an obvious object for Rick to notice, just something Beth had been blind to.  

“No, your braids,” he clarified. “Two thick ones down the back from second to fifth grade. They were cute.”

 Rick continued with his twist, concentrating intently. She watched him, stopping her own braid as he finished his down her back. Was she touched or stung or perplexed? She wanted Chuck to help her navigate her feelings. Beth couldn’t decide. 

“What?” he said. 

 “I didn’t think you noticed.”

 “We’ve been in every class together since we were seven.”

 “You never talked to me.” 

 Nobody ever talked to me, she wanted to say. 

 Rick lowered his hand, meeting her gaze through their reflection in her mirror. It was quite the image. A black teen girl in a washed-out grey tank and shorts sitting in front of her towering white, lean and reluctant hairdressing superhero. Beth’s lightbulb burnt out the other day and her dad never got around to fixing it, the dimly lit bedroom and late-hour made it all the more striking. And now they were venturing onto deep JSA taboo talks. Yolanda’s scandal. Court’s father. Rick’s bruises. Mr. Dugan's Starman. Henry’s mother. Beth’s bitterly pathetic history of social aptitude. She almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

 “I know.” The hourglass sand trickled steadily into its base. “Beth, I’m sorry.”

 She touched his spandex-clad knee. Her eyes crinkled at the corners and she wore a tight smile, despite her sudden pressing urge to cry.

 “Rick. I’m not mad at you.” She uttered a soft laugh at the gentle way he stroked her hair in response, relief even. “It was never you. You still sat beside me all those years before Yolanda.”

“I never realized you were mad at all.”

“Well, that’s just stupid.”

“It’s not,” he replied, taking over her side of the part. He didn’t even need to refer to the youtube video or her completed braids anymore. She tried to help him but he knocked her hand away. She rested them over her knees after a moment of letting them hang in the air. 

“You’ve always been so...Beth.”

 “So Beth?” she repeated incredulously, smirking a little. 

He got hot under his collar, shifting in his position with a flush. “Shut up,” he said so uselessly she actually laughed out loud. “You know what I mean.” He was running out of time, but her hair was almost all done anyway. “Helpful and cheery and full of smiles without spite, even when people rejected you. Even if they don't deserve you.”

“Not everyone hurts the same way, Rick.”

“Yeah.” 

She knew he knew that now, experienced it firsthand growing close to her, Courtney, Henry and Yolanda. 

“My mom told me when I was little, that the last thing the person that hates you wants to see is your smile.” 

Rick reeled back. 

She frowned at herself. “I faked it a lot at first. But the more I smiled, the happier I felt with myself. The more I found joy in the small things in my life...Even if I was lonely.” 

Two arms wrapped around her middle from behind her, surprising Beth out of her internal monologue. Rick dropped his head against her shoulder.

 Beth had touched Rick a hundred of fleeting times. She fell into his arms or yanked him back from a rash fistfight, high-fived or brushed his fingers when passing school notes. She'd wrapped bandages around his purpling knuckles. Even reached for his hand a couple of scary times. 

 This was not that. 

This felt warm and spell-binding, even with the huge hourglass pressed against her back. Slowly, she reached up to run her hand through his brown mussed white boy hair, feeling the silk of his cape and hood. Rick shuddered at her touch and said something else, muffled into her skin. It was like he ached for this, needed it deep in his bones or soul. Beth didn’t know what to do. Or if there was anything to do. She had never been this close to a boy before. She had never been this close, physically, with anybody. Maybe the girls had it wrong. She couldn't move. She could barely breathe. But the lightheaded dizzy feeling with Rick's breathing near enough to hear was not something she ever wanted to let go of.

Maybe Beth was the bewitched one.  

His time ran out. He held her just the same. It was nice to know it was possible, she thought wistfully. That Rick Tyler could be as intimate and secure without some external source of strength. 

“Thank you for spending your hour with me.” 

She turned around, and her hair moved freely with her head, shoulder-length and new. It weighed heavily. A tension headache crept into her temples from her edges, though she wouldn’t tell him because they weren’t of any fault of Rick. Twists and braids always had a certain ache to them on the first day. It was late too, Beth just needed a good sleep. It didn’t seem hard, now. Something about this hug made her peacefully sleepy. 

“Your welcome,” he said, his eyes softening upon hers once again. 

She didn’t even have to pull her sorcery moves. She could already hear Yolanda’s voice in her head. Double Witchcraft!™️

Lucky Beth. 

“Let me know what kind of an emergency I’m getting myself into next time. I’ll be there.”  

"Even if it's just my hair?" she joked. 

"Yes," he said. It sounded like a lingering promise. She hoped he knew it went both ways.   

"Okay." Beth closed her eyes and hummed. "I'll text when I need you." 

#hournite #hournite fic #stargirl #my fic #Beth Chapel #Rick Tyler #fluff

[kaleidoscopeminds]

Fingertips on me, I can feel them still

I wrote this ENTIRELY because I saw that tiny bit of Calum’s hair again today and I just couldn’t take it anymore so I have written him getting it fixed by hairdresser Michael :-) gotta thank the lovely @tigerteeff because of the amount of time we have spent talking about this and the rest of the club for the hair discourse in general. So herewith 2.2k of malum fluff 

So, Calum isn’t it? What have we here?” The barber quirks an eyebrow at Calum in the mirror, and Calum imagines he’s smiling at him by the crinkles around his eyes, not actually being able to see the bottom half of his face owing to it being covered in a protective mask.

“Um, you better prepare yourself,” Calum mumbles quietly. Not only was he having to deal with the shame of his hair looking like it does currently, his barber (Michael if he remembers the name correctly from when he booked) was also fucking gorgeous: all long soft-looking fringe, glasses, and dangly earrings. He’d booked in at his normal place, but the guy who usually cuts his hair was apparently on holiday. The lady on the phone had offered him a new guy, and even though he was wary, he knew he couldn’t put off getting his hair cut any longer. That didn’t account for the new guy being the fucking prettiest man he’s ever set eyes upon, mask and all, and if Calum didn’t want to take his hat off before, he definitely doesn’t now.

“Oh come on now,”  says, still with those crinkles around his eyes, “I’ve seen a lot of bad hair in the past month, I am now incapable of being shocked.”

Calum sighs and pulls off his beanie, which it was already definitely too hot to be wearing in LA in September but at the moment, needs must. He looks back at his hot hairdresser in the mirror, challenging him to make a comment, but Michael just pauses for a second, then takes a calculating look at Calum’s head.

“Damn, that's a lot of hair,” he says, not in an unkind way, and reaches out to brush his fingers through it. Calum tries his best not to shiver at the sensation of his hands pushing through his hair whilst simultaneously blushing furiously at Michael’s comment.

“Uh, yeah,” he says embarrassed. “I had a buzz cut before all this started if you can believe it.”

Michael gasps horrified, “A buzz cut? You mean you were keeping the world from this gift?” He tugs lightly on the ends of Calum’s hair to explain his meaning and Calum focuses extremely hard on not letting it affect him. He’s been in the chair for less than five minutes for fuck’s sake. 

“Gift?” He says disbelievingly. “Have you seen the garbage that’s on top of my head right now?”

Michael giggles delightedly, throwing his head back in a ridiculously charming way. “It leaves… a little to be desired,” he says, a laugh evident in his voice. “But that’s mainly because of these bleached ends, you’ve really managed to kill your curl pattern.”

Calum just shrugs a little sheepishly. “Yeah my hair’s been through quite a bit in the last couple of years.”

“What are you after then?” Michael says, running his fingers through Calum’s hair again and fuck he really wishes he would stop doing that. “And don’t say buzz it all off because I categorically refuse.”

“Dunno really, I was gonna say just get rid of it but I suppose that’s a no go now? Whatever you want? I bow down to your superior knowledge and talented hands,” Calum says, winking, to let Michael know he’s joking without being able to smile at him from behind his own mask. He notices that Michael gets a blush over the top of his cheekbones as he winks. Interesting.

“Well,” Michael says with a small cough. “I might have an idea, let’s see what we can do.”

Calum smiles at Michael behind his mask, hoping that he emotion is conveyed despite the barrier. Michael beckons at him over to the sinks at the back of the barbershop and gestures towards the seat in the centre. Calum sits down and leans his head back into the sink, and Michael starts the water, holding it away from Calum’s head while it warms up.

“Let me know if the temperature is okay,” Michael says quietly before running the water over Calum’s head, careful to not drip into his eyes.

“So, you weren’t tempted to have a go at cutting it yourself?” He asks Calum lightly, as Calum hears him pump shampoo into his hand.

“Thought that might be a bad idea,” Calum says and then loses his train of thought as Michael starts lathering his hair. He bites back a contented moan as he feels his fingers scratch along his scalp, massaging patterns underneath his curls.

“I think that was probably for the best,” He vaguely hears Michael say from above him. “Let me know if the pressure’s okay”

“It's good,” Calum manages to choke out, and he can hear Michael let out a little laugh. 

“Do you like a head massage then?” he hears Michael’s voice say innocently.

“Mmm,” is all Calum can respond with, his limbs going limp as his body relaxes into the seat. He feels like his body is incredibly confused as it honestly can’t work out if Michael is relaxing him or working him up with his hands.

“You know some people absolutely hate this,” Michael says conversationally as if he can’t sense Calum’s inner turmoil.

“I find that fucking hard to believe,” Calum murmurs, closing his eyes, and Michael laughs again.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Michael replies, pausing in his massaging of Calum’s scalp to rinse off the shampoo. 

“Let’s just say I stand by what I said earlier about your talented hands,” Calum responds, sighing at the loss of Michael’s hands but also relieved, he’s not sure what his body’s involuntary reaction might have been if it had gone on much longer. He hears Michael make a little embarrassed noise above his head and smiles to himself behind his mask, maybe he was having an effect on the pretty barber himself. Michael pulls some conditioner through his hair but fortunately (or unfortunately) for Calum, focuses the product mainly into the lengths, before rinsing his hair again and wrapping it deftly in a towel.

“Okay, follow me, let’s get this garbage sorted out,” Michael says teasingly, wiggling his eyebrows behind his glasses. 

Calum follows him back over to his original seat, and gets handed a disposable gown from Michael which he struggles with for a moment before Michael takes pity on him and helps him tie it at the back, keeping as much distance as possible but still managing to brush his fingers over Calum’s neck, and if the twinkling in Michael’s eyes is anything to go by, was done entirely on purpose. Calum sits down and fiddles with his gown as Michael drags over his trolley with his tools. He pulls out clippers and plugs them in next to Calum. 

“I thought you weren’t going to buzz it off?” Calum says, frowning at Michael as he turns on the clippers and they buzz loudly next to his ear.

“Oh I’m not don’t worry, but we’ve got to lose some of this on the sides and the back,” Michael says, waving the clippers in a vaguely threatening way. “Where’s the trust hm? I thought you were bowing to my talented hands?” 

Calum feels the blush creeping up his face. “I am!” He says quickly and then mimes zipping his lips. He hears Michael laugh again before he gets a focused look on his face and starts running the clippers up his scalp on the sides and back, pulling back when he reaches the top of Calum’s head. Calum wishes he could see more of Michael’s face when he’s focusing like this, the slight pucker in his brow as he frowns in concentration and the way his eyes take on a serious look as he moves around Calum’s head with a practised air. He wants to know if Michael nibbles on his lip when he’s thinking or smiles to himself when he does a good job.

He stops looking at Michael for a second to look at his own head, which has taken on the alarming look of a mushroom, with short sides and a ridiculous amount of hair on top, and raises his eyebrows expressively at Michael.

“Hey,” I see your judgemental eyes,” He says lightly, sweeping the hair off Calum’s shoulders and giving him a small tap. “Trust the process.”

Calum snorts and shakes his head which earns him another small tap on the shoulder. 

Michael pulls out a comb and sections the top of Calum’s head neatly with clips, before grabbing his scissors and beginning to pull small pieces of Calum’s hair taut and holding between his fingers before carefully trimming off all the yellowing blonde ends, snipping into the line of hair. He continues moving expertly through Calum’s hair and Calum cannot stop looking at the way Michael’s fingers move, flashing in and out of his curls, moving skilfully and with purpose. He wants to talk to Michael, to learn more about him and to make him laugh again but he’s far too distracted by what he’s doing with his hands to manage any coherent conversation. 

“So Calum,” Michael says, clearly not having the same concern as Calum in this situation. “What made you wait so long to come and get this sorted if you disliked it so much?”

“Dunno,” Calum replies distantly, still looking at Michael’s hands. “Guess it didn’t seem important enough to leave the house for.”

Michael gasps in mock horror. “Not important? How dare you.” He laughs as he reaches the front of Calum’s head, combing through a few times before beginning to trim again. “What changed your mind, hot date coming up?”

Calum snorts. “Not likely.” 

“Now, I find that fucking hard to believe,” Michael says quietly, catching Calum’s eye in the mirror for a second before looking away. 

Calum grins and is incredibly grateful for the mask that conceals what his face is doing, just makes a non-committal noise and shrugs his shoulders. 

Michael trims off the last piece of yellowing ends and nods to himself pleased before skimming his scissors up the side of his head, Calum assuming that he’s blending the edges into the fade on the sides.

Once Michael’s gone round his whole head with the scissors, he grabs some thinning shears and starts moving through his hair again. “I feel like it’s a crime to get rid of more of this beautiful hair but I’ve got to lose some of the bulk here otherwise it's going to be impossible to deal with.”

Calum laughs. “Yeah I can attest to that.”

Michael finally goes over to the the other side of the barbers and picks up some product which he scoops out of a container and rubs between his palms before running it through the short curls on the top of Calum’s head and the slightly longer ones he’s left in the front, twisting them slightly around his fingers. Calum thinks that his attraction to the man has reached an all time high, and he promises himself he will at least ask for Michael’s number before he leaves the barbershop. 

“Okay what do you think,” Michael says, and Calum thinks he can pick up a hint of nervousness in his voice. 

“It seems I was completely right to trust your talented hands, it looks great,” Calum says honestly, twisting his head to look at the sides and then checking the back in the mirror that Michael holds up for him to see. The awful blonde remains have all been removed, leaving short and neat sides and as much of the curl that could be kept on top, waving back into its familiar pattern. 

“Now don’t be shaving it off anytime soon okay,” Michael says seriously, sweeping hair off Calum’s shoulders with a brush and lightly untying the gown at the back.

“How will you know if I do,” Calum says cheekily, pulling his arms free and shaking his T-shirt out.

“I have your number on the file, maybe I’ll have to call you and check,” Michael says, eyes glinting and a flush appearing on his cheeks again, as he twists his fingers through Calum’s hair one last time and then almost unconsciously brushes Calum’s neck as he moves his hands away.

“Maybe I could just give it to you now and save you the trouble,” Calum replies, blushing himself and adjusting his collar.

“Well that could work too I suppose,” Michael says shyly, and digs his phone out of his pocket.

Calum laughs and reels off his number for Michael to enter, before getting to his feet and sliding his jacket on.

“Thanks for the haircut Michael,” Calum says. “Maybe I’ll be seeing you again soon.”

“Maybe you will,” Michael responds with raised eyebrows. “Now, however cute you are, you need to leave, my next client is here.”

Calum laughs and gives a small wave before leaving the shop. He looks back inside to see Michael texting something on his phone, before he looks up to meet Calum’s eyes and gives him a wink. Calum feels his phone buzz in his pocket and fishes it out, he opens up his phone to see a message from an unknown number, he opens it and laughs out loud before shaking his head at Michael and walking towards his car.

Now don’t be going and flirting with any other boys with your sexy new haircut

#5sos fanfiction #malum #malum fic #fic #wooooops I wrote a haircut fic #wrote myself into an absolute corner with hairdressing descriptions in this lads #anyway in this Calum's hair is lovely again and I am At Peace #meg fic

[insfiringyou]

BTS - Beginning (Suga x Jeong-sun)

Set shortly after the events of ‘Becoming Exclusive’, Jeong-sun asks Yoongi to stay the night. 

This is part of our ongoing storyline in our headcanon universe & mentions several key events from Yoongi and Jeong-sun’s past relationship together which you may wish to read first.

To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM   /   Jin  /   Suga  /   J-Hope   /   Jimin   /   V   /   Jungkook 

& Our full masterlist can be found here

Rated content below the cut

The night was cold and Jeong-sun, returning from an evening shift at work, gave in and switched on her central heating. The boiler rattled to life as she shed her uniform and turned on the hot water tap in the shower, closing her eyes beneath the steady stream which cascaded over her body comfortingly; a pleasant contrast to the nippy wind chill which had reddened her cheeks and bit into her hands on the short walk home. She mentally reminded herself to purchase some warm gloves the next time she went shopping. She had her car, of course, but it guzzled gas like there was no tomorrow and the twenty minute walk to the pharmacy was not worth it. Besides, if she was going to need her heating on for the next few weeks while the worst of the season passed, she would need to save every penny.

Her skin was soft to the touch as she dried herself off and smelt of the comforting, powdery shower gel she had lathered in the shower. She closed the curtains in her bedroom, vaguely cautious of the neighbouring apartments seeing her in nothing but a towel in the dim, but warm glow of her bedside lamp and perched on the edge of her bed to towel the ends of her wet hair. It took her a moment to realise why this felt strange to her; the shoulder length cut she had opted for at the hairdresser two days before the shortest it had been in almost a decade and she couldn’t help but wonder what Yoongi would think when he saw it. Her chest grew warm at the thought of him. They had texted each other almost daily over the past two weeks, but she had not seen him since the morning after their bath. She had not been in a hurry to leave his apartment, but left early nonetheless, knowing if she spent any longer cuddled up to him in bed, she would be unable to drag herself away for her afternoon shift at work. While he was often cold at night, by the morning Yoongi’s body under his thick duvets was always warm enough to snuggle to and he would purr and murmur lovingly as he tucked her closer, nestling closely against her back. That was one thing she had never forgotten about their time together before and having him back made her realise how much she missed being held by him in bed at night.

Twisting around and reaching for her cell on the bedcovers, her gaze dropped to her bedside table and she remembered the impulsive purchase she had made in a chemist the week before when she had picked up her elderly patient’s prescription. Hae-won used a different branch to the one Jeong-sun worked at, claiming that the medication they sold there was of a much higher quality, but for perhaps the first time, Jeong-sun was glad to have been in a store where the members of staff did not know her by name. Her fingers had trembled slightly as she tucked the item in the depths of her purse, her cheeks stained a rosy pink as she removed her card from the reader. Her heart fluttered as she turned back to her cell, swiped the screen, and pulled up Yoongi’s name.

‘Are you busy? X’  She typed. The symbolic kiss on the end had been an automatic gesture, yet still, she hoped that Yoongi would sense the softness and longing in it. She got to her feet and slowly got dressed in a comfy pair of black leggings and a casual t-shirt, leaving her feet bare against the balding carpet. Her phone pinged a few moments later as she draped her towel over the radiator below the window.

‘No.’

Her stomach lurched pleasantly. ‘Do you want to come over?’ She typed hopefully, smiling to herself as the reply came back almost instantly.

‘I’ll be there soon.’’

***

She had anticipated his arrival and had taken the liberty to make him a cup of coffee which sat steaming on the countertop. The TV blared a little pointlessly as she tuned in and out of the conversation on screen, realising after a while she hadn’t been following the dialogue at all. Eventually her phone vibrated softly on the arm of her sofa, and she pushed pause on the remote, finishing the last of her chamomile tea with a gulp. She knew automatically that he would be waiting downstairs for her, and she shuffled into a pair of slipper boots to greet him. 

“Hi…” Yoongi muttered breathlessly; the cold air having winded him a little in the short dash from his parked car around the corner. His cheeks were flushed above his thick, navy sweater and his hands were tucked deep into the pockets of his jeans. 

“Hi.” Jeong-sun replied. She felt her heart rate increase as she stepped forward and slipped the leather side-bag he carried from his shoulder, transferring it to her own as he leaned over and pressed his lips to hers, kissing her softly.

“Did you have the day off?” He asked with curiosity as he pulled away. He knew her shifts had been getting longer in recent weeks. The pharmacy was once again under the threat of entering administration and Hae-won’s increasing frailty meant that Jeong-sun had to spend longer accompanying her with her daily tasks. 

“Tomorrow.” She said, meeting his gaze purposely. 

Yoongi nodded gently. “Good.” He murmured. 

Jeong-sun stepped aside to allow him into the hallway. “Shall we go up?”

They were silent on the stairs, ignoring the chipped emulsion on the walls and the few etchings of graffiti as they reached her first floor apartment which she had left unlatched. She led him towards the counter where she had left his coffee and gestured. “I hope it’s not too cold.” She said, setting his bag onto a chair.

He thanked her quietly and took a sip, looking at her from underneath his damp bangs with dark eyes. She was hovering, a little awkwardly, by the mock-marble island which she used as a table. 

“You cut your hair…” He commented. 

Her hands moved automatically to the ends of her strands, running them through her fingers gingerly; she couldn’t work out from his tone what he thought of the change. “Do you like it?” She asked, knowing it wouldn’t matter in the long run if he didn’t but, despite this, wanting him to.

He nodded confirmingly. While he had never particularly thought of her as looking overly young for her age, the cut gave her a pleasantly mature quality; it framed her wide-set cheekbones and defined jawline in a way that drew out her best features. “It suits you.” He said, making her smile softly. 

Her eyes darted to his damp hair and clothes. “Do you want me to put your sweater on the radiator?” She offered as he set his mug down, walking towards him. 

“It wasn’t raining when I set off.” He murmured in explanation and hesitated for a moment, before sliding the navy material over his head. He wore a black T-Shirt underneath which seemed equally damp by the way it clung to his skin. 

She took the garment and slipped it over the metal frame which hung from the edge of the radiator. She had to move a few pairs of socks and underwear which she had draped over the drying rack to make room, dumping them messily onto the sofa before walking around the counter to his side. 

 Yoongi eyed the pile of discarded clothes from over the island with a curious smirk. “Did your drier break?”

“No.” She shrugged, smiling. “It just keeps shrinking my clothes.”

“Oh...” He thought for a moment. “I’m not sure I could fix that.”

She shook her head gently in reply. “I wasn’t asking you to.” She said softly. “I’ve had enough free labour from you to last a few years…”

“I could open a tab?” He quipped dryly, causing her grin to widen.

“Well, if you ever need a discount at the pharmacy, you know who to ask...” She joked in reply, her voice straight. She paused for a moment. “It’s supposed to just be used by family.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He said. A moment passed before a shy grin crept onto his lips, his eyes briefly flickering to the floor. The air between them was comfortably tense; both of them quietly nervous.

“Do you want to watch T.V?” Jeong-sun asked, a little awkwardly. “I’m in the middle of Orange is the New Black.”

“What’s it about?” Yoongi asked, following her through the small living room and over to the sofa. Now he was facing the other way, he could see the T.V had been paused in the middle of a scene; two women were on screen in recognisable jumpsuits. 

Her lips raised at the corner as she bent down to shift the array of clothes she had piled there minutes before, dropping a few odd socks and pairs of knickers as she moved them onto the bookshelf which sat on the opposite wall, adjacent to the television. “Lesbians in prison.” She muttered. 

“The plot sounds familiar…” Yoongi joked drolly, watching as she turned back on herself to pick up the items she had dropped. Her underwear was plain and unfussy but looking at them made him feel strange. Trying to distract himself, he sat down on the sofa and flinched when he felt his backside come into contact with something hard. Jeong-sun was busy trying to arrange the mismatching jumble of underwear and socks on top of the furniture in a way that they wouldn’t slip off the edge, while Yoongi shifted beneath the cushion he was sat on and pulled out a thick, crumpled paperback. The book was open and the edge of the cover was bent. The illustration depicted a polar bear wearing armour against an arctic backdrop. Jeong-sun turned to join him, seating herself next to him as he picked up an empty envelope from the coffee table in front of them and slipped it into the book, saving her place. Her eyes followed his naturally delicate movements as he placed it gently onto the wooden table.

“You could do with a bookmark.” He murmured as she pressed the play button on the remote. The sound was turned low and didn’t distract their conversation. His eyes briefly moved to the screen and observed the two women, one with blonde hair, the other red and with a freckled complexion, arguing. 

Jeong-sun shrugged as she settled against him. Despite their closeness, she hesitated for a second before placing her hand on his thigh. It felt good to be able to touch him again. “I always lose them…” 

“Are you enjoying it?” He asked, turning his head towards her. She rested her cheek against his shoulder, trying her best to relax.

“Yeah. Yu-jin lent it to me.” She muttered as his cheek touched her forehead gently. “I can see why she likes it, she knows it cover to cover.”

“Was it in this condition when she gave it to you?” Yoongi teased.

Jeong-sun looked up, meeting his eyes with a smile. “I doubt she’ll make me pay a fine…” 

He smiled back as she nestled against him once more, enjoying their proximity and the low vibration of his voice through their bodies. “How’s she finding teaching?” He asked.

“It’s freed up her schedule a lot...we had lunch together last week.” She paused. “I told her you were back.”

He seemed surprised. “Does she remember me? From Angel’s party?” 

Jeong-sun grinned, though he couldn’t see it from his position, suddenly recalling the conversation they had shared afterward and how Yu-jin, who was on the spectrum and could be obsessively observant, still brought it up to this day. “She said she remembered one of your shoes were untied. She couldn’t stop staring at it.”

He laughed gently. “I didn’t realise…” He glanced at the television, sensing the credits had finished rolling. A notice on the screen asked whether they wanted to continue watching. “Is it over?” He asked absently, aware that he too had not been paying it much attention.

Jeong-sun, sensing this, reached for the remote control and clicked the NO icon before settling back down. “Do you want another drink?” She asked. Her voice was momentarily airy and light, but he could sense her restlessness as she ran her finger-tips through her fresh cut.

“I’m fine.”

“I might have a whisky.” She said quickly, subconsciously glancing at the cupboard above the sink as she did so.

Yoongi realised why she told him this and felt his chest ache. He too felt jittery. With a racing heart, he reached for her hand, slipping his fingers through hers and facing her. “Do you need it?” He asked tenderly. 

She looked up at him, their brown eyes connecting as he touched a finger to her temple, sliding a strand of hair gently away from her face. His touch was impossibly soft as he hooked the lock behind her ear, stroking the delicate skin there. “No…” She admitted. 

“Is it too soon?” He whispered. 

She shook her head quietly and their eyes locked for another moment before they pressed their lips together. The kiss was brief and a little timid, but strangely reassuring. The bitter taste of black coffee and burnt sugar lingered on their shared breath, and when they pulled apart, their hearts were racing equally hard.

“Did you bring a spare change of clothes?” Jeong-sun asked softly, remembering his bag on the chair in the kitchen.

His nod was slight, not wanting to be presumptuous. “I didn’t know if you wanted me to stay.” He answered.

She shifted off him and got to her feet slowly, reaching out to take his hand. “I do…” 

He followed her down the short hallway and into the single bedroom at the end of the corridor. The room was cast in darkness; only the warm light from the living room at the end of the hall streaming into the space as she bridged the gap between them. He trailed his hand lightly along her upper arm, pulling her closer as their kisses quickened and deepened, sinking into each other as their tongues brushed with a mutual moan. It was too much and they withdrew in unison, sticking to a couple of massaging, sensual pecks to the lips before moving back in. The kiss lasted a long time, with neither of them wanting to break the unrushed pace and closeness of their bodies as they pressed together in the middle of the dark room, feeling safe and warm in each other’s arms. Jeong-sun felt she could kiss him like this forever; until her lips grew numb and stopped working, but regardless, she broke away from him first, moving away slowly and reluctantly to flick the switch on the bedside lamp. 

Yoongi blinked a few times, his eyes adjusting to the dim light as he watched her slide off her slippers and crawl onto the double bed. She shifted against the duvet and rolled onto her side, looking at him. He hesitated before taking off his shoes and socks and joined her. Their lips met again as they faced one another, their covered bodies moving together as he wrapped his spare arm around her waist. Her bare feet brushed his own, their toes slipping against each other comfortingly as their legs became intertwined. 

Despite their passion and her desire for him, her body was not responding in the way she had expected; her pleasure surprisingly dulled in her anticipation. Pulling away, she raised herself on the bedcovers, straddling his hips gently as he moved onto his back to support her. 

“Here…” He whispered, moving his hands to her hips to steady her against him. She bent down and kissed him gently. 

“Am I too heavy?” She murmured against his lips. 

“No…” He whispered as she straightened up her back. “You feel nice…”

With a soft smile, she touched the hem of her shirt and slid it off. His palms moved to her skin as she did this, moving upwards with the fabric; starting at the soft bulge of her hips before moving over her stomach and torso, coming to a rest at her shoulders as she squeezed her head through the gap and threw the material to the floor. He ran his hand gently over a narrow bra strap as her lips moved back to his, kissing him fervidly. He moved his palms down to grasp her hips, encouraging her to move her backside from him so he could sit himself up against the headboard. She complied without hesitation, helping him shuffle up until their faces were inches from each other, their height almost equal. They came together again and, with a gasp, he grasped her bottom through her leggings, resting his palms against the roundness of her flesh and squeezing her in kneady motions as their kiss grew more intense.

“Is this okay?” He asked breathlessly against her lips.

She let out a small moan, sneaking her hands around the back of his body and feeling beneath his T-Shirt. She caressed the soft skin, her fingers naturally drawn to the delicate dimples in his lower back, appreciating his narrow waist and the fine, wispy hairs which stood out on his goose-pimpled skin. She began to move the fabric up his body.

“Should I take it off?” He asked, sensing that was what she was trying to do. 

She smirked toylingly. “It’s only fair…”

Pecking her once more, he lifted the shirt the remainder of the way, sliding it over his head and pulling her closer. His lips moved to the fleshy part of her breast which he pecked gently, following the edge of her plain bra until he reached her sternum. Her mouth parted at the feel of his lips, warm and soft, opening against the sensitive space between her breasts, just above the band of her bra, and pressing a lingering kiss to her chest. The gesture felt incredibly intimate and tender. 

“You can take it off...” She whispered against his hair which was still slightly damp and wavy from the rain earlier that evening and his fingers hesitated against her skin before reaching around her back to unclasp it. He kissed her chest chastely as he successfully unfastened the strap, leaving it open below her shoulder blades and returning his hands to her waist. He was in no rush to uncover her, instead caressing his thumbs over the gentle curves of her hips which protruded slightly above her elasticated leggings, and she appreciated this; cupping her palms against his warm cheeks as she kissed him. 

She slid down the straps of her bra as she moved down his body, pressing her lips to his collarbone and chest before opening her lips slightly against his nipple, appreciating the soft cooing sound which escaped his parted lips as she touched it gently with her tongue. She easily discarded her bra on the floor before sliding lower, pecking his soft stomach a couple of times. She pulled away, resting on her knees and straightening. Yoongi’s eyes roamed over her bare breasts; his irises dark and beautiful as his lips parted delicately at the sight. Jeong-sun could do nothing but meet his gaze. She was short of breath and her heart thundered in her chest, but she allowed him to look. 

“What is it?” She asked soberly, breaking the long stretch of silence and dropping her eyes briefly to look at her chest, a little self-consciously. 

He shook his head, jaw tense as he looked at her longingly. “It’s just…” He ran his tongue over his dry lips, moistening them. “If I hadn’t seen you that day...we might not have…” His voice cracked but he didn’t need to continue. Jeong-sun did not know whether he was referring to their meeting in the pharmacy the month before or to the closet they had shared so long ago, but it did not matter. She caught the edge of panic in his voice and felt it briefly echoed in her own chest. She moved over him, straddling his hips and welcoming his touch as he brushed her cheekbone a little desperately with his thumb. Leaning forward, she pressed her nose to his. 

“But we did…” She whispered reassuringly, feeling the weight of her own words take hold as his hands moved down to her forearms, holding her against him, as though proving to himself that she was really there with him. He nodded in agreement or relief, she wasn’t sure which, before pecking her lips once, tenderly. She gasped almost silently, closing her eyes in pleasure as he took one of her nipples into his warm mouth, sucking the pink bud gently. She held him to her as he worshiped her flesh, allowing the moment to last; pulling away prematurely would have been almost sacrilegious. When he let her go, she pressed her lips to the top of his head, inhaling the woody, fragrant scent of his hair before she moved back down his body, hesitating above the waistband of his jeans. 

She kissed the gentle, wispy line of dark hair which trailed above the fabric and moved her hands to the button. “Can I?” She asked, meeting his gaze. 

“Yes.” He confirmed under his breath, allowing her to unbutton his jeans and pull them along with the top of his underwear slightly down his hips, revealing the delicate black matt of his pubic hair. She hesitated a little nervously above him, contemplating how to best handle him. He watched patiently as she brushed the elasticated waistband of his shorts before thinking better of it and instead opting to touch him through the material, her fingers a little tentative as they wrapped around his length, feeling him tenderly. He was slightly hard and, hearing him sigh fervently, she pressed her lips to the material, kissing him gently through his underwear. He watched her achingly beneath thick eyelashes, his chest warm with emotion as she pulled away and slowly slipped her hand into the pouch of his fly to hold him. 

He remained still, watching as she closed her hand tenderly around his girth. She squeezed him gently, massaging his cock in slow, lulling motions. He let out a whimper at her touch, his throaty moans comfortingly familiar and filling her with reminiscence. Slowly, she untucked herself from his underwear, slipping her hand out of the gap to reach beneath the elasticated waistband which she slowly pulled down, uncovering him.

She unhurriedly moved her hand up him once, her thumb brushing over the soft skin and slightly protruding veins, as though committing him to memory. His tip was flushed with arousal and she licked her lips absently; she had forgotten how beautiful he was nude. He assisted her in pulling his underwear down to his knees, lifting his waist from the bed as she tugged them down. Her lips met his inner thigh, her mouth opening wetly and adoringly against the flesh; his muscles slightly more pronounced than she remembered. She moved upwards.

“Do you want me to…?” She asked, looking up at him. Her hand was still wrapped tightly around him, and her intention was obvious. 

He hesitated, his heart skipping at the sight of her between his thighs; the light cluster of freckles on the bridge of her nose visible in the soft glow of the lamp and the sheen of perspiration on her cheeks. “No…” He murmured, shaking his head slightly with parted lips. “You’re enough…”

She paused for a moment, before nodding softly. “Okay…” She agreed, drawing away to shift position.

“In my bag…” Yoongi swallowed, his throat dry. “I thought we should be safe.” 

It took her a moment to realise what he was referring to, her mind hazy with emotion. Clocking on, her lips turned up at the corners. “Yeah…” She agreed, turning sideways to slide from the bedcovers. “I thought so too.” 

He took the opportunity to remove his jeans and underwear completely as she bent down, reaching into the bedside cabinet and pulling out a small cardboard box. The cellophane was still on. “Paid full price for them.” She quipped, trying to sound calm but unable to help her voice from fluttering a bit as she undid the plastic.

“Do I have to reimburse you?” Yoongi asked with a small smile.

She placed tugged open the cardboard lid before placing the full box on top of the bedside table, within reach. “It’s a shared responsibility.” Her grave tone made him grin widely, his pink gums momentarily visible.

He reached for her as he climbed on the duvet and gently turned her onto her back, kissing her passionately into the covers. His bare chest pressed against her breasts and she groaned into his mouth, her nipples hard and sensitive against him. In turn, she could feel him stiffening against her upper thigh through the thin layer of her leggings. He didn’t draw attention to himself, instead moving his hand slowly against her crotch and rubbing her tentatively through the fabric with his palm. She moaned gently in reply, letting him know it was okay and he reached under her waistband, moving his fingers down. She shifted on the bed, wriggling her arse a little to adjust her position, making it easier for him to slip his fingers under the gusset of her panties. She continued to kiss him as he ran two fingers smoothly along her outer lips. 

Trying to relax, she appreciated his soft touch as he caressed her a few times before pushing through her folds, his palm pressing flat against her pubic hair. He realised, as he stroked her clitoris, that despite her soothing moans, she was not incredibly wet. Experimentally, he dipped his index and middle fingers lower and pressed against her opening, sinking in his fingertips. Jeong-sun gasped and he broke their kiss to look at her, keeping his face close to watch her expression carefully. He didn’t want to hurt her and, realising she was too tight to accommodate him, he returned to her clit, circling the bud lightly as he pressed gentle kisses to her face; his lips skimming her forehead, cheeks, mouth, stroking her hair with his spare hand as he attempted to get her worked up. She locked eyes with him, cursing her nerves but he shook his head and huddled against her to kiss her neck sensually, moving his lips upwards until he reached the edge of her ear. She moaned as he purred against her, skimming his mouth along the sensitive flesh of her helix as he explored lower with his fingers, pushing into her slowly with only his middle digit until he felt she could take two. She kissed him passionately as he fingered her; keeping his caresses shallow as her body gradually softened beneath him. Despite this, she was disappointed to see how dry his fingers were when he pulled away to remove the remainder of her clothes; feeling betrayed by her own body. He paused as he hooked his digits beneath her waistband, waiting for a reaction. She nodded gently and he slipped her leggings and panties down in one smooth motion, abandoning the garments over the edge of the bed. 

She parted her thighs for him as he rubbed along her slit with his entire hand, trailing his fingers through her pink folds and brushing her clit with his palm. He realised how frustrated she was with herself when she pushed his hand aside gently to rub her clit a little frantically in concentrated, circular motions. Breathlessly, he moved from her, sliding further down the bed to nestle between her thighs. She pulled away and he held her open with his fingers, pressing his lips to her clit twice, the sound of his pecks echoing around the room as he pulled back to rub the little nub with his index finger, feeling it swell gently beneath his finger, before he moved back in. He sucked it very lightly, taking the delicate bud between his soft lips and feeling his heart race at the sound of her moans above him. Her taste was, like everything else, achingly familiar and he savoured it, wondering if he would ever take it for granted again. 

Pulling away, he moved up her body, keeping close as he kissed her bare chest. She entwined her fingers with his and moved them against her, guiding his digits against her clit before dipping lower, encouraging him to try again. He entered her more easily this time, using his thumb to brush her clit and, satisfied, she pulled away to stroke his cock, coaxing it against her lower stomach. They kissed longingly, their bodies close as Jeong-sun blindly reached for the pack of condoms on the table, her fingertips skimming the box unsuccessfully a few times before managing to grasp the edge. Yoongi pulled back as she handed him a square foil, her other hand holding him firmly to keep him hard. 

“Do you want to put it on?” She whispered, reluctantly uncurling her fingers from his erection.

He nodded, pressing his lips against her forehead before sitting back to perch on the edge of the bed. Jeong-sun watched closely as he fiddled with the packet and kissed his bare shoulder lovingly as he tore the edge open a little clumsily. His fingers trembled. 

“Here…” She offered breathlessly, unable to help the fierce yearning feeling in her chest as she brushed her hand over his. She had never seen him so affected before, his own nerves finally rising to the surface. She managed to open the foil packet without dropping it and rolled it down him slowly, pinching the end and making sure it fit snug. With a racing heart, she lay back against the covers and he moved with her, covering her body with his own. He brushed against her lightly, holding himself by the base.

“Go slow…” She requested, her voice whispery as she hooked her arms loosely around his neck, keeping her gaze locked with his in anticipation. 

“I will.” He promised, keeping himself still for another few moments before guiding into her. She parted her lips as he huddled against her and buried as deep as he could in an embrace. She tightened her hold on him, pressing him against her as he clung to her in return. They laid still for a moment, their bodies feeling oddly heavy together as they accommodated to the sensation of one another. Yoongi’s lips parted against her lobe at the warmth and comfort that her body gave him. His hips moved snuggly against her, the pace achingly slow, wanting to feel every inch of her wrapping around him. Sweetly, he pressed his mouth against the space below her ear. Her pulse was fluttery and strong against the bud of his lips, the pounding of her heartbeat echoing deep within her. He shivered slightly at the realisation, and mistaking it for the chill of her apartment, Jeong-sun held him tighter; cradling him, sharing her heat. The emotion that overcame him as her fingertips trailed lovingly over his naked back, warming him, took his breath. A lump rose in his throat as he gazed at the mixture of soft concern and affection in her expression. At that moment, he was certain that he would never feel this way about anyone else.

 Delicately, he adjusted himself, the head of his penis slipping out of her despite the painstaking carefulness at which he did so. Yoongi heard her almost panicked intake of breath as the sensation of fullness left her, his swollen tip pressing awkwardly against her flushed labia. She slipped her fingertips between their bodies, delicately through his pubic hair and took hold of him, angling herself against it. Her chest tightened at the purr of pleasure which escaped him as he pushed gently back inside her, his head snapping back a little at the stimulation. “Jeong-sun…” 

The sound of her name brought a smile to her lips and tenderly, as he began to move against her, she kissed his bare arms and shoulders between his unhurried thrusts. His dark fringe of hair tickled her forehead, and reaching forward she brushed it lightly away from his brow and appreciated him in the dim glow of the lamp. He met her gaze with a slightly dreamy expression as she brushed his burning cheek with her thumb. Jeong-sun could tell from the slightly glazed look in his eyes that he was lost in her, and her heart thudded madly as he peered back at her through a rim of thick lashes. He seemed perpetually on the edge of speech, but she sensed that like herself, could not locate the words enough to tell her how he felt. But, as she looked at him, she thought she could understand. There was so much she wanted to say to him, yet she had never felt more incapable of speech in her life. Having him so close, feeling every inch of him, meant more than she could ever express. They made love gently, her hands curved over his backside as they rocked against one another, not in the pursuit of orgasm but recognising everything it represented. 

“Can I try?” She asked, her voice cracking a  little with dryness as he paused to adjust the condom. Yoongi’s dark eyes flickered to hers for a moment, sensing the nervousness in her question. He blinked, nodding in agreement, his expression calm despite the way which his heart hammered against his ribcage. He shifted, propping himself up against the headboard, supporting her by the hips as she straddled his lap clumsily and slipped him inside. Her chest was flush against his own, arms locked around his neck as she tried to establish a rhythm. Instinctively, he pressed his lips warmly to the crevice of her breasts, caressing them, feeling them undulate slightly as she moved up and down his length. The sweet, oaty fragrance of her skin and the pressure of her thighs on either side of him was exciting, a familiar tingling sensation spreading through his lower region. They pinned against him firmly as she gave up on trying to ride him, needing a different angle, and instead began to grind against his pubic bone. Slowly, Jeong-sun’s body began to respond, his slight moans and purrs making her stomach feel warm.

She sighed, a frail whine breaking out between laboured breaths. The sound of it made Yoongi’s heart flutter, and when he met her eyes he thought he had never seen a person look so relieved and exhausted.

Her orgasm had not been mind-blowing, but the depth at which she held felt him inside of her had brought her to it regardless. The sensation had already begun to dissipate as he kissed her tenderly, patiently, as her body weakly rode out the last few waves. Jeong-sun pressed her lips back firmly against his, encouraging him to follow as he squeezed her backside, his own hips jutting close against her. Lovingly, she watched his expression change as a small crease formed on his brow and he drew in breath through slightly gritted teeth. His own release seemed to come a little unevenly too, but he purred gently as she helped him through it, feeling his length grow soft and pliant beneath her. 

 “Be careful…” He pleaded, voice equally as hoarse and fragile as hers had been. She felt his bony knuckles brush her clitoris briefly as his hand crept between their bodies. Cautiously, and sure that he was securely holding the latex, she raised her hips until he was no longer inside of her. Yoongi breathed in deeply, clearly still sensitive as his cock fell limply against his stomach, held between his thumb and forefinger at the base. 

Apologetically, she pressed her lips against his warm cheek, their exhausted breaths mingling as he turned to capture them against his own. They were impossibly soft, the movements minuscule but incredibly expressive, as though desperate to convey some silent emotion that he was experiencing. But Jeong-sun understood it completely, needing no words, tasting his promise to her. The realisation sank in upon her that she could not bear to be apart from him again. She felt whole in a way that, even all those years ago, she had never experienced so entirely. It seemed impossible that she hadn’t noticed what she had been lacking in all of that time, that she had never found what she had needed. The intimacy of their embrace, as their lips moved tenderly against one another, was so tangible...

“Are you okay?” He asked, his tone impossibly gentle, as her lips quivered for a second against his.

Trying to overcome the sudden, unexpected urge to cry, she took a deep breath to steady herself.  “I don’t know…” She wasn’t sure how to answer, to explain the overwhelming emotion surging through her. Jeong-sun continued, brushing her hair away from her face, once more surprised by how little of it there was. “Are you?”

They held each other’s gaze steadily for a moment, their hearts pounding hard as they examined each other’s post-coital, slightly disoriented appearance. 

“I don’t know.” Yoongi echoed, and the tension dissipated as they laughed softly together. The bedsheets rustled and moved as Jeong-sun adjusted herself, and with extraordinary care she rolled the condom from his length, tying it off and disposing of it. He had watched her do it, eyes full of affection as she handled him as though he might break. As she crawled into the space beside him, he wrapped his arms snuggly around her. Contently, she shuffled against him, working the covers over their bare legs. He pressed his lips against the nape of her neck, dragging the sheets up to cover their naked bodies. She was warm, one arm resting between her breasts. Eventually, they drifted off to sleep together. It would have been hard to tell who had fallen asleep first; however, Yoongi had quickly stilled against Jeong-sun, his breathing slow and regular and hot against her skin. She followed soon after, her cheek resting peacefully against his palm.

***

A thin beam of sunlight streamed through the crack in the curtains and Yoongi, awakened by the slight movement from beside him as Jeong-sun turned over under the duvet, had no real sense of time or how long they had been lying there, side by side. At some point in the early hours of the morning, they had awoken and made love again, spooning closely. Looking down, he realised he was still wearing a condom though he was no longer hard. He did not remember whether he had finished and had only the vaguest memory of putting it on as the golden rays of dawn had touched her cheek as they moved together; their soft moans and whispers echoing through the room as though they were sharing secrets. He no longer remembered what was said between them; only the sweet, warm sensation he had felt in his chest and the feeling of a weight being lifted. The evening before had been emotionally exhausting; the gravitas of what they were trying to say to each other weighing on them both, but this morning had been different. He didn’t think he had ever felt so content as sleep once more took him, pulling him into a comfortable and warm embrace. Now, as his eyes adjusted to the bright streak of light, the room coming into focus, the second time had felt like a dream and he suspected when she woke, Jeong-sun would likewise be unable to recall whether it had really happened. 

“I need a shower…” The sound of her voice beside him alerted him to fact she was also awake and, a little sheepishly, he removed the condom. 

“You don’t have to be anywhere.” He mumbled, gently moving the bed sheets aside to use the bathroom. Drying his hands in the small basin, he realised how thirsty he was and plodded, bare-foot, into the kitchen to get them both a glass of water. The familiar scent of the living space and, beneath that, the sweet odour of the woman who inhabited it was welcome and comforting as he moved through the small room and returned to the bedroom at the end of the hall. 

Her soft snores indicated that she had fallen back to sleep and he tried not to wake her as he placed the glasses on the bed stand and slipped beside her under the covers.  

“Do you really have to go?” She mumbled in her sleep as the springs beside her moved with his weight and he felt his heart sink at the memory of all the times he had been forced to do so; of getting up early to go to dance practice or to catch an early flight. 

He felt his eyes sting as he brushed a curl of hair from her face and pressed his lips against her cheek. “No…”

***

Thanks for reading! Stay tuned for the next chapter in their headcanon coming soon!

You can find all of the member’s headcanon fics in order here:  RM   /   Jin /   Suga /   J-Hope   /   Jimin   /   V   /   Jungkook

& our full masterlist can be found here

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[dmcdrabbles]

Unexpected haircuts

Part two of [THIS] request! This time it's Vergil and V. I'm sorry I kind of went The Fuck Off™ with Vergil and it didn't really match the other ones at all alksdjlakbdsajnj. I just had an idea and ran too far with it ;-; I hope y'all like it anyway.

-----

V

Your hair fell around you lock by lock, tickling your arms and still smelling faintly of the ooze that the Nobody rubbed all over it. When it grabbed your trailing hair you had acted on instinct, slicing off the entire length of it in one messy swing of your sword. You kicked the ugly thing's ass posthaste, but a part of you was now wishing you had dragged out the smackdown. V had taken one look at the uneven mass of hair you had been left with and, with a tight but encouraging smile, offered to fix it for you.

You couldn't bear to look before he worked on it. His face had said it all.

There was a level of melancholy to losing your hair that had nothing to do with vanity and everything to do with dwelling on the way V loved to run his fingers through it and braid it for you. Well, used to. The last long chunk of it fell to the floor and your hand shot into it, feeling the way it almost bristled in the back with how short he cut it.

You felt cold steel under your chin, and with his cane V tilted your head up and back to look at him. His face stretched into a soft smile, and he brushed the longer top of your hair off your forehead.

"With your hair this short, I can see more of your lovely face."

He leaned down to kiss you, and his fingers combed through your hair as tenderly as ever.

-----

Vergil

It was a tough fight- more than tough. You were lucky to make it out with your head still on your body. Truth be told you relied on Vergil in these fights more than you wanted to, but in this case?

You rarely saw Vergil lose control. No matter how many demons rushed you, he almost seemed invincible. Once, he even told you not to bother with your aim- and after the first time you saw him effortlessly deflect a bullet into a Fury going full speed, you actually listened. But this time...

You had heard about Nelo Angelo only in bits and pieces, mostly learned in the middle of the night when Vergil left you with a cold bedside and his silhouette, Yamato in hand, by the window.

The Proto and Scudo Angelos that attacked you two brought out side of him full force, and Vergil moved so quickly you had no time to even unholster your gun. It was a matter of keeping out of his way.

During one of those nights by the window, you tried to bring him back to bed with a gentle hand on his arm. He was so lost in his thoughts he must not have heard you- one moment your fingertips rested on his icy skin, the next he had you backed up against the bed with his hand on Yamato's hilt.

"I'm sorry," He whispered, and you heard the foreign tones of regret and fear in his voice.

You heard them now as well. Those same words, that same tone. In his reflection, his face was impassive. All of his emotion came out in his voice.

You resisted the urge to snort. Vergil always acted like he'd filet anything or anyone that harmed a single hair on your head. After chopping off half of it with a misplaced Judgement Cut, it was only natural he'd beat himself up over it.

"It's okay." You snipped another lock from the back of your head and turned your face this way and that, trying to judge if it was evened out from the surprise haircut you had gotten from that fight.

You turned to Vergil, smiled a too-innocent smile. "Mind helping me out?"

He seemed hesitant, but he huffed a sigh through his nose and took the scissors from you, starting on the places you couldn't reach. He looked so serious again that you had to tease him.

"Ever considered opening up a salon? There are a ton of hairdressers that went viral for cutting hair with katanas. You've definitely got them beat."

"Absolutely not." One of his dimples threatened to show with the way his mouth quirked in a half-smile. "Done."

"Already?" You looked over yourself in the mirror, pet the shorn bits on the side with a grin. You turned to face Vergil, tilting your head to the side. "What do you think? Does it suit me?"

Vergil took your head in his hands and kissed the crown of it. Then your forehead. Your nose. Your lips.

#i cant write vergil without making it trage-fluffy alskdjlsakd #im sorry i really adore him #i love all the boys but ive had a crush on vergil since 3 LMFAO #his is like twice the length of everyone else's MY BAD #v x reader #reader x v #vergil x reader #reader x vergil #dmc imagines #dd mild

[pies-writes-and-more]

New Hair Do, Who Dis?

Word Count: 785

Pairing: Thor x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None? Maybe swearing?

Request by Anon: “Hey I love your writing. I just cut 14 inches off my hair and it went from my butt to my shoulders and I’m still a little freaked about itm could you please write something with THor x reader where he finds the reader cutting her hair and he’s like ahhh why would you do that it’s so pretty and after hes like actually its really cute and then like all the Avengers react to her new hair? Thank you <3″

Hey Anon! Thanks for requesting such a fun bit! I hope you don’t mind but I didn’t have Thor finding her cutting her hair, but rather just reacting when she came home with her hair cut! :) I dabbled with all sorts of scenarios and thought this one turned out best. Let me know what you think!

(Y/N) stared at herself in the mirror, eyes wide as she saw the new length of her hair. She felt like she was knocked out of her body from shock. She quickly paid and tipped her hairdresser, zooming out of the little shop as quickly as she could.

It’s not that it looked bad, it’s just different. (Y/N) looked at herself in a store window, brushing her fingers through the now short length. 14 whole inches.

A wave of regret was drowning her as she reminisced about how long her hair used to be. She had spent years taking care of it and growing it out till it had just reached the small of her back. And in barely an hour, it was all gone.

As she walked home, she started to feel more and more comfortable. This is what she wanted after all. The long hair was just getting really difficult to manage, especially when working with the Avengers where danger was everywhere. Literally. Just yesterday, Tony had blown a whole in a lab wall after testing out some new tech.

(Y/N) forced herself to take a few deep breaths as she finally reached the complex. She quickly ran to her room, wanting to avoid any curious eyes.

“Hello, my love,” Thor yelled out, causing her to jump as she entered their shared room.

“Dammit, Thor, you scared me,” she mumbled, seeing him, Korg, and Miek sitting at the couch and playing some new videogame. 

“Oh hello!” Korg glanced over, doing a double take and letting his eyes widen. “Wow! You look so different!”

(Y/N) felt her cheeks flush, immediately wishing she could blend into the wall. Hearing Korg���s words, both Thor and Miek looked over, Thor’s jaw dropping slightly.

“My goddess, who did this to you?” Thor demanded, throwing his controller on the couch and immediately coming to her side.

“W-What do you mean?” She frowned, seeing how distressed he looked. He hated it. She knew it. She shouldn’t have cut her hair-

“Your hair! It’s short!” Thor exclaimed, touching her newly washed and snipped locks. 

“I got a haircut,” she mumbled, avoiding his eyes. “You hate it don’t you?”

Thor took a moment, interlacing his fingers with hers as he examined her face. “Not at all, my love, you look beautiful,” he breathed.

(Y/N) always blushed when Thor spoke to her like that. She could always feel how genuine he was, it was never pressed, never forever.

A large grin grew on his face the more he looked at her. “It makes me notice your eyes more.” The demigod gave her a wink, leaning in to peck her lips gently. “Ah! And now I don’t have to worry about accidentally catching your hair in something!”

Korg looked over at Miek and nodded in agreement, “Miek agrees. You look very pretty.”

No matter how much you protested, Thor was so smitten with your look, he had FRIDAY call an emergency meeting for the Avengers and dragged you out to see them.

“What’s going on, Thor? Is everything okay?” Steve asked, hands in his pockets.

“Everything is absolutely perfect. I just thought after everything we’ve all been through, we could use some beauty in our lives.” Thor’s grin was hurting (Y/N)’s cheeks from being so large. She tried to hide behind him, but he pushed her out in front to let the others see.

“Oh so you decided to cut it after all!” Wanda smiled. “I told you it’d look good.”

“Short hair’s better for action anyways,” Natasha agreed, giving her a playful wink.

“You called us all here so we could see (Y/N)’s new haircut?” Tony raised an eyebrow, arms crossed over his chest.

“Do you not wish to see the most perfect being in the Nine Realms?” Thor asked back.

The rest of the Avengers gave her grins, giving her compliments as they went back to their normal routine. 

“Thor, you’re making a big deal out of nothing,” (Y/N) commented later, blushing harder than she ever had. They were all so sweet but a haircut was definitely nothing to call an emergency meeting over.

“Isn’t this why midguardians have museums though?” Thor asked, a little confused by why she was so embarrassed. “Isn’t the point of beauty to share it? How could I keep something this gorgeous to myself?” He gave her a gentle smile, touching her cheek gently.

“Thor..” (Y/N) mumbled, cheeks hotter with how flustered she felt. “Thank you. I was so worried with how I’d look.”

Thor grinned, kissing her gently as he pulled her close. “I love you,” he whispered between kisses.

(Y/N) smiled more, feeling his lips against hers, “I love you more.”

“I love you most.”

Masterlist

Requests are OPEN! Send me a message!

#Thor Odinson #thor x reader #thor odinson x reader #reader insert #korg #miek #korg and miek #thor and korg #thor and miek #haircut #anon requested #anon request #thor #thor fic #thor x you #thor odinson x you #thor fanfic #fluff #cute #fanfic #avengers #avengers endgame #marvel avengers #avengers x reader

[queeniewritesce]

Shall We Dance 7/?

Chris woke around 8 am, alone in bed and for a moment he panicked, thinking Lucy never actually came home with him last night. A look around the room revealed her suitcase and a large soft luggage bag neatly stacked near his closet, her purse on the nearby chair. The pillow he was hugging still smelled like her shampoo and he smiled at the memory of them showering together and how he had insisted on washing her hair, his hands working the long strands into different hairstyles while she laughed at his portray of a flamboyant hairdresser.

They’d arrived home around 8 pm after Garret read him the riot act while Lucy gathered her stuff. He’d better not fuck this up, was he sure he wanted to pursue this? Otherwise he better end their date right there.

Date. Chris scoffed at the word. He was sure Lucy still didn’t know the meeting at the game was a set-up arranged by her sister and his best friend; a blind date where only one of them knew they were on a date at all. Penny insisted Lucy wouldn’t come if she were to tell her and it was up to Chris to make the move.

Ever since he wrapped Gifted and came back home complaining he had had enough of the Hollywood dating scene, Penny redoubled her efforts to get Chris and Lucy together. “She’s the sweetest girl, Chris, always there with a smile when I was hurt. She was the first to organize a fundraising and collecting food and clothes after the Mitchell’s house fire. She’s got the biggest heart of anyone I know and they abused her trust. She’s been hurt pretty and she’s afraid of trying again. I believe you can change that.” Penny said over pizza one day. Chris had his doubts, not sure if he was ready to deal with so much baggage. “Would you date her?” Chris asked Garret over beers, “She’s fragile man but she’s a special girl. Hell yes, I’d date her. She’s wicked smart, sassy as hell and can make you laugh like a lunatic plus, she’s built like a fifties pin-up girl, all tits, ass, and thighs. You keep saying you want something real, here’s your chance at it.”

So Chris agreed to the date, picking a football game for their first meeting, a common ground where both could still enjoy themselves if the chemistry wasn’t there. Except they hit it off so good that any plans of taking her out for dinner so they could get to know each flew out of the window and now he was working backward to convince her she was more than a one-night stand.

The moment he left the bedroom Chris could hear Lucy singing downstairs. She wasn’t going to win any Grammys but she wasn’t bad either. He made his way downstairs carefully as to not alert her of his presence.

He stopped just before reaching the bottom, watching as Lucy belted the lyrics to an old pop song into a wooden spoon, moving around the kitchen with her eyes closed during the chorus. He watched as she opened and closed his cabinets, a quiet yay reaching his ears when she found a glass bowl, bringing the bowl with her back to the counter where eggs, cheese, sliced potatoes, and condiments all waited. And since when did he own a cast iron pan?

Lucy sang and danced while she mixed the ingredients, pouring them into the hot pan, her oversized nightshirt hanging loosely on her shoulders, purplish marks dotting her neck. He’d never been one to leave them before but with her he was a man possessed, staking a claim so everyone could see she belonged with him. A twinge of jealousy hit him at the thought of a man getting closer enough to look at her neck.

Chris knew it was probably too early to feel that way but he wasn’t concerned with a timetable any more. He’d been infatuated with the idea of her for the past month and the reality turned out to be so much better. Their time at the museum yesterday had been fantastic, no awkward silences, no lulls in the conversation. He hanged into her every word, committing to memory every like and dislike she shared, wanting to know everything about the firecracker redhead who danced her way into his life.

He leaned against the fridge, crossing his arms.

“Is there a cover fee for the show or is it included with breakfast?”

“That depends, what kind of payment are we talking about?” Lucy smiled brightly at him, rinsing her hands.

“I can think of a few ways. I’m also known for being a very generous tipper.”

Chris walked over to her, picking up a napkin and drying each individual finger before bringing her hands over his neck, leaning down to gently kiss her.

“Top o' the mornin' to ya, little lady.” He smiled at her when their lips separated, tipping an imaginary hat at her.

“Mornin’ sir,” she giggled and did a little curtsy. “Give it 25 minutes and you’ll eat the best Spanish omelet of your life.”

“I’m starving so it better be good.” Chris challenged, letting go of her to fill Dodger’s food and water bowl.

“Of your life.” She pointed the wood spoon at his retrieving back.

“That’s a very tall order little lady, I’ve been alive for quite some time.”

“Except that, I’m older than you.” She reminded Chris while she brought the coffee pot and the juice jar to the small breakfast table by the window.

“You know what that makes you, right?” He called back to her, already on his way back from the laundry room.

“What?” She moved back to the counter, checking on the food on the stovetop, turning it off and moving the pan to the oven.

“A cougar.” He said was behind her, hands circling her waist and bringing her body close to his, his lips closing on the pulse point on her neck and effectively ending the protest on her lips. “A very fine,” kiss, “gorgeous,” bite, “beautiful cougar.”

He sucked the tender skin where her neck met her shoulder, leaving yet another mark.

“Keep that up and I’ll need a scarf inside the house when I get to my parent’s,” she made no movement to stop him, hands resting over his.

“You have a very biteable neck.” Chris kissed the same spot again just to prove a point and she giggled. “I’ll try to curb my inner vampire.”

“Your inner vampire is quite welcome to other places where I can better hide the evidence.” Lucy looked back up to him, a hint of mischievousness in her voice.

His hands immediately moved to cup her breasts over her shirt. “Oh, you mean here?”

“Uhm… or here.” Lucy’s hand gently guided him to the inside of her thighs.

“Your idea is so much better than mine.” Chris turned her around and his mouth immediately found hers in a powerful and possessive kiss.

He was rapidly becoming addicted to her mouth, her lips moving like fine silk on his, tongue searching for him, a delirious chase he couldn’t get enough of. He heard her moan against his mouth and it stoked the fire already burning inside of him.

Chris’ strong hands clutched Lucy’s waist, bringing her closer to his body and in a swift movement he lifted and dropped her at the counter, her body bouncing when she landed.

“Are you crazy, you could throw your back or someth…”

His lips quickly silenced her words and he nipped at her for good measure when they separated.

“I can bench press over 300 pounds Lucy, and you weigh what, a bit more than half that? Let me worry about what I can and I can’t handle,” his hands slid up her thighs till he finds the white lace cheeky panties she wore, thumbs hooking around the lace and pulling them down as he whispered in her ear. “I love how my hands are full of you when I run them up your thighs, when I grab your ass, how your breasts feel heavy on my hands… and just so you know I’d love to fuck them.”

A strangled moan escaped her at his words and she reached for his sweatpants, pushing them down, needing the contact, craving the feel of him. He rocked his hips on her, the head of his cock right on top of her clit, his bare length sliding up and down over her small lips, coating himself in her juices. “I want you inside me, Chris.”

“Shhh, I’m not finished. Trivia time. Did you know I had a crush on Jessica Rabbit the first time I saw Who Framed Roger Rabbit?” Chris unbuttons her shirt, bottom to top, slowly unwrapping her like a present, thrusting against her with each new inch of skin he reveals, her moans spurring him on. “To my twelve-year-old self, she was the hottest woman I’d ever seen, who cares if she was a cartoon. It was the first time I actively jerked off.” He parted the sides of her nightgown, exposing her breast and he licks his lips at the sight of her naked chest. His hands tangle in her hair bringing the red strands around her left shoulder. Her eyes are blown, pupils dilated, almost no green left and he thinks she looked like a fucking goddess at that moment. He stood between her legs, his nose skimming the pulse point on her neck, lips following suit, before stepping back, making her pout for the lack of contact. “God, look at you, my personal Jessica Rabbit, pouty lips and all, my fucking wet dream coming true, sinful curves and deliciously naked.”

“Then come here and fuck your Rabbit,” she pulled him back, mouths clashing, tongues dancing together. Her hands roamed over the taut muscles of his arms, tracing the veins and kneading the flesh of his shoulders, fingertips caressing the nape of his neck with one hand while the other danced on the planes of his chest, following the trail of hair that led to his cock.

Lucy planted open-mouthed kisses on his chest, gently biting his right nipple, sucking the small hard nub in her mouth, enthralled by the sounds he made.

“Fuck, do that again,” Chris asked in a low voice and she smiled against his chest, moving to the other side. She flattened her tongue against his nipple before closing her mouth against it, teeth rasping the pebbled skin and sucking hard and at the same time that she closed her hand over him, dragging her fingers over the crown in slow but precise motions. A guttural moan rocked his body and he thrust hard against her hand, pre-come leaking from the bulbous head.

“How did you like it?” Lucy grinned up to him, hand fisting over his shaft as she licked around the tattoo on his ribcage.

“That… god, don’t tease,” he faltered when her fingers squeezed around him, both hands working in a precise rhythm. “That’s definitely going into the pro column.”

Her laugh is cut short when he pulls her hair back, covering her mouth with his. Their kisses became long and slow, fueled by their moans, tongues sinfully dancing together as hands travel everywhere; caressing her boobs, touching his ass, tangled in her hair, gripping his waist.

“Lay back on your arms.” Chris nudges her back with a soft touch and she obeys, releasing his shaft and arranging herself on the black marble. Fingers and mouth working together, he traces a pattern over her body, stroking over her collarbone, rolling her nipples between expert fingers, dipping his tongue on her belly button. He nips at the small curve of her belly, biting and bruising the skin and smirks at her. “No one will see this one, right?”

“Considering it’s not exactly swimming weather outside, I don’t think so,” she smiled and shook her head.

“Good,” he rubbed his bearded face on her inner thighs. “I’m not finished though.”

Warm open-mouthed kisses on the inside of her thighs left her panting and pleading for more.

“Use your words, Lucy.” His warm breath tickled her lips, making her squirm.

“Don’t tease me like that.” Wild eyes glanced down, “I want your mouth on me. Now.”

“Yes, madam.” The feel of his silky tongue made her whole body undulate, a loud gasp echoing in the large room as he bathed her in slow and sure motions. He gave her a wicked grin before his lips closed on her clit, tongue swirling on the taut nerve and her hips lifted, legs jumping wildly. He hooked her left leg over his shoulder for anchorage, grasping the curve of her hips to keep her from moving and her small hand covered his, fingers tangling together. Chris smiled, eyes framed by long eyelashes looking up to her, loving to watch her surrender under his touch. He was lost to the scent of her, the sweet and tangy aroma filling his lungs.

“Chris.” A gasp escaped her swollen lips, eyes fluttering close with each pass of his tongue, shallow breaths, and a racing heart.

“God, you’re beautiful,” His mouth barely leaves her to whisper his adoration. “Are you ready for more baby?”

Two fingers sank into her, scissoring and curling against her walls. He devoured her, lips and tongue working her clit, fingers hooked inside her, rubbing that sweet spot inside her over and over. Her hips thrust wildly upward, incomprehensible cries falling from her lips when he sped up his motions, humming his praise, the vibrations on causing the most delicious electric sparks making her legs writhe and sending her dangerously close to the edge.

Her body grew taut, goosebumps spreading all over and he felt her clenching his fingers, fingernails leaving small crescent shapes on the back of his hand before releasing his hand and threading them around his hair, keeping him where she needed the most.

“So close, oh god, I need… close.”

His teeth scraped her clit and it’s her undoing. Lucy cried out to him, tremors rocking her, legs quivering as he continued to touch her, transforming her orgasm in an ongoing sensation that washed over her back and forth every time his tongues her clit, fingers still moving inside her now with a renewed fervor.

“Give one more baby, I know you have it in you.” Another pair of fingers made contact with her clit, rubbing it in a maddening pace as he kisses her inner thighs, bruising the skin with his teeth. He slipped his fingers from inside her pussy, digits coated in her cum, and moved them lower, pressing them lightly against her puckered hole, making contact hard enough to let her know he’s there. His tongue enters her, lapping up the escaping slick as his index fingers breached the impossibly tight hole.

“Chris, oh god, oh f…” a second wave hit her and her arm gave out, spasm taking over her body and her eyes rolled to the back of her head, the fire never ending, the darkness threatening to take over.

She pushed him away, her body spent as she laid on the counter, breathing heavily.

“Fuck, you look gorgeous when you cum,” Chris' eyes were zeroed on hers with a smug smile on his face, fingers slowly caressing the skin of her hips. “Are you alright?”

“Give me a moment, I’m not sure I’m alive,” Lucy closed her eyes, drawing a deep breath, the sound of his laugh making her smile. “Yep, I’m alive.”

Chris pulled her up and her hands immediately gravitated to his face, bringing him close, kissing his shiny lips, thumbing the moisture on his mustache and bringing it to her mouth, her tongue making a show of licking the digit clean, groaning at the taste of herself on him. He moaned and rocked himself against her core, callused hands curling on the skin of her bottom.

“You know,” Lucy nuzzled his neck, kissing the smooth skin, her nose pressed on his beard, “I’ve never let anyone back there before.”

“Never?” the whimper is followed by a grunt when she shook her head. “Whenever you’re ready, let me know, I can make you feel so, so good baby.”

“How about I think about it and I get back to you on that.”

There’s a pause before he agreed and dove for her mouth, tongues dueling in a heated kiss, hissing when her hands closed around him, sliding up and down the length with torturous gestures.

“I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you,” her hands stroked and twisted, creating the perfect amount of pressure that forced him to thrust back searching for more friction. Lucy nibbled his earlobe and murmured, “Get inside me Chris, now.”

It’s a command he’s eager to obey and he brings her closer to the edge of the counter, dragging his cock up her slit, making them both moan.

And then he stopped, looking around for a moment, groaning.

“Shit.”

His low curse made her head pop. “What?”

“I didn’t bring any condoms down with me.”

“Why not?” The disbelief in her voice made him chuckle.

More expletives left his mouth as he opened a few drawers before finally admitting defeat with a shake of his head.

“Well little rabbit, for starters my pants didn’t have any pockets. Plus, I didn’t exactly plan on fucking you on my counter.”

“It’s so sturdy though, it just begs for some action.” She bounces a little, grinning at him.

Chris threw his head back with a laugh, raising both eyebrows at her.

“You’re using me for my kitchen, aren’t you?”

“Damn, I’ve been found,” she snapped her fingers with a mocking frown.

“Come on woman, let’s go upstairs before…”

The oven pinged, signaling the food was ready.

“That.” Chris dropped his head on her shoulder while Lucy tried to contain her mirth, certain he would not appreciate her laughing right now.

“You know,” Lucy glanced from the oven back to him, fingers dancing between the hairs of his chest. “I’m alright with re-heated food if you are.”

“Oh, thank fuck.” He promptly hoisted her out of the counter, pausing just long enough to pick up his pants from the floor, just to look up and see her running up the stairs.

Lucy stopped on the middle step, shedding her shirt, calling out to him with her fingers. She squeaked and ran when Chris started after her, taking the steps two at a time, catching up to her right by his bedroom door, caging her body with his.

“Gotcha.” Her whole skin prickled with his whisper and she couldn’t help the moan that escaped when he bit her earlobe, tugging on the flesh. The feel of him rocking against her as he kissed the back of her neck reduced her to a quivering mess as he opened the door, directing her to the recently made bed.

Spinning in his arms, she kissed him hard, forcing his body toward the bed. “Lay down, keep your hands above your head.”

“Bossy, bossy,” Chris kissed her before laying down, making a show of shaking his ass at her, which earned him a playful swat. “Careful with the merchandise woman.”

Lucy giggle-snorted, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, I’ll handle all the packages with care.”

“See that you do.” He winked and got comfortable, holding onto the pillow under his head, licking his lips when she crawled over him, kneeling between his legs.

Her lips brushed over his brow, nose, and cheeks before touching his mouth, a pink tongue tracing his pouty lips. They kissed with their eyes open, Chris trying to follow her every time she retreated, only to kiss him again when his head hit the pillow with a growl.

“Don’t be mean. I love kissing you.”

Her eyes crinkled, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. The next time she didn’t pull back, her tongue tangling with his, lips synced in a slow and sensuous dance, making his body buckle when she sucked his tongue, knuckles white from clutching the pillow.

She teased his neck, caressing the pulse point with her tongue, working her way down his body and Chris felt like fire wafted over his skin with each touch. Stopping over his dusky nipples, she replayed the earlier actions, this time with more teeth and Chris decided the move deserved a whole new column titled ‘fucking brilliant’.  

The hard muscles of his abdomen twitched when her teeth made contact, and she soothed him with butterfly kisses over the tattoo on his lower rib cage. The first dip of her tongue into his belly button bucked his hips, the anticipation consuming him as she licked over the thick line of hair connecting to the base of his cock, her nose nuzzling the velvet skin that rested over his lower abdomen.

“Lucy…”

“Patience Chris.”

He didn’t have to wait long, a hitched breath meeting the first touch of her tongue on the underside of his erection. She tempted him with one long lick before enveloping the head with her lips, tonguing the slit and tasting the drops of his salty pre-come already there.

An ache formed deep in his belly when her hands closed around him, pumping up and down the thick member, a thumb pressing the vein on the underside with every downward stroke. She cupped his balls as her mouth descended on him, sucking him slowly into her mouth, working her way down.

Chris wanted so badly to touch her, to run his hands everywhere while she claimed him, but he was good with following orders. “God, you’re killing me, Lucy, such a pretty and talented mouth you have, fuck, so good around my cock.” He heard and felt her moaning around him, the humming adding to his pleasure, and when she hollowed her cheeks and took him all the way he cursed loudly, body shaking. “Please, please let me touch you gorgeous.”

She let him go with a pop, swirling her tongue around the weeping head, flattening her tongue and dragging over his frenulum, wanton eyes, dark and needy, never leaving him when she nodded and took him back into her mouth, her lips sinking until he could feel the back of her throat, grunting and fighting the urge to thrust up. He ran his hands over her shoulders, gentle fingers cupping her cheek while she engulfed him, her nose pressed to the trimmed hairs of his groin.

His labored breaths were cut by deep moans, pleasure cursing through this body.

“I’m not gonna last, baby.”

His hands now played with her hair, gathering it to a side, holding it atop of her head and finally settling with tangling it all in a ponytail so he could watch what her as she worked to bring him to climax. The need to thrust became unbearable, a scorching heat consuming and overwhelming his senses.

“Let it go, Chris,” she enticed him and he surrendered, plunging against her mouth, marveling at the feeling of her silky tongue working over him when he retreated.

Sheer pleasure consumed him, the ache in his belly spreading all over him and he barely had time to warm her of his impending climax. Lucy paid him no mind, lips tight around his cock while two fingers pressed down on the perineum and he lost it, swelling and coating the inside of her mouth, hands tight on her hair to keep her from moving.

She swallowed and he groaned loudly, curses and moans mixed together while he sang her praises, calling her name over and over. Chris twitched when Lucy licked him clean, letting him go with a final pat to the head of his cock. A smile played on her lips as she gave him a small kiss at the corner of his lips before resting her head on the nook of his neck.

Chris was quiet for a moment before he let out a whistle.

“Damn.”

Her body shook with contained laughter.

“That good, huh?” Lucy drew small patterns on his chest and he rejoiced in the feeling of being so close to her.

“Fuck yes.” He slowly kissed her, his tongue exploring the swollen lips. A small peck to her nose and he released her.

A blissful silence fell over them, his hands combing the long locks as she did the same to his beard. They stayed like that for some time, until Chris spoke again.

“Do you have the number for The New York Times?” He asked with a serious expression.

“What would you need it for?” Lucy side-eyed Chris.

“I want to take out an ad and tell all those fools in New York City how incredibly stupid they are for passing you over. Or I might do a full-page “thank you” for the exact same reason, I’m still undecided.” He twisted them both till she was laying on top of him, taking the opportunity to run his hands over her ribcage, waist and finally resting both hands on her bottom, holding them loosely over her flesh.

“All of this over a good blowjob?” She chuckled and adjusted herself so her pussy hovered over his hardening cock.

He shook his head and poked her on the side.

“Excuse me, but being on the receiving end of said blowjob I think you meant fantastic. Curl your toes and scream yourself hoarse fantastic,” he is delighted when a blush covered not only the face but her breasts as well. He licked his lips and bucked against her, “Yeah, I’m definitely thanking them.”

“Your recovering time is quite a feat, Chris.” Her hips rocked slowly against him and Lucy left a small sigh when her clit rubbed on the veiny member.

He tightened his hold on her buttocks as she danced wantonly over him, dragging herself across the hard member.

“I am… Captain America after all.” A shallow moan followed another thrust and he grabbed the condom next to the pillow, ripping the package and handing it to her.

“Isn’t the poor the guy a virgin though? Did the whole beefcake flavored popsicle thing before he could get the girl?” Lucy scooted back just enough to free him from under her, spreading the wetness she left on his throbbing cock before rolling the latex down.

He bent her down by her shoulders, bracing one arm around her waist while the other holds her close, hands gripping her neck.

“I’m gonna pretend you just didn’t call Cap a virgin beefcake flavored popsicle, alright?” He preened when she giggled and it occurred to him how much time had passed since sex was this poignant and so carefree at the same time. Lucy brought a whole new game to the table; sexy, fun, extremely hot and addictive, just like her.

He ran his nose on the thick vein there, kissing up to her ear, nibbling on the flesh. “Can I fuck you now little rabbit?”

God how he loved how he could make her body flush and shiver with just a few words. Chris' lips covered hers in a scorching kiss, tongues clashing before Lucy righted her body and positioned herself over him.

“I believe,” she hissed as Chris pinched her nipples, “I believe I’m the one doing the fucking now.”

Hungry eyes met as she eased down on him, never breaking eye contact till she is flushed on his lap, throwing her head back with a lustful moan.

“God Chris, I’m so full of you.” She stilled for a moment, getting used to the sensation.

“You’re so tight baby, I can feel every bit of your pussy hugging me.” He moaned breathily when she squeezed him, hands flying to her thighs and rear. “You gonna wreck me just by doing that and then you won’t get to cum.”

“We can’t have that now, can we?” Lucy rolled her hips in a slow movement, keeping most of his cock inside her as she rocked side to side, smiling provocatively at the groans coming from Chris.

Hands sprawled over his large chest as leverage, Lucy impressed a hard pace, pulling all the way up and slamming back down with slow circles that had her eyes rolling to the back of her head, the head of Chris’ cock hitting her g-spot with every downward movement.

Holding the soft flesh on the back of her thighs, Chris met her thrusts with his own, grinding her down on his pelvis. He shifted so his feet were flat against the mattress, starting a pattern of quick and shallow thrusts that made Lucy drop her head to her heaving chest, her hair falling around them like a curtain as her hands clang to his shoulders, fingernails digging into the muscles, moaning and sobbing.

Walls clenching around him, he could sense that she was close, her mouth forming a delicate o shape, eyes closed in ecstasy. Every nerve ending is alive and bursting with energy, all connected to the spot where his cock entered her and she gasped, air heavily leaving her lungs when waves of pleasure crashed into her, chants of his name is like a song to his ears.

“God, Chris!” She screamed his name, dropping to kiss him, her tongue sweeping over his. “Fuck, you make me feel so good.”

Drawing circles up here sides, he held her closer, fingers flexing in her waist.

“Rabbit, we’re barely getting started. On your back.” Chris grunted as he lifted her, her juices making his cock glisten. “Fuck, look at that…”

He touched her slick clit when she settled on her back, making her shudder, aftershocks rocking her body with a strangled moan.

“Fucking gorgeous. Your body was made for me, to love it, to worship it. I’m gonna fuck you so good baby.” He got on his knees, bringing her hips level with his, propping her ass up with a discarded pillow.

“Chris, please. I need you.”

The air is charged with the faint aroma of sex as Chris hovers over her. The caveman inside his brain growled with the need to possess her, make her theirs.

“You need my cock? You need me to pound you and make you forget your own name?” His voice is hoarse with lust, eyes blown. He brought her legs up, resting her feet on his shoulders, his member nested on her folds.  “I can do that rabbit, I’ll fuck you raw, ruin you for anyone else but me. Do you want that?”

He rocks against her, the crown of his shaft sliding over her clit and she keens, a high-pitched sound that snaps something inside him. He enters her roughly, bottoming out on the first thrust, establishing a hard pace. His moans echo around the room when he sees her holding her breasts, pinching her erect nipples.

“I want that, yes, I want you. Fuck me, Chris, yes, yes.” Wanton eyes look over at him and he almost lost it, driving into her with and making the headboard hit the wall in a staccato of thrusts.

One of her legs fell to the side when he let it go and it curled around his knees, keeping his vision unobstructed. Watching his cock disappear inside her is a glorious sight and Chris can barely tear his eyes away to look up, but he was glad he did. Lucy had her arms above her, head thrown to the side, eyes closed and her teeth are dug so hard into her lips he swore she would draw blood at any moment. Her labored breath and moans follow the rhythm of his hips and once in a while she would let a loud wail when he hit that perfect spot inside her.

The goosebumps are back, his brows furrowed and he had to fight to keep his eyes open, the pleasure coursing through him is too much.

“Eyes on me Lucy.” Chris told her in a slow growl and smiled when dark green orbs focus on him. “You’re the most beautiful thing in the world. I can feel you’re close baby, cum for me.”

A thumb is pressed to her clit, rubbing small circles on the hardened nub, propelling her to the end. Lucy gripped the sheets, back bowing from the mattress, calling for him as her body convulsed.

His own release is there, his powerful thighs clenching as his hips still, her name on his lips, a powerful climax washing over him.

Breathing heavily, Chris laid down on top of her, holding himself up in his forearms, searching her face only to find her smiling at him, a lazy grin that made his heart flutter.

“That was…” slender fingers pushed the sweaty hair out of his forehead and Lucy kissed his cheek, lips lingered on the scruff.

“Intense? Incredible? Impeccable? Impressive? Illegal?” Chris would have continued but her clasped hand in front of his mouth stopped him.

“Illegal?” Lucy laughed.

He licked her palm and she yelped, removing it quickly and giving him a dirty look. He grinned.

“I’m sure it is somewhere, you were pretty loud after all.”

He rolled over from her, leaving the bed to deal with the condom.

“And whose fault is that Mister Dirty Talk Extraordinaire?” She called after him.

“You think I’m gonna feel guilty about making you scream my name?” He gave her a skeptical look as he came back with a damp hand towel, running it carefully over her.

“Incorrigible. There’s another one for you.” She stretched and Chris drank on her body. The sight of her naked and pliable in his bed was now ranked top ten in the list of his favorite things.

"Okay, let's play a game." Chris reclined on the headboard with his legs sprawled on the bed, white sheets covering his lower body. Lucy was on her stomach next to him, hands resting on her chin, feet up and crossed at the ankles, her naked form enticing him. His eyes followed the curves of her back, stopping to admire the tattoo that covered most of her right side, back dipping to form her waist before coming back up to the most amazing ass he'd ever seem, and yes, he had seen more than most men. He needed a distraction otherwise he'd pounce on her again. "Two truths, one lie." When she looked at him quizzically, he explained, "We each tell the other two truths about ourselves and make up a lie, a believable one. The other person has to guess what the lie is."

"What do we get if we get the lie right?" she rearranged herself on the bed and he groaned when the movements gave him a better look of her breasts. She caught the look on his eyes and smirked, wagging a finger at him. "Bad Chris, stay down boy. Stopping ogling the girls." She giggled, looking around, finally grabbing a pillow that had been pushed to the edge of the bed and using it as a cover.

"You've turned me into a fiend, it's your own sexy fault." He pouted when the pillow obstructed the view and he drew a breath to try and clear his mind. A sly smile graced his face, he knew exactly what to bet on. "How about this, three rounds. Winner gets to pick and plan a future date, loser can't say no to the date no matter what the plan is.”

Her eyes got big when she understood exactly what that meant. Yeah baby, you’re not escaping so easily from me.

“And I can plan any date I like? Picnic, fly a kite, bungee-jumping?” she licked her lips, wide-eyed with all the possibilities but then hesitated, “Are you even allowed to bungee-jump? I mean, don’t you signed a contract stating you must look pretty and can’t do anything that might break a bone and halt productions?”

Chris threw his head back in laughter, this girl was amazing, so open and earnest, with no agenda, just a gorgeous girl genuinely interested in him.

“Kevin might have a problem with the last one, but sure, whatever you plan.” He admitted, enthralled by the possibilities. A B&B on a vineyard near the coast where they could spend the whole day naked and tangled in each other, only coming out to see the sun setting and to find a small restaurant to eat. A cabin in the woods, lots of pillows scattered around the floor in front of a crackling fireplace. A four-day weekend in Italy, sightseeing near Verona and Genova, drinking wine and holding hands without anyone bothering them. Any of the scenarios had amazing appeal, he just needed to make sure he’d have a chance to make them come to life.

“Fine, let's play,” she grinned. “You’re going skinny dipping at Otsego Lake, just so you know.”

“Is that supposed to scare me? I’d love to go skinny dipping with you.” Chris waggled his eyebrow at her. “Here's an easy one; I played quarterback in high school and we were county champions. My favorite color is blue but sky blue, like on a summer day. I once fooled my brother into peeing his own pants in front of our nanny."

"Leave it to you to describe a color like you’re in the middle of a romcom. That’s one truth." She smiled when he nodded. "Uhm. You're crazy about football and golly, could you ever be so mean? Yikes. But then again, you were banned from the museum…" She tapped her fingers to her mouth. "Nah, you would’ve told me that yesterday, so that’s the lie, no one is that mean."

He made a horn-like sound, shouting "WRONG!"

“What! Oh my god, you’re a terrible person Christopher,” her mouth drops in disbelief. “Your poor, poor brother!”

“I truly was the worst brother ever when it came to pranks.” He had a smirk on his face

“Remind me to never go on a prank war with you, Mr. Evans. And here I am imagining you’re star quarterback, getting all cozy with the head cheerleader and being crowned Prom King.”

“As if. I was the scrawny kid from Drama Class, joined the lacrosse team to kiss up to dad. I was actually dumped at prom!” At her incredulous face, he laughed. “It’s true, we’re at this party and she said I was too immature and deluded if I thought the acting gig would pay off. But I did get ‘Most Likely to Die Doing Something Stupid’.”

“Oh, she must hate herself right about now.” Lucy chuckled. “Have you ever saw her again after that?”

“Not personally, but she works at Lincoln-Sudbury High, Carly has told me she gloats that I took her to prom and never mentions that she left me alone to cry in my neighbor’s front lawn.”

“The cheekiness of the woman! Next time you do an interview, rattle her out, let’s see how she feels about that.”

Chris loved that she feels indignant on his behalf.

“Okay, your turn little lady.”

“Let’s see. I’m ambidextrous, my handwriting looks exactly the same no matter which hand I use.  I was once part of a girl band named The Fantastic Four, no correlation to your movie at all. I’m terrified of clowns to the point of hyperventilating.”

The grin on his face was almost maniacal. “I can’t wait to plan our date.”

She eyed him with distrust. “No way you know it that easily.”

“What, you think I don’t know you usurped the girl band story from Penny?”

Her mouth dropped. “NO! How could you know that?”

“It’s actually pure dumb luck and the fact that I have a great memory.” He confessed. “A bunch of us went to Mayfair at Harvard Square back in May and they had a food truck called The Fantastic Flour. I tried my best to ignore the jokes and steered clear of the place. Penny, on the other hand, insisted it was destiny and told us about her garage band. For some reason, it stuck with me.”

“You’re no fun!” She complained with a smile. “That was my best fake story, I can’t bluff to save my life!”

“You must suck at poker then,” Chris smirked. “Next time we’re playing strip-poker.”

She laughed long and hard before he pounced on her, throwing the pillow she was using to cover herself to the side of the bed and dragging her naked body on top of his, tickling her sides. They tumbled around in the bed, sharing a long kiss and Chris saw the moment her pupils dilated. God, he wanted to have her again, she was an addiction he could freely partake in but now wasn’t the time. No, there are things that need to be discussed, they couldn’t spend these few hours fucking each other, as lovely as that thought was.

“How about we go see if that omelet is still warm enough?” He helped her up from the bed, giving her a terry cloth robe that was way to bigger for her and put it on another one.

“Thank you for coming back home with me last night. I’ve had more fun in the past two days than most of this past year.” He hugged her after tying a loose knot on the robe.

“Thank you for asking me to come back.” She cupped his cheek and stroked his beard. “I really liked spending time with you, Chris. Us meeting was the highlight of a somewhat insipid year.”

A deer in headlights. That was most likely the look he sported now. He knew this conversation was coming, but still, he dreaded it.

“Uhm. About that. We need to talk.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

One cold Spanish Omelet and three cups of coffee later, Chris and Lucy sat on the family room sofa. He lounged lazily on the chase with Lucy laying down across him, her head on his lap. His phone was docked on the side table, Christmas music coming from hidden speakers around the living room, Chris had turned on the lights of his Christmas tree and the twinkling lights played around them.

“Are you sure you’re okay about the whole blind date thing?” Chris inquired, slowly combing her hair, a small gesture he was learning she loved and he enjoyed doing it for her.

“Do I still want to kill Penny? Sure do. I might push her from our dock into the frozen waters of Otsego lake at least once while we’re back home but I know her heart was in the right place. She was right, I wouldn’t have come if she told me.”

“And why not? Was the idea of meeting me that bad?”

“Of course not.” Lucy cradled the hand that rested on her belly but didn’t look up at him. “I have a less than stellar record with men and although these past years have been rather lonely, I welcomed it, it was better than putting myself out there just to get shot down again. I didn’t bother looking and I got rather creative at avoiding my friends meddling in my non-existent love life. They tried to set me up with people before, Terry even asked me if I had changed sides, and the next time we hung out he introduced me to Lauren and hightailed out of there.”

“Oh?” He pulled on her hair, bringing her eyes to his. “So, you and Lauren…”

“Get your mind out of the gutter Christopher, nothing happened. She’s a lovely girl, but I’m not bi. We had a few drinks, plotted to kill Terry and parted ways as good friends. She’s married now, her wife is pregnant. It’s a little boy by the way.” Lucy fetched her phone from the coffee table and opened Instagram, showing him a post about a week old.

“Lauren is the brunette?” She nodded and Chris looked at another picture. “Well damn.”

“You’re imagining it, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, sorry baby, I’m a man after all.” He gave her a very unapologetic grin when she snatched the phone out of his hand. His eyes searched hers and he was serious when he spoke. “I’m sorry you had such terrible experiences with dating before. But I’m glad you decided to come to Boston.”

She smiled radiantly at him.

“Me too.”

They were silent but for Sinatra singing about a white Christmas and Dean Martin crying about letting it snow. Well, he had gotten his wish about half an hour ago, the streets were once again covered in white fluff, thick flocks hitting the large windows panels.

“I have a really important question for you,” Chris said, stopping the slow massage of her scalp.

“Oh… Okay?” Lucy studied his face, looking for a clue of what that question could be.

“Have you seen the ring?” He questioned with a serious expression.

“What? Oh, the ring! No, Garret wouldn’t show it to me! It’s on my travel bag and I’m not even allowed to look at it. He actually used that word.” She huffed.

“Can you believe he wouldn’t show it to me? I’m his best friend, I should at least get a peak before the big day.” Chris trailed off. “Okay, maybe not, but I’m so curious, he wouldn’t tell me anything besides it’s from Tiffany.”

“He asked me about Penny’s preferences, so I’m guessing it might be a gold band with a central round diamond in a solitaire style, but Garret would not confirm even that for me. I know he wants Penny to see it before anyone else but come on, gimme the deets, brah!” They laughed together and Chris ribbed her for her terrible Boston accent.

“Garret’s my best friend. He’s been there for me since my first year of high school, he believed in me when I didn’t.” His forehead creased. “She’ll say yes, right? I mean, you’re her sister, you must know whether Penny might say yes or no.”

“Do I know she’ll say yes?” Lucy lifted his shoulder in a half shrug.  “I mean, I can’t know for sure that a hundred percent Chris, but she’s absolutely and irrevocably in love with Garret since maybe their second date. She called me after he dropped her off and we spent two hours talking, which basically consisted of Penny praising Garret from his eyes to the way he would treat the staff at the restaurant.” Happiness swelled within her when she remembered how excited Penny sounded on the phone. I’m gonna marry him someday babyboo, I just know that. “Do I believe she won’t let him finish the proposal before she starts screaming yes? Absolutely!”

Chris massaged the back of his neck.

“God, you scared me for half a second.” Chris chuckled before continuing. “He was insufferable during the first few months. We’re all over Europe to promote the first Avengers and I asked both him and Guillermo to come with me, so they could keep me company and I wouldn’t be so strung out with anxiety. Garret would get up at 2 am whenever we were so he could call Penny when she got back from work, or she would call him at 5 am her time while we’re pausing for lunch. I told Garret to fly her to Paris so they could meet, impress her with a date on a café near the Eiffel Tower and she said no, that they weren’t at that point in their relationship yet. That’s when I knew Penny would be perfect for Garret, she wasn’t easily impressed by what his money could buy her. He told me once her favorite type of date included coffee and sitting on a park bench watching their dogs play.”

“Dad made a point to always impart on us that you shouldn’t measure a person by their wealth but on how well they treat those who do not share it,” Lucy told him. “It’s so easy to become jaded and lose perspective of how to be a decent human being when you don’t know what it is to struggle to make ends meet.”

“Can I ask you something?” the twinkly lights were playing tricks with her hair, the bright shades of red tangling from Chris' fingers. He paused to rearrange the strands falling over her eyes, carefully tucking it behind her ears. “I don’t want you to think I’m a conceited prick or that my ego needs its own zip code or something but aside from that the various quips about my acting, you never once mentioned me being, well, me.”

“And you wanted me to?” Lucy had a hand softly stroking Dodger’s auburn coat while the pooch lay on the floor next to them, his head rolling back and forth after her hand. Her eyes focused on his, studying him. “Did you want me to fangirl and be all over the great Chris Evans, Actor?”

“No. Must definitely not.” His left hand grabbed hers and brought it to his mouth, lightly kissing her knuckles, drawing in a breath. “It got harder to make friends or date people outside the industry since Captain America. I knew that would happen, but it sucks sometimes you know? I really don’t like dating actress but… it’s easier, less messy if you will.”

“Garret once commented you got really good at smelling fakers.” Lucy sat back up and faced Chris, pulling her legs close to her chest, head resting on her knees.

“Yeah. It’s a skill you need to hone very quickly otherwise you’ll live in a world full of people trying to blow smoke up your ass to get something from you. You see this person you want to interact with, be it a girl you wanna hook up with or this dude who talks beer and artisanal cheese and maybe could be a friend, you know, and you approach them, you wanna get to know them, but the minute they see the actor, Chris disappears and Chris Evans, must take his place. That had been my life up to two nights ago. Then you appear and while you did acknowledge the actor, you brushed past him and went straight to Chris.” He got a hold of her hand before continuing, “We met and didn’t talk much before we were all over each other, and can you really blame me for that? ‘Cuz look at you… But when we did talk, you busted my chops about football, you weren’t afraid to tell me to shut up when I needed to, and I fucking loved that, it’s been a while since a girl called me on my shit.”

She held her right hand over her heart and raised the left one, “I, Lucy Seabrook, hereby promise to always call you on your shit.”

“Always, huh? That sounds awful like you’d want to spend more time with me.”

“I do. I’ve been smitten with you for quite some time Chris.” At his puzzled face, she continued. “Although I’ve never come to visit Penny in Boston, she’s been plenty of times to New York. At first, she’d come with a couple of friends, or we’d get together with my friends and consume a lot of alcohol and enjoy a hell of a good time. And one day instead of a couple of girlfriends, she brought Garret. Just a friend, you know, nothing to see here, she said that shit every other phone call, but I knew better. Anyways, Garret had this friend, Chris. And Chris is the coolest guy on the planet; they went snowboarding, they went to Walt Disney World with his family, they went to Vegas and had a hell of good time… Chris couldn’t be around much, but he was a bro like no other. Garret respects and admires you like a true brother by the way.”

“It’s mutual,” Chris crossed his leg and turned to her, waiting.

“So Chris is a constant on your life even though you never met him; he’s now in the stories your sister tells you as well, he helps at Christopher’s Heaven, donates a good chunk of money to the place. Of course, you’ve seen pictures of everyone, and the guy in the left holding a beer or making a face, that’s Chris, such a fun and down to earth guy, such a great outlook on life. And then one day you’re watching Game of Thrones with your sister and her boyfriend, and hey, isn’t that a tv spot from Winter Soldier? The Captain America guy kinda looks like your friend Chris, Gar and OH.” She shook her head sheepishly. “I fell for you before I met you. Not with the actor, but this great guy named Chris, who happens to act and plays Captain Steve Rogers now and then, who’s friends with my sister and her boyfriend. It does help that he’s crazy good in bed and damn, can make me weak on the knees just by kissing my neck.”

“Crazy good in bed, huh?” Cupping her face, he softly kisses her lips, hands coaxing her body towards him. Opening her legs, Lucy straddles Chris’ lap, her shirt riding up to expose her bottom and Chris moans when she rubs against his cock through the thin lace and cotton barriers.

She giggled then, a beautiful sound that made his warmed his whole body. He needed to make sure this was just the first of many, many dates. Chris leaned closer, lips gently brushing hers. He enveloped her small hands with his large ones.

“I live a hectic life.” His eyes turned serious and he saw a look of worry cross her face. “I can be gone for months at times, sometimes with no break at all. I’m an asshole sometimes, scratch that, most of the time. I’m no prize Lucy, but I really, really wanna see you again.”

A smile tucked at the corner of her lips, freeing one hand and running her index finger along his forehead, smoothing a frown line that he didn’t know he sported.

“You might not believe you are blue ribbon material Chris, but it’s part of my job to judge talents when I encounter them and you, my dear, deserve first place in a lot of categories.” The tips of his ears felt hot at her praise. “I’m hard headed and a workaholic, I spend over eighty hours teaching and training and my brother calls me a mule, that’s how stubborn I am. Having said that, I really, really wanna see you again as well.”

Chris let of a breath he didn’t know he was holding, a big smile on his face, bringing her close for a hug.

“So, I’m blue ribbon material you say?” he moved back to look at her, raising one eyebrow suggestively and tickling her side. “Can I see the judges notes, please? I need to know what my strengths were and where I need to improve.”

“Stop, stop!” her giggles filled the room and he thought they were the cutest thing. “You’re such a polpetto Chris!”

“I’m a polpetto si, a meatball ah?,” his Italian accent sucked, but she laughed harder when he closed his hands in the traditional Italian gesture and shook them exclaiming, “Dio santo!”

She rested her forehead on his naked chest, a hand coming up to trace his clavicle tattoo.

“Is that all the Italian you know, caro mio?”

“Yeah, that’s about it.” Skilled fingers unbuttoned the shirt she wore, parting the sides to unveil her breasts. His palmed the globes, thumbs skimming the quickly hardening nipples. “We used to pester Uncle Mike for curse words, but he always told us vaffanculo, so that’s the only one I know.”

She planted small kisses on his tattoo, the tip of her tongue tracing the words, fingering his pebbled nipples. “Voglio le tue mani su tutto il corpo e la tua testa fra le gambe. Ti piace cozi?”

“I have no idea what you just said but bring it on baby.” Lucy yelped when his strong hands picked her from his lap and laid her back on the couch, opening her legs with his knees to rest his pelvis against her, a hiss escaping her when his covered cock made contact with her mound. “Bring it on.”

__________________________________________

Notes:

Polpetto – meatball

Dio Santo – oh my god. Use lots of hands gesture when using this one!

Caro mio – my dear, my love

Vaffanculo – up your ass, mostly a light version of fuck you.

Voglio le tue mani su tutto il corpo e la tua testa fra le gambe. Ti piace cozi? – I want your hands all over my body and your head between my legs. Would you like that?

______________________________________ TAG LIST:

@patzammit, @holyground1996, @imaginesofdreams

#Chris Evans Fanfic #Chris Evans Fan Fic #Chris Evans Fanfiction #Chris Evans x OFC #Chris Evans #Chris Evans x Curvy OFC #SWDFic

[nautiscarader]

Simone/Julie, afterglow. It's a slippery mess but the night is still young

Nautiscarader’s Smutember

(Prev) (Ao3) (Next>>)

Simone/Julie, Dofus, E

=========================

A small attic room in an inn between Astrub and Bonta was suddenly filled with a harmonising, carnal scream, followed by a soft “thud” as two women fell to their bed, breathing shared air for a long moment, until their lips mashed. Even though Simone was used to intense orgasms, she wasn’t expected for Julie to take initiative this time, and that made her cross her legs around the Ecaflipette’s back even tighter.

Julie cleaned her fogged glasses (she kept them on just because of Simone’s plea) and looked at her radiant, horny girlfriend, whose chest was still moving up and down, inviting her to curl and cuddle against her breasts, much to Simone’s delight.

- Does kitty want some milk…? - she teased her, scratching her ear, getting a mixture of moan and purr in return. - I prefer cream…

And she began placing soft kisses down her belly, until she reached Simone’s lower lips, still twitching and covering the bedsheets with translucent, milky juices. Keeping with her slightly dominant mood, she waited a moment, allowing Simone’s excitement to build up, before she lapped first droplet of her girlfriend’s cum up, generating more moans from her.

- Stay still, or I will have to use claws - she murmured, sucking on her folds, as she pressed her paws against her thighs, which helped the cause a little. - Oh, I’ve been dreaming about this… - Simone moaned, her voice cracking mid-sentence, as she felt another climax already on the horizon.

Julie’s petite nose brushed her clit every now and then, and as if that wasn’t enough, her crafty tail coiled around her and sneaked up between her bum, sliding up and down her ass, sending more sparks every time it met her other hole. But it was Julie’s tongue, fingers and occasionally teeth that drove Simone crazy. Soon, the Osamodas was writhing again, trashing against Ecaflipette’s face, as more of Simone’s juices flow down to continue the vicious cycle.

But Ecaflipette evidently thought she had enough, as she moved up and took her girlfriend in her arms to cuddle up properly, though not before she allowed her to taste herself on her lips, while their arms chain their tired bodies together in a sticky, but warmth embrace.

- Enjoying the night? - I wish all of them would look like this one… - Julie whispered - They will - Simone kissed her again.

They didn’t expect the first day of their journey to end with a passionate love-making. It was only when the innkeeper offered them a room with one bed that the two knew their weeks long abstinence would break under its own weight.

- I wish we could just travel al the time and make love in all the inns around World of Twelve… - Julie spoke dreamily, hugging on Simone’s chest - We gotta have money for that, though, and we’ll find it Bonta - Simone countered. - An hey, then we will have our own nest. - You think we’ll find jobs? - Oh, sure. - Simone snorted - People need maids and hairdressers all the time… - Hmh, I know one person who needs a haircut…

It took Simone a while to understand Julie’s comment, before she dragged her finger across her hairy lower lips, causing her thighs and pointy tail to jolt in panic.

- I thought you liked it? - Just like I like you in a maid outfit…

Simone pressed her head against the pillow they were sharing and was about to fall into a shallow slumber, when Simone’s sudden movement caused her to open eyes.

- Simone? - Well, speaking of *stuff*…

She reached for an ornament, gold-encrusted chest she was carrying with the entire journey. The rest of her baggage was under their bed, but this one, precious box she kept as close to her as possible.

- Look what Luis gave us.

At first, Julie’s eyes widened, concentrating on various golden bits and elements, but then her gaze lay upon a familiar-shaped object hidden well beneath the mountain of treasures.

- Is… is that-! - Yes, it is.

Simone smirked and took the U-shaped double dildo, smirking as the suddenly shy Ecaflipette marvelled at its length.

- Where-? How-? Does Monsieur Crepin know about this? - I don’t think he would know what that was anyway. And besides, it was a present from Luis. - she shrugged. - It’s… it’s not a Shushu, is it?

Julie reached her hand and touched the sleek, rubbery object, and shrieked in panic when it moved under her fingertips, much to Simone’s amusement.

- D-Don’t do that! - Sorry, I couldn’t help.

She leaned and kissed her forehead in apology.

- But you know, there are toys with Shushus in them. Some folks do like this stuff…

Simone wagged her tail in the air, watching as Julie subconsciously moves her paws to catch the arrow-shaped end.

- Do they? But isn’t like… - Yeah, having a threesome. - Simone answered nonchalantly - Ooor… the Shushu can possess one person, and then the fun begins.

Julie grumbled under her breath.

- Nah, I want you, no extras. - she whispered, placing a soft kiss on her shoulder. - Wanna try it? - N-Now?! - Julie sat up - A-And what if they hear us. You know how I react to… to those toys… - Well, they can very well throw us out, we’re paying for one night anyway.

Julie hesitated for a while, and only when she moved her head up, and Simone noticed a frisky gleam in her eye, she knew it was time for a payback.

#simone/Julie #dofus #lemon #nautiscaraderfics

[pareidoliaonthemove]

Whumptober Day 1

So earlier I threatened suggested that I might try participating in the Whumptober (for mental health reasons), and the couldn't think of a single idea for the whole month of September, when I was supposed to be doing at least half of the writing.

Typical.

But, I've finally thought of something, so for fans of the Thunderbirds (this probably best as TOS, rather than TAG, in my head, but hey, it can work for both!) I offer you: whump!

This night have further to go, but I've got to go catch a train, so enjoy!

* * *

No 1. ALL TRUSSED UP AND STILL NOWHERE TO GO

#2 Barbed Wire and #3 Bound

The fabric of the blindfold was soggy against his skin. It felt cold and clammy and gross. The tears that had squeezed from between his shut eyes no longer hot and angry, just cold and soggy and pathetic.

The fabric gag wasn’t much better, soaked through with the drool he couldn’t stop, and rubbing against the skin at the edges of his forced open mouth. The massive knot of fabric forced into his mouth squashing his tongue. It tasted disgusting.

And it was cold. Goose-pimple raising, shivery cold. The men that had pulled him into their car as he walked out of the carpark elevator, following his grandmother and brothers on a rare trip to the city, had taken away his warm jumper – his favourite, with the soft fluffy insides that tickled his arm when his shirt sleeves rode up – and his long-sleeved shirt, and his shoes and socks. He was sat in his almost-too-tight, used-to-be-Scott’s-and-were-wearing-thin jeans and undershirt, shivering in the cold.

Ten-year-old Virgil Tracy had only felt this cold once before, and he was resolutely not thinking about it. Nope, no way. The same way that he was not thinking about how long he had been here.

The way he wasn’t thinking – honest, he wasn’t – that although this was far from the first time a Tracy had been kidnapped in order to elicit a ransom from the newly rich businessman Jefferson Tracy (Entrepreneur, former Astronaut, reluctant Celebrity, Widower, and … Father of Five boys), it was the first time that Virgil had been taken.

And it was the longest time that any of them had been gone.

He also didn’t believe there was any relationship between these two facts. Nope. Not. At. All.

So Virgil did what he always did to avoid thinking about the big scary things. He focused on the little ones. Like the gross blindfold. And the disgusting gag. And the … cold. He would catch a cold, and Grandma would be annoyed … because … because, she wouldn’t be able to go her church meetings, or her bingo, or the hairdressers, or shopping, or … or whatever it was she would rather be doing than looking after a sick grandson.

And the chair was uncomfortable. All right angles and corners and splinters, and one leg was shorter than the others, so the chair rocked and tilted and wiggled.

Which was a problem for Virgil.

Because when his brothers had been taken, especially Scott, the media had made a fuss of the fact that there were things called ‘ligature marks’ – whatever they were – on his brothers; and the men who had taken him had discussed this at length as the car roared through traffic and across bumpy roads, declaring that it was those marks that had ‘got everyone in an uproar’ and that ‘to keep the heat off them once they had the money, there couldn’t be any marks on the kid’.

So they didn’t use rope to tie him into the chair. Which was unfortunate, because all five boys been sent to a special school last holidays, and they had been taught how to avoid being kidnapped – “Don’t walk next to vans with sliding doors, boys” (it was a carpark, how was he supposed to avoid any kind of car?) – and how to escape when tied up.

Virgil could have gotten out of ropes.

But instead, because ‘ropes leave marks’, they had chosen a method of keeping him in place that his ‘personal safety instructor’ hadn’t told him about. They had wrapped him up in barbed wire.

They had been careful doing it, the brand-new, sharp shiny coils of wire were pressed against his skin, but so long as he was very, very still, it didn’t stick into him; and the ends were tightly twitched up together, so it wouldn’t flex and let him get away. It was the good stuff, too, the same brand Grandpa Tracy had insisted he use at the farm, before he had died last year, and was buried near his parents, a little way from Virgil’s Mom.

And there was another reason to be mad: all those happy memories out in the fields with Grandpa, fixing fences, and – best of all – using barbed wire to hold various pieces of farm machinery together until they could limp it back to the barn and a proper fix were now ruined forever; because Virgil would always see reels of ‘the good wire’ and think of this stupid cold room, and this stupid splintery wiggly chair, and this stupid gross blindfold, and this stupid disgustinggag.

And this stupid stabby barbed wire.

Virgil was covered in small bleeding punctures. And had been for a long time. The chair was just too wiggly, and any ten-year-old boy, no matter how much their teachers and other grown ups praised them for being ‘calm’ and ‘well-behaved’ could not sit still for long. It was not in their nature.

So Virgil had decided, if he was going to be stabbed by the barbed wire anyway, he might as well earn them, and had started wiggling within the coils.

Luckily, he was only wrapped in the wire and sat on the chair, not wrapped in the wire with the chair.

First up he managed to free his forearms, myriad scratches and punctures formed as he wiggled, and then twisting his body down, he managed enough reach, earning some more really deep punctures in his arms and chest as he was forced to press his forearms tight to his body, to be able to push the blindfold free of his eyes, and throw it away.

He managed to stand, earning hundreds of bleeding spots on his front as he bent the wire to his new body shape, and managed to twist it around him so that the wire that had been at his front was now at his back.

He could now see where the ends of the wire had been twisted together.

Virgil frowned, considering. He didn’t think they had used pliers to twitch the ends together, so hopefully he would also be able to use his bare hands to untwist the ends.

He swayed where he stood, suddenly feeling very tired and dizzy, but not understanding why. It had been five days sat in the chair, with less food and water than the always ravenous ten-year-old was accustomed to, and the blood oozing from hundreds of scratches and punctures was adding up to significant blood loss.

Somehow he managed not to fall, and grasped the twisted ends of the wire. It was hard going, and his fingertips were bloodied by the time he finished, but he got the twist undone. The ends of the wire were free!

As quickly as he could manage, he unwound the wire coiled from his body wincing as he accidentally pulled various twists the wrong way, tightening the coils and stabbing himself, but eventually he was able to drop the wire and carefully step over it, before collapsing to his knees on the ground, shaking from the effort and cold and nerves.

His stomach spasmed ominously, and he managed to breathe it into stillness, before reaching for the gag. Long minutes passed, but the gag stayed in place. The knot holding it in place was too well tied for him to unpick, and the fabric was too tight, too deep in his mouth for him to push free.

The sooner he found help, the sooner he could get free of the gag.

Virgil took a moment to look around the room where he was for the first time. It reminded him of a small warehouse, or maybe even an emptied workshop. The van was parked a little way over and behind it …

A door.

A big, beautiful roller door, large enough to admit a semi. And next to it …

Electric door controls!

Virgil dashed over to it, stumbling as his legs protested the sudden movement, at one point falling, sprawling on his stomach on the cold, grimy concrete, scraping his hands and forearms further as he tried to catch himself and, then push himself up, all the while scrambling forward.

Finally, he was at the door. And he could reach the controls! Short for his age, Virgil still had to make humiliating using of a step stool for some of the light fixtures at home, not realising that they were deliberately placed high to deter kids accessing areas like the basement, or the attic.

Fingers poised to press the ‘up’ button, Virgil paused, and looked around, more than half expecting to see his captors bearing down on him to prevent an escape. There was no one in sight.

Virgil hit the button.

The electric motor kicked in, a deep grinding sound that indicated – to Virgil’s young but experienced ear – that it was in desperate need of maintenance, slipping and catching its load, and as the steel of the door flexed to retract on the roller, it screeched a high-pitched protest at flexing.

Too loud. Too slow.

Virgil looked around in a panic, and saw a haphazard pile of boxes on the far side of the door, and flung himself into its midst, hiding himself just as the small door on the far side of the room yanked open, and his two captors stormed in.

“What the fuck!” one screamed.

“Little shit’s escaped!” the other bellowed. “Get after him!”

The both tore across the room and flung themselves under the door, just barely a foot and a half from the ground, and disappeared, heavy footsteps crunching frosty grass into the distance.

Virgil waited until he couldn’t hear footsteps before erupting from his hiding place, sprinting to the door controls and slamming the down button.

They were out. He was staying in.

He ran for the door they had entered the room from, hurtling through it, and slamming it shut and jamming another wooden, splintery, straight lines and corners chair under the handle to keep it closed and running down the short corridor to the other door he could see, this one with a flickering ‘exit’ sign above. He dragged a third chair, and using it to stand on, reached the bolt lock at the top of the door and rammed it home, before jamming his chair under the handle to hold the door shut, before twisting the dead bolt lock to shut, and pushing up the toggle to keep set it for key only.

There were six doors leading off the sides of the corridor, three each side. One was marked with the picture sign for ‘bathroom’, next to it was labelled ‘kitchen’. Creeping down the corridor, he carefully checked each room for more exits, pushing the door slightly, and peeping in. Large windows with the shadows of robust security bars, filled the back wall of each room, the blinds mostly closed. Office furniture, dusty and disused filled the spaces.

He was the only one in the building.

Loud swearing sounded at the exit door, and it rattled. Virgil flung himself into a random room and curled up under the desk, hiding as best he could. He barely breathed, not daring to make any kind of noise.

Footsteps crunched the window.

“Fuck!”

“Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck, fuck!”

“How did the little shit get out of the wire?”

“Brat must have been hiding under the van.”

“Fucking hell, one of us should have stayed inside.”

“So fucking close!”

“FUCK!”

This last yell was louder, and angrier than others. Virgil trembled in a way that had nothing to do with the cold.

“What the fuck!?”

“The keys. The FUCKING KEYS!”

“What about the fucking keys?”

“They’re only fucking inside!”

“FUCK!”

The footsteps retreated and the assault on the door restarted. Louder, angrier.

Virgil risked crawling out of his hiding spot. And looked around again. There, on the desk, sat a telephone. He grabbed it and dragged it into his hiding spot. It was an older style phone, with a handset, and voice-only, not like the videophones that almost all business, and most houses now had.

Not scarcely daring to hope, Virgil lifted the handset to his ear. There was a dial tone. Hand trembling again, Virgil reached for the keypad. 9. 1. 1.

The line rang.

“9-1-1, what is your emergency?”

Virgil froze. The gag was still in place, he couldn’t talk.

“9-1-1, what is your emergency?” The voice was female, no-nonsense, and professional.

Virgil couldn’t talk. He couldn’t tell her what his emergency was.

“9-1-1.” The voice was clipped, staring to get annoyed at the lack of response.

Virgil did the only thing he could think of. Pulling the handset away from his useless mouth, he started tapping on the microphone.

Taptaptap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Taptaptap.

“Hello? Is there someone there?” The voice was frowning now.

Taptaptap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Taptaptap.

Taptaptap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Taptaptap.

Taptaptap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Taptaptap.

“I understand. Let’s try one tap for yes, two taps for no. Can you do that?”

Tap.

“Very good. Are you hurt?”’

Tap.

“Okay. Do you know where you are?”

Tap. Tap.

“Okay. I’m going to do a line trace, to find where the phone is that you’re calling from, okay?”

Tap.

“That’s good. It’ll just take a little while to do. Are you alone?”

Virgil considered. Was he alone? That wasn’t a yes or no answer.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

There was a pause. “You don’t know if you’re alone?”

Tap.

A pause. “Are you hiding?”

Tap.

The voice was quieter. “Do you know where the people you are hiding from are?”

Tap. Tap.

A heavy exhale on the line. “Okay. Well, the good news is we now know where you are. And there are police and ambulance on their way to you. We just need you to stay with the phone as long as it is safe for you to do so, okay?”

Tap.

“I need you to listen very carefully, the most important thing is that you stay safe, okay?”

Tap.

“That means, if the people you are hiding from start to come back, and you need to move, you do that, okay? You don’t hesitate, you run, you hide. We know where you are, and people are coming to help you; they’re not going to stop coming because you stop answering me, okay?”

Tap.

“Okay. Now, we need to figure out some information about you. So we’ll play a guessing game, okay?”

Tap.

“Are you a girl?”

Taptap.

A soft chuckle. “A boy, then?”

Tap.

“Are you a grown up?”

He wished. A grown up wouldn’t be in this mess. Tap. Tap.

“Okay. How old are you? Tap out the number.”

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

“Ten? You’re ten years old?”

Tap.

A sucked in breath, and the sound of a rapid typing, like Dad’s secretary, Mrs Amos would do. Her fingers flying across her typewriter keyboard like Mom’s used to on the piano keyboard. Mumbled voices. “Ten-year-old male. Injured. Can’t talk. Hiding. Doesn’t know location.”

A rumbling male voice; no words, just a sound a little like a truck grumbling up the road.

More indistinct voices.

The lady spoke to him again. “Okay. I’m going to make a big guess what your name is, okay? Please don’t get upset if I’m wrong. We’re coming for you, no matter what, okay?”

Tap.

An indrawn breath, like Gordon did before he jumped off the high diving board. “Are you Virgil Tracy?”

Tap.

More mumbled voices. The phone handset was heavy, so Virgil placed it on the ground, with an arm wrapped around it, and his head positioned on his arm so his ear was above the speaker. The gag dug painfully into the side of his face. His other hand was positioned so he could still tap on the microphone.

“Okay, Virgil. I’ve told the police and ambulance who you are. You’re doing so well. They’re nearly there, but the police would like to know some things. Okay?”

Tap.

“Do you know how many people took you? Your family said there were two men? Is that right?”

Tap.

“That’s good. And you haven’t seen or heard anyone else?”

So tired. Tap … Tap.

“Okay, you’re doing great, Virgil. You’re doing such a good job. Did you see the men’s faces?”

Vigil thought for a minute. It was hard to remember. Tap … tap.

“No? Okay. What about their clothes? Did you see their clothes?”

Virgil frowned. He had been scared, and too busy hiding to notice. Tap … Tap.

An exhalation. More mumbled conversation. So, so tired. Somewhere in the distance, the assault on the door continued on, the sound of wood starting to splinter.

“Virgil? Did they take you somewhere and leave you? Did the men let you go?”

If only. They had said they would only let him go of Dad paid a lot of money. They hadn’t let him go, which meant Dad hadn’t paid.

Dad didn’t want him back.

Tap … … Tap.

Indistinct mumbled voices on the phone. Something that sounded like “Oh, God, we’re losing him,” before the lady was talking again.

“Virgil. You said you were hurt. Did the men hurt you?”

Did they hurt him? They hadn’t hit him, or cut him, or tied him with ropes to get … to get ‘ligature marks’. He had … hadn’t … been able to sit still and caused all the cuts with the barbed wire they had wrapped him up in. Was it hisfault?

He must have taken too long trying to figure out the answer, because they lady tried again. “Okay, Virgil, never mind that. Are you bleeding, Virgil?”

He lifted his head a little and considered his body. He was sticky with oozing red warmth. He lay his head back down.

Tap.

But it was warm, and warm was good.

Off in the distance sirens wailed.

With a resounding crash that had the 9-1-1 lady yelp, “Virgil, what was that?” the exit door burst open, its remains shattering against the wall and the splintery chair disintegrating in his minds eye.

Virgil blinked his eyes open, wondering when they had closed. He was so tired, and couldn’t muster the energy to care, let alone move, as the door slammed open, and the phone fell silent. There was a metallic scrape as something was lifted off the desk, and heavy footsteps rushed away.

Virgil and the phone handset listened as there was another crash of splintery wood as another chair was hurled away and then, an engine started up, echoing loud in the empty room.

There was the grumble grinding of the electric motor slipping and catching its load and the screech of the roller door, as sirens wailed to a stop amid the sound of skidding gravel.

The phone yelling, “Virgil, are you there? Can you hear me, Virgil?” was lost amidst the bellows of “Police! Freeze!” and “FBI! Stay where you are!”

More footsteps thundered down the corridor as with more authoritative yelled declarations of “Police!” and “FBI!” the room Virgil had been tied up in was invaded from the other entrance.

Virgil gave in to his tiredness just as grim-faced police officers snapped cuffs around his captors wrists, perfunctorily informed them of their rights, and started leading them away to police cars, and the snapping camera flashs of alert journalists who had been determinedly chasing the FBI for the last five days, determined to cash in on the moment when the kidnapped ‘Tracy kid’ was rescued.

#whumptober2021 #no.1 #barbed wire #bound #fanfiction #thunderbirds #trigger warning: blood #trigger warning: kidnapping

[fullbattleregalia]

(The Android 20 Universe continues with Part 4!  And, er, I’m tagging @chestnutisland and @deadlybeautydbz since you’re both interested in this story.  Yay!)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

For the first time since leaving Gero’s lab, gray clouds were beginning to pile up and hang low in the sky.  18 stared up at the clouds.  She had joined 20, perching on the backseats next to him when 17 had whined his way back into the driver’s seat two hours earlier.  The wind riffled through her hair.  The air was soft and cool against her face with the promise of rain.  No wonder 20 seemed to be enjoying sitting back here so much.

18 glanced over at 20.  The lines of tension leftover from last night’s fuel station incident had finally smoothed away completely from around his eyes.  His chin was tilted up slightly, and a small, contented smile was pulling up the corners of his mouth.  18 looked away again.  Her cheeks felt ever so slightly warmer than usual.  It was probably just windburn – nothing important.  It didn’t occur to her that, with Gero’s modifications, windburn was likely something she would never experience.  She shifted through her memories to try and see if she could remember ever actually experiencing rain.  On the radio someone was playing a truly spectacular rift on the electric guitar.

Just as 18 was coming to the conclusion that she had no memories of what rain felt like against skin but one of a storm so violent that she had been able to hear the rain rattling against Gero’s thick metal doors, the entire car jerked to the right.  Only their superhuman reflexes kept 18 and 20 from being flung out onto the highway as the car skidded across three lanes of traffic and down an exit ramp.

“What the hell, 17?!” 20 yelped, clinging so hard to the side of the car that he was in danger of leaving a dent.  Behind them on the highway, tires screeched, horns blared, and drivers swore.

“We are going to the aquarium,” 17 announced cheerfully.

“What?!” demanded 18 and 20 in unison.

“There was a billboard back there for an aquarium, and they have a petting tank.  I want to pat a stingray.  It said something about being able to pat jellyfish, too.”

“I thought jellyfish were poisonous,” 20 put in hesitantly.  It sounded more like a question than a statement.

“Yeah,” 17 grinned.  “It sounds like a challenge!”

“Huh.  Okay. Sure, why not,” 20 nodded.

18 considered the prospect of fish.  Bright, colorful fish.  Something old and forgotten and buried beneath programming and trauma stirred and brightened at the idea.

“Okay,” she agreed as well.

“Good,” 17’s grin widened, “because you two didn’t actually have a choice.”

20 laughed, and 18 rolled her eyes at her brother’s antics, but she wasn’t actually annoyed.  With every mile farther that they drove in the lime green convertible, the pressing need to find Son Goku seemed to wane further and further.  It was a good game, a good excuse, but 18 was starting to wonder if she just might be happy if they never quite made it to Mt. Paozu.

 The aquarium was a massive building with wide, dimly lit corridors. Most of the bright light came from the floor to ceiling glass tanks embedded in the walls where schools of exotic fish darted around reconstructed segments of coral reef and rainforest tree roots.  17 dragged them past all these without pause, following the signs to the petting tank area.

Even their first visit to the restaurant with the moo shu pork hadn’t prepared 18 for this many people.  The petting tank room was large, brightly lit, and packed.  Excited, babbling young voices practically drowned out 18’s own thoughts, and she was tempted to clamp her hands over her ears.

17 elbowed his way to the front of the crowd without care for subtlety or politeness, rolled up his sleeves, and stuck his hands in the water of the shallow, sandy-bottomed tank to touch the first thing he could reach – a horseshoe crab. His face brightened with almost childlike delight.  

20 peered at the side of the tank where tank a small ray about eight inches across was pressing its belly to the glass.

“It looks like it’s smiling.”  20 gently touched his fingers to the clear barrier.

“Be very gentle.”  A cheetah woman wearing an aquarium employee shirt was showing 17 how to touch one of the little rays.  “Just let your fingers skim over its back.  Any harder and you might hurt or stress the animal.”

18 rolled up her sleeves and plunged her hands into the cool saltwater as well.  She let her fingers trace over the back of a ray as it swam serenely past.  Rubbery sandpaper with sharp ridges of spine. Next to her, 20 had his red wrist bracers tucked under one arm and was laughing at the texture of the starfish under his hand.  18 looked from her brother’s delighted expression – possibly the most relaxed and happy she had even seen him – to 20’s massive grin as he helped a freckled little girl to pat the starfish as well.  Then 18 reached out to touch the hard, smooth shell of a horseshoe crab. This had definitely been a good idea.

The jellyfish were in a separate tank and turned out to be moon jellies and nonvenomous to humans – much to 17’s disappointment.  You didn’t so much pat them as hold your hand in the water and allow the jellyfish’s translucent white doom to bump softly into your fingers. 18 found the moon jellyfish peaceful and soothing despite the cacophony of children going on around them.

“We’re going to the jellyfish exhibit next,” announced 18 when they finally left the petting tank room.

17 blinked at her.

“But sharks.”  He pointed down a different hall.

“We have all day.  Sharks later – jellyfish now.”  18 caught 17 by the wrist and 20 by the hand and started towing them in the direction of the jellyfish exhibit.

“And then the coral reef fish,” 20 added.  His cheeks were tinted the slightest bit pink.  

“Coral reef fish and more prawn crackers,” 17 agreed.

“Haven’t you had enough of those?”

“You can never have enough prawn crackers.”

Hours swirled by in colorful splashes and sparkles of chaotic, breathtaking life.  There was a massive oval tank that you could walk down the center of like you were swimming with the fish themselves, and on the level below that sharks drifted by with graceful menace.  Jellyfish trailed tentacles like ribbon and lace streamers beneath ruffled skirts, and silver hatchet fish flashed along the bottom of a fake rainforest riverbed.

They had been at the aquarium for almost four hours when 18 caught sight of her reflection in the glass of a dark, underwater shipwreck display.  She hadn’t thought much about her appearance in a long time, because until now it hadn’t been hers.  The image in the glass was shadowy and a little fuzzy.  The low lighting caught her face oddly and made half her hair look shorter than it actually was.  In her earliest memories, 18’s hair was long, falling past her shoulder blades.  Then between one awakening from stasis and then next her hair had been clipped to above shoulder length to match 17’s.  18 considered her distorted reflection.  She looked… good with short hair.  Less like Gero’s doll in a box.  She wasn’t in a box anymore.  If she wanted to cut her hair so it didn’t match her brother’s, she could. It was a surprisingly liberating thought.

20’s reflection joined hers in the darkened glass.  The strange cast of shadows made his face look solemn.  It didn’t suit him.  She looked away from the glass and down at 20.  He gave her a smile.  She gave him a small smile in return.  

“I’m getting a haircut,” 18 told him just so that she could hear the words out loud.

20’s eyebrows furrowed together slightly,

“I don’t think that’s something you can do at the aquarium.”

18 snorted and then, after a moment’s hesitation, reached out and bumped 20 lightly in the shoulder with her fist like she had seen him do to 17.

“I meant after we leave the aquarium.”

“In that case,” said 17, leaning in and startling them both, “I want a hat.”

“A hat?” asked 20 skeptically.

“Yup.  A hat. It saw a sign that says souvenirs, and I want a souvenir, and that souvenir is going to be a hat.”

17 could not be talked out of buying a hat, though thankfully 18 did manage to convince him to buy the baseball cap with the stylized shark rather than the stupidly grinning purple fish.  Somewhere in the melee of the gift shop, 17 acquired another wallet since their current one was almost out of zenni.

 18 stared at her reflection in the mirror as the hairdresser removed the drape from around her shoulders.  A ‘pixie cut,’ the hairdresser had called it.  18 didn’t think much of the name, but she did like how it looked on her. She ran her hands through her hair, enjoying the sudden feel of air on her fingers so much sooner than expected. Her head felt lighter.

“Huh.”  17 was peering around the corner at her.  Apparently he’d acquired a new bag of prawn crackers while he’d been waiting.  “Now you and 20 match.”

“We do not,” 18 scowled, crossing her arms.

“Yeah,” agreed 20, leaning around 17, “hers is way longer and doesn’t stick up in the front.  You look really nice, 18.”

“Thank you, 20.  And for that comment, 17, I’m driving next.”

“Awww,” 17 pouted, but she ignored him.

18 glanced at her image in the mirror one more time before turning to go. The different hairstyle made her look a touch older, and for some reason, her eyes seemed a little brighter. There was a light to them that she didn’t remember seeing before.

She headed for the door.

 Around dawn the next morning 18 finally relented and let 17 have the steering wheel back.  They were getting steadily closer to Mt. Paozu.  Even on the meandering backroads 17 had taken them back onto, they should be there by tomorrow.  18 had stopped trying to direct 17 using their map.  She wasn’t reluctant to find Son Goku but- but-

Well, whatever the reason, she was content to just let 17 take them in more or less the right direction.

20 was flipping through radio stations, pausing on one for barely a few seconds before switching to the next.  17 finally caught 20’s wrist before he could press the button again.

“Yeah, no.  That is both annoying and distracting.”

“You’re hardly one to talk,” 20 shot back good-naturedly.  17 made a ‘this is true’ face.  “Besides,” 20 commented off-handedly, “I’m supposed to be distracting.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked 18, twisting to look at him from the passenger seat.

“Hm?  Oh, it was just something Gero said once,” 20 shrugged.

For some reason, that comment left a bad taste in 18’s mouth.

#i totally didn't steal a real life aquarium - definitely not at all #android 20 universe #android 18 #android 17 #krillin #k18 #fanfiction #dbz #agentmalkere #17 and i had a fight about that hat #guess who won #it wasn't me

[nikonize]

TUIY CH 7

Finally, chapter 7 is out.  Thanks to those people that have stuck around and are still interested in reading...whatever this nonsense is.  Read it below the cut or on AO3: https://goo.gl/AFupGx

Marinette nuzzled into her pillow, enjoying the warmth of her soft blankets with eyes shut tight against the sunlight that filtered down from the trap door above her.  She frowned as her alarm went off, and she slowly reached up to set her phone to snooze.  She could afford to sleep for another five minutes.  In fact, she’d done so well this weekend that she deserved to sleep for another five minutes.

The soft buzzing of her phone on the shelf disagreed with her, insisting quietly that she open her eyes and greet the day.  Marinette, having stayed up long past her bedtime, didn’t want to face the day quite yet.  Still, someone had to stop that buzzing, so she snatched her phone from above her to turn the ringer to silent.

As she fumbled with the buttons, her phone continued to buzz insistently.  Marinette finally gave in, cracking her eyes open reluctantly and giving the screen a disdainful glare.  When she saw the notification on the screen, alerting her to the fact that she had 26 unread messages from one Adrien Agreste, her eyes widened and her heart began to race.  Her excitement lasted only as long as it took her to glance at the time and realize that she had less than seven minutes to get to class.

Marinette shot out of bed, heart pounding as dashed down the stairs to the main area of her room and got dressed in a whirlwind of black and pink.  The last time she’d been late, Mme. Mendeleiev threatened to give her a detention should she be tardy again, and Marinette knew full well that she’d make good on her word if given the chance.  She had to make it in time.

Four minutes.

She grabbed her purse and school bag, calling for Tikki as she snatched her phone off her desk, where she’d haphazardly thrown it before changing, and lifted the trap door.  The kwami zoomed out of the kitchen as she hurtled down the stairs, face covered in cookie crumbs.

“Tikki!  Why didn’t you wake me?”

Tikki looked offended, crossing her small arms across her chest.  “I did, and you said you were getting up—not that I should’ve believed that—and that you really meant it because you wanted to see Adrien.”

“Adrien!” Marinette gasped, reminded of the yet-unread messages on her phone and suddenly desperate to pull it out and find out why he’d texted her so many times.  She slid the device out of her purse, her fingers absolutely itching to unlock it and see what he’d written, when she noticed the time.

Three minutes.

“Gaaaah!”  Marinette tossed her phone back in her bag, barely leaving it open long enough for Tikki to slip inside, and dashed for the door.  She shoved her feet into her boots as she grabbed her coat, throwing the door open and running out without bothering to put it on.  There was no time, so hopefully the sprinting she was about to do would warm her body enough in the cold March morning to keep her from freezing to death.  Although, if she did freeze, at least Mme. Mendeleiev couldn’t give her detention.

The girl leapt down the stairs, nearly losing her balance halfway and tumbling down to the ground floor.  She sped out the side door, forgoing the bakery in the interest of avoiding a time-consuming goodbye with her parents, and stretched her legs as much as she could while sprinting towards the school.

Thank goodness she lived so close, or she’d be considered a delinquent by now for the sheer number of tardiness-induced detentions she’d have received.

With less than a minute to spare, a shivering Marinette bolted up the stairs in a mad dash for her classroom.  Completely winded, she lunged for the door and yanked it open, dragging herself inside as her classmates gaped at her.  She rounded the corner of Adrien and Nino’s desk, her momentum nearly causing her to slide into Chloe as she made the turn, before she regained her footing and leapt up the last stair, launching herself into her seat—and halfway into Alya’s lap—just as the final bell rang.

Victorious, she scooted off of her best friend with a breathy apology and flopped down onto her desk.  As Marinette fought to catch her breath, she could feel the eyes of her silent classmates focused on her like lasers.  Marinette’s gasping was the only sound in the room until someone towards the back started applauding.

The winded girl began turning red as the applause grew louder.  Apparently she had impressed everyone with her dramatic last-second arrival and determination to be on time.  Fantastic.

“Woo-hoo!  Take a bow, Mari!” Alix called from across the aisle.  Someone—her money was on Kim—whistled loudly behind her as the rest of her classmates clapped politely.

An embarrassed Marinette waved them off before burying her head in her arms with a sigh, relief flowing through her when the teacher called for attention and started the lesson, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

Great way to start the morning, girl, she chided herself.  You wanted to impress Adrien, right?  This was definitely not the way to do that.

Maybe he didn’t notice? Optimism suggested from the corner.  The other parts of Marinette’s mind turned to stare at her.

Sure, it’s not like she burst into the room all red-faced and gasping with limbs akimbo before practically tripping up the stairs and catapulting herself into her best friend’s lap.  Sarcasm tapped her chin as though thinking for a moment.  Oh wait, that’s exactly what happened.

Guys, be quiet, I need to think, Marinette begged.  For a moment she considered that talking to named personalities in her head probably wasn’t normal, but decided that it was a problem for another time.

Taking a deep breath, Marinette tried to clear her mind.  The last thing she needed after earning a scalding glare from the teacher for nearly being tardy was to be called out for not paying attention in class.  Slowly, she leaned down and grabbed her tablet out of her bag, setting it on the desk in front of her and opening her notes.  Her hand started moving on autopilot, jotting down whatever it was Mme. Mendeleiev was saying.  Marinette swore that if you asked her what the lecture was about she’d have no idea, but at least it looked like she was paying attention.

The rest of the lecture went much the same way.  She’d drift off for a moment, imaginary personalities arguing back and forth in her mind—she should really get that checked out—before making a conscious effort to zone back in and pay attention to the lesson.  Granted, if there was a pop quiz there was no way she would pass, but, considering the situation, Marinette felt that she was making a decent effort.

Finally, class was released for a brief break before the next period.  Marinette sighed in relief as she put her stylus down and shut off her tablet.  She was just turning towards Alya to say a proper good morning, when she was interrupted by the bespectacled girl herself.

“Girl, you are a hot mess this morning.  How bad did you oversleep this time?”

A startled Marinette, fully aware of Nino and Adrien’s eyes suddenly focused on her, could only manage a subdued, “Huh?”

Alya tsked in her motherly way.  “Your buttons are done up wrong and your hair is a wreck.  Poor dear, let Mama help you.”

Now extremely embarrassed and still at a loss, Marinette found herself acting as Alya’s puppet, bending to the girl’s whims as she turned and positioned her so that she could discretely redo the buttons on her shirt.  Marinette watched in silence, still not quite awake enough to function, when she was again startled, this time by hands settling gently on her shoulders.

“Hold still, please,” Adrien requested from behind her, and Marinette froze, though more from his proximity than his polite instruction. A moment later, she felt fingers gingerly working their way through a clump of tangled hair.

Adrien delicately untangled the thick, dark strands, amazed at their softness.  Once he’d gotten the worst of the knots out of one pigtail, he carefully undid the ever-present hair tie, sliding it onto his wrist for the time being.  He ran his fingers through the length of her freed hair, smoothing out flyaways and smaller lumps.  Finding himself becoming hypnotized by the soothing repetition, he shook himself out of his stupor and hurried to repeat the process on the other side of the girl’s head.

Meanwhile, Marinette was in heaven under Adrien’s diligent hands.  She’d always liked having her hair played with, though usually it was her mom or Alya doing the playing, and the added stimulation of having her crush so close to her was causing an intense reaction.  Her neck was tingly and she felt as though a round of fireworks was going off in her stomach with every gentle tug of Adrien’s hands through her hair.  She held her breath for a moment, making a silent wish that the experience would never end.

When Alya had finished fixing Marinette’s buttons, she climbed over the bench and came around to Adrien’s side to check out his work.  Marinette detected a hint of surprise in her voice as she commended, “Nice job, Agreste.”

“Thanks!”  Adrien beamed as his hands continued to work deftly with his subject’s hair.  “I love doing hair, actually.  Sometimes, if we have a break on set, I’ll get one of the hairdressers to show me new styles.  It’s really cool…”  Adrien’s voice trailed off as he noticed Nino and Alya’s eyes boring into him.  His cheeks started to redden as he realized that maybe what he was saying was weird or lame to his friends.  “Uh—”

Nino clapped him on the shoulder.  “Dude, that’s rad.  You’re really good at it, too.”

Alya nodded in agreement as Adrien twisted the hair elastic around one more time, releasing it with a soft snap.  He smiled as she pulled her phone out and took a picture of the back of Marinette’s head, passing it around to the girl so she could see what he’d done.

Marinette gripped the device excitedly, letting out a soft gasp as she took in the image.  Adrien had braided pieces of hair on either side of her head and connected them in the back like a crown, then used the rest of her hair to create a bun beneath it.  It was a simple style, but because Marinette had had no idea that Adrien knew anything about doing hair, she found it striking.

“Do you like it?” Adrien piped up hesitantly from behind her.

Marinette turned slightly, looking back over her shoulder at him with a wide grin.  “I love it!”

The bell rang, interrupting any further conversation, and Adrien and Nino made their way back down to their seats as the teacher entered the classroom and began setting up at the front.  While she was still distracted with her roll book, Alya leaned forward and tapped Adrien on the shoulder, whispering, “You’re doing my hair during lunch.”

Adrien nodded silently with a small smile, and Alya sat back in her seat, satisfied.  She quickly tore a scrap of paper out of her notebook and scribbled a note to Mari, asking if they could all have lunch at her place.  She folded it up and flicked it across the desk to her seat mate, tapping her fingers on the desk as she watched the girl discretely unfold it under the desk and read it.  With a glance at the teacher, Marinette reached into her backpack to grab her phone and send a quick text.  After a moment, she smiled slightly at her phone and sent Alya a  quick thumbs up before picking up her stylus to take notes.

Alya felt a sly grin spread over her face as she began taking her own notes.  Her plan to get Adrien and Marinette to become better friends had progressed even better than expected, judging by how comfortable they’d been around each other just moments before.  She looked forward to how a group lunch in close quarters at Marinette’s house would play out.

When the bell for lunch finally rang, Alya shot out of her seat, scooping her things into her bag with careless grace before grabbing Marinette by the hand and tugging her towards the door.  As they made their way out of the room, she tossed over her shoulder, “Come on, slowpokes!  Mari’s mom made us food.”

Adrien felt his mouth begin to water at the mere mention of Sabine’s cooking.  At this rate, his diet was going to be completely spoiled and his father would be getting onto his case about watching his figure.  However, the boy found he cared less and less about what his father thought as he discovered more important things.  Things like delicious food prepared by a loving mother who seemed practically willing to adopt him at a moments notice.

Ever since he’d started hanging out with Marinette more he’d been living the good life, and he couldn’t get enough of being around her and her parents.  He really owed her a thank you, and began wondering if there was some sort of gift he could buy her to show his appreciation.  As he and Nino trailed behind the girls on their way to the Dupain-Cheng’s, he nudged his friend with his elbow.

“Hmm?” Nino hummed without looking up from his phone.

“What kind of present do you give someone when you really like them and their family and want to stay with them forever?”

Nino raised an amused eyebrow.  “Uh, a wedding ring?”

“Nino!”

Alya whipped around at Adrien’s affronted cry, crossing her arms under her breasts as she cocked a hip.  “What exactly is going on back there?”

“Nothing,” the boys chorused in unison, Nino wearing a face of extreme amusement as Adrien looked significantly more embarrassed.  When he caught Marinette’s concerned eyes with his, he felt his cheeks begin to burn.

Alya’s grin widened.  “That sure doesn’t look like nothing.  Were you checking out Mari’s cute little behind or something?”

As Marinette began to turn pink, Adrien sputtered, “No!”  Turning even redder, he was sure, he unstuck his feet from where they’d seemingly become glued to the ground and made a beeline for the bakery’s front door.  As his friends followed behind him, he ignored the chuckling and whispers coming from Nino and Alya in an attempt to quell his blushing cheeks.

Finally reaching the bakery, Adrien swung the door open and stepped inside, inhaling the scent of fresh bread before letting out a sigh of longing.  He wondered what it must be like to get to work in a place that smelt so amazing every day.  With another deep sniff, Adrien decided his future goal was to live somewhere that always smelt like his favorite bakery.

Maybe Nino’s not too far off with that wedding ring thinking, Devil suggested nonchalantly.

Adrien blushed to himself, but had to admit that the idea was somewhat enticing.  For only having gotten to know Marinette well over the last 72 hours, he was in deep.

“Hello!” Sabine called as she appeared from behind one of the display cases, her diminutive frame having been hidden while she placed new pastries on the shelf.  “Welcome, kids.  Lunch is waiting for you upstairs.”

The teens chorused their thanks as they made their way to the back of the bakery and through the door to the stairs.  They climbed in silence, hurrying up the steps with grumbling tummies towards the main living area.  Upon entering, they removed their winter clothes and hung them nicely before scurrying towards the kitchen to find their lunch.

“Hello, hello!” Tom greeted them with a large smile, waving them in.  “Sit down, kids, make yourselves at home.”

With a chorused, “Thanks!” they did just that, Alya and Nino settling in next to each other on one side of the table and leaving Marinette and Adrien to sit together opposite them.  Tom quickly grabbed some plates of what appeared to be some sort of fish from the counter and set one in front of each teen, also placing a large bowl of salad in the center of the table.  He bustled away, returning with a plate of sliced bread, fresh from the oven, and a small variety of spreads.  Upon depositing these on the table as well, he wished them a merry lunch and hurried back down the stairs to return to work.

The kids dug in immediately, and Nino and Adrien moaned over the rare treat that was eating Dupain-Cheng cooking.  With his mouth full, Nino commented, “You’re so lucky you live here, Mari.”

Adrien nodded in agreement.  Sure, his in-home professional chef was a master of his trade, but there was just something about the love and care that Tom and Sabine put into their food that made it taste a thousand times better.  Plus, they never restricted him from eating as much as he wanted.

Once they’d polished off the spread they’d been presented, Marinette suggested the group move to her room for the rest of the lunch hour.  After attempting to wash their dishes and being waved off by a Sabine who had appeared out of nowhere, they grabbed their bags and followed Marinette up the stairs to her room.  Alya immediately claimed the chaise, flopping onto it spread-eagled.  Nino sidled up next to her, convincing her to share with a couple of kisses, and Marinette moved to her desk chair.  Adrien, not sure what to do with himself, perched on the edge of the trunk Marinette kept all her blankets in.

Alya crinkled her nose at him with a thoughtful pout.  “Mari, you’ve really got to get more seating.  Poor Adrien is stuck in the corner all by himself.”

“No, no, it’s fine!” Adrien dismissed, waving his hands carelessly.  He didn’t mind sitting off to the side; he was completely satisfied just being able to hang out with his friends at all.  Granted, he was a bit jealous of how cozy Alya and Nino looked all snuggled up on the chaise.  Unconsciously, his eyes darted over to Marinette, widening in surprise when he noticed her peeking over at him with a thoughtful look on her face before her gaze drifted back over to the lovebirds.

Was she…?  Adrien looked away, unwilling to allow himself the satisfaction of finishing the question for the sake of getting ahead of himself.  Calm down, boy, just because you accidentally cuddled once or twice and definitely want a repeat performance doesn’t mean she does.  Even as he thought that, he was unable to keep his eyes from wandering back towards Marinette.

Marinette smiled softly at the couple cuddled up on her lounger.  Nino and Alya had been a long time coming, and they really did make the sweetest couple.  Without thinking, the girl let her stare trail dreamily back towards the blonde seated at the edge of the room, barely managing to stifle a surprised squeak as she encountered his emerald gaze trained on her face, the unreadable question in his eyes causing a slight furrow in his brow.

How was it fair that he was so adorable even deep in thought?

With a hopefully invisible blush stinging her cheeks, Marinette turned back to the instigator of their lunch hour get-together.  “So, Alya, what should we do now?”

The bespectacled girl straightened slightly in her seat, her back resting against Nino’s chest as he cradled her from behind.  Mindlessly drawing circles over the arms that were wrapped around her waist, she pursed her lips in thought.  As she glanced around the room for inspiration, her eyes settled on the apple-shaped pincushion on Marinette’s desk and an idea sparked in her brain.  She had wanted to see how they interacted in close quarters, and this game was going to give her exactly what she desired, plus the chance to embarrass the life out of her friends.

Alya grinned slyly, gaze sliding over to rest on Marinette’s cautious expression.  Not bothering to hide the satisfaction in her voice, she asked, “Mari, do you have any oranges downstairs?”

Marinette raised an eyebrow, not sure where this was going but certain that her bestie had something devious in mind.  “I think Papa bought some the other day for some new tarts he was experimenting with.  I can go check, I guess.”

With a sharp nod, Alya sent her off down the stairs in search of the fruit.  Turning her attention to the boys in the room, she unwrapped herself from Nino’s embrace and stood from the lounger, gesturing for them to do the same.  As they joined her in the center of the room, Marinette made her reappearance, orange clutched in one small hand.

With a shrug, she passed the citrus to the group’s resident schemer, figuring that whatever Alya had in mind surely couldn’t be worse than the game of truth-or-dare from the other night’s sleepover.

“Alright, kids, who’s ready for today’s game?”  Alya didn’t wait for a reply before charging onward.  “Today’s entertainment will come in the form of a delightful pastime called ‘Pass the Orange.’”

Nino suppressed a grin as he recognized the name, catching on to what his partner in crime had in mind.  Oh, she’s devious, he thought fondly.  I sure know how to pick ‘em.

Meanwhile, Alya continued her explanation in the game upon receiving blank stares from the majority of the group.  “The game is simple.  We’ll form a circle, and everyone has to pass the orange around it.”  If anything, Marinette’s already suspicious gaze only grew darker from the seeming simplicity of the game.  Alya smirked; her best friend knew her too well.

“Of course,” she added after a slight pause.  “It would be too easy without any other rules, so the trick is that you aren’t allowed to use your hands.”  Nervous realization was now dawning on Marinette’s face, but Adrien still looked confused, so Alya decided an example was necessary.  Grabbing her boyfriend by the wrist, she stated, “Allow us to demonstrate.”

Carefully placing the orange under her chin, the girl stood on her tip-toes, thrusting her chest out and angling her neck to present the fruit to her boyfriend.  Nino, ever the willing assistant, winked at Adrien and Marinette before sliding his body alongside his partner’s and leaning in to clench the orange between his own chin and chest.  Once the citrus was secured, Alya gently detached herself from it and settled back on her heels, waving at her helper with a flourish.  “And that’s how it’s done!”

Marinette’s heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest after seeing how close the pair had gotten during their demonstration, and she tried to rationalize with herself.  It won’t be that bad, it’s just some harmless fun.  It’s not like there’s a punishment like with some of Alya’s other games.

“Oh, and let’s not forget to discuss the consequences of dropping the orange.”  The bespectacled girl shot the group one of her signature winks.

Marinette cursed internally.  Is she a mind-reader or something?

“Should you be so careless as to drop the package—”  Here, everyone unconsciously glanced at their notoriously clumsy friend as Marinette looked down at her feet, nibbling on her lip anxiously.  “—I will require that you perform a dare that the person to your left will choose.”

Instinctively, Marinette glanced to her left, reassured at the sight of Adrien’s lanky form filling the space rather than her best friend’s curvaceous one.  Lord knows the last thing she needed was for Alya to have a direct line of attack for when she inevitably dropped the orange.  Adrien was too sweet to do anything too embarrassing to her, and she sighed quietly in relief.  Granted, Alya was on Adrien’s left, so the potential for utter embarrassment did exist, but the boy was much more coordinated than she was, which laid the majority of her fears to rest.

“Is everyone ready?” Alya asked as Nino returned the orange to her extended hand.  Upon receiving hesitant nods, she placed the orange under her chin and turned to Adrien.  “Let’s get this party started then, sunshine.”

Adrien leaned down, gingerly closing the gap between himself and the slyly grinning girl.  His chin nudged the orange gently as he sought the proper angle, and when he’d finally found purchase, he told Alya he had it.

He did not have it.

It all seemed to happen in slow motion.  As Alya’s chin moved away from his, the orange rolled over his collar bone, slipping to the floor where it landed with a small bounce.  He gaped at the orange globe as it rolled to a stop on the carpet, shocked that he’d managed to mess things up so quickly.  With a thick swallow, he turned back towards the girl on his left, awaiting his required punishment.

Alya looked him over with narrowed eyes, seemingly debating what to do with him.  Finally, with a small sigh, she said, “I’ll let you off easy, since it was the first turn.”  Her lips twitched into a small grin.  “I’ve wanted to see this for a while, since the physical resemblance is undeniable.  Adrien, I dare you to do your best Chat Noir impression.”

Adrien’s heart stilled for a beat and he struggled to keep his face passive.  He could do this.  No one said it had to be a convincing impression, right?  He’d just do a bad job, and no one would be the wiser about his secret identity.

“Okay, sure,” he replied with what he hoped was a winning smile.  Somewhat stiffly striking a pose, he forced his lips into a smirk.  “This game is fun, but orange puns are hard to come by.  You might say it’s a fruitless venture.”

His friends stared at him in shocked silence, and with every passing second Adrien grew more and more certain that he’d just let the proverbial cat out of the bag.  His mind began to dissolve into panicked mush as he reached up to rub the back of his neck uncomfortably.

Suddenly, Alya burst into laughter and punched him gently in the shoulder.  Adrien chuckled nervously along with her until she paused, wiping her eyes before commenting, “That was great!  As expected from one of my most dedicated followers, you sure know your stuff.”

Nino grinned in amusement at the exchange, and Adrien was relieved to see that he appeared to be none the wiser.  His shoulders relaxed slightly as he turned to check out Marinette’s reaction to his impression of himself, tensing back up at the inscrutable look she was giving him.  His heart skipped a beat as her bluebell eyes bored into his, her face carefully neutral.  He wondered exactly what she was thinking about, looking at him like that.

The boy probably would’ve been shocked by the stream of unintelligible cursing running through Marinette’s mind as she thought over his display.  It can’t be…can it?  That pun came to him way too easily, he didn’t even hesitate.

Denial slipped in through the back door of Marinette’s mind, whipping out a pair of aviators and sliding them on before leaning casually against the wall.  Nah, she drawled.  There’s no way.  Adrien is much cooler than Chat Noir.

But, Marinette hedged, only to be cut off by Denial’s repeated shushing.  Unable to get a word in edgewise, she stayed quiet as Denial continued to reassure her that Adrien and Chat Noir were definitely different people, no doubt about it.  After a moment, her shoulders relaxed and she sighed.  Yeah, you’re right.  He is a big Ladybug fan, so of course he’d know Chat’s style pretty well by extension.  He’s just a hardcore fan.

My work here is done, Denial whispered, slipping out the door once more, and Marinette waved a cheerful goodbye, feeling much better about the whole thing.  Now that she was free of distractions, she zoned back into the conversation, joining in on the last of the chuckles coming from her friends as she tried to act like she’d been paying attention the whole time.

Seeing Marinette snap back to normal reassured Adrien.  Everything’s okay, he told himself as he leaned over and picked up the orange.  You made everyone laugh and no one’s the wiser.  Score.

“Alright, Adrien, let’s give this another go.”  Alya motioned for him to give her the orange, which she placed under his chin once more.  Timidly, Adrien approached, this time making absolute certain that he had the fruit properly clenched against his sternum before telling Alya he had it.  Straightening up, he took a calming breath to steady himself before turning to the girl on his right.  He worried that the height difference would present a problem, since even with Marinette stretching up on her tip toes, she was still several inches shorter than him.

“Excuse me,” she stuttered as she gently placed her hands on his shoulders, drawing ever closer to him as she drew herself up as high as she could.  His nerves were working on overdrive, setting off alarms with every gentle brush of her chest against his, every warm breath that puffed over his cheek and neck.  His eyes roved over her face, noting her long eyelashes and counting the adorably tiny freckles that spread over the bridge of her nose.  Her chin brushed against his neck as she struggled to get a grip on the orange, and he prayed that she couldn’t feel the pounding of his heart.

Blessedly, though Adrien was sad to lose her heat, Marinette soon let him know that she had the orange and he was forced to pull away from her.  As the girl turned to Nino to continue the game, Adrien sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm his heartbeat.  A sudden shudder went down his spine, and he slowly turned to look to his left, certain he could feel the weight of a certain girl’s golden eyes on him.  As expected, Alya was staring straight through him to his soul, and Adrien reflexively crossed his arms over his chest, as though the action could protect him from her piercing gaze.  The girl simply smirked, raising an eyebrow in a look that clearly said, “I’m know what you’re thinking.”

Mercifully, Nino and Marinette had managed to exchange the orange between them, and Alya had to release him from her captivating stare to take her turn.  Adrien breathed a sigh of relief, only to realize a few seconds later that he was hardly out of the girl’s grasp.  Alya spun back to him, orange tightly held in the hollow of her throat, with a devious grin on her face.

With what was hopefully an inaudible gulp, Adrien leaned forward to take the fruit from her.  When he had it secured, he muttered to Alya that she was good to let go, and she began to pull away.  Before she got too far, she leaned towards his ear, whispering slyly, “I’m onto you.”

Adrien dropped the orange before she even finished pulling back with a wink, staring dumbly at it as it rolled across the carpet and gently came to a rest against Marinette’s socked toes.  He wasn’t sure whether he should be more embarrassed about the fact that Alya could apparently read minds and now knew about his budding crush on her best friend or that he’d been the only person to drop the ball, as it were, and he’d managed to do it not once, but twice.

Was playing dead an option?

Cringing, shoulders hunched in shame, the boy turned towards Alya, heart pounding in anticipation.  He’d seen firsthand what kinds of crazy and embarrassing dares the girl could dish out, and while licking Marinette’s neck a few nights back had actually been a pleasurable experience, he wasn’t sure that in his state of heightened awareness towards her he could handle something so intimate again.

Which is probably why his heart felt like it froze when Alya opened her mouth to announce, “I dare you to kiss our lovely Marinette.”

For a moment, Adrien’s brain was completely silent.  Then, like a roaring tidal wave, all of the anthropomorphic snippets of Adrien’s personality began screaming at once.  For a solid five seconds, the boy’s head was a cacophony of shouts from Libido about all of the highly inappropriate places he should consider kissing his friend, echoing over Denial cowering in the background, hugging himself and rocking in place as he muttered that this situation couldn’t be happening.  Angel was once again chasing Devil with his frying pan, and everything was nicely accented by Self-Consciousness screaming at him to do something before Marinette got the idea that he didn’t like the idea of kissing her.

With that realization, Adrien snapped out of his stupor, reaching out to grasp the girl’s shoulders before he was fully aware of what he was doing.  He leaned in even as he was internally panicking.  This was not how he’d planned on their first kiss happening—though to be fair, he hadn’t spent much time imagining it.  Still, he was sure this completely unromantic setting was not his ideal.  Curse Alya for being so crafty; the girl was slyer than a fox.

As he closed the gap between his face and Marinette’s, a lightbulb went off in his head.  Sure, Alya is probably the foxiest person I know—in every sense of the word—but two can play that game.

With that, Adrien unashamedly crossed the last few inches into Marinette’s personal space, puckered up, and pecked her sweetly on her blushing cheek.

A stunned silence followed as he casually pulled away, squeezing her shoulders reassuringly as her hand flew up to cover the space his lips had just touched.  The girl seemed dazed, and Adrien felt bad for making her so uncomfortable, but he couldn’t deny that he had immensely enjoyed the small action.

“That’s cheating.”  Alya did not sound pleased, which caused the satisfied grin on Adrien’s face to grow larger.  He imagined he looked quite like the cat that ate the canary, which he figured was an apropos observation.

“You just said to kiss her,” he pointed out proudly.  “You never specified where I was supposed to kiss her.”

Alya sighed in disappointment.  “And yet, you could’ve gotten so much more creative.”

Adrien tried not to let his mind run away with that comment, with limited success.  Thankfully, before he could descend too far into sin, Alya let out another sigh, conceding, “Well, you’re not wrong, so I’ll consider the dare complete.”  She reached into her pocket and dug out her phone to check the time.  “And with that, children, it would appear that our game is at its end.  We have to get back to school.”

“We still have what, ten minutes?  Why don’t we finish the round?” Adrien surprised himself by asking.  Even though the first time had made him extremely nervous, he found himself getting addicted to the feeling of Mari’s breath on his skin, the scent of her hair, the little relieved sigh she let out when something turned out the way she wanted it to.  At this point, any chance he had to be close to her was one he’d take.

Alya mulled the question over for a moment before agreeing with a sharp nod.  “Okay, but make it quick.  We’ll catch hell if we’re all late.”

Adrien gave her a thumbs up before bending down to grab the orange, which he positioned carefully under his chin.  He turned to Marinette, who leaned in with cheeks ablaze, and he was sure that his were equally red.  As the girl stood on her tip toes and began adjusting her grip on the orange, all Adrien could do was think, Don’t make it weird, don’t make it weird.  He wasn’t sure how long he could follow his own advice.  Feeling her cheek brush against his jaw made his knees weak, and he was sure the scent of her shampoo would be the death of him.  Asking to finish the round may have been both the best and worst idea I’ve ever had.

Marinette signaled him a moment later, and they pulled apart slowly.  Adrien caught her eye as she stepped away and she looked away quickly, cheeks closely resembling a slapped tomato.  Adrien’s lips twisted into a frown as she turned to finish the game with Nino, guilt suddenly weighting down his stomach.  She seemed embarrassed over the kiss, and all he could do was hope that his actions wouldn’t detract from all of the progress they’d made recently.

A sharp elbow in his ribs startled him, and he let out an unmanly yelp.  Alya simply raised an eyebrow at him.  “As I was saying, now that the round is complete, we really have to get back or Madame will have our asses.”

The gaggle of teens agreed, following the bespectacled girl out of Marinette’s room.  Their hostess quickly replaced the orange they’d been using as a prop and joined them at the door where they all bedecked themselves with their winter gear once more.  Once everyone was dressed, they hurried down the stairs and into the bakery to say one last goodbye to their gracious hosts.

“Off to school, are you kids?  Have a good afternoon!”  Tom smiled at them as he bustled around the small shop.  “Oh, and Marinette,” he added over his shoulder.  “We’ll need your help when you get home.  We got a big last-minute order and we’re going to need all hands on deck.”

Lightbulb! Adrien thought to himself.  Briefly running over his afternoon’s schedule in his mind, he realized that he was more or less free for the evening—barring one Mandarin tutoring session, but he’d been ahead of the work for weeks so he could surely manage to convince his tutor to let him off the hook just once.

“Sure, Papa, I’ll come as soon as school ends,” Marinette replied, giving her father a peck on the cheek.

As the large man gave his daughter a bear hug, Adrien offered hesitantly, “If you need extra hands, I’m free this afternoon.”

Sabine walked over from behind the register, exchanging a glance with her husband.  “Well, dear, if you don’t mind helping, we’d very much appreciate it.  We’ll provide snacks, of course,” she told him with a smile as sweet as any of the pastries in her shop.

“Oh, it’s no problem.  I’ve been interested in learning how to bake, so my offer isn’t entirely selfless.”  Adrien grinned as the pair laughed at his comment.

“Well, we’re always happy to help in that regard,” Tom boomed, clapping him on the shoulder.  “In fact, come over any time, we’ll teach you whatever you want to know.”

Adrien thanked him for the offer, and promised to make good on it when he had a chance.  After Nino and Alya apologized to the Dupain-Chengs for being unable to assist that evening due to prior engagements, the kids all said goodbye to the couple and exited the bakery into the freezing Parisian winds once more.

As they began making their way towards the crosswalk, Alya pulled her phone from her pocket and checked the time.  “Shit!  Class starts in three minutes, guys!”  Grabbing her boyfriend by the hand, she began sprinting down the sidewalk, auburn hair flying wildly behind her.

Marinette giggled, reaching over to grab Adrien’s arm.  “Hurry, we’re going to be late!”

“You must be rubbing off on us,” he teased as they ran after their friends.  She turned back to blow a raspberry at him, nearly losing her balance on the slick sidewalk.  Adrien grabbed her shoulder, steadying her, before removing his arm from her grip and replacing it with his hand.  Mentally counting down the seconds until the bell, the pair resumed their mad dash to the classroom, breathlessly praying that they’d make it in time and avoid a detention.

#Marinette Dupain-Cheng #adrien agreste #adrienette #miraculous ladybug #Tangled up in you #tuiy ch 7 #nikon's works #alya cesaire #Nino lahiffe #djwifi #pass the orange #truth or dare #foxy alya #marinette is a hot mess #cute #kissing #kinda

[serenequaratz-blog]

Imagine JiHan: Haircut

Genre: fluff

Word count: 1882

Summary: Jeonghan decides to cut his hair for Pretty U promotions, and Joshua accompanies him to the salon.

<Part 1 of 2 of the Imagine Haircut series>

"Jeonghan…"

"Shhhh…"

"I mean…"

"Shhhh…"

"Can't we…"

"Shua."

"Wait inside?"

"It's suffocating inside."

"They have humidifiers and everything."

"That's not the point."

"And my point is… people are staring."

Jeonghan sighed.

"Are we finally going inside?"

"I heard that."

"You were supposed to hear that."

"You just thought, Stop being such a princess."

"You were supposed to hear that, too."

Jeonghan glared at him.

Joshua tugged on their intertwined hands.

"Come on." He didn't mean to sound exasperated, but they had been standing by the sidewalk for almost half an hour, and Jeonghan was just staring through the window like an idiot, they had to go inside.

"See, this is why I had you come with me, and not my manager."

"Your manager would have pulled you by the hair and dragged you inside."

Jeonghan glared at him even more.

"Touchy subject, sorry," Joshua said, not even bothering to sound like he meant it.

Jeonghan always had a flair for drama, and Joshua sometimes enjoyed his drama, except this time, he was being overdramatic.

"I heard that," Jeonghan said.

"You were supposed to hear it," Joshua sighed.

"So…?" Joshua asked when Jeonghan was still unmoving.

Jeonghan took a shaky breath then held it in puffed cheeks which Joshua poked.

Jeonghan groaned.

"Hey," Joshua said, this time with genuine concern. "It'll be over in a second," he said.

"But, that's not the end of it," Jeonghan said, his voice lower than Joshua thought he must have intended, because he cleared his throat. He shook his head, then squeezed Joshua's hand. "Let's go in."

Joshua did the honor of opening the door, and pulling Jeonghan in, not completely trusting his best friend to walk inside on his own volition.

Joshua pointed to Jeonghan when the receptionist asked what they needed. Joshua spoke for him mostly and asked for the ahjumma who had been Jeonghan's regular. The receptionist blinked before taking a look at Jeonghan's ponytail then leading them to the seats where they can wait for their turn.

When receptionist called them, she looked at their intertwined hands, both of Jeonghan's locking Joshua's left hand in between.

"It's his first time in a long time," Joshua explained.

She led the two to the corner of the room, where Joshua can have a seat beside Jeonghan when he would finally get his hair cut.

Jeonghan was the first one to let go when he sat down.

His face was stoic, and he even managed a smile when he greeted the hairdresser.

Joshua stopped himself from exploding into fits of laughter, knowing Jeonghan's amount of self-control. He saw Jeonghan glare at him from the mirror, and Joshua only gave him his sweetest smile.

Jeonghan ignored him.

The lady beamed when she saw Jeonghan. "How's our angel?" she asked.

"Just spectacular," Jeonghan said, and from the mirror, Joshua's pointed stare was again ignored.

She undid Jeonghan's ponytail in one swift motion before the redhead can complain. "Our usual trim? Will you be getting your hair treated again? It's getting drier and drier every time you come back."

Joshua couldn't hide his laughter this time. "It's unfixable."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that, dear," the lady said. "Our angel just needs to grow it out."

She winked at Jeonghan from the mirror, and even from a stranger's point of view, Jeonghan's smile looked pained.

"A bob," he said, after hesitating the whole time. "Just above the shoulders?"

The older lady paused from getting her tools from the table.

"Did the new receptionist look at you funny?" she suspected.

"A lot of people look at me funny," Jeonghan said flatly. "It's nothing new."

"He wanted to chop it off for a while now," Joshua helped before the lady said anything else that would upset Jeonghan even more. "The split ends are endlessly unfixable. If I didn't know better, he would have done it by himself in the dorm."

"And he dragged my ass to the salon the second the thought formed in my head," Jeonghan looked like he glared at Joshua from the mirror, but his eyes were filled with gratitude. "Traitor."

She divided the ends of his hair between his shoulders so Jeonghan can see its length. "I'll show you what the trim would look like first, before you decide," the lady pressed. "You have beautiful hair."

"No, it's fine," Joshua can almost hear the quiver in Jeonghan's voice even with his smile, but he still didn't retract his statement. "I already decided."

Joshua shook his head. He can never guess where Jeonghan gets his bravery from. It was already brave of him to grow out his hair for debut despite everyone's worries and Jeonghan's actual fears coming true before his eyes, and now that Jeonghan had established his image with his hair, it was another leap to cut it off.

"And he was already hesitating for 30 minutes outside the salon. Now would be a good ti-"

"Shut up, Jisoo."

Joshua laughed and pulled his chair closer to Jeonghan. "You can hold my hand," he said. Joshua wasn't the teasing type, but Jeonghan was cute when he was being stubborn he couldn't help himself.

"No, thank you."

The lady made a snip-snip gesture with her scissors, and Jeonghan immediately shut his eyes tight, and almost cried, "Wait, wait, wait."

Joshua poked Jeonghan's arm under the black cloth covering Jeonghan's upper body. Jeonghan's hands appeared then disappeared with Joshua's under the cloth again, holding on tight.

"I'm fine," Jeonghan said, after taking a few deep breaths and opening his eyes. "You can continue now."

The lady looked at Joshua who was blocking a part of her way around Jeonghan, but she only sighed in understanding.

"Here?" she asked, pressing a lock of Jeonghan's hair in between two of her fingers, showing Jeonghan the length of his hair that will remain.

Jeonghan gave a brief nod.

The hairdresser tied his hair back again, just below the length Jeonghan confirmed. She took a deep breath, and positioned her scissors.

Snip.

Jeonghan's eye twitched. It was the slightest of movements, barely even noticeable, but it was the way Jeonghan gripped Joshua's hand from under the cloth that said what Jeonghan really felt.

Snip.

Snip. Snip. Snip.

And it was done. The lady set aside the ponytail, and combed Jeonghan's new bob with her fingers.

"Such a waste of beautiful hair," the lady said.

"He was going to have it cut, eventually," Joshua said.

The lady sighed and worked on trimming the ends. She continued to mutter by herself as she cut away. She was so careful and detailed, it was almost painfully slow. Joshua can feel the tension in Jeonghan's head that should have been over when the rest of his hair was cut, but was rebuilding again, because he was already staring at the mirror for too long.

"Can I-"

Joshua shifted to the other side when the lady needed to reach that side of Jeonghan's hair, but never let go of his hand. He wouldn't be able to, with Jeonghan's iron grip. He wouldn't want to, anyway.

Afterwards, Jeonghan and his hairdresser heaved a sigh, as if they just finished carrying the weight of the world together.

"Will you be getting your hair treated?" the lady after staring at the mirror for a while, almost as shocked as Jeonghan was.

"Tomorrow?" Jeonghan replied. "I'll just let everything sink in first."

She nodded. "Let's get your hair washed, then."

Jeonghan stood up from his seat mechanically, letting go of Joshua's almost throbbing hand, trying to ignore the trail of red hair on the floor.

Joshua followed them into a door opening into small room. Jeonghan lied down on the seat and rested his neck into the sink where his hair was going to be washed.

"Regretting it yet?" Joshua asked.

Jeonghan didn't answer.

"It looks better than I imagined," Joshua said.

Jeonghan stayed quiet.

Joshua pouted. "Are you just going to pretend you didn't choke my hand to death?"

"The water's cold, and it's uncomfortable to talk like this. Be a good boy and go back to your seat."

Joshua stuck his tongue out to his friend before doing as he was told.

Jeonghan reappeared with a towel on his head, followed shortly by the hairdresser. She unfolded the towel, and gently rubbed Jeonghan's short hair with it.

Joshua watched his friend in silence. Jeonghan's expression was unreadable, Joshua was worried he regretted it. It was going to be hard to grow that one out quickly if he did.

The lady worked quickly, blow drying Jeonghan's hair with her nimble hands. Over the loud sounds of the small machine, the two friends only communicated with their eyes.

Jeonghan definitely regretted it.

That, and he's scared how the fans would react.

And how everyone else would react.

Do you like it? Joshua asked him.

Jeonghan shrugged in response.

The blow drying was done, and Jeonghan was still paralyzed in his seat.

"You look amazing," Joshua said.

The lady smiled. "You worked hard today, angel. Just... When you do things, please do them for yourself and for not anyone else."

The two boys shared a glance, before Jeonghan nodded with a grateful smile. "Yes, ma'am."

Jeonghan paid for his haircut, then turned to Joshua who offered him a beanie. "Prepared this just in case."

Jeonghan snatched it from Joshua and muttered a "Thanks."

They exited the salon and into the broad daylight. Jeonghan deferred from their route home and wandered a bit, with Joshua following him silently.

It was not necessarily cold that day even though winter was still only making way for spring, so the walk was slower than usual. Jeonghan always said there was probably going to be one day they would miss walking out in the open so he wanted to maximize all the lazy moments like this. Joshua couldn't imagine that day coming any time soon, but trailed with Jeonghan nonetheless.

When they returned to their usual way to the dorm, Jeonghan finally spoke. "Do you like it?"

"The lady just told you what I've been telling you a lot."

"And I've been telling you a lot."

"Touché."

"But do you like it? And I don't like the I like anything on you, Jeonghan, response from you, Jisoo."

"But I do like anything on you, Jeonghan. I told you it looks amazing on you."

Jeonghan pouted. "You mean that?"

"When do I not mean what I say?"

Jeonghan stared at him.

"Okay, maybe a lot of times, but this time I swear I mean it."

Jeonghan released a deep breath. "I wonder if I'll get used to it."

"You'll get used to it," Joshua said, reaching over to pat Jeonghan's head. "I bet you'll cut you hair shorter next time."

Jeonghan looked at him and smiled. "Okay, what grounds?"

Joshua paused, knowing exactly what Jeonghan had in mind. "Nothing. Just a thought."

"You're a wimp, Hong Jisoo."

"And you love me."

"You love me, too.

"But do you really like it?"

"Yoon Jeonghan I love you, but you're annoying sometimes."

Jeonghan grabbed Joshua's hand as they walked. "Thanks for coming with me today. I would have backed out if you weren't there."

"Then you're a wimp, too."

"We're wimps together.

"But do you really, really-"

"Yoon Jeonghan."

part two coming right up hehe

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