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eruden-writes · 2 years

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Room & Board - Part 11 (Vampire x Reader)

Anon submitted this prompt: For the prompt submissions a vampire that feels guilty after feeding/attacking someone so they leave obscenely valuable ancient artifacts as payment/an apology?

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Comments, tags, and reblogs are real motivators for me, too! (●ˇ∀ˇ●)

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The next day, Tabaeus doesn't greet you in the hall or the base of the stairs or in the kitchen. Between it being a new home and the tension the two of you suffered last night, you try not to look too closely into it. It's better if he's pouting or sleeping in his box in the basement. That gives you time to yourself.

And, more importantly, to study the journal.

After checking in on the sugar gliders, refreshing their water and available food as they slept in their little pouch, you retrieve the book from the anti-vampire box in your office. Settling on the couch, you run a finger over the cover. It's certainly an old book, bound in what you hope is animal leather. That finger traverses the edges of the papers, finding them thick and uneven.

It takes you a moment to steel yourself for what you'll find out. If you'll find out anything. You flip the cover open, carefully, and read the first page. Only a handful of words sit on the first page. A scrawling script, one that you can imagine was done by quill and ink, reads:

Property of Dr. Kieran Bennett.

1882

You press your lips together. Okay, so it wasn't Tabaeus's journal. Or was it and his name is actually Kieran Bennett? Your brain is already buzzing with thoughts and theories and questions as you turn to the next, thick page.

March 10, 1882

In the spirit of research, I - Dr. Kieran Bennett - will be keeping records of the creature found in a long abandoned shed owned by one Thaddeus Thatcher.

As the account has been told to me, the town of Thistle had been plagued with "wolf attacks" on their livestock for the last half-year. A creature, big and shaggy and dark, appeared multiple times from the forest but would soon flee back into her dark recesses.

When residents of Thistle began to go missing, the townspeople accused the creature and began a hunt for it.

Over the course of three days, the town managed to flush the creature out. First, from a cave system. Then, from the aforementioned Mr. Thatcher's abandoned shed, upon which they caught the creature in a net and managed to shackle it.

It now resides in the local undertaker's basement, due to its need for darkness, locked in a cage with a collar around its throat.

I have yet to interact with the creature. I shall update upon progress.

So far, it seems Dr. Bennett is not Tabaeus. Part of your mind files the name away for later research. Perhaps the library will have some information, you think, as you read further.

March 13, 1882

It is largely believed the creature is a vampyr of lore.

As such we keep it fed on animal blood, which seems to suffice for the most part. Its appearance has confirmed it was feeding upon humans.

When it feeds upon animals, its visage becomes more animalistic. Inky black sprouts across the expanse of its body' its ears grow, becoming more akin to a chiroptera's large ears; its teeth become so large, the maw barely contains them and its eyes glow with the embers of Hell.

Adversely, when it feeds upon humans, it has the appearance of a man.

Without thinking, you raise a hand to your throat. Your palm is warm against the side of your neck, where two little scabs have made semi-permanent residence. Faintly, you recall that first night. How Tabaeus appeared so fearsome, so animal.

Had they been sustaining themselves on animal blood, until that point? Had they suffered an injury, resulting in hunting you down? Or was it just that you smelled so good to Tabaeus, for whatever reason, they couldn't resist?

We have yet to test any further hypothesis on the creature, though it has yet to harm anyone. On occasion, it has startled anyone that passes its cage with a sudden charge, but beyond that, it is capable of sitting for hours, doing nothing.

March 28, 1882

Sun burns the creature.

Silver burns the creature.

Cloves and garlic have no reaction.

We cannot test the efficacy of wooden stakes until we feel we are done learning all we can.

It makes the worst howling shrieks of pain.

My heart aches with every test, but we must learn all we can for humankind.

Your brows furrow, considering the slight jump in time. A little over two weeks of no entries, only to have rather scant descriptions of what they had found. Your lips press together, puzzling on the thought.

What happened in that time? Had Dr. Bennett grown closer to Tabaeus, at all? It doesn't seem like it, with the continued usage of 'it,' but you continue on, keeping an eye on the dates.

April 3, 1882

Tabaeus. That is what the creature calls itself. Doubtful it is a God-given name, but one assigned to the creature by the Dark Prince himself.

Though I find it hard to believe such a soft-spoken creature could be from the bowels of hell. Father Bartholomew insists it is, since the holy water burned its flesh. The screams had been wrenching, as two men of the town held Tabaeus down as the priest dribbled water upon its form.

Tomorrow, a renowned surgeon will come to town. The town's council knows this may hamper - if not end - ongoing investigation, but they hope to cut Tabaeus open to understand its innerworkings.

Perhaps there is a cure to wrench the unholy creature away from the source of evil consuming it.

Surgery? Your eyebrows tick up, the picture of Tabaeus's scars flashing in your head.

April 8, 1882

Dr. Forsythe has had to put off the surgery, due to insufficient - and often missing - supplies. It will take him time to attain enough to thoroughly investigate Tabaeus's anatomy.

I took the quiet day to question Tabaeus myself. In the past month, I have gained a familiarity with the creature few other researchers here have. I asked it questions, pressing it for answers, for I may not get another chance.

I also told Tabaeus this. Which seemed to loosen their lips.

Tabaeus remembers little of its life. They are scraps, unhinged and untethered. At times, it seems what Tabaeus remembers belongs to another source. They speak of the memories in an almost unattached way, at times.

It remembers times in ancient Europe and ancient Rome. Of travel with Nordic races. Of long journeys through deserts in Africa. It appears to remember so much of human history, but is incapable of tying it together in a coherent fashion.

Where it was born, it does not know.

How it became a creature of the dark, it does not know.

How it even functions is a mystery to it.

I do not think the creature lies to me, but it is most boggling how its own memory fails to function.

Perhaps there is a connection between its alleged longevity and the breakdown of its memory.

I do not know and I fear we will not find out once Tabaeus undergoes surgery.

April 13, 1882

I have attached copies of Dr. Forsythe's findings.

Pausing from the entry, you flip through the book, seeking these mentioned findings. Nothing seems attached or hidden in the pages. Likely lost to time or, perhaps, an intentional hand. You try not to think of it as you read on.

As an observer, there was much screaming and struggling. Tabaeus was restrained on the table. No anesthetic was used, so the patient could be aware and discuss should questions arise.

Very little talk happened. To be frank, I believe the lack of anesthetic, sedative, or even simply being knocked out was from cruelty on Dr. Forsythe and the council's part.

I digress.

They shaved Tabaeus, much as one would an animal, and cut into his form. They cracked his ribs for a better view. Tabaeus's insides appeared no different than a human's.

Except his heart was blackened, though it still pumped blood as a human heart would. Other than the odd coloration, everything seemed in proper working order.

By God's providence or cruelty, Tabaeus did not pass out of shock nor pain. They were awake and conscious throughout, sobbing or screaming at intervals. They would test their shackles and straps, the restraints creaking awfully under the force.

I was relieved when Dr. Forsythe stitched the creature up, but it was short-lived as he hinted at a need to revisit the site again in the near future.

Once the endeavor completed, Tabaeus could not stand, let alone walk. Four men were enlisted to haul the vampy back to his cage in the undertaker's basement.

I sat with him, quiet for a long time. No questions felt important enough to ask of Tabaeus, in such a condition. Even wrapped in bandages, I could see the uneven stitches trailing down his front in my mind's eye.

Tabaeus confessed to needing sustenance, to heal appropriately.

I offered to retrieve fresh cow's or pig's blood for them, but they shook their head.

"Human blood," it said, voice raw and cracked from screaming. "I need human blood to heal quickly."

Once more, your hand finds your throat. You already suspect what is about to happen.

I offered my blood, to which Tabaeus appeared startled at the offer. Their red eyes, puffy and ugly from their ordeal, found mine.

Instead of allowing Tabaeus to feed from my neck, I offered my wrist. They took it in a gentle grip, such a strange juxtaposition to their long, clawed digits.

The sensation of fangs plunging into one's body is both disconcerting and oddly alluring. I had closed my eyes as Tabaeus supped and images flickered through my head.

Images wholly foreign to me. Perhaps memories.

Whether they were Tabaeus's own or that of their victims' or something else entirely, I cannot say.

I only spoke to tell Tabaeus to stop, when lightheadedness made my thoughts fuzzy.

They did so, without argument. As they settled back in their corner, they murmured a small gratitude. Their glowing red eyes still on me.

I left not long after that, woozy from the interaction and intent upon a nap.

"What are you reading?" Tabaeus's soft words slap you across the face, making you sit straighter on the couch.

They eye you from the door between the kitchen and living room - where the basement stairs come up - with confusion, head cocked at your reaction.

You swallow a lump in your throat, trying to clear the heaviness away with a cough. Briefly, you consider hiding what you're reading. Maybe lying and saying it's a silly romance novel or something boring and technical. The longer you stare up at Tabaeus, the more you realize how miserable they appear.

They're wearing the same jeans and t-shirt from yesterday. Their hair is a tangled mess. Their cheeks appear sunken and bags hang under their red-rimmed eyes. It reminds you of someone who spent the night crying and frustrated and arguing with oneself.

There is so much obfuscation in Tabaeus's life, not clearly communicating feels wrong. Even if they cannot - or will not - be upfront, you can be. There's a small part of you that intuits there's something deeper, something more complicated, going on than what appears on the surface.

With your finger marking the spot in the journal, you hold it up. "I am reading Dr. Kieran Bennett's journal. It was in the anti-vampire box you gave me."

"Kieran?" That name makes Tabaeus's eyes fly wide as they strides over the distance between the two of you.

Something prickly climbs up your spine, but you shove it away. "Yes, do you remember him?"

They kneel by your knee, attention on the book in your hand. Tabaeus almost puts their hands on your leg, but hesitates and lets them fall to the couch cushion beside your leg instead. Their lips press together in thought, before they answer, "It is muddy."

You can't determine whether that is better than foggy or not. At least muddy implies there's something there to grasp, you suppose. Tabaeus's red eyes flutter shut, trying to pull the memories forth. Their head dips forward, their forehead almost touching your thigh. "I remember he was sweet, in person. A kind soul, but invariably a coward."

Their hand rises from the couch, softly touching their own lips. "He tasted of coffee and smoke and chocolate."

Something in your chest twinged, hearing such soft words about someone else coming from Tabaeus's lips. It almost sounds as if they are speaking of an old lover. Perhaps they were, you realize. Maybe you haven't gotten to it yet, in the journal. Or maybe Kieran was careful and didn't detail it in writing, considering the time and who would be the object of the doctor's affection.

Despite yourself, you find the question lighting from your lips, "What happened to him?"

"I... I am not sure," Tabaeus admits, their red eyes opening, but still not focused as their brow knots. They were still searching their muddled, conflicting memories. You watch as they raise a hand to their chest, rubbing along the spot where the autopsy scar cleaved their chest.

Though your stomach drops as they press at their own scar, you're not satisfied with that answer. With pursed lips, you turn your eyes back to the journal, lest Tabaeus's large, allegedly innocent, gaze interrupts your almost-damning information. "You told Kieran you had problems with your memory, as well. In 1882. That's almost 140 years of you having issues with your memory, Tabaeus."

"What?" Tabaeus breathes and you hazard a glance at them. The furrow in their brow has deepened, as if this is genuinely news to them.

"What am I supposed to believe?" You press, shaking your head as your tone further solidifies. "That you haven't had consistent memory for that long? Or that this is some sort of trick you like to play on humans?"

Your words make Tabaeus's focus swing to your face, their eyes wide with shock and pain. As if you even suggesting something like that was a slap to their face.

"Please, believe me, amata." Their voice crackles with desperation. This time, their hand does land on your knee, squeezing it gently. "I swear to you, I am not playing a trick on you!"

"That's a tall order, all things considered," you say, your attention falling to where their hand touches you. Their gaze follows yours and, as if previously unaware of the contact, Tabaeus jerks their hand away. A small part of you aches as they do so.

Slowly, the vampire tilts their gaze back to you, searching for something. "You think I am tricking you?"

Your eyes are finally drawn to Tabaeus's gaze, the pain that crimps their features makes their already obvious exhaustion worse. Do you think Tabaeus is tricking you?

Something in you can't give a certain yes, just as you can't give a certain no. As you think, your teeth sink into your lower lip. Why would a vampire go to such ends, just to get blood? Especially since Tabaeus could easily enthrall you and essentially make you their unyielding bloodbag. They have relegated a good chunk of their fortune to you, allowed you to buy a house, and seem into it when you are more domineering over them.

Or was it all a joke? A prank? Something to amuse themselves. Get a caring human to give them blood, willingly, while never having to fess up to their murderous past? That doesn't seem like the Tabaeus you know. Though you can't be certain the Tabaeus you know isn't a farce, there's something in you that's more sure of the vampire than it was in earlier instances of your partnership.

"I don't know what to think," you softly admit, rubbing the bridge of your nose as you set the journal to the side. "After last night, how heatedly you talked about Ewan, or even just werewolves in general, you talked like someone I didn't know."

"I, too, felt disconcerted." Tabaeus doesn't even hesitate in the confession. They heave a heavy sigh, their fingers fidgeting with the fabric of the couch. "I apologize for my behavior. I do not know what happened."

Your lips press together at the admittance, wondering how genuine their words were. Or if they were looking for an easy out in the situation. Again, something in you believes them. Maybe it's better to say something in you wants to believe them. But skepticism keeps you a little wary.

"I didn't feel like myself. I felt strange." Tabaeus shook their head. Their hand rises to their temple, tapping there. "There were clashing thoughts in my head. Rage and fear and disgust and hate. All for a person I never met who was a species I don't recall interacting with."

How Tabaeus talks about their experiences makes you think about how Dr. Bennett described their memories. As something detached from Tabaeus. As things spanning across multiple time periods.

That, coupled with their out-of-character reaction, feels like hints. As if you're closer to unraveling what it is about Tabaeus that makes them a mystery.

Once more, it sounds as if Tabaeus's memories - or some of them - are not their own. More than ever, that feels like the correct answer, but not the entirety of it. There's something you're missing. Something that is tantamount to understanding Tabaeus.

Pain throbs at your temples as your stomach cramps. With a deep breath, you loosen the thoughts from the grip of your concentration. The journal revealed more than you were prepared for. You should have planned better and eaten something first.

"I need breakfast," you finally mumble, realizing you have left Tabaeus hanging. You offer them an awkward smile, just as your stomach grumbles.

"As do I," Tabaeus sighs, a small and fond smile tilting at their lips. "Do you trust me to drink from you? Or should I suffice with cereal?"

"You're making me breakfast if I'm making you breakfast." Your retort is more playful than you feel, but you still muster the energy to stick your tongue out at the vampire. A little tension in Tabaeus's shoulders eases, relieved at the return of a more joking element to your interactions. Just before they move to stand, and perhaps even lean over you to latch onto your neck, you put out your arm. "Let's try my inner elbow this time, though. I want to go places and having to bandage my neck is such a pain."

The vampire settles back on their heels again, accepting your arm in their cool fingers. They hold you gently, giving you ample freedom to pull away if you change your mind. There's half a beat, where Tabaeus seems to be testing the waters, before they whisper, "You are too kind, amata."

You're about to ask facetiously if you're also a coward, like Kieran, but Tabaeus sinks their teeth into the flesh of your inner elbow. A sharp gasp escapes your lips, the pain sudden and bright in your synapses. Your head falls back against the couch, as your eyes flutter shut. Tabaeus waits, seeing if you'll stop him, before they begin to suckle.

That odd sensation of the blood pulled from your veins courses through you, making your stomach somersault. Though your toes curl, in a confusing mixture of intimate enjoyment and excitement, your stomach lurches with faint nausea. It's probably not a good idea to do this on an empty stomach, you realize.

The seepage of memories, you find, is less than when Tabaeus is latched to your throat. They are mistier. As if they're projected onto a fog, instead of a solid surface. It reminds you of a laser light show caught by clouds.

Some are memories you have seen before, in your feeding sessions. But there's always a new one to view.

Tabaeus parts from your elbow sooner than you expect. Or maybe you're just a little dazed, you realize, as you blink and lift your head up. There's darkness at the corners of your vision, but you see Tabaeus rise to his feet. They stoop over you, pressing their forehead to yours. There's a distinct beat when you believe they'll continue leaning and catch your lips against theirs.

But they don't, leaving a mingling of disappointment and relief meshing in your head.

"What would you like for breakfast?" They merely ask and you faintly smell the copper-infused heat on their breath.

"Crepes with hazelnut spread and bananas," you say, mostly as a joke as your lips curve at the corners. You don't anticipate the thoughtful look that crosses Tabaeus's features.

They cock their head to the side as they straighten. "Is there a recipe available I may reference?"

For a second, you narrow your eyes up at them, wondering if they are fucking with you. Tabaeus doesn't appear to be joking. And, honestly, you cannot say no to crepes.

You really should get Tabaeus a phone, you realize, as you pull yours from your pocket. After a bit of searching and scrolling, you find an easy looking recipe and hold it out to them. Tabaeus graciously takes the phone with a nod.

"It will be available soon," Tabaeus murmurs and turns to head into the kitchen.

Settling back onto the couch, you sigh and consider the actual chances you'll get an unburnt breakfast. It was hard to argue against Tabaeus's quiet assuredness. As you sink further into the couch, your eye catches on the journal.

Your thoughts loll about Dr. Kieran Bennett's words, the way he phrased things, what his relationship to Tabaeus was. There's a part of you certain the doctor wasn't entirely truthful in his entries. Whether he was taking care due to the time period and homophobia or due to the subject matter involving a 'vampyr,' you're not sure.

Although, the mental trek makes your considerations turn to Tabaeus and the subject of their jealousy last night. You jerk upright as a sudden thought careens through your head. "Hey! Don't you think about deleting Ewan's number, either!"

The rummaging around in the kitchen quiets and there seems to be a thoughtful pause. "Well, I was not planning to, but if that is an option..."

"Tabaeus!" You warn, as you push yourself off the couch and head to the kitchen. There the vampire grins at you and holds your phone high, out of your reach. They wiggle it, in teasing taunt.

The sigh you heave is put-upon as your gaze flicks from your phone to Tabaeus's face. Crossing your arms and leaning your hip against the counter, you choose a smarter route than pouncing on the vampire. "I'm trusting you to not delete his number. Okay?"

"Okay," Tabaeus sighs, lowering the phone. There's clashing emotions on their face. A sense of pride fighting against a small temptation. They hold your phone so you can see the screen, which hasn't left the recipe. "You can trust me not to hurt you, amata."

"Holding you to it," is all you manage to say before Tabaeus turns back to the stove, cooking the breakfast you requested.

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calistafashionblog · 2 years

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Latest Haircut For Men 2022

Like every year, certain short haircuts in 2022 will stick out from the crowd, and short hair will undoubtedly be higher than ever, owing to many women's faith in the circulatory transition. Even though the 2022 men's hairstyles trend emphasizes longer hair and medium-length men's haircuts, there are also plenty of fashionable short hairstyles on the runway this year as well. Short men's haircuts will always be popular since they are easy to manage and appear well-cut.To most of us, particularly those with wavy, curly, or coily hair. Going to the hairdresser may be a dreadful or even painful experience. As a result, many people avoid it and put it off as long as possible.Before getting a haircut, we should consult with a hairdresser. The form of your face also influences your hairstyle.Different type of haircut according to shape of your face are as below:

Haircut for Oval face shape men

Haircut for Round face shape men

Haircut for Square face shape men

Haircut for Heart face shape men

Haircut for Diamond face shape men

Haircut for Pear face shape men

Haircut for Oblong face shape men

Haircut for Oval face shape men

Fortunately, men's haircuts for oval features are abundant and fashionable. Long faces, as opposed to other face shapes such as round, square, oblong, diamond, or triangular, have balanced facial characteristics that allow for many distinct haircuts, indicating that there isn't just one sort of haircut for oval faced guys.

Quiffs.

Crew Cuts.

Side Parts.

Mohawks.

Backslips.

Haircut for Round face shape men

The round face shape may be the most difficult to deal with of all the face types. It's not a poor face shape by any means, but men with round features have less options when it comes to fashion (as opposed to guys with oval or square faces).

Angular Fringe. ...

Sponge Twist High Top. ...

Afro Twists. ...

Straight Shag.

Fauxhawk

Haircut for Square face shape men

The square face form is popular among guys, and it lends itself to a variety of hairstyles. However, most experts recommend that men with square features maintain their hair short and tidy.

Buzz Cut

Comb Over

Top Knot

Urban Pompadour

Walnut Wave

Haircut for Heart face shape men

A heart-shaped face is narrow at the chin, which is typically pointy and exaggerated, and largest at the forehead; a tight haircut will enhance the literal sharpness. If you like a longer, softer appearance, consider a mid-length side-swept part, layered quiff, or textured fringe.

Long Fringe

Comb-Over Haircut

Undercut

Hard-Line Side Part

Side Part Fade

Layered Undercut

Haircut for Diamond face shape men

A man with a diamond-shaped face has a sharp, narrow forehead. To minimize this, choose a haircut that adds some volume there, such as a fringe cut or a textured crop." A haircut with short sides is something to avoid. "That will merely highlight the narrowness of your brow,"

Man Bun

Wavy Side Parting

Messy Fringe

Long Curly hair

Textured Crop

Haircut for Oblong face shape men

When it comes to hairstyles, keep in mind that you don't want to extend your face any farther. The idea is to avoid making your face appear longer than it actually is. Avoid Pompadours in favor of more balanced hairstyles with little contrast between the sides and top of your hair. A side part will work effectively to provide dimension to a shorter hair length. A slicked back hairdo or a sleek man bun can also help to balance out your face proportions.

Classic Side Part. ...

Medium Length Shaggy Hairstyle. ...

Buzz Cut With Light Stubble. ...

Slicked Back Long Hair. ...

Edgy Fade. ...

Side Swept Undercut.

Conclusion:

Sure, there are gorgeous people with square faces, round faces, and so on. However, the heart shape, often known as a V-shaped face, has been scientifically confirmed to be the most aesthetically appealing facial shape to have.

#haircuts #hairstyles #hairideas

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yourdeepestfathoms · 3 years

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with this unruly heart of mine

in which we all wish our parents reacted the same way as Alcina does when one of her daughters comes out to her

title is from Unruly Hearts from The Prom because it fit

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MERCUTIO

If love be rough with you, be rough with love. Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down. Give me a case to put my visage in. A visor for a visor. What care I What curious eye doth cote deformities? Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me.

Alcina read that line over and over again, but she still had no idea what the hell any of it really meant. She sighed and leaned back into the cushions of her seat. If she kept getting caught up on the literary meaning of every other paragraph then she would never finish this damned book.

She picked up the teacup sitting on the stand beside her chair and took a long sip. The tea was of sweet cinnamon on her tongue. It left a much better taste in her mouth than the rather gross relationship between Romeo and Juliet in this book. If the short amount of time the two knew each other wasn’t bad enough, the age gap made her teeth bare and nose wrinkle in disgust. What the hell was this William Shakespeare guy thinking when he wrote this?

The soft sound of bare feet padding against hardwood brought her back to the surface of complete awareness, her focus shifting away from the book and to the late-night arrival watching nearby.

A certain fly child stood, arm on the doorway. Her hair was shaggy from seemingly just waking up--or maybe she hadn’t slept at all in the first place. Unruly blonde locks were sticking up in various directions around her head, framing her face like an adolescent lion’s mane. The nightgown she wore was a size too big and drowning her thin frame.

The light from the fireplace made her golden-amber eyes look hollow.

“Mother?”

“Yes, dear?”

“May I sit with you?”

“Of course.”

Slower than she’d ever seen her move before, Bela inched her way onto the cushioned chair beside Alcina’s. She pulled her knees up her chest, bare toes poking over the edge of the seat, and Alcina regarded them with a scrunch of her nose.

“What have I told you about going around the castle barefoot?” Alcina chided gently.

Bela didn’t look away from the flickering fire in the fireplace. “I’m sorry, Mother.”

Something was bothering her.

Bela was a rather fickle little thing. Some days, she wanted to tell Alcina everything, every little fact of the new knowledge she had obtained from her books, all the small details of her latest stories or ideas. Other days, she put up walls and gave vague answers to questions prodded into her sensitive skin, curling into herself like a frightened snail afraid of being interrogated. This seemed to be something of the latter, and Alcina made a mental note to tread lightly to avoid upsetting her daughter.

“I don’t understand this at all,” Alcina said, waggling the book in her hands, trying to make small talk with her distressed child. She didn’t want to pry and further put Bela on edge more than she clearly was, but she couldn’t not do something about her bitter mood. What kind of mother would she be if she didn’t at least attempt to help with her kids’ problems?

“I can hardly make heads or tails of anything they’re saying,” she continued, hoping she wasn’t laying it on too thick.

Bela raised her head from her knees slightly. “What book is it?”

“Romeo and Juliet.”

There was a morbid snort. “How coincidental…”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Bela shook her head. “Lemme see. What part are you at?”

Alina pointed out the current line she had reread at least five times over without being able to discern the Shakespearean into modern-day language. Bela, however, looked it over once, scanned the other pieces of dialogue for context, nodded, then explained, “In this scene, Romeo, Mercutio, and Benvolio are sneaking into a party thrown by the Capulets by wearing masks to disguise themselves. Romeo is upset over Juliet and says he isn’t going to dance. Mercutio then teases him over this and turns all of Romeo’s words into gratuitous sexual metaphors to poke fun at him. Mercutio ends up going on this whole rant about Queen Mab of the fairies, who visits people in their dreams until Romeo and Benvolio cut in to get things back on track. Romeo also kinda foreshadows the entire play at one point. See? Right here: ‘I fear too early, for my mind misgives Some consequence yet hanging in the stars Shall bitterly begin his fearful date With this night’s revels, and expire the term Of a despisèd life closed in my breast By some vile forfeit of untimely death.’ I do believe that is hinting at his eventual fate of death.”

Alcina blinked at her for a moment before smiling fondly and rubbing her head. “Such a smart girl,” she cooed. “I could have never gotten that out of this .”

Bela smiled, but then it quickly disappeared, and she leaned back into her chair, curling up and watching the fire once again.

Now Alcina was really concerned. Bela was never one to let go of praise and affection so easily. Usually, she savored it a bit longer before moving onto something else, but here she was, brushing off Alcina’s words and touch as though they were nothing.

Something was very, very wrong.

However, before she had the chance to take the risk and attempt to ask questions, Bela spoke up.

“Have you ever been in love, Mother?”

Surprised, Alcina asked, “And what brought this up?”

Bela shrugged, not making eye contact. She kept looking at the fire as though she wanted to throw herself into it. Her voice was small, so small. “Just curious.”

“I see,” Alcina nodded. She looked up, thinking for a moment as she wracked her brain of the memories of her past life. “I have been in love before. Many times, actually.”

Bela gave her a curious look, finally pulling her gaze from the flames. “Really?”

“Indeed,” Alcina confirmed. “Though, I do believe that just comes with growing up. You gain lovers, you lose lovers. Some were real, some were fantasies I made up. Some lasted a few days, some a few months, some a few years.” She took a sip of her tea again. “None of them really mattered in the end, though. Clearly.” Another sip.

Bela nodded faintly. “Okay.”

“Have you ever been in love?” Alcina decided to ask.

Strangely, Bela went rigid. Her claws clenched around the sides of her calves as she stared forward with pupils that were constricted into pinpricks. Sweat beaded along the golden crown of her head.

“I-I-- umm…”

Alcina furrowed her eyebrows in worry. She closed Romeo and Juliet with a bookmark to mark her page, then set a hand on Bela’s back. Her daughter was trembling.

“Bela?” Alcina said, keeping her voice soothing and low to avoid setting off the poor girl even further. “Is everything alright? You don’t look well.”

“Yes, yes,” Bela answered her, much too quickly for it to be convincing. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Before Alcina could prod further, Bela shot up to her feet. She began to chew on one of her claws, flexing her free hand at her side in visible agitation. Pieces of her skin broke off into flies and buzzed around her head madly. She seemed to be dissociating in panic.

“Bela,” Alcina rose to her feet slowly, not wanting to accidentally frighten her daughter. “Bela, what’s wrong? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Bela said, even when she was so obviously far from fine. Her chest was beginning to heave.

“Darling,” Alcina said, and that seemed to get Bela to crack a bit.

With a tight whimper, Bela shook her head. “Hard-- hard to breathe--”

Instantly, Alcina loosely took Bela by the arms and lowered her to the ground. In the firelight, she could see the pallor of her daughter’s increasing panic as it morphed into a complete attack on her anxiety. Bela grabbed her wrists with her claws dug in for desperate grounding, and Alcina let her, even when it stung her skin. Her comfort was far from important in that moment.

“Alright, honey,” Alcina said. “We’re going to do the thing we’ve been practicing, alright? Do you think you can do it?”

Wordlessly, Bela nodded.

“That’s my strong girl,” Alcina said. “Alright, give me five things you can see.”

“Y-you,” Bela stammered. The words shook when they left her lips. “Your hair’s kinda bushy.”

Alcina rolled her eyes in a good-natured way. “Thank you for pointing that out, Bela.”

Bela’s fight instantly gave in at that and she hunched her shoulders in, looking ashamed. Quick to correct herself, Alcina lifted her chin so they could make eye contact.

“I was only teasing you, honey,” Alcina said. “Keep going.”

Bela nodded. “The fire; it’s really pretty. Your-- your, umm, chair; it looks soft. The book; not the best of Shakespeare’s works. And, ah-- the teacup; it has doves on it.”

“Very good,” Alcina praised. “Four things you can feel.”

“The fire’s-- the fire’s warmth. My heart in-- my heart in my throat. The floor under me; I should have worn socks.”

“I told you,” Alcina cut in playfully.

Bela swallowed thickly. “A-and, umm-- and my anxiety. It’s like a Lycan in my chest.”

Alcina frowned at that but quickly wiped it off her face for now. She stroked Bela’s cheek, gaining a spark of hope when Bela leaned into her hand.

“I feel you, too,” Bela said.

“You only needed to name five, little moth,” Alcina said, bopping her on the nose.

Bela just shrugged.

“But you’re doing so well. Can you give me three things you can hear?”

“My heartbeat in my ears; it sounds like thunder. I don’t like thunder. Umm-- the fire crackling; I like that. And-- and a raven outside. I think that’s Merlin. His cawing is kinda raspier than the other birds’. I think he may have hurt his throat at some point.”

A small smile grew onto Alcina’s lips. She continued caressing Bela’s cheek as she talked to her. “Now two things you can smell.”

“Fear,” Bela said almost instantly. Her nose twitched. “I smell fear.”

Alcina could smell it, too. The thickened dread wafting off of her shaken daughter was acrid, bitter, and unsettling.

“Umm--” Bela’s claws fidgeted, clicking against each other softly. “And your tea. Smells like cinnamon. Cinnamon makes me sneeze.”

“One more. One thing you can taste.”

“Fear.”

“Fear?” Alcina echoed, one eyebrow raised. “Again?”

“Yes.”

“What does fear taste like?”

Bela stared down at her claws, which she splayed open before herself. “It-- it has a slightly dull metallic taste that’s mixed with urea, I think. Sometimes it tastes like popping a bloody, pus-filled blister in your mouth and squeezing every drop out with your teeth and savoring it on your tongue. Sucking the wound clean and swallowing it down.” She clenched her fists. “But it doesn’t get clean. It doesn’t dry out. The blister just keeps oozing and oozing until all the discharge comes pouring out of your mouth, but even then it doesn’t stop. Because you can’t force it all down. You can’t just swallow and think it’s done. That’s not how anxiety works. It keeps coming, even when you thought it was gone, and it leaves behind this awful flavor of bitter bile. It’s acidic, too, you know? It melts your chest and stomach and makes you feel like you’re sinking in your own skin.” She looked up at Alcina, and her eyes were shiny and blank. “I taste fear, Mother.”

There was silence between them for just a moment. Bela wasn’t looking at Alcina anymore; she seemed to think the floor was very interesting at that moment. Alcina was still considering her daughter’s dark words, replaying them over and over again until the subtle taste of sour gall spread across her tongue. She swallowed it down and winced when it drooled over the back of her throat like rancid molasses.

“You did it, baby,” Alcina finally said, smiling despite her worry, despite the flavor of fear in her mouth. “I’m so proud of you.”

Bela just nodded. Though she was no longer having a panic attack, she didn’t seem any less upset. Alcina considered letting it go, especially after just having calmed her down, but if something was bothering her daughter so much that she couldn’t breathe when she thought about it too hard, she knew she couldn’t just leave it be. It could escalate into something much, much worse, and she knew damn well that Bela was willing to go to such extremes, if her explanation of fear and the way she kept looking at the fire wasn’t enough proof of that.

“Now,” Alcina saw Bela tense, but she plunged anyway. “I need you to tell me what’s bothering you so I can help.”

Bela shook her head with a strangled whimper. “I can’t tell you.”

“Bela, I’m your mother. You can tell me anything.”

“You’ll hate me.”

“I won’t hate you.”

Bela was quiet. Then, slowly, she dragged her gaze up to Alcina. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise, Bela. I would never hate you.”

Bela nodded. “Okay.” Her claws clenched into fists against the floorboards, knuckles shaking and turning white. She took several deep breaths before forcing out, “I-- I don’t-- I don’t like people like that. Like how I’m supposed to.”

Silence.

Tears flowed freely from Bela’s eyes and she choked on a sob. Her head hung in shame as her entire body quaked. The poor girl looked terrified, and the sight hit Alcina right in the heart--though she didn’t quite get it.

“Thank you for telling me,” she said.

“No, no-- you don’t understand,” Bela’s breath was coming out thin and raspy again. She sat up straight, claws now knotted in her nightgown, tensing and pulling. “I don’t-- I don’t like people, Mama. The way other people do. The way everyone does. I’ve-- I’ve tried, but--” She cut herself off with a whimper, tears pouring down her cheeks.

“What do you mean?” Alcina asked. Trying to discern Bela’s vague words was like trying to discern Shakespearean. “Do you think you can explain it to me, hun? Like you did with the book and the fear. I want to help you.”

Bela sniffled, then nodded. “I-- I, umm-- I don’t feel anything towards people. Like-- like that. Romantically. And sexually.”

Finally, it dawned on Alcina.

“When I read those cheesy romance books Daniela likes, I don’t get the characters’ feelings at all. Just the thought of being in a relationship like that makes me so uncomfortable and I don’t know why, and that scares me, Mama.” Bela continued, her anguish oozing into every word she spoke. “I don’t like the thought of being tied down to someone like that, but it still feels like something has been stolen from me. That promise of a future with true love and marriage and a fairy tale ending that Daniela always talks about is gone, even though I still want it. Or, at least, I think I want it. I don’t know what I want.” She sniffled, looking miserable. “It’s the same for sexual stuff. When I come to scenes with sex in them in books, it makes my skin feel all weird, like severed hands are crawling all over my body. I get embarrassed and awkward and uneasy, and I don’t understand that, either. It just makes me feel so sick to my stomach.”

There was a pause. Bela was taking several shallow breaths and digging her claws into her legs, so Alcina reached out and took one of her hands, stroking her knuckles with her thumbs.

“Breathe, baby,” Alcina murmured. “Breathe.”

“I’ve-- I’ve tried to force myself to be like everyone else before,” Bela said unexpectedly.

Taken aback, Alcina said, “What?”

Bela swallowed thickly. “With-- with a maiden. You know how I am with them- too nice, too polite. I befriended one of them. We were kinda close. After a while, she started making moves on me. I knew what she wanted for so long, but I kept avoiding it because I was uncomfortable or scared. But then I had this revelation: maybe if I did this with her, I would finally feel something! I would be like everyone else! So I did. With her. And I didn’t like it.”

“Bela…”

“It hurt,” Bela whispered. “Like I was being scraped raw. Or my body was being turned inside out. I felt so sick. Humiliatingly, I started crying during it, but I don’t think she noticed. If she did, she didn’t stop. Not until she was finished. When she was, I threw up after she left. I was so sore.” Alcina squeezed her hand, and she sucked in a sharp breath, “But-- but I had to have liked it! I got, umm--” Her cheeks began to turn red with embarrassment, though Alcina didn’t blame her. Having to explain your sex life to your mother would be awkward for anyone. “I got…wet. And-- and that happens when you’re aroused! So-- so I do like sexual stuff!”

“Oh, sweetie…” Alcina sighed sadly.

Bela hunched her shoulders in. “R-right?”

“Honey, ‘getting wet’ doesn’t always mean you’re aroused,” Alcina said gently. “Simply viewing something erotic, like a naked woman, for example, could trigger this bodily response. It’s also a way for the vagina to lubricate itself to help dull the pain of penetration. You can be in a sexual situation and be wet, but not want to have sex. That’s completely normal and one hundred percent okay.” She lifted her hands to cup Bela’s cheeks. “Wetness is not an acceptable body language for consent. Who were you trying to convince: the maiden or yourself?”

Bela stared at her for a long moment, eyes wide and damp, breath hitched in the back of her throat. Then, she began shaking her head, pulling her hair, and weeping, “No, no-- I wanted it, I wanted it-- I know I did. I’m normal, I’m normal--”

It was truly heartbreaking to see her child in such a way. Bela seemed downright devastated over her own sexuality, to the point where she thought she was disgusting and unnatural for something that was actually completely normal.

Taking her daughter’s hands to keep her from hurting herself, Alcina went to say something, but Bela cut her off, getting to the words first.

“What’s wrong with me?!” Bela cried. “Why-- why am I like this, Mama? Am I broken? Am I heartless? I-- I love you and Cassandra and Daniela! I love Uncle Karl and Uncle Moreau and Auntie Donna and Angie and the Duke! I love reading and animals and writing, but-- but when I-- when I try to-- when it comes to sex and romance, I--” She finally gave up and sobbed.

“Oh, Bela,” Alcina said sadly. “Oh, my poor, sweet girl…” She pulled Bela into her lap and held her close, rocking her back and forth to help comfort her. Her fingers gently ran through Bela’s messy hair. “Shh, shh… You aren’t broken or heartless, sweetheart. This is an okay thing to feel.”

“You-- you don’t think I’m wrong?”

Alcina’s heart twisted at the way Bela looked up at her to say that, her eyes holding so much sadness and pain. She tucked her daughter’s head back under her chin and tightened the embrace.

“Absolutely not. Do you think you are?”

Bela answered in a strangled whimper. Alcina couldn’t help but wonder what put such a thought in her daughter’s brain--though, this was Bela she was dealing with. her anxiety was a wild, bestial thing that made her worry about the most obscene things.

“Did you really think this would change anything?” Alcina asked. “That I could ever possibly love you any less?”

Bela shrugged weakly.

“I-I just…”

That deep shame from before seemed to return and Bela’s head dipped. Alcina felt like she was going to try and pull away, so she tightened the embrace and used one hand to lift the girl’s chin.

“Hey, hey,” Alcina murmured, brushing away fresh tears on Bela’s cheeks. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with this, sweetie. There’s nothing wrong with you, either. And if anyone says otherwise, tell me. I’ll eviscerate them.”

That got a tiny, watery giggle out of Bela.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Alcina went on. “Sex and romantic relationships… They aren’t for everyone. And that’s okay. It certainly doesn’t make you broken or heartless.”

“B-but--”

“Hun, look at me. Do I really look like someone who will judge you for being this way?”

Bela shrugged a little. Her little body seemed to have exhausted itself of all its efforts to argue.

Alcina rocked her gently, stroking her hair the way she knew she liked it. “How about I explain something to you, hm?”

Bela looked up at her blearily.

“Your love may not be arousing or romantic, but you want to know what it is like?”

“What?” Bela asked softly.

“Your love is warm and fuzzy, like being wrapped in a blanket during a blizzard. It’s safe and reassuring. Your love is security and shelter. Your love is noticing all the little details, like my bushy hair because it’s late at night or your Uncle Karl’s finger twitching because he’s nervous at the meetings with Mother Miranda but is trying to hide it or Cassandra’s leg bouncing because she’s full of pent up, restless energy. Your love is knowing what makes each of us tick and doing everything in your power to make us feel better when we’re upset. Your love is like the first flower showing up in the snow as winter melts away and the beginning flickers of a tender flame and the gentle fluttering of bird wings.” Alcina let out a soft laugh. “I’m nowhere near as good at details as you are, my darling. But, most importantly, your love is normal and natural and what makes you you. And you shouldn’t have to try and change that for anyone, no matter what.”

Bela stared up at her in silenced awe, tears trickling down her cheeks. Alcina squeezed her reassuringly.

“I want you to know that I’ll always support you, okay?” Alcina said. “I’m always going to be here for you.”

Bela nodded, hiccuping softly. “Thank you, Mama,” she whispered through tiny whimpers. “Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too, Bela,” Alcina said. She kissed the top of Bela’s head and purred to her softly. “My perfect, perfect girl.”

#resident evil 8 #resident evil village #alcina dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #resident evil fanfic #dimitrescu family #with this unruly heart of mine

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jasonndeans · 3 years

Text

young gods - shane “dio” morrissey x reader

word count: 1,990

warnings: brief scene involving harassment and brief use of the f slur at the end.

chapter: 1/?

summary: You weren't looking for anything when you met Dio, but you also couldn't take your eyes off of him. You were drawn to him, shrouded in black mystery and his softer side he kept well hidden under that duster. A part of you knew when you first saw him, he was destined to fly too close to the sun. At first, it wasn't really anything he said or anything he did. It was the feeling that came along with him. You'd never felt this way before, and the crazy thing is, you didn't know if you should. You knew his world moved too fast and burned too bright, but...how can the Devil be pulling you towards someone who looks so much like an angel when he smiles at you? Maybe he knew that when he met you, too.

Dio didn’t have much to bring with him on the day he took you up on your offer to live with you in your small New York City apartment; small, albeit big enough for two. He carried almost all of his earthly possessions with him in his pockets — the keys to his father’s ancient, barely running Honda, a pack of cigarettes, loose cash and change, and his trusty switch. The rest would have to be crammed into his car and hauled over, mostly consisting of clothes and shoes, thrifted or stolen.

“I was wonderin’ when you’d rescue me from the Smack Shack,” he’d quipped, lips curling.

“The Smack Shack” is what he’d dubbed the worn-down, abandoned place he and his buddies — all of them pursuers of a list of drugs, some of them sellers like Dio — often crashed in when a softer, more secure sofa couldn’t be reserved for the night. Thus, The Smack Shack. You’d visited a handful of times despite the fact that it gave you the creeps. Dio had your trust, as did…some of his friends. The neighborhood just wasn’t the safest in Manhattan, needless to say, and there was no guessing what shady characters were looming about in these hollowed out homes. You’re just glad he’s out of there. And with you.

“Ohh, I rescued you, huh?” You’d teased back, your voice lilting in a sing-song tone. “I must be your knight in shining armor.”

He hummed in the back of his throat with a mock grimace, leaning forward to kiss you. “Don’t make me sick, birdie.” His lips were chapped and tasted of smoke, and as much as you detested the habit, it was something so purely Dio. A smirk played on his lips upon pulling back with decorated fingers idly tapping out a rhythm onto a tabletop of a squat little sandwich shop you worked at. “I seem to remember things differently.” Expectant, he cocked his head, casting a shadow of his star-shaped earring onto his neck -- one of many, many things that endeared you to the boy in black.

As if on cue, you turned sheepish with a duck of your head and a bashful smile cast downwards. He was referring to the day you two first met. Officially, that is. Along with the thrill of waitressing and constructing sandwiches, you worked behind a cash register at a record shop -- Empire Records. Music’s always been a constant comfort for you, in your ears when you needed a voice to scream your sorrows, your rampages or your little victories. You’d amassed quite the collection of records as you grew and your music taste with you for a player you’d fixed up and obtained from a seller when on the hunt for more important things like furniture and necessities to fill your then new apartment. You didn’t consider yourself to be one of those douchey vinyl connoisseurs, but you liked the place well enough. It was only a matter of time before you noticed the tall, dark, handsome boy who’d frequent the place without buying anything. He’d stick to the Industrial Rock or Post-Punk ailes and he definitely looked the type, decked head to toe in grungey black attire, adorned with silver jewelry and chains. Every so often the two of you would lock eyes, make slightly painful small talk about whatever was playing through the speakers. You even inquired once if he’d learned your shift schedule with how often he’d appear when you were working, and, leaning suavely on his elbows before you, he’d replied:

“Maybe I have. Maybe I haven’t. That all depends...would you think I was a creep if I said yes?”

Perhaps a normal individual would confirm this, but you had to admit the guy was cute. Okay, he was hot with his dark eyes lined in black, brow piercing and air of confidence. So you smiled and shook your head. Dio smiled back.

You recall during one of your early morning shifts, Dio asked for your coffee order, motioning to the cup in your hands. You gave it to him and he advised against grabbing your morning coffee the next time it was scheduled on your calendar. With curiosity, you obliged and on that day and each day after, in he strolled with your cup in one hand, his in the other. So you carried on like that for a while, chatting over coffee, much to the dismay of your manager.

“Your boyfriend’s a distraction,” she’d remarked one day. “And a loiterer. I don’t care how dreamy he is, he can’t keep hanging around here if he’s not gonna buy anything.”

Admittedly, that caused your heart to sink a little. Yeah, you understood her frustration from a business perspective, but despite not even knowing this guy’s name, his gloomy presence brightened your otherwise dull work days.

When you transferred your manager’s message, Dio issued a breath of...disappointment?

“I don’t believe in money,” came his confession, almost hardly classifying as one what with how casually it was delivered. He chuckled at your raised brow. “Everyone’s a slave to these meaningless pieces of paper and metal, even you. ” A nail painted black pointed at you. “If I want something, nine times outta ten, I’ll find my own way to get it. Seems a little fucked up to work for the essentials for survival, don’t you think?”

For a moment, you sat with this new information. Yeah, it was a little fucked up to fork over hard-earned cash for things like basic needs, but how else was someone expected to live? Mulling it over, you sipped your coffee, once again brought by him. You shot Mr. No-Name-Kid a knowing look. “Am I drinking stolen coffee?” Your smirk couldn’t hide from him.

Dio only laughed.

One night as you closed up shop, you were disheartened at the absence of a certain trench coat clad “customer” in the store that day. You couldn’t place where this was coming from. After all, the two of you were only..what? Acquaintances at most? Names hadn’t even been exchanged, and yet you found yourself scanning the streets outside for any sight of him at the door; reminded of his face when bands like The Cure filled the shop.

Your sigh deflated you as you dug for your keys in your bag -- both to lock up and for your car. It was whatever. This guy had a life too and was under no obligation to visit you as you worked. You turned the key to Empire Records, locking it shut and gave the doors a pull to be sure, Yup. All good. Nodding to yourself, you turned to locate your car in the lot next door. The night was brisk, pushing past the fabric of your cardigan as you walked an empty sidewalk. Under the glow of buzzing streetlights and neon business signs, you tugged it closer to you. The work day was dwindling, at least on this street, cars every so often rolling past. You’re about halfway to the car park when your ears catch a second pair of footsteps behind you. Your lips and spirits lift with the hope that they might belong to the heavy boots of Dio after all and you turn to greet him.

“Nice night, huh?”

This guy’s not Dio. His hoodie covers shaggy chestnut hair, hands in his front pocket as he trudges along. This dude reeks of weed and booze. You ignore him and continue on your path.

“Not a talker. Got it. Listen, honey, you don’t gotta clam up around me, I’m a swell guy. I’ll walk ya’ to your car, that’s where you’re goin’, right?”

Jaw clenched, you ball your cool hands into fists at your sides, keeping your car key poking out from between your fingers should this douche not get the hint. “I don’t need an escort, thanks.” Your reply is sharp, eyes remaining en route. Other than that, you try your damndest to ease calm through your body. Tempting as it is to dash to the safety of your vehicle, you’re not about to put any fear on display for him. You’re okay. Breathe. The lot’s less than a block away now.

Then a hand snakes its way around your waist.

“C’mon, baby, ‘m just tryn’a be a gentleman. Isn’t that what broads want?” His breath is rancid in your nose.

You jerk away, shooting daggers. “Offer declined, now leave me alone.” Now you pick up the pace with your destination in sight. You don’t make it far before you’re jerked back by fingers at your forearm that tug forcefully. The bastard opens his mouth to spew more drovel, but you don’t give him the chance to speak. Screwing up your face, you reel your arm back and jab him with your key in the ribs.

Pain sputters through his lips. No skin was broken (unfortunately), but he’s stumbled back a few paces and grabs where you’d struck him. “You bitch!” He spits, his glare glassy. “Fuck’s your problem?!”

You’re halted by a chilling mixture of fear and shock at your own actions, snapping out of it when the drunk stranger lunges forward. No time is wasted in absolutely fucking booking it now. He may be hammered, but you’re taking no chances. You pay no attention to the string of swears and slurs from behind you and finally reach your car. The vibrations in your hands make unlocking the door difficult, and glancing up you can see your pursuer drunkenly heading toward you.

“Fuck!” You cry. “Stupid fucking--!”

“If I were you I’d stop right there, you piece of shit.”

The familiar voice that hadn’t been there prior snaps your head up, scanning the darkness to catch Dio crossing the street looking more menacing than you’ve ever seen him. You could get in your car and peel out of there right now, but you’re frozen in place watching the scene unfold.

Your attacker finds his way to his feet again, looking dumbfounded at the character who’s walked onto the scene. “Who -- who the fuck’re you?!”

You catch a smirk on Dio’s lips under flickering streetlights. “That all depends on what your next move is, jagoff.” He looks pissed as all hell, though there’s a layer of calm to his words that stirs your stomach. Dio now stands in front of the other with his hands in leather pockets, like he’s provoking him. He’s always exuded this...intimidating aura, clad in all black and chains but you’ve never seen this side of him in action. Maybe now is a bad time to come to this realization, but you have to admit: it’s sexy.

“Oh that’s, ‘s cute,” Mumbles the brunette guy, snickering. “‘S this your boyfriend comin’ to the rescue? Looks like a fuckin’ faggot if I’ve ever seen--”

Dio’s boot to this guy’s crotch cuts him off in the middle of his “insult” and he crumples to the concrete with a groan; if that isn’t enough, Dio lands a second kick to his temple.

You can only stand there lamely with your jaw agape and watch him swagger over after he just knocked a dude in the nuts.

“Sorry I was late,” he says smoothly. “I was in a meeting. You alright?”

Stupidly, you blink at him in the low light. “I--um...I’m…” Real nice. You shake your head to jumpstart your brain. “Yeah, I-I’m okay. I’m good. Thanks. Really.” So he’d come to see you after all.

Dio nods, appearing grateful to hear you’re unharmed.

You two begin to speak at the same time and chuckle in unison. He falls silent, ushering you to continue. You look your rescuer in the face, unable to swallow a smile. You’d missed those eyes, seeming so warm in the cool of the night. “So, do I get to know the name of my savior?” You prod.

He laughs once, low in his throat. “Dio.”

#shane dio morrissey #shane dio morrissey x reader #pedro pascal #dio x reader

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simahira · 3 years

Text

INTRODUCTION to the imahira cinematic universe

This is Hiratsuka Taira and Imaoka Shinobu from the baseball/delinquent manga Rookies by Morita Masanori. Sim Imaoka is wearing Musae’s “Persona” hair CC and Sim Hiratsuka is wearing a variety of buzz cuts.

The mustaches are unfortunately canon for their older selves.

Brief introduction:

Hiratsuka is a terrible person, and Imaoka loves that for him.

They play baseball in high school, and their canon jobs three years after graduation are:

Widely hated YouTuber ripping off Pikotaro (Hiratsuka) and “video creator” (Imaoka). It’s not confirmed, but is generally assumed, that Imaoka is making Hiratsuka’s videos.

Supporting cast:

Their (Imaoka’s) Borzoi, Wan-chan (non-canon)

Akaboshi Shouji and Hamanaka Taiyou, also from Rookies.

Sim Hamanaka is wearing Kijiko’s YM Shaggy Short hair CC + Eyelashes CC, and Sim Akaboshi is wearing as many hats as possible because there’s no custom content that supports receding hairlines.

#simblr #anime sims

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buffskierights · 4 years

Note

MOUNTAIN MAN JASKIER, KIM, MOUNTAIN JASKIER!!

*banjo starts playing as I walk in wielding an ax and wearing suspenders* did someone say Mountain Man Jaskier? *lodges my ax into the wood of my desk and cracks my knuckles as i sit down at my computer*

Geralt and Jaskier have been arranging to meet up again after the winter every year for the past decade. It’s easier for Geralt to come to Jaskier, though, so before the Witcher departs for Kaer Morhen, Jaskier ensures he has his winter plans lined up so that Geralt knows where to find him come spring. The thing is, Jaskier’s winter lodgings are... unusual, to say the least.

The first few years, Jaskier stayed at courts or with his family, as was expected. But then Geralt was suddenly asked to meet him in Caed Myrkvid, one of the more magical of the forests at the edge of Toussaint. Suspicious of the reasoning, Geralt had convinced Jaskier to tell him the story and he learned that the bard was tricked into competing with a Fae bard after stumbling into a faerie ring.

He had tied with the bard and the Fae had been willing to acquiesce to the tie, but the Queen was less inclined to let Jaskier go. So she struck a deal with him, that Jaskier would spend his winters in the Fae court in order for him to have his freedom the rest of the year. Jaskier hadn’t seen any other way out of it, no loopholes that he could find, so he’d agreed to the bargain. Geralt was disapproving but sympathetic, the Fae are tricky creatures, and since then he’s been meeting Jaskier at a clearing in Caed Myrkvid in the springs.

This year, the snow thawed early, up in the Blue Mountains. And the Witchers of Kaer Morhen, eager to get back on the Path and out of the keep, had taken full advantage of the early opening of the passes. This meant Geralt would be arriving almost a month earlier than usual to meet with Jaskier, but he hopes it won’t be a problem.

When he arrives at Caed Myrkvid, he goes to the clearing with the faerie ring that Jaskier uses to enter and exit the Fae Wilds. Geralt firmly holds Roach’s reins, checks that he has enough provisions to last him a week or two in the Wilds, and then steps into the circle. His stomach flips and the world spins until the colors settle and the trees surrounding him are much larger than they were before.

With bark the color of plums and trunks as tall as giants, the gnarled trees reach for the pale, lavender sky. Electric blue leaves reach down to the ground from the bowed limbs of the trees, creating a bizarrely colored combination between a weeping willow and an oak tree. Insects buzz through the faintly glittering flowers that carpet the forest floor and the small toadstools that make up the fairy ring glow blue in the low light of late day.

Geralt stands quietly for a few minutes, shushing Roach when she wickers nervously beside him, until he hears the gentle plucking of lute strings on the playful breeze that pulls at his hair and tousles his clothes. With a deep inhale to confirm the oak and petrichor scents of his bard, he adjusts his grip on Roach’s bridle and follows the sounds of music deeper into the forest. This isn’t his first foray into the Wilds, but repeat visits do nothing to ease how unsettled this world makes him.

He weaves through the trees, following the winding path of the teasing wind that carries the notes of Jaskier’s melodies to him, until he comes to another clearing. This one is larger than the one holding the faerie ring, and there’s a tent pitched between the trees so no widowmakers have a chance to strike its inhabitants in their sleep. There’s also a small fire that’s slowly building and eating at the pile of magenta wood that releases a heady smell instead of the natural acrid scent of smoke. And lounging against a log beside the fire is Jaskier.

The bard is dressed down, his boots set aside and his bare toes buried in the damp earth. His brown trousers are rolled half-way up his calves and his cream colored shirt is partially untucked from the waist of his pants. The collar of his shirt is unlaced, and honestly it looks like the laces that are there look somewhat like thin briars if the tiny scratches that are half-hidden amidst dark chest hair are any indication. His hair is shaggy and he has a beard, which is a novelty for Geralt as he’s never seen Jaskier with more than a few days growth.

Between the plant stains on his shirt and the dirt on his legs, long and unkempt hair and the crown of ivy perched upon his head, Jaskier looks like he belongs right there in the forest. He hasn’t noticed Geralt’s presence yet and he sets his lute aside gently to stretch his arms above his head, his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows to show off strong, corded forearms. Oddly enough, Jaskier’s ears look vaguely pointed and his canines sharper than they were before.

“Jaskier,” Geralt greets amicably and the bard jumps in surprise, his head whipping around to look at the Witcher, “Good to see you.”

“I-I-I uh,” Jaskier replies eloquently before floundering about what to say and settling on the obvious, “You’re rather early this year.”

Geralt watches him closely, the bard’s eyes a much more vibrant blue than he remembers them being, “Snow in the passes melted early.” There’s a long pause before Geralt breaks it, “You eat their food while you’re here in the winters.”

Jaskier splutters for a few moments before hanging his head and scuffing the ground with his toe, “I, uh... yes.”

“I can tell.”

Jaskier clears his throat and rubs his hands together nervously, “And is that... okay?”

Geralt looks at the nervous gesture and the way Jaskier is shifting his weight quickly back and forth on the balls of his feet before shrugging, “Why wouldn’t it be?”

The relief that floods Jaskier and sags his shoulders is almost palpable in the air and Jaskier gives Geralt a large, toothy grin, “You know I’m as tall as you, when I’m in this form.”

“We’ll just have to get me taller boots, then,” Geralt groans as he doles out sixty dollars for betting and gives it to his brothers and sisters to usher them out of the clearing where they had been hiding amidst the shadows that lurk in the corner of their eyes

Jaskier has a fond expression on his face as he reaches over and pulls Geralt into a one-armed hug with a smile, “I guess so.”

He ends up with high heels. At least his calves look half a good as he rushes into town because he doesn’t have an extra set of clothing and the fae all wolf whistle and tease Geralt and Jaskier until the end of his winter contract. Upon when, he’ll shave his face and cut his hair and become fully human again, just for Geralt.

#ficlet #prompt #prompt fill #geraskier #mountain manskier #my writing

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bad-boy-spanker · 3 years

Text

Austere Academy:Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Green extended his hand, Jack was taken aback by the kindness in his eyes, this was the guy who spanked men to tears, he looked friendly, caring, maybe AJ was just trying to mess with him, Jack smiled & shook Green's hand warmly.

"Jack Moore, nice to meet you, Gaz"

Green chuckled to himself.

"Thank you, now I don't mind you calling me Gaz while we're alone, but if we're around others, it's probably better that you call me sir"

Call him sir, was this guy taking the piss, they were the same age.

"Now, before we get to the tour, there's some business we need to take care of"

Green led Jack over to AJ.

"AJ here told me that you kept him waiting, normally I would spank you for that, but AJ should have given you the brochure before giving you your uniform, you didn't know the rules yet, AJ did, so you will not be getting spanked, AJ will"

Jack didn't know what to say, wasn't AJ was staff, he wasn't going to spank a member of staff, was he, Jack watched as Green unclasped AJ's trousers, & pulled them down to his ankles, his Calvin Klein's soon joined them, Jack noticed the pink spots on AJ's arse where Green had slapped him, Jack already thought AJ had a nice arse, it looked even better bare, you could see the fine hairs that covered it & what looked like faint marks, maybe from a recent caning, Green sat on the bonnet of the car, grabbed AJ by the ear, & bent him over his knee, the first hard slap landed on AJ's unsuspecting arse, bringing Jack back to his senses, a red handprint was now forming over the pink spot on AJ's left arse cheek, soon followed by a similar one on the right, as Green spanked, he began admonishing AJ.

"This is the second time this has happened AJ, you're a senior, I expect better"

Jack now understood what was going on, AJ was a senior, not staff, he thought it couldn't be right a staff member getting spanked, Green spanked AJ hard & fast, barely taking a second between slaps.

"Ah-ha"

The pain had started to build in AJ's bum, he moved from side to side trying to escape Green's punishing strikes, but Green held him in place, he began focusing some of his spanks on AJ's thighs, causing AJ to buck.

"Ah-ha-ha"

Jack winced as he watched Green punish AJ, he felt for him, it was a mistake, mind you, if AJ hadn't said anything, it would be Jack in his position, his arse red & burning, after a few more minutes of harsh spanking AJ, began to cry out.

"Ah-ha-ha, I'm sorry sir, ah, it was a simple mistake, ah, it won't happen again"

Green kept on spanking, tears formed in AJ's eyes, his bum was stinging badly, he couldn't take it, he started crying.

"Please, sir, I'm sorry, please"

Green stood AJ up & bent him over the car, bending down to retrieve the belt out of AJ's trousers, which he folded & handed to Jack, Jack took the belt, confused as to why Green gave it to him, but Green's intention soon became apparent.

"Now AJ, it's only fair that Jack here has some part in your punishment, as it would have been his bare bottom I was spanking if you hadn't told me the truth, he's going to give you five with the belt, then we're done"

Still sobbing, AJ nodded his head, Green guided Jack into position behind AJ & gave him the go-ahead, Jack didn't want to spank AJ, he'd never spanked anyone before, he fumbled a bit but eventually raised the belt & brought it down on AJ's burning arse.

"Ah"

Jack felt terrible, he could already see a welt forming, but he swung again.

"Ah-ha"

Jack whipped three, four & five down quickly, but not with much force, still enough to make AJ writhe, his sore red arse jiggling as he did, Green gave a bit of a disapproving look, he didn't want Jack letting AJ off easily.

"Ah-ha-ha"

The last one had to be good, Jack didn't want to end up in Green's bad books, he drew his arm high & slammed the belt into AJ's arse.

"Ah-ha-ha-ha ha-ha"

AJ remained bent over just sobbing as Jack handed the belt back to Green, Green rubbed the boys back & helped him pull his shorts up, AJ wiped his face & put his belt back on, he threw his arms around Green, who hugged him back equally as tight, Jack didn't understand how AJ could hug the guy who had just spanked, AJ & Green hugged for a minute or so, AJ promising it wouldn't happen again, & Green reassuring him it was forgotten, AJ said goodbye to Jack & ran inside, still rubbing his sore bum, Green turned to Jack.

"Well, now you've seen how I deal with lateness, I trust you'll be at all your lessons on time, Jack"

Too fucking right, Jack thought, no way he wanted to be on the receiving end of that.

"Yes, sir"

Green's smile reappeared.

"Quick learner, that'll serve you well here, come on, I'll show you around"

Green put his arm around Jack's shoulders & led him inside, as they entered the main building, Jack was taken aback by how modern the décor was, from the outside it looked like an old, stuffy, boarding school, the interior, however, was chic, light grey walls, with light wood floors & sleek, comfy looking furniture, as Jack was admiring some of the artwork, Green was explaining the role of a senior.

"Being a senior means you can be trusted to have certain privileges, like AJ, for example, he's our driver, he picks up new students, seniors are still students, but they have responsibilities, they are also authorized to enforce discipline"

Jack turned his head at Green's last comment before he had time to ask a question, Green walked him into a classroom, it was filled with young men, all dressed in white shirts, with black ties & black trousers, each at an individual desk, all sat in front of a MacBook, Jesus they got fucking MacBook's, how was this place a reform school.

"This is the finance class, run by Mr. Ian Shaw, sorry to interrupt Mr. Shaw, just showing the new lad round"

The man stood at the front of the class turned his head, fuck he's gorgeous, he had shaggy dark hair, a stubbly chin & icy blue eyes, like some sort of vampire, he was wearing dark blue jeans, a bluey grey button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, he had to be in his early forties, total DILF, big shoulders & a nice arse, Jack was enchanted.

"No worries, Mr. Green, I was just teaching Stephen Allen here a lesson in listening"

Jack was so busy drooling over Mr. Shaw, he failed to notice the man bent over the desk, his trousers around his ankles, & his smooth, toned arse, a bright shade of red, before Jack could process, Shaw slammed a plimsoll down on the lowest part of Stephens arse, Stephen let out a loud cry, without missing a beat Shaw, slapped down four swats, Stephen wriggled over the desk, Jack thought he'd probably do the same.

"Are you ready to listen to me now"

"Yes, sir"

Stephen choked out between sobs.

"Good, now stand up, put your hands on your head, & make your way to the wall"

As Stephen stood up, Jack gasped, Stephen was easily in his late thirties, dark blonde hair, buzzed short all over, a trimmed beard, with sad, blue eyes, he was a full-grown man, & here he was in tears, with his red arse on display, Green & Shaw exchanged pleasantries, as Jack stood shocked at what had unfolded, he was getting a few leering stares from some of the guys, not that he minded, there were some good looking lads in this class, Jack was finding it hard to believe that they were all ok with what had just happened, Stephen was a grown man & he willingly bent over to get his bare arse spanked, like a petulant teenager, why did they just take it, before they left to head to Green's office, Green turned to Stephen.

"I’ll see you tonight, Stephen”

Stephen looked at Green miserably, his eyes still red from crying, he gave a sniffle as they left, & Green confirmed to Jack that he would be giving Stephen an over the knee spanking before bed, Jack felt sorry for Stephen, his arse already looked so sore, he wondered how anybody could take another spanking, after what Stephen had just suffered, his thoughts were disrupted however when he was bumped into.

“Watch where you’re going”

It was that Callum guy from the brochure, before Jack could respond, Green delivered a harsh slap to Callum’s pert arse.

“Callum, where are your manners, apologize right now”

Callum huffed & sarcastically smiled at Jack.

“Sorry, newbie”

Green rolled his eyes.

“Don’t start, Callum”

Callum smirked at Green.

“Whatever”

Jack smiled at Callum’s attitude, Green wasn’t so impressed, five slaps landed on Callum’s arse, making him squirm.

“Owah”

Callum glared at Green, after the spanking Green gave AJ, Jack couldn’t believe Callum would dare answer Green back.

“Get moving Callum”

Callum sauntered off, despite his bravado, Jack noticed Callum rubbing his arse as he strutted down the hall.

“You’d be wise to steer clear of Callum there, he’s been on punishment parade for the past three months, I’d demote him from senior, but deep down, he’s a good lad, just got a bad attitude, which usually dissipates after he’s spent some time over my knee”

Jack thought about Callum’s tight arse bent over Green’s knee, he’d love to see that, Callum kicking his legs as Green spanked away his cocky attitude, he was getting hard just thinking about it, he discreetly covered his bulge as they entered Green’s office & sat down.

“Now that you’ve had the tour Jack, any questions”

Of course, he had questions, could the seniors spank other students, why did they just take it, was the mouth soaping thing real, he wanted to know everything but didn’t know where to start, so said nothing.

“Not really sir”

Green smiled at Jack, he could tell he was a bit shaken up, they all were when they first arrived, he’d adjust in time.

“Then there’s only one thing to cover before you’re dismissed.

Jack nervously shifted in his seat, he had a feeling he wasn't going to like what Green had to say.

“It’s time for your first Austere Spanking”

#gayfiction #gayspanking #Austere Academy #Jack Moore #AJ King #Gaz Green #Ian Shaw #Stephen Allen #Callum Kelly

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eddieeatsass · 4 years

Text

Stripped Bare - Chapter 6

Summary: Eddie gets an offer from his company to work in Barbados over the summer. Beautiful weather, all expenses paid trip, and a stay in a suite at one of the most highly rated resorts in the world. How could he say no? Unfortunately, Eddie soon realizes there were a lot of reasons to say no. His skin doesn’t take kindly to the harsh sun, his suite ends up being the size of a shoe box, and, oh yeah, it’s also a nudist resort. Pairing: Reddie (side Benverly and Stanlonbrough) Rating: E Warnings: Smut, explicit language Read on AO3

The following month passed in a whirlwind. Eddie’s mind barely had time to keep up with the developments in his relationship with Richie. They were friends, Eddie believed, above all else, but they also acted like a couple. It had Eddie’s head throbbing any time he tried to think too hard on it.

Everything had been thrown into overdrive after their first encounter, the mutual eagerness for their explorations to continue didn’t go ignored. The second time they’d gotten together had been exactly two nights later; Richie had spent the entire day on the pool deck, eyeing Eddie up as overtly as possible. He’d made sure to put on a show no matter what he was doing. Swimming, putting on sunscreen, drinking a pina colada; he’d even managed to look sexy when him and Beverly had started a round of marco-polo in the pool. Eddie’d never thought that watching someone feel around blindly with their eyes screwed shut could be attractive, but Richie made it work.

The minute Eddie clocked out, Richie had been at his side, an eagerness evident in his step as he followed Eddie to his room. After the unnecessary commentary on how tiny Eddie’s room was, “A small room for a small person!”, Eddie had pushed Richie on to the bed, climbed into his lap, and eagerly reclaimed those lips that had been occupying his mind for the last 48 hours.

The second time had been just as mind blowing as the first, leaving Eddie’s face soaked with sweat and tears, and his cheeks sore from grinning so hard.

They’d fallen into a routine after that, seeking one another out whenever they could to relieve some of the tension that seemed to build up when they were away from each other.

Eddie had been amazed to find that there was no awkwardness between them, no necessity for them to build artificial comfort through small talk or forced jokes. Conversation always flowed freely, and at first Eddie had wondered if it was just a by-product of Richie’s easy-going nature. But the longer they spent time together, the more the truth solidified; Eddie and Richie had some sort of connection that couldn’t be denied. Although neither of them had pointed it out, its novelty making the idea of bringing attention to it intimidating, it was evident to everyone around them.

Like the time Richie had stolen Eddie away in the middle of his shift, giving Stan a pleading look as they passed. Stan had just rolled his eyes and covered for Eddie while he got his ass pounded in the storage closet. Stan would have been upset if it’d been any other dimwitted co-worker dropping his responsibility so he could fuck during work hours; but it hadn’t been just any dimwitted co-worker, it’d been his dimwitted Eddie, so Stan let it slide.

There were also the countless nights that Beverly had been kicked out of her room so that Richie could have Eddie over for some midnight activities. Beverly hadn’t actually minded, it had given her continuous excuses to stay at Ben’s overnight. However, even if she hadn’t been in the pursuit of her own man, she’d still have been too enamored by Richie’s attachment to be upset.

Mike didn’t seem bothered by Eddie’s slightly more frazzled work ethic, either. Eddie still did his job efficiently enough, though there were definitely a few extra flustered moments where he’d drop a guest’s drink because he tripped over a pool noodle while staring at Richie. Mike, apparently, thought it endearing, and would just respond with a knowing grin and a wink.

The evidence continued to pile up that Eddie and Richie were more than just friends with benefits, but regardless, the two in question still refused to discuss the giant, confusing, suffocating, elephant in the room.

It was exactly a month and three days into their unlabeled fling when Richie finally burst the ever-growing lump in Eddie’s chest.

It was Eddie’s day off, so he’d taken the opportunity to show Richie all the secret places he’d discovered while exploring the resort those past few weeks.

There was the abandoned section of the resort that had once been barred off for renovation, which had been cancelled once they’d discovered they lacked the funds needed to go through with it.

There was also the small hallway on the 5th floor that seemed to lead to nowhere, but if you went to the end of it you’d discover that the ‘wall’ there wasn’t a wall at all, but rather a thick partition of material light enough to push aside, revealing a small graveyard of vending machines.

Of course, their last stop was the arcade room that Stan had introduced to Eddie, which Richie went absolutely wild for. Even though the video games didn’t work, and the couch they pulled down from the wall was covered in an uncomfortable plastic sheet, Richie still liked the room for its atmosphere. Eddie wasn’t sure he understood, but he was ecstatic to see the happiness it brought Richie.

Fifteen minutes later and Richie had Eddie bent over the pool table. Eddie could feel the bruises forming on his hip bones from where they continuously slammed into the edge of the pool table; mahogany turning his golden skin purple. The thought of having a visible memory of this moment, one he could sink his fingers into and pull dull ache from, was far more exhilarating than Eddie ever would have thought.

“Aaahhh- Richie!” Eddie cried out, his fingers desperately seeking purchase across the green wool surface.

“Shhhh, unless you wanna get caught, I suggest you keep that pretty little mouth of your quiet.” Richie chided, as if he wasn’t at all affected by the way Eddie’s hole tightened around him like a boa constrictor. Eddie clenched himself on purpose in retaliation, triumphant when he heard the stuttering of breath from behind him.

“Or maybe you do want to get caught.” Richie continued, lowering his voice along with his body as he draped himself across Eddie. “Hmm? Did we discover another kink of yours to add to the list?”

Eddie gritted his teeth together, refusing to confirm nor deny Richie’s suspicions. While the thought of someone walking in on them did excite him, it also made Eddie’s anxiety spike so high he nearly lost his boner. Thankfully, Richie wasn’t about to let that happen, reaching around Eddie and encircling his cock with a painfully light grip.

Eddie tried to thrust into Richie’s hold, throwing off the rhythm they’d built up and causing Richie to pound into him at an angle that nearly had Eddie seeing stars.

“Let’s see, so far we’ve discovered hair pulling…” Richie wove his fingers through Eddie’s shaggy brown locks and pulled his head back sharply. “nipple play…” Richie continued, removing his grasp from Eddie’s cock and ignoring the noises of protest as he lifted it up to begin pinching Eddie’s pink little bud. “And of course, we know you like it when I do this.” Richie voice lowered as his hand did the same, leaving Eddie’s hair in favor of wrapping around his jaw so he could turn Eddie’s head.

Richie began kissing Eddie in a way that might more accurately be described as licking into his mouth. It was messy, and rough with the way Richie held him in place, hand nearly curling around Eddie’s neck. But Eddie loved it. It reminded him of the first time they’d done this, how it had all started, how the taste of Richie’s mouth had opened him up to a whole new world. It was intoxicating, and the feeling was all encompassing enough that Eddie didn’t even realize the stuttering of Richie’s hips, which Eddie had learned was a telltale sign of his oncoming release.

Eddie didn’t notice that Richie was cumming until he was grunting into Eddie’s mouth, and Eddie could feel the wetness beginning to seep out around Richie’s still thrusting cock.

Eddie was about to offer that he could finish himself off if Richie was too tired, when suddenly he was being manhandled up on to the pool table and turned around so his back was pillowed by the soft tabletop. Richie’s hands were pushing his legs up and apart and his head swooping down between them before Eddie could even wrap his mind around what was happening.

“Want to taste myself in you.”

“Wha- oh fuck oh my god.” Eddie moaned out as Richie began to lap at his hole eagerly. No matter how many times they did this, Eddie couldn’t help losing himself to the sensation. Richie’s tongue was soft, and warm, and firm, but most importantly, it was skilled. Richie knew what he was doing, he knew how to make Eddie’s toes curl and his stomach flip.

“I- please, Rich- need to cum, please- ahhhh!” As Richie wrapped his hand around Eddie’s cock, the smaller man’s back arched off the table.

Richie timed the flicks of his wrist with the flicks of his tongue, and before too long Eddie was cumming with a broken sob filling the room.

Eddie finally lowered his hips back down, noting a small tug in his lower back from holding the strained position for so long, but it was nothing but a whisper compared to the euphoria he felt flooding the rest of his body. His fingers and toes were tingling, buzzing with a flow of energy that emanated from his core. When he finally looked down at Richie, who’d pulled away from cleaning Eddie’s hole up, Eddie bursted out laughing.

“I don’t remember buying this brand of hair gel.” Richie commented, a small smirk disrupting his otherwise casual tone. He gazed up at Eddie from where he was still kneeling below him, Eddie’s cum shining evidently in Richie’s black curls.

“I am so sorry.” Eddie tried to get out between small bursts of giggles. He wanted to be sorry, he really did, but… it was just too funny a sight.

“No worries, Eddie Spaghetti!” Richie stood up, hooking his palms around the backs of Eddie’s knees and pulling him to the very edge of the pool table, so he was flush with Richie’s body. “I think I can find it in me to forgive you.” He added softly, leaning in to capture Eddie’s lips in a tender kiss.

Eddie melted into Richie, but the warmth was gone before he’d even had a chance to get used to it.

“In fact, if you really wanna make it up to me,” Richie began, pulling away slowly until he came back into focus in Eddie’s view. “You’ll come out on the town with me tonight.”

Eddie’s heart hiccupped, something like a bolt of pure energy shooting down his limbs and leaving them tingling. It was true that in the time that Eddie had been in Barbados, he still hadn’t left the resort grounds.

Eddie had let it slip last night while Richie’s hand was idly stroking his cock, his trash mouth rambling nonsense that only somewhat strung together. He’d mumbled something about Eddie’s eyes being brighter than the night lights along The Gap. Eddie was thoroughly confused, his post-orgasm brain struggling to understand why Richie was talking about a clothing company, until Richie seemed to notice Eddie’s muddled features.

Richie finally pulled his hand away from Eddie’s softening cock (for which Eddie was equally thankful and resentful) and propped himself up on an elbow so he could look down at Eddie.

“You haven’t been to St. Laurence Gap yet?” Richie asked, almost incredulously.

“Uhm… no?”

“Hmm, that’s weird… that’s usually the first place tourists go.” Richie joked.

There was a silence in which Richie laid back down beside Eddie, and the proximity prompted Eddie to continue, even though the conversation made him uncomfortable.

“I, uh, haven’t actually been to the city yet…”

“What!?” Richie shot up promptly, and the absurd reaction made Eddie laugh lightly before pushing him back down with a gentle shove to his chest.

“I haven’t had a reason to.” Eddie tried, knowing Richie would be able to see right through the excuse.

“Well… I mean you’re not missing much, I guess. The Gap is like, the only place worth checking out anyway.” Richie’s voice had taken on a softer tone, adjusting to the atmosphere he felt around him.

Eddie chewed on his lip for a bit before responding again.

“Is it safe?” He asked hesitantly.

“If you’re with the right people, yeah.” Richie assured him, and then added on after a beat. “I know it might feel a little overwhelming at first, but I promise it’s worth it just for the cultural experience alone. No pressure, of course, but if you ever wanted to go-”

They’d been cut off when a pounding at their door alerted them to Beverly’s presence, begging them to put on pants before she came in to grab the toiletries she needed for yet another night over at Ben’s.

Eddie hopped off the pool table, squeezing by Richie in search for his clothes.

“Sure.” Eddie tried for nonchalance, but the quickening beat of his heart could probably be heard halfway across the world. He located his underwear and slipped them on over slim hips.

“It doesn’t have to be, like… a date or anything.” Richie added, his tone unreadable.

‘Do you want it to be a date?’ Eddie’s brain questioned loudly, his mouth betraying him when it said nothing of the like. Instead, Eddie wandered over to his t-shirt and pulled it on robotically before turning back to Richie.

“Yeah, no, of course.” Eddie responded, his lips tight as they pulled up into a tense smile.

Eddie could trail Richie’s Adam’s apple as he swallowed thickly, clearly itching to say more but holding back. Eddie wanted to hear what he had to say, wanted to know if Richie was still tiptoeing around this thing between them or if he genuinely wanted to keep things casual. Eddie thought the second option might just kill him, so he opted to believe the first and keep his sanity.

Eddie spotted his shorts on top of the pinball machine and used it as the excuse for his final escape. If Richie wanted to continue to pretend their feelings for one another weren’t perceptible to anyone with eyes, then Eddie would need some time to recover between their little hookups, or he might just explode.

“Meet in the lobby at 7:00?” Eddie asked over his shoulder as he finally finished redressing.

“Uhh, yeah. See you then.”

Eddie turned to address Richie once more before leaving, and from his vantage point in the doorway, he couldn’t help but note how small Richie looked. He was still naked, not having moved from his spot in front of the pool table, and his usual air of cockiness seemed absent.

“I’m expecting you to show me a good time.” Eddie called to Richie.

Presented once again with their usual flirtatiousness, Richie seemed to fall back into himself, cocking an eyebrow at the challenge.

“It’ll be the best night you’ve ever had.” Richie assured him confidently.

Unbeknownst to him, Richie had already provided Eddie with the best night he’d ever had. He doubted anything could top that first time between them when Eddie finally got to experience what love and lust and want truly felt like.

But this might end up being a close second.

#reddie #reddie lemon #reddie smut #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #reddie fanfic #reddie fanfiction #reddie fic #it fanfic #it fanfiction #it fic #my posts #my writing #stripped bare

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marvelstarwarsetc · 4 years

Text

All We Know- Daryl Dixon

PART NINE

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings: Cussing, Violence, Gore (The fact that its the walking dead should be warning enough lol)

Summary: Finding her way back to her sisters was all that mattered to her. When the world ended she had lost everything, so finding them became all that mattered. Or at least, it was, until she stumbled across a redneck hunting in the woods.

*Starts in Season 1 and will be a multi part fic*

Part One Part two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Seven (Daryl’s POV) Part Eight

Dr. Edwin Jenner was a kind-looking man in his mid to late 40′s, his light brown hair was just starting to grey, whether from age or the stress of the new world was yet to be determined. He worked at the CDC as a virologist before the world turned, and according to him was the only one who stuck around when it became obvious there was nothing they could do to stop this from spreading.

After he granted the worn down group entry after they all submitted to a blood test, his guarded expression and apprehension for the other survivors fell and he opened them with seemingly open arms.

It was when Jacqui mentioned no one had had a decent meal in days that Dr. Jenner served up a kind of feast that no one in the group had seen in a long time. The round table was filled with bowls of pasta and a seemingly endless supply of wine, and the group all sat around tables with warm happy expressions. Even Andrea wore a small smile, and Y/n’s smile widened a little at the sight.

The Harrison sisters still hadn’t spoken a word to each other, both still too upset with the other over the things that had happened at the quarry. So while Andrea sat on one end of the table between Dale and Shane, Y/n kept her distance on the other end as she sat with Glenn and T-dog.

Dr Jenner had offered to fix up the younger Harrison’s battered face a little better than Lori and Carol could, and the mix of appropriate medical supplies and antibacterial cream had already made a huge difference on her face. The swelling had gone down significantly, and her vision was finally clear again thanks to that fact.

“You know, in Italy, children have a little bit of wine with dinner. And in France,” Dale stopped behind Carl as he was filling everyone’s empty glasses at the table. He was looking to Lori for confirmation, who seemed conflicted for a second before she shook her head.

“Well, when Carl is in Italy or France, he can have some then.”

“What’s it gonna hurt? Come on. Come on.” Rick gently tried to convince his wife, his eyebrows wiggling playfully at her as he did so. The action made Y/n’s smile soften at the playful family banter, and her eyes met her sister’s from across the table before they both looked away again.

Finally Lori conceded and Dale laughed lightly while he handed Carl a glass with half an inch of wine in it. “There you are, young lad.”

Everyone stopped what they were doing to watch as Carl looked at the liquid in his glass with a curious expression, before lifting the glass to his lips and took a small sip.

When Carl let out a sound in disgust everyone laughed at the young boy, and then Y/n found herself looking across the table to where Daryl sat up on a counter, laughing along with everyone else and seeming relaxed. He had a handgun shoved into the front of his jeans, sticking out around the yellow plaid shirt he was wearing, the sleeves of course torn off like all of his other shirts. Y/n briefly noticed the small patch of skin by his stomach that was exposed thanks to the gun, and she quickly averted her eyes when she felt her face start to heat up. But of course the action didn’t go unnoticed by Glenn, who looked at her with a smirk and a wiggle of his eyebrows, garnering a punch to the arm.

“That’s my boy. That’s my boy. Good boy,” Lori praised her son, pulling him to her in a side hug before she picked up his glass and poured the wine into her own.

“Yuck. That tastes nasty.”

“Well, just stick to soda pop there, bud,” Shane told his best friend’s son, handing the small boy a can from the center of the filled table.

Daryl jumped off the counter at that, and rounded over to Glenn. “Not you, Glenn.”

“What?” Glenn asked the hunter in a confused tone, watching as he grabbed the bottle of wine off the able where Dale had put it down and filled Glenn’s glass to the top.

“Keep drinking, little man. I wan’ see how red yer face can get.” He shook the Korean’s shoulders, everyone laughing at the sight.

It didn’t go unnoticed when Y/n finished the last of what was in her glass and pushed it to the center of the table, seemingly done with drinking for the night. Daryl only clicked his tongue and grabbed the glass, filling it a little less than he had filled Glenn’s and pushed it back into the blonde’s hand. “Uh-uh, yer not done yet either sunshine!”

Y/n went to say something in her defense when Rick started to tap his fork against his glass, everyone stopping to look at the man.

“It seems to me we haven’t thanked our host properly,” He declared, turning everyone’s attention to where Dr Jenner sat off to the side by himself.

“He is more than just our host,” T-dog added, earning a chorus of hear hears and a loud booyah from Daryl.

The doctor smiled at the sentiment for a moment, before Shane spoke up, turning the happy moment into a somber one.

“So when are you gonna tell us what the Hell happened here, Doc? All the—the other doctors that were supposed to be figuring out what happened, where are they?”

“We’re celebrating, Shane. Don’t need to do this now,” Rick tried to stop his best friend, but Shane wasn’t having any of it as he continued.

“Whoa, wait a second. This is why we’re here, right? This was your move—supposed to find all the answers. Instead we—we found him. Found one man, why?”

“Well, when things got bad, a lot of people just left, went off to be with their families. And when things got worse, when the military cordon got overrun, the rest bolted.” The doctor explained, yet Y/n could sense he was leaving something out.

“Every last one?”

“No, many couldn’t face walking out the door. They… opted out. There was a rash of suicides. That was a bad time.”

“You didn’t leave. Why?” Andrea asked.

“I just kept working, hoping to do some good.”

With that everyone went quiet, not exactly knowing what to say further. The happy mood had gone now, and Glenn looked to Shane with a disappointed look. “Dude, you are such a buzz kill, man.”

----

When it was clear that there would be no more celebrating for the night Dr Jenner guided the group down to the living area.

“Most of the facility is powered down including housing so you’ll have to make do here. The couches are comfortable, but there are cots in storage if you like. There’s a rec room down the hall that you kids might enjoy. Just don’t plug in the video games, okay? Or anything that draws power. The same applies—if you shower, go easy on the hot water.”

“Hot water?” Glenn asked excitedly, looking around towards the rest of the group with a huge smile.

“That’s what the man said!” T-dog confirmed as the two ran off down the hall laughing.

----

After Y/n had taken advantage of the hot water, she found herself roaming the halls of the CDC aimlessly, looking for someone to hangout with as she couldn’t take being alone right now. When she was alone her mind drifted to places she’d rather not think of, and sleep wasn’t an option right now as the things she was trying to avoid while awake always caught up to her while she was sleeping.

In her aimless walking she found herself getting lost in her head anyway, and when Daryl’s voice boomed down the hallway after her she jumped in surprise, earning her a soft laugh and a shake of the head from the hunter.

“Where ya off to?” He asked, a bottle of whiskey held in his hand. He regarded her with a soft smile, and she shrugged her shoulders in response to his question, not having a better answer.

“Just walking, I guess,” She started. “Didn’t really feel like being alone,” She admitted, and Daryl looked at her for a second before he turned in the other direction abruptly and started walking off down the hallway.

When she didn’t follow him for a moment he looked back over his shoulder at her.

“Well c’mon then girl.”

----

The two found themselves sitting on the floor of the room Y/n had claimed for the night. They both sat with their backs pressed against the couch, sitting far enough away from one another that they weren’t touching, but close enough to where they could if they both moved over an inch.

For a while neither said anything, just sat in a comfortable silence as they passed the bottle of whiskey to one another quietly.

“So why ya ain’t wanna be alone?” He asked her in a quiet voice, looking ahead of them at the wall.

She looked over at him for a fraction of a second before looking back at the wall too, shrugging her shoulders yet again.

“Bein’ alone is hard sometimes I guess,” She admitted in a small voice.

“ “M sorry bout Amy, by the way. Don’ think I ever said nothin.”

She found herself looking at the man beside her. This up close she could see that his shaggy hair was a little darker brown than she had originally thought, still lighter than Rick’s brown locks. His facial hair had grown a little longer than it was when they had first met in the woods, but she could tell he must have trimmed it to be a little neater when he showered earlier. His muscled arms had a warm tan that went all the way up to his shoulders, probably in thanks to the fact that none of his shirts had sleeves and he spent most of his time in the woods. She could also tell that he probably spent most of his time outside before the world turned, as his tan didn’t seem like it was anything new to the hunter.

When he finally looked over at her she faced back towards the wall, her face heating up at being caught staring.

“I never thanked you,” She started, finishing when he gave her a confused look.

“For taking out that walker I didn’t see back at camp, when everything happened.”

“Ya don’ gotta thank me for that, Walker was comin’ at ya. Wasn’ gon’ let it get ya.”

She hummed in response before gently taking the bottle from him and downed a good amount of the amber liquid, scrunching her face up when the burn registered in her throat.

“Can I ask ya somethin’?” He questioned suddenly, causing her to look back at him again. He was staring at her face intently, and after a moment she realized he was looking at her various cuts and bruises. She hummed in answer to him and he stopped for a second before continuing.

“Why ya let ‘er do that to ya?”

For a second she was caught off guard because the more she thought of why, the more she didn’t know why. At the time it was because she knew she could take a hit and that Andrea needed to blow off some steam. She was just so used to letting people blow off steam that she didn’t even realize that it was wrong.

“She needed to blow off some steam,” Y/n responded lamely, avoiding his eyes and what she might see in them.

But if she had looked over at the hunter she would have seen something in his eyes she wasn’t expecting. Understanding. It was then that Daryl understood that taking a beating wasn’t something new to Y/n. Even if taking it from Andrea was. She was used to taking that kind of behavior. It was something he knew all too well, and it was something he never wanted her to take again.

“Don’ mean ya gotta be the one to take it.”

She was going to say something back to him, but suddenly came back to her senses and changed the topic entirely. For the rest of the night the two just continued to pass the bottle to each other, making small talk and staying away from anything personal. Even if they both wished they could tell the other more about themselves.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead

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lovehelpmewrite · 4 years

Text

A Very Bad Day

Title: A Bad Day

Pairing: Gwil x OFC!Ella

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: Ella is having a... less than amazing day. It turns out Gwilym is just what she needed to turn it around though.

Warnings: underage drinking i know bad dont do it im sorry

[A/N]: Okay so I know this is technically before Macarons and Spoiled Surprises but it’s been bothering me for months that I never wrote the middle step between our first date and us doing... y’know, you’ve read it i hope. So yeah, this is that middle step. Half inspired by an actual shit day I had, half inspired by my better half having had a bad day the day I wrote this. Enjoy and feedback is always welcome!! Also thank you thank you thank you to my best fren Mic @o-holynight for making me another amazing header just for this fic you’re so good to me and if you haven’t yet go through her masterlist because it slaps

It was a crappy day. It was pouring, which normally I wouldn't mind—in fact I loved a good rainy day—but I had opened my window the night before and woken up to find my desk soaked in rain water and one of my notebooks with it.

"Ahhh shit," I muttered to myself as I woke up and climbed out of bed at the sound of the rain hitting the desk. I quickly latched the thing closed and looked down at the crinkling wet paper that was my notebook, picking it up by a corner and watching the water slide off the cover and off the pages. "Shhhhhit," I repeated, feeling my heart sink when I opened the cover and noticed the ink either bleeding into the other pages or sliding off along with the water. At least I didn't really use it, I thought. It was still sad to see something that I'd paid for just... Fall apart like this though.

I dropped it into the trash bin with a sigh and vowed to start getting ready to go out and buy a new one. Right after I have breakfast, I thought. As it turns out, there was no breakfast. No cereal, no pancake mix or frozen waffles. It was grocery day and Michaela had just left saying she was going to grab Joe so they could do the shopping for both at once.

Okay so I'll go out for breakfast, I decided.

Except the coffee shop was closed. Again, no big deal but... It was another block in the freezing rain to the nearest cafe. It was too close to drive, especially because there was no parking down by it. Walking it is then. The sidewalk was slick with the freezing rain and the leftovers from the last snow so I tried my best to watch my steps and still maintain a quick pace.

Needless to say I almost slipped—I didn't thankfully—but I caught myself at the last second in such a way that my umbrella swung out to the side and in an instant I felt drenched to the bone. I walked in looking like a half-drowned rat, ordered a muffin to go and tried to calm my anxious heart at the stares I was getting from the other patrons. In case you were wondering, yes, it's possible to angrily eat a muffin.

After I made it back to my car I drove to the nearest Staples and practically moaned as the warm rush of air hit my chilled face and body. I picked out a cute notebook—for sixteen fucking dollars, jesus Staples, cost more yeah?—and slapped it on the counter. The younger looking kid checking me out started at the noise but just smiled and asked if I wanted to join their rewards program.

And then I was stood under the edge of the Staples sign trying to desperately shove the notebook in my jacket against my chest because what was once pouring rain had turned into a torrential downpour. It was like a sheet of water coming down at once while thunder boomed in the distance. I held an arm across my coat-covered-notebook and took a deep breath, readying myself for the sheer force of it to pound against the top of my umbrella.

By the time I got back to the dorm my legs up to my knees were soaked even despite my rain boots, as was the back of my coat and my umbrella. The notebook somehow survived the trip thankfully. As I was pulling it out of my jacket my phone buzzed in my coat pocket. A text from Mic.

Hey, over at the boys' and groceries are all put away

Is Gwil home? I might head over in a bit. Having a shit day :(

Aw im sorry :( he is tho I think. I'll ask

I waited a few seconds and then waited for the three dots while she typed.

He isn't but he's coming home in like half an hour from a reading

"Nice," I whispered to myself. Finally, something good today.

Im gonna shower. When he gets home tell him I'm coming?

Yeah ofc

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, glad to finally have something to look forward to. I took off my jacket and hung it on my door to dry before walking into the bathroom and peeling off my soaked jeans and socks, letting them sit on the floor while I turned the shower to scalding hot. I hissed as it hit my back but quickly adjusted to it, letting the water pooling at the bottom thaw my toes. I picked up my razor with a little indecision. He wasn't even going to see my legs or my armpits as far as I was planning, let alone anywhere near my underwear... I shaved anyway. As a way to pass time in the warm water at the least, and at the most it would make my sheets feel nice later.

I got dressed in some loose sweats and a tank top, foregoing a bra with the assumption I was the only one home but when I came out of my room Sarah was back from her class eating at the table.

"Hey!" She said with a smile.

"Hey," I said back quietly, walking to the cupboard and pulling down a bag of chips. "How was class?"

"Ugh, don't even get me started. That dude was still trying to argue with the professor the entire class," she explained, rolling her eyes.

"Someone should keep a tally of every time he says something and then at the end of class take that many points off his latest paper or something," I offered with a small grin.

"We should, oh my god," she laughed back. "Hey, are you okay? Mic said you were having a crappy day."

I nodded, shrugging. "Yeah, I dont know it's just... A lot of little shit adding up, y'know?"

She nodded with a sad smile.

I took a deep breath and tried to stay positive though. "Good news though, I'm heading over to see the boys in a little bit. Did you wanna come with?"

"Ah, I'm going to meet Ben for lunch after his class gets out in like half an hour."

"Ah," I said in confirmation. "Okay, I'll see you later tonight? We need another girls night in, it's been too long."

She smiled, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I'll see if I can pick up some stuff beforehand. It's your turn to pick right?"

I nodded, "yeah."

"Okay, cool. Nothing scary please? I like sleeping without nightmares."

I laughed, carrying the chips with me back to my room. "I'll do my best to let you keep your beauty sleep," I said over my shoulder before closing the door.

I sat down on my bed with a sigh, dropping the chips next to me and reaching for my phone.

Gwil just got home, he's in the shower rn tho

Okay tell him im omw and I dont mind waiting or something

I made sure to pull on a sports bra and a sweatshirt before I left, as well as a pair of fuzzy socks inside my rain boots. I was nearly jogging across the street to the apartment, buzzing with excitement to see Gwil.

We haven't been out on any dates since our second when he kissed me, but we had a lot of days where we walked each other to class or we'd get lunch together. Sadly, we hadn't kissed much since then but we made up for it with a lot of hand holding, or his palm on my back, or my hand on his knee and honestly... it was kind of nice just like that. Still, a day like today deserved some serious hugs at the very least.

My frozen fingers shook as I pressed the buzzer and I exhaled in relief when it buzzed again and the lock clicked open, allowing me to rush into the warm elevator and ride up to the apartment. When I got up to the door though, I hesitated.

Do I knock? Do I just walk in? Do I knock and then walk in anyways?

I pulled out my phone and texted Mic.

Im outside the door

Come in lol?

Come open it I feel weird

Between the previous cold and my embarrassment I'm sure my cheeks were tomato-red. She just smiled upon seeing me, waiting for me to take off my dripping boots and then motioning her head toward the couch.

"Gwil's probably getting out soon, you can wait with me and Joe on the couch," she explained, sitting back down next to Joe to watch whatever movie they had playing on the TV. I perched awkwardly on the edge of the cushion, trying—and failing—to control my bouncing knee while I waited for Gwil.

"Hey."

I almost jumped at the soft greeting, springing off the couch and turning to him. My heart was thumping in my chest nervously.

He was just in sweats and a t-shirt but something about it was just so… hot. I hadn't noticed how shaggy his hair was getting until now, still dripping wet and hanging over his forehead a little. I almost missed when he jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

"Do you wanna… my room?" He asked awkwardly.

I nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah- sure yeah."

I followed quietly behind him as he walked down the hall, stepping into the room and waiting for him to close the door. Then I was stuck just watching while he moved to sit on the edge of his bed with a bounce. I pressed my lips together to suppress an awkward smile, looking around his room. He had different playbills taped up on his wall above his bed, and his desk was covered in papers and packets and textbooks.

"So…" I started, bringing my eyes back to face him.

"So…" he mimicked back, a gentle smile growing on his face.

I breathed out a little laugh and moved to sit next to him on the edge of his mattress, copying his bounce from before and then bumping my shoulder into his.

"So how was your reading? How did it go?" I asked lightly, trying to start some sort of conversation, any conversation.

"Good! It was good," he answered back.

And then more quiet.

"Okay this is awful," I admitted before I could stop the words from coming out of my mouth.

Gwil's eyebrows shot up in surprise, like he couldn't believe I was saying it.

"Can we just like… I don't know, can we just watch something on your laptop or something? I just…" I blew out a quick breath and started to feel my eyes burn with tears I'd been holding in. "I've had a really shitty day and I was so excited to come over and see you and I don’t want it to be all... weird like it is."

He was quiet for a second, which gave me some time to calm back down a little and not actually shed tears.

"You're right," he sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Okay, why don't we… Do you have something in mind to watch?"

It was my turn to raise my eyebrows. "I mean I… what do you normally watch? What's your favorite show?"

It seemed to do the trick, the tension slowly released its grip on the room and we even managed to move back on his bed so he was positioned laying against his pillows and I was tucked neatly under his arm, half laying on his stomach. We'd agreed on Criminal Minds and somehow watched our way through two entire episodes before we forgot it all together and started talking… and then, well, kissing.

It started off innocent enough. I'd turned my head to joke about Spencer's hair in this season but instead found Gwil already looking at me with a soft smile.

"What?" I laughed.

He just gave a full smile and shook his head. "Nothing."

We were both quiet for a second, and then he leaned in and gave me a peck on the lips.

Oh.

I smiled back and leaned back into him, pressing my lips to his again but longer this time, slower, lingering…

We pulled back slowly, eyes still half closed. And then I felt the slightest squeeze of his hand on my waist and he surged forward again, lips firmly against mine, his tongue teasing across my bottom lip before biting gently.

Oh.

I hummed in appreciation, leaning further against him until my leg hooked in between his and his hand was sliding up my back into my hair and grabbing lightly.

My heart was racing in my chest. Was this it? Was I going to fuck him not 50 feet from our friends? Why am i even thinking that? Calm the hell down.

I practically had to force myself to pull away, my fist still twisted in his shirt, still breathing heavily and close enough to be tempted to go back but I made myself stop.

"We have to… we should just slow down a little," I said quietly.

Gwil nodded in agreement. "Yeah. Yeah you're right we should just… take it easy for a bit."

I nodded back.

Still, we somehow gravitated towards each other again until we were kissing again, albeit softer this time. Somehow we managed to keep it slow. Calm. Instead of dipping back into... dangerous territory. It was just… nice.

It was comforting and reassured a lot of doubts I had. It was almost like a little dance, like a conversation. He'd lean forward and catch my lip with his teeth and in return I'd slide my tongue against his lip. It was jarring when suddenly everything went quiet and we both pulled apart in question only to see Netflix asking if we were still watching.

I laughed a little which seemed to make Gwil laugh which made me laugh more and snort and then he laughed more until we were both clutching our stomachs gasping for air in between laughs. Once we'd finally calm down we were left just staring at each other, not waiting for the other to talk, just looking at each other's faces and smiles and eyes.

"Y'know I was having a pretty crappy day and you made it a hell of a lot more bearable," I said honestly.

"I'm happy I could make your day better," he answered back, his smile wide.

I paused for a minute, contemplating saying anything. "Is it… is it weird if I really like making out with you?"

He shook his head quickly, "no! No of course not. I'm glad my skills were… put to good use." His smile turned smug.

I shoved his chest jokingly, turning in his grasp like I was going to roll away. I grinned when his hand fell to my hip and pulled me back in against him so his mouth was slotted against mine.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"To find someone with better lines I guess," I laughed.

"Are you saying you don't like my pick up lines?" He fake pouted, lips puckered out and all.

I gave him a quick kiss. "That's exactly what I'm saying." I laughed again when he dramatically flopped against the bed like he couldn't believe it. I kissed his jaw sweetly, turning it into a raspberry which made him laugh.

"Careful there, I don't need any weirdly placed hickies," he warned with a grin.

"So just for clarification, you don't want a big hickey on your cheek?" I asked, pretending to get ready to mark his cheek.

"Definitely not."

"Hmm," I hummed in mock disappointment. "And I had such plans too."

"Yeah, I'm sure," he said back, turning his head to face me and tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. He slowly leaned in and gave me another peck on the lips, and then another… and then one more. "You know, I'm really glad you came over."

I smiled back at him. "Me too."

We were quiet once again, just staring at each other again, every once in a while saying some small comment or joke or compliment but otherwise quiet. After a little bit, just when I was starting to feel sleepy, there was a quiet knock on the door.

"Come in," Gwil answered.

Michaela poked her head in after a second with a small smile. "Hey, I was just going to head back, it's almost six," she said softly.

"Oh Jesus, is it really?" I asked in surprise, picking up my phone to see texts from Sarah asking when I'd be back home. "Damn," I laughed slightly.

"Yeah, Sarah said you wanted to do a night in so do you wanna go to the store before home?"

I nodded, slowly untangling myself from Gwil and sitting up, stretching out my muscles. "Yeah, I'll be out in a few minutes, I gotta get the feeling back in my legs," I chuckled.

"Okay, I'll go pull on my shoes."

I stretched out each of my arms and legs, turning awkwardly to stretch my spine before I sighed, turning back to face a very tired looking Gwilym. "Hi."

"Hi," he grinned back, briefly stretching his back before relaxing back against his pillows. "Before you go, come here."

I grinned and leaned back in, our lips connecting for a long, sweet kiss. "Was that all?" I asked after it ended.

"No, one more," he smirked, pulling me back in for another peck. "Okay one more," and then another peck, "just one more-"

"Gwil," I laughed in between kisses. "I- gotta- go- you big dork-"

He gave a big dramatic sigh after the last kiss when I stood up away from him. "Fine, if you must."

"I must," I grinned. "Sorry bub."

"No it's okay," he relented with a smile. "I'll see you on Saturday, right? You're still coming over to hang out?"

I nodded. "Of course, I can't wait." I was reluctant to leave him, looking so soft and inviting and ready for a nap… I forced myself to walk out and close the door behind me, walking out to the living room to find Mic pulling on her shoes while Joe stood by.

"Hey," I announced, making her look up at me after she had both boots on.

"Hey, ready?"

"Yep, lets go get drunk," I affirmed.

"Woah woah woah," Joe interjected, making me turn to him.

"Sorry dad, was I not supposed to tell you that?" I laughed.

"No drinking and driving young lady, be responsible," he said, pointing a faux serious finger at each of us.

"Sure, yeah, whatever you say," I dismissed with a grin. I turned to Mic, "want anything particular? I was planning on wine and some candy."

She shrugged. "Sounds good to me. Grab me some of the uhh the sour patch watermelon things though? Oh! And Reece's pieces," she grinned at the last second as I was walking out the door.

"You already know," I grinned back, shaking my head and closing the door to let her and Joe do their own little goodbyes.

When I made it back down to the front door, ready to open my umbrella and sprint to my car, I noticed it had stopped raining. It was still wet everywhere and puddles took up half the sidewalk but the once black sky was lightened to a pale gray. Michaela beat me back to the dorm, unsurprisingly and I walked in with full arms, happy to be greeted by Sarah and Mic pulling things out of my hands and already opening things.

"Yesss you got the good shit Ella," Sarah said gratefully, pulling out a bag of m&m's.

"Always," I smiled, pulling out a plastic container of cotton candy for myself.

"Okay so what are we watching?" Sarah asked, already transporting stuff to the couches.

It was obvious the two of them had moved everything for optimal TV viewing.

"I was thinking Umbrella Academy if that's cool?"

They both nodded, mouths already full of candy.

I laughed. "Okay, Umbrella Academy it is then. I'll grab the wine."

Somewhere between the third and fourth episode we'd finished the first bottle of wine and went to open the second only to find it impossible.

"Just… open it," Sarah laughed, watching me trying to use the wine bottle opener to grab the cork and failing.

"I'm trying!" I laughed back, pulling out pieces of cork instead of the entire thing. "Dammit! Mic come help us!" I called.

The TV paused as she came over and looked over the destroyed cork, pushed nearly all the way into the bottle. "Dude what did you even do?!" She chuckled.

"I tried to open it, what do you think!" I laughed back.

"Okay, gimme a spoon, I'll shove it into the bottle."

"What? No take it out!" Sarah laughed.

"I can't! This one-" Mic laughed, pointing at me, "destroyed the cork and now its not gonna come out!"

I was wheezing from laughing so hard, practically laying across the counter. "I'm sorry!"

Sarah laughed at my reaction in response, squatting next to the counter trying to catch her breath as well.

"Fine I'll find a spoon myself!" Mic declared, still laughing while she tried to push down on the cork. "Ahah!" She yelled in triumph making us laugh even harder at the pop of it dropping into the wine.

We ate our way through almost all of the candy and the two bottles of wine over five episodes before we decided to call it a night (or well, early morning but same thing).

It was nice, to go to bed feeling warm and loved and like a crap day had turned good. I fell asleep easily and without resistance, the opposite to how I'd woken up. It was a good day, I decided.

- - -

feedback is always appreciated and thank you for reading lovelies!!

#borhap #borhap cast #borhap cast au #college au #borhap boys #gwilym lee #gwilym lee x ofc #gwilym lee fluff #ayhtdifil

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loveforpreserumsteve · 4 years

Text

Begin Again (Mortician!Steve and Baker!Bucky Modern “Moving On” AU)

Seventeen:

"Hey, Steve?"

Locking the morgue up for the night, Steve turned to find Sam. The man approached him with a large grin that managed to weasel a grin out of Steve too. Tucking his keys into his pocket, Steve conversationally questioned, "What's up?"

"Oh, ya know," Sam shrugged, following Steve through the funeral home. Wrapping his arm around Steve's shoulders, Sam suggested, "You know what you need?"

Steve took in a deep breath, holding back a sassy remark that was on the tip of his tongue. Instead, Steve chose to play along and asked, "What do I need?"

"A night out," Sam brightly grinned. Persuasively wiggling his brows.

Rolling his eyes, Steve good-naturedly scoffed, "It's Tuesday."

"So?" Sam questioned, "What's that have to do with anything? You're not in school. You don't have a morning service tomorrow. And what you need is some time with adults."

"You're not trying to convince me to head out to SHIELD, are you?" Steve quirked a brow, mentioning the popular gay bar in town. Remembering how uncomfortable he always felt in the middle of the dance floor covered in sweat surrounded by attractive men. Always feeling out of place.

Shrugging out from under Sam's strong grip, Steve relayed, "Carol already dragged me along with her and I'm not go--"

"Chill out," Sam rolled his eyes and clarified, "I was thinking more your speed."

"More my speed?" Steve repeated, crossing the backyard to the swing set.

"Yeah," Sam confirmed.

Lifting Birdie into his arms, Steve gave her a kiss when she wrapped her tiny arms around his neck in a tight hug. While holding his niece close to himself, he informed his friend, "This is my speed."

"Oh, c'mon," Eddie scoffed from the swing where he sat.

"See?!" Sam wildly gestured towards the teen as he enunciated, "Thank you!"

Rolling his eyes, he took in a deep breath and ducked his head to hide in Birdie's silky hair. How did this even happen? His best friend and his brother ganging up on him because he'd rather spend a quiet night at home with his nieces and nephews? Was it Steve's fault for preferring company that wasn't going to judge him for being single and constantly trying to set him up with people? He didn't think so.

"Why don't we hang out?" Sam offered, arching his eyebrows in a silent plea.

"When?" Steve asked, peeking around Birdie to look up at the persuasive man.

"Tonight," Sam answered easily with a shrug.

Steve looked over at Eddie who was nodding in encouragement. Chewing on his lip as he thought, he finally decided to agree. Nodding as well, Steve gave Birdie one more kiss before setting her back on the ground where she took off like a bullet for the clubhouse.

"Guess you're my only true friend," Steve teased as he feigned offense with how fast Birdie forgot about him while climbing up the slide.

"Duh," Sam mocked, wrapping his arm around Steve and steering him towards the parking lot.

"So," Steve started watching as Eddie distracted Vinnie. Climbing into the passenger seat of Sam's blue 2019 Volvo V60 Wagon, Steve questioned, "What's the plan?"

"You'll see," Sam sing-songed as he pulled out of the parking space and left the funeral home.

Steve definitely didn't like the sound of that. It was already unusual enough for Sam to proposition him this way. But add the tight-lipped convincing to get him to agree? It made everything in Steve tighten in his suspicions. If Steve didn't know better, he'd assume he was about to be dragged off to a blind double date.

But luckily, Steve did know better. And he knew that there was no way that Sam would scheme Steve into a set up without having him go home and shower first.

When Sam pulled into the parking lot of the bowling alley, Steve managed to finally relax at last. Already imagining how nice it would be to just have a fun night with one of his best friends while getting buzzed on cheap beer and eating as much, greasy, deep fried foods as he could. It would be nice. Even the musty air and questionable rental shoes would be a breath of fresh air.

"You seem surprised," Sam chuckled, climbing out of the vehicle.

"Relieved," Steve corrected as he followed him into the building.

Draping his arm along Steve's broad shoulders again, Sam playfully mused, "What? You really think I'd set you up? Looking like this?"

Rolling his eyes, Steve didn't mind the dig at his shaggy hair, beard, or even the purple plaid shirt he was wearing over the baggy baby blue tee; a rarity that only made an appearance on laundry day. Sure, he was a little more worse for wear today, but he was just relieved that --

"Wilson, I swear to god, I'm gonna superglue a watch to your forehead, so whenever your vain ass looks in the mirror, you'll know the time!"

A chill ran down Steve's spine. Perhaps Steve had spoken too soon, and was correct to believe his friend for the liar he was. Giving Sam a side-glare, Steve turned towards the food court where he found Bucky.

Because, of course, he did.

"Steve?" Bucky asked. Brows furrowed and a grin on his face as he carried a pitcher of beer, "You know Sam?"

"Yeah, we met through his former employer," Steve inhaled deeply in annoyance, but followed Bucky nonetheless.

Bucky chuckled at that and led the way over to their apparent corner. Before anything else could be said, a chorus of familiar voices all greeted Steve with either, "Rogers," or, "Stee-ve," or Carol's always warm, "Fuckface!"

Steve's brows weren't the only ones that furrowed as Bucky set the pitcher down and asked, "You know each other?"

"'Course," Carol answered, clearly already buzzed. The ever doting wife that she was, Maria handed her a bottle of water and explained, "Funeral catering is a very small niche."

As though it all clicked for Bucky then, he nodded and confirmed, "Rogers' Funeral Home."

"Family owned and operated," Steve automatically replied. Thinking over what he just said, he blushed and distracted himself by drinking the rest of Carol's beer. Then, quickly refilling the glass for himself.

"I really should've put it together sooner," Bucky chastised himself as he took the seat beside Steve.

Those damn butterflies in Steve's stomach started fluttering with Bucky so close to him, but only for a moment before a man strikingly similar to Bucky called out, "You're up!"

As Steve forced himself to not look at Bucky's ass -- no matter how truly spectacular it was -- he accused, "I didn't think you were serious about the bakers in the town having a bowling league."

"Why would I make up something as ridiculous as that?" Sam scoffed, brows furrowing in genuine confusion.

Steve shrugged, not having any answer to that.

"Oh, hi!" A woman greeted. "You're the man from the shop!"

Looking up at the pregnant brunet, Steve recognized her as Bucky's sister. Assuming her to be his twin, but not remembering her name, Steve introduced himself, "Steve."

"Becca," she grinned while rubbing a soothing hand over her baby bump. Taking it upon herself to introduce the others, she gestured at the brunet who had to be another Barnes' member, "That's Teddy. Our brother."

"The oldest," Teddy confirmed, grinning as he took a drink of his beer.

"Arthur," Becca informed, gesturing to a freckled man with bright orange-red hair. Arthur smiled at Steve in acknowledgement before ducking his face into Becca's neck to kiss her there. Giving her belly an affectionate rub and one more kiss on his way to the lane. Becca clarified, "My husband."

"I figured," Steve kindly smiled.

"Hey Becks," another brunette called from the food court. "If I get the loaded nacho supreme, will you share with me?"

"The baby doesn't like black olives," Becca easily answered. As the brunette at the counter turned back to the employee, Becca said, "That's our sister, Mandy."

Steve's smile grew and he teased, "Think she'd share some of those nachos with me?"

"If she doesn't, I'll order some," Becca leaned forward to give Steve's hand a squeeze.

"Uh oh, looks like you have some competition, Artie," Bucky mocked, taking the seat beside Becca, winking at Steve.

"Can't have competition, when there wasn't even a contest to begin with," Arthur answered in a deeper voice than Steve expected for the short, slender man.

As Steve watched the man bowl a strike -- and wondered if rubbing Becca's belly was a ritual of good luck as Maria also smoothed her hand over the bump before approaching the lane -- someone tapped his foot with theirs. Glancing in front of himself, he found it was Bucky. With Bucky's attention on him and his foot against his own, Steve could already feel the blush creeping up the back of his neck. Knowing he'd have to do something really special to thank Sam for this. Maybe a muffin basket.

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caffeinatedfantasy · 4 years

Text

The Seal pt 21: Sleepless

{ Chris: [bio] [Prologue] [Story in Tumblr] [ AO3 Link From Beginning ] { pic at the end by @uraminowaltz ! }

It took me a few days to visit Belphegor again. Not knowing whether it had been a dream or not messed with me. I'd busied myself with going through the spellbook, reading things over, and taking care of homework. It was after another dream with him in it that I'd decided I couldn't avoid him. He'd told me, in the dream, to come up. He'd seemed annoyed that I'd avoided him. Which. I couldn't entirely blame him for. Either I'd had a very dirty dream about him [which meant I was avoiding him for something he had no control over, or even knowledge of], OR I had begged him to fuck my face and just didn't remember going back downstairs [which meant I was avoiding him for doing what I'd wanted]. Neither options were fair to him.

I just had to face the fact that I was embarrassed. Of all the demon brothers I had expected to be the first one for me to do something with, he had not even crossed my mind. I'd assumed it would be Asmo, since he was the only one interested, but I'd woken up to both Beel and Mammon's morning wood poking me in the back before and it had made me want to. But even without my "rule", I wasn't going to go after someone who wasn't interested. [The kiss had made me wonder with Mammon, but he'd showed up again after avoiding me for a few days and had acted like nothing was different, so I suppose it had just been a slip and he'd recognized that.]

Climbing the stairs, I frowned when I saw that Belph wasn't at the door. Peeking inside, I could see that he was curled up on his bed. I wasn't sure if this was meant to be punishment or if it was just coincidental. He'd always been awake when I came up before now. Quietly, I sighed, walking up to the door and leaning against it. I wasn't going to wake him, but I'd wait a little bit to see if he woke up. Take advantage of the peace and quiet. I pulled out the journal that I'd gotten from Grisella and opened it, starting to read through it. Might as well. Solomon said he'd help me with it, after all.

It was a few moments before I heard a noise behind me. I didn't turn around, unsure if Belphegor was getting out of bed or just adjusting, focusing on the spell I was reading, when I felt him behind me and stiffened.

"Scared of me now?" He asked, and I jumped a little as his hand snaked out through the bars to touch me.

"No." I muttered. My voice was shaking a little as his fingers grazed my neck.

"Then what?" My cheeks were burning and so was every part of my skin that he touched as he trailed his fingers across my skin. I felt some of his power ease into me. Relaxing me a little. Which. That was a really strange feeling. I shivered. He was waiting for an answer. But to answer him, I needed one too.

"Was it a dream or was it did it actually happen?" Last time he hadn't really answered my question and for a moment I worried he wasn't going to again. But he chuckled, his hand sliding back up to my mouth. He barely had to touch my lips before I parted them and let him slide his fingers into my mouth, his other hand now moving to my neck, using it to hold me there.

"Did I fuck your face through these bars, you mean?" I moaned gently, that certainly gave me an answer. He was mocking me. But Gods, it was hot. I nodded carefully against his grip. He chuckled. "Both."

He let go of me, and I turned to look at him, not entirely understanding what he meant. He had that softly mocking smile on his face as he leaned back and looked at me. He seemed very pleased that I didn't know the answer. "Simply put, you let me into your dream. And I fucked you in there, not right here."

He looked so... Bored talking about it that I almost would've believed he hadn't been affected by it at all. Except for the way his eyes followed my lips so intently. It was like he was trying to act disinterested, keeping his distance from me. Almost as if... He had asked me if I was scared of him just a moment again, hadn't he?

"I stayed away since I wasn't sure..." I admitted, I was adamantly staring at his shaggy hairline instead of his face as I explained, however.. "The, uh, dream and all the lust from it attracted Asmo... Then I spent the weekend trying to figure out what the fuck was going on. Oh! Made a pact with Satan."

Belphegor hummed at that. I couldn't tell if he was pleased or annoyed or just plain bored. I was getting too used to having some idea from the others. The pacts were allowing me to read them easier. But I didn't have a pact with him. So I had no idea beyond what he chose to tell me. And I had to trust that he was being honest. "And he told me, well, confirmed more I suppose, that I'm an empath. And I'm curious how you knew?"

He was leaning back on his hands, watching me. He didn't say anything for a moment. Just watched me. Before he shrugged. I guess deciding it was okay to do so.

"Since we're twins, Beel and I have a low-level empathetic link. It's not the same as empathetic magic, but it sounded familiar when you spoke of sensing their powers on an emotional level. Having you sense and call to Asmo that way was testing whether it was the case." His explanation made sense. And yet it also made it clear that he hadn't needed to go that far to test it. But he had. And-- And I felt his hand brush across my cheek, and I froze, looking up at him. "You blush very easily."

That had almost sounded affectionate. Still the mocking to it he'd had when he'd teased me, but a warmth to it almost. And I almost expected him to want a repeat. But after that point, he didn't mention it, pulling his hand back to his side and yawning. We chatted for a little longer about benign things, whether or not I should try to make a pact with Lucifer [we both doubted it was possible yet], eventually he drifted back to his bed and shooed me away, insisting he was going to go back to sleep. I stayed there for a moment longer, just watching him there, but soon enough did as I'd been asked and headed down the stairs.

I heard Beel in the kitchen and, without giving it much thought, set my things in my room and went to join him. I yawned silently as I walked into the kitchen, covering my mouth as I entered. I was very tired, but sleep had been evading me and I wanted to do something besides lay in bed staring at the ceiling. I heard the slight buzz and heard the munching before I even glanced over at the fridge door, realizing Beel was there, looking through what there was in there. I walked up and peeked into the fridge to see what he hadn't gotten to yet.

"Hey Beel, if you hand me those eggs, I'll make some cupcakes." He must not have heard me before then because he jumped a little bit, glancing down at me, his eyes wide. He'd been mid-way through eating some leftover from earlier, and he abruptly closed his mouth and with a wave of magic, hid his demonic form.

"Sorry." He said. Sounding guilty, and I wasn't quite sure why, but he pulled out the carton of eggs and handed them to me.

"About what?" I said through another yawn and paused, pointing towards the milk as well. He grabbed it and handed it to me while he seemed to consider what to say.

"Didn't hear you come in and I was still in my demon form." I was pulling out flour and sugar from the cupboard and I hummed, carrying a bag of each to the table in the center, frowning at him.

"That's a silly thing to apologize for. It doesn't bother me."

"Lucifer said you'd been feeling uncomfortable--" I froze. Beel sounded so sad. In fact that 'uncomfortable' sounded like he meant scared and-- Oh no. Lucifer had interpreted things way differently than I'd meant them. I'd talked about wanting to feel normal for a bit, and after the last convo I'd had with him about adjusting -- after he'd nearly attacked me -- it made sense that the whole 'demonic' thing was what he had assumed would be the part I was having issues with. "I know that Lucifer, Levi and I had kind of... Gone after you before..."

I stopped sorting through the cabinet and walked over to the table, using a stool to sit up on it so I could be even with him. I grabbed his hand as I did so, holding him in place and tugging him forward. It was funny to me that I'd had a similar conversation with his twin earlier, for slightly different reasons, but I couldn't tell him that. These demons all seemed to expect me to be more scared of them than I was.

"I'm not scared of you guys, you know." I explained, grabbing his other hand and holding him in place. He looked a little confused, so I continued on. "The demon thing is new, sure, maybe a little weird, but whatever. I'm just... Not used to people paying me so much attention? Last time I had someone keeping such a close eye on me it wasn't to keep me safe, so sometimes I just... Kinda get anxious about not being able to just hide for a bit."

I shifted, frowning and trying to figure out how to explain it to him. I hated having to explain any of this. But that was becoming more and more common with them. Experiences were so different that I just didn't know if he'd understand. Not that they explained much to be, but... He just nodded at what I'd said, accepting it. So I sighed, smiling a little, and leaned forward to rest my head on his chest instead. He didn't really hesitate to wrap his arms around me, gently stroking my hair. I was glad he wasn't asking any more questions, though. That really was the nice thing about being around Beel.

And then his stomach growled. Loudly. I couldn't help but laugh, pulling back to smile up at him. "Imma get back to making those cupcakes, okay? What kind sound good to you?"

I shouldn't have been surprised that the answer was some weird demonic flavour. We settled on something a bit more... Human? Since I was still getting used to demonic ingredients [I'd put some in the frosting still, that was easier to fix if it didn't turn out alright]. He went back to the fridge to find something to eat in the meantime. He didn't go back to his demon form, I noticed, but that could have simply been a matter of ease. If I remembered correctly, it took effort for them to go between the two forms.

If he wasn't the Avatar of Gluttony, I would have expected him to be full by the time everything was done with how much he was eating, but he even managed to [mostly] keep his hands to himself as I was getting the cupcakes iced. I'd scolded him that he couldn't eat them until I was done because I wanted to make sure he liked it. [I know he still snuck one pre-icing while I wasn't looking, but he was pretending he hadn't, so I was going to let him think he'd been sneaky.]

I did make him wait a little bit extra because of that, though, setting them all nicely on a plate and making a point to get a picture for Devilgram first. Which Mammon walked into the kitchen while I was trying to get a good angle. I wouldn't have noticed he was even there if it weren't for his hand creeping into my picture to try to grab one

And I say try because Beel immediately picked him up to stop him from taking any of them. I clicked my picture and just laughed, getting a shot of the two of them next. Setting my D.D.D. down, I motioned towards the plate. "Alright Beel, they're all yours."

"All of them?" Beel asked, already drooling and looking way too happy about it.

"H-hey! I should at least get one of Chris's cupcakes!" Mammon protested. But Beel had already started digging in on the plate, not bothering to even bother replying to his brother. And Mammon was pouting about it. I had to hold back my giggle. "F-fine. It's not like I really wanted one anyway."

"Yes you did." He started to protest, to try to argue with me, but I ignored him and grabbed the cupcake I'd left for myself [with just plain vanilla frosting] and slowly started to peel off the wrapper. "And I'll let you have half if you admit it."

He continued to pout as I finished pulling off the paper and took a bit. I made a point to let out a pleased, drawn out "Mmmmm". And Beel was finishing his, so I'd have to start worry about him snatching it from me soon. "Come on Mammon, just say you want some, and I'll let you have it."

That, amusingly, had him blushing, the pink spreading across his face. But I took another slow bite to tease him, this time with 'Yummy' for emphasis. It was getting Beel's attention for sure, as he was now eyeing the cupcake.

"If Mammon doesn't want it, can I have it?" Beel muttered. I could feel that he wasn't really that hungry at the moment, which made me wonder why he'd asked instead of just letting me have all of it. But Mammon's reaction told me what I needed to know. Because the moment Beel asked for it, he stepped forward in between me and Beel, already looking indignant [and I felt a wave of greed from him] and that's when he managed to get the words out.

"Chris. Can I have some of your cupcake?" He said it so quietly, barely able to look at me, that I almost gave it to him right away just from how cute he was being. Except. It also made me want to tease him just a little bit more.

"What's the magic word?" I asked him, grinning and leaning forward into his field of vision a bit. He went a bit redder and stammered, but after a moment, he did manage to get out a very quiet 'please' and I grinned, giving him the rest of the cupcake. [Definitely more than half.] He lit up and devoured it, making sure not to let Beel take it.

Mammon was smiling by the end of it though. His big goofy smile he'd get when he was really happy. And it was contagious. Between the two of them, and how much they'd both enjoyed the cupcakes, my cheeks were hurting. I stifled a yawn as I reached towards Mammon and swiped some of the icing off of his cheek, sticking my thumb in my mouth and giving him a wink. I didn't acknowledge his blush though, instead choosing to walk past him and head back to my room, wishing the two of them good night with a small wave.

#the seal obey me fic #obey me #obey me mammon #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me fic #obey me mc #obey me mc chris

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shadowynnn · 5 years

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fire and ice |part three|

far cry 5

fire and ice synopsis: After a drunk driver kills both of your parents in an accident when you were sixteen, you eagerly leave Hope County for college a few years later to escape the demons that haunt you there. After six years away, a strange dream prompts you to return home where you find things not quite how you left them. With a mysterious, and possibly dangerous, cult on the rise, you attempt to juggle finally coming to peace with your parents’ deaths and the cult’s increasing interest in you. (Begins a few months before the events in the game take place.)

part two synopsis: Your first encounter with Jacob Seed.

pairing: Jacob Seed, Joseph Seed, John Seed x Reader (though mainly Jacob Seed x Reader in this part)

words: 1731

You were utterly exhausted from last night’s party at the Spread Eagle Bar. While you had been ecstatic to see and catch up with everyone again, it had left you drained and yearning for time alone.

You knew that the mature and responsible thing to do was start the long process of fixing up your parent’s old cabin and moving in your belongings before you started up your job at St. Francis the following week and really lost all willpower to do just that, but you had always been a procrastinator and knew that the work could stand to wait another day. So instead of getting to work at settling back into Hope County, you had opted for a nice, long hike. It had been too long, after all, and you were eager to spend the day wandering through the Whitetails.

You had planned on allowing yourself to sleep in, letting your body have one good night of sleep before you got to work on the cabin and then eventually began your shifts at the hospital, but you awoke early all the same, breathless and heart racing from the dream you had been having. What the dream had been, however, you couldn’t seem to hold onto as time slowly ticked by. The more you tried to remember, the hazier everything became.

Figuring it was better to leave it forgotten with the way it left you shaky and anxious, you put the dream to rest and climbed out of bed. There was no way you would be able to get back to sleep now, so you decided you might as well begin the day bright and early.

It took you longer than normal to get ready as your old bedroom in your uncle’s house was crammed with boxes and you hadn’t done a very thorough job of organizing things when you had packed everything up. After a few minutes of haphazardly rummaging through the boxes, you pulled an army green utility jacket on over your t-shirt and shorts before slipping on a pair of your old hiking boots. You then quickly tugged your tangled curls into a messy ponytail before pulling on your backpack guitar case and strapping your trusted Glock into the holster on your waist-you could never be too safe hiking by yourself in the valley-and were out the door just as the sun was peeking its way over the horizon.

You would be lying if you said the case didn’t grow uncomfortable and cumbersome to carry throughout the day, but finding some quiet, isolated place up in the mountains and playing to your heart’s content was one of your favorite things to do. It calmed you; kept you grounded when nothing else could and your fingers were just itching to play.

You didn’t have a destination in mind, but rather, let your feet take you away when you arrived at the start of some of the trails. It was a beautiful day, the morning sky dusted with just a few wispy clouds and the temperature just cool enough to make you appreciate bringing a jacket for the first few hours. Fall was fast approaching, but the afternoons were still pleasantly warm.

You softly hummed along as the hours passed by, your feet traveling up and down the worn trails. You had yet to see another soul, just a few deer and other harmless wildlife scattered among the trees.

Eventually, your legs began to grow tired and you could feel your breath starting to catch. Looking at your watch, you saw it was nearly noon and decided now was probably a good time to sit down to rest, eat, and perhaps play for a little bit.

You walked just a bit longer as you looked for an appropriate place to stop, finally finding an open place to your left which opened up to part of the valley below. After settling down on one of the larger rocks, you ate the meal you had packed for yourself before getting your guitar and beginning to tune it.

Ever since you were born, you had had a knack for all things musical. You were quick to pick up instruments and had an ear for being able to play things you heard. You could read music, your mother had taught you at a young age, but you often didn’t need the sheets. You found it easier and more enjoyable to just hash out the notes yourself and see where they took you.

Your fingers strummed idly across the strings, playing a few chords of this and that as you tried to find something which resonated with you at the moment. After a few minutes of indecisiveness, you found yourself strumming the beginning chords to an Axel Flovent song, your voice softly humming along before they turned to form the actual words.

“Your dreams are incredibly loud tonight; you're creating forest fires. You can't even change your sight; it's stuck in you like --”

You stopped abruptly when you heard rustling behind you. Startled, your guitar dropped from your hands which immediately moved to hover over the Glock at your waist while you spun around to see what had made the sound.

You didn’t know quite what you were expecting, some sort of animal most likely, so you were shocked to see it was a man standing a few yards back, staring intently at you.

“Holy shit, man!” You breathed out when you felt your heart begin to slow once again. “Don’t you know better than to sneak up on someone out here?”

Your common sense told you to keep your guard up, but you were just so relieved it was just another person and not a wolf, mountain lion, or god forbid, a bear, that you found it hard to still be wary of him. With a dead whitetail strapped around his shoulders, you reckoned he was just a hunter who had wandered by when he heard your singing.

“I’m sorry, that was kind of rude of me.” You blushed when you saw his eyes glance at the hand still hovering over your gun. You quickly dropped it against your better judgment as you began to ramble from your still buzzing nerves. “It’s just, you scared me, is all...Which I guess, now that I think about it, there probably wasn’t a very good way to announce yourself without scaring the shit out of me, so I guess we’re just...equally...to...blame...” Your words trailed off at the end as you realized you had begun to ramble. You felt another light blush creep up your cheeks at your actions. The man probably thought you were an idiot.

Deciding it was better to keep your mouth shut and not embarrass yourself any further, you took a few seconds to truly take him in. He was older than you, you thought by at least fifteen years, though it was a bit hard to be sure. His hair, a few shades lighter than your own was cut short on the side but kept longer on the top and the lower half of his face was covered in a shaggy beard just as red as the rest of his hair. His jacket appeared to be military and you could just make out the glint of dog tags around his neck confirming your suspicions. You weren’t familiar enough with the military, however, to figure out what branch he had served in.

You were unnerved by the silence which followed your previous ramblings. He had yet to say a word since you had acknowledged his presence behind you. This silence along with the intensity of his scrutiny over you caused you to shift uncomfortably in your seat.

The time it took him to reply, though only a few seconds, seemed much longer due to the way he kept looking at you. It wasn’t in a lustful manner, but rather a careful, almost wary one. Nonetheless, it made you uncomfortable and you were about to open your mouth to break the silence. With what, you had no idea, but any rambling on your part seemed better than this stifling silence.

“Don’t you know it’s not smart for you to be out here by yourself?”

Before you could break the silence yourself, he finally spoke, his words a mocking reference to one of your earlier statements.

Despite the blush his words brought to your cheeks, you narrowed your eyes at the statement. “Puh-lease, I’m just as safe out here as you are. I could shoot you square between your eyes if I wanted to.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes at his obvious condescension from your appearance. Sure, you probably didn’t look like it, but you had been taught how to shoot a gun since you were ten and you had become a pretty straight shot after the years. “You’re just lucky I’m not a trigger happy kind of gal.” He was also lucky that it had been a few years since you had practiced, though he didn’t need to know that.

The man smirked at your statement, resituating the deer hanging off his shoulders as he gave you another one over. He took another bout of silence as his eyes took you in once more, almost as if he was seeing you in another light.

“Well aren’t you a little spitfire.”

“Wow, real original.” You narrowed your eyes at him again. “It’s not like I’ve never heard that one before.”

“Not surprised,” he snorted.

“Don’t you have something better to do than annoy girls just trying to mind their own damn business?” You retorted, before picking up your fallen guitar and checking for any damage. It wasn’t so much the words which bothered you, you could go back and forth all day with talk like this. You just really didn’t like the way he kept looking at you, with a gaze and intent virtually impossible to read.

“You’re right.” His head tilted to the side, taking one last long look at you before beginning to walk down the trail, seemingly losing complete interest in you. “See you around, Spitfire.” You heard him shoot back at you before he disappeared around a clump of trees and out of sight.

You turned back to your guitar, brushing off the dirt still clinging to it and trying, yet failing to hold back the blush creeping up your face.

#Far Cry 5 #far cry 5 imagine #reader #romance #john seed #jacob seed #joseph seed #imagine #au

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wonderlandmind4 · 6 years

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Café Crema Chp. 5

Summary: The first time was an accident. The second time was coincidence. The third time is just unlucky. The fourth time is getting out of hand and the fifth may or may not be with intent. Otherwise known as The One Where He Spills Her Coffee.

Pairing: Bucky x fem!Reader

Warnings: Language. Buckets of fluff. Alludes to Infinity War and the Snap as this takes place afterwards (so please, if you haven’t yet seen the movie, please do). Implied Smut…maybe…eventually. IW spoilers for this chapter

Words: 6.6k This is for @captain-ariel-barnes 4k writing challenge, which, congrats! This is my first ever writing challenge, with my first ever reader insert, so please let me know what you think. (gif not mine)

Fic Writing Challenge Prompt: “You Owe Me Dinner”

When Y/N wakes up a few days later, she’s nearly tempted to go right back to sleep. The temperature dropped during the night and she didn’t have her extra layer of the thick fuzzy blanket atop her duvet. She could feel the cold radiating off her bedroom window, and all she wanted to do was snuggle back up into the warmth of her bed.

She couldn’t though. Today was the day that YouTube Band and their demanding, prima-donna manager who finds it beneath her to organize events with lesser known therapy centers, were coming in. The band themselves seem to be super excited about it. It was just the horrible woman Y/N had been dealing with for the past few weeks that made her dread the day.

Forcing herself out of bed, Y/N got ready for the morning. She decided on a thicker pair of black pants, a cream colored long sleeve shirt, a quilted tan leather jacket with matching knee-high boots and a thick white scarf. She would be inside for the majority of the day, hoping to avoid the crisp weather despite how much she loves it sometimes.

Y/N arrived at the Center earlier than usual, making sure everything is set in stone before the band comes in. Colin is already there, usually when her sister has early work meetings, she brings him by. Y/N greets her nephew with a tight hug, signing and asking him if he wants to help her color a thank you card for the band. He nods excitedly.

After the card and coloring is finished, Colin spots Millie coming with her parents and heads off to see her with one of the other OT’s. Y/N takes this as her chance to find Elizabeth in her office, an orange crayon still in her hand. She knocks on her door frame, pulling the blonde-haired therapist’s attention away from her notes.

“I rode on Bucky’s motorcycle.” Y/N informs her as a greeting.

The OT quirks an eyebrow. “Is that a euphemism?” She deadpans. Y/N throws the crayon at Lizzie. She cackles when it bounces off her arm and lands on her desk.

“Why do I tell you things?” Y/N questions aloud.

“Because you seem to be incredibly infatuated with Bucky and you don’t know what to do with yourself.” Lizzie states, leaning back in her seat.

Y/N opens her mouth to deny it, but Lizzie beats her to it.

“Dave told me what happened that day. Don’t you think there’s something strange going on here?”

Oh something strange is going on alright, Y/N thinks happily, but she doesn’t voice it.

Lizzie continues. “Some mischievous version of fate messing with you both. I mean, it’s like you’re magnets or something being pulled towards each other. I’ve always been good at reading your face, Y/N. You like him.”

She’s about to deny it, but she can’t. Y/N sighs in defeat. “I think you’re right, Lizzie. Christ, that’s fucking terrifying.”

“Because he’s the former Winter Soldier, pardoned, now one of newest avengers, also dubbed White Wolf and has diplomatic immunity because of Wakanda?”

Y/N gives her a flat look. “Because I’ve never fallen for someone this quickly before. Somehow it feels…it almost feels like I’ve known him for months already.”

Her friend shrugs. “Sometimes it just happens like that. When you have a connection, you have a connection. I mean, you’re a grown woman, Y/N. It’s different to fall for someone quickly now, then it was when you were younger.”

Y/N remains silent, thinking it over. Sometimes people can just be enchanted by someone, and it can be so simple to just start a friendship; hell, even be blindsided by a spark of something more.

“Why did you ride his bike?” Lizzie questions after a minute of silence, pulling Y/N away from her thoughts.

“He said he was looking for someone to at look it.” She answers. “Which, he never answered my question about Tony Stark not looking at it or something. Anyway, I told him about my uncle’s shop, so we took an impromptu trip to Coney Island. We ate funnel cake and talked for a while. Then he brought me home and I-“

She clears her throat. “I kissed him on the cheek, said goodnight then practically ran inside.”

Laughing brightly, Lizzies says, “Y/N. That sounds like a date!”

“It was not.” Y/N disagrees vehemently.

The OT just shrugs, knowing she can’t convince her. “Well, did you finally get his number then?”

“No?” She asks confused.

Lizzie rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “I swear.” She mumbles amused.

Y/N chooses to change the subject then. “Anyway, I came here because I’m running to Ella’s, before the band arrives. Want anything?”

“I’m good.” She declines, tapping her travel mug. “That reminds me. The place providing lunch called to confirm again.”

“That’s three times.” Y/N shakes her head. “I’ll call them back, thanks.” She turns to go.

Arriving at the café, Y/N is relieved to find the line to be short. She’s only behind two people, glancing at the menu board as she waits. Her eyes light up when she sees the option for maple lattes, a sign that November has officially rolled around. She beams at Pete when it’s her turn to order, but he just glares at her.

“You tell Bucky I’m giving back his money.” He demands, pointing a nonthreatening finger at her. “A hundred bucks was too much.”

“Pete,” She chuckles, “it’s been like five days. He’s not going to take it back.”

“Well, maybe if you stopped distracting him, coffee wouldn’t haven been spilled and I wouldn’t be standing here trying to find ways to give it back to him.”

“Distracting?” She frowns.

“Yes, honey. Haven’t you seen the way the Sergeant looks at you?” Pete smirks, then pats her hand on the counter. “It’s the same way you look at him.”

Y/N is taken aback by his statement, and she can feel her cheeks warming up. “Please tell me what you’re talking about.”

“In all of your meet-cutes, each time ends with the both of you giving each other heart eyes.” Pete laughs softly. “It’s kinda adorable, actually. You’re both so smitten with each other. Coffee soul mates and all.”

“That’s not a thing Pete, and I have no idea what the hell you’re going on about.” She says.

Although her stomach has been filling with butterflies this whole time. She suddenly recalls her earlier conversation with Lizzie. She just didn’t know how obvious it was.

“He’s just…I just…shit.” She glares at him. “I hate you.”

Pete throws his head back, cackling. “I knew it!” He chirps gleefully. “You like him, Y/N.”

“I’ll have the maple latte, extra, extra large to help me deal with my irritating friends, please and thank you.”

He’s still laughing as he punches in her order.

“And the pumpkin French toast.” A saccharine smile on her lips.

Finally, he stops laughing and groans. “Dammit.”

“You said if I were to ask for them you’ll make them. I know just how much you love making them.”

“It’s a good thing you’re my best and favorite costumer.” He tells her fondly taking her card as payment.

Beaming at him, Y/N takes her card back and goes to sit at the same table she was at when Bucky crashed into her life. She clearly didn’t realize then how much they would see each other after, and how weeks later, they’re somewhat friends, and Y/N has developed a crush. She shakes her head at the memory and waits for her food.

Once she’s finished eating, she brings her plates to the counter, Pete scolding her for doing so. She bids him goodbye, grabbing her nearly empty cup of coffee and steps outside. For some reason, she can’t help the feeling of disappointment as the cold fall air greets her.

Y/N is only several feet away from the café when she realizes why. She had been expecting to bump into someone, and that someone wasn’t there. Abruptly, her side purse is buzzing, so she pulls her phone out to answer.

“Hey Liz-“

“They canceled!”

Y/N stops in her track. “What?”

“They cancelled, Y/N! That prissy manager called and pulled out! Said the band was above doing performances they aren’t getting paid for.”

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” Y/N spits into the phone. She isn’t directing it at Lizzie. “We are paying them! I’m so- oh my God, I’m so mad right now, what the fuck.”

“What the hell are we supposed to do? The kids are expecting entertainment today, they were so excited.”

“Of course she didn’t call me, she knew I’d lay it into her.” Y/N sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Y/N. What do you want me to tell the children?”

Dropping her hand away from her face, Y/N shakes her head in disbelief. “I don’t kn-”

She abruptly stops talking. Up ahead, halfway down the sidewalk, Y/N spots an all too familiar head of shaggy drown hair, and broad shoulders despite the black leather jacket. Her mind races, and it only takes 0.5 seconds for her to come up with an idea.

“Lizzie.” Y/N focuses her attention back on their conversation. “Don’t worry about it. I think I’ve got a solution.”

“What? Really!?”

“Tell everyone that the band couldn’t make it, they’re sick or something. But tell them I have a surprise instead. I hope I have a surprise. I’ll call you back.”

She hangs up, sticks her phone in her pocket, and starts brusquely walking back towards the café with determine, confident steps. Y/N downs most of her coffee only leaving a little at the end; four times of spilled liquid being enough to last her a lifetime.

She hopes this works, and she hopes her plan will go her way. Y/N is able to sneak behind a small group of women, and just as they pass the shop, she side-steps them, and knocks straight into a solid, vibranium made arm.

The purposeful impact causes her cup to tumble from her hand, and she makes no effort to stop it. Bucky however, reacts quicker this time, as if he was also expecting for this to happen again. His left hand shoots out so fast, Y/N can barely spot it. He catches the drink and his fingertips break through the thin material of the cup.

Bucky looks as if he’s about to be horrified again, embarrassed almost. Except when he realizes only a few drops of coffee are dripping to the ground, he tilts his head in bemusement. Y/N was rather impressed by his reflexes this time around, and she has to hide her amusement by rubbing her lips together. Bucky glances up at her, offering her a sheepish smile.

“Impressive.” Y/N quips. “How come you couldn’t do that the last two times?”

Bucky fish mouths for a few moments, it’s endearing. He seems to snap back to it and smirks. “Been adding coffee spilling prevention to my workout routine.”

The response makes her laugh. “Committed to your work, are you?”

“Absolutely.” His smirk evens out into a full smile. “What are you doing here at this time? Don’t you have that event today?”

“Actually, that’s why I’m here. I was wondering, if you aren’t busy or anything.” She bites her lips nervously for a moment, noticing the way Bucky’s eyes light up.

“That band I was telling you about, apparently their manager just decided to cancel the last minute and now they aren’t showing up. Which means there’s no entertainment for the kids today. Which sucks because they’re expecting a fun day, and I just really hate to disappoint them.”

Bucky reaches forward, gently placing his hands on her shoulders. “Y/N, take a breath, darlin’.”

“Right, sorry.” She grins shyly.

He returns it and she takes a deep breath. Satisfied, Bucky drops his hands away.

“Right. I was wondering if you could do me a huge favor? I was thinking, maybe having some superheroes come by instead? You, I’m asking if you can fill in for that band?”

Her eyes slip past Bucky’s shoulder. Steve has been standing there the whole time, arms crossed in a relaxed pose. His eyes are dancing with amusement and there’s a ghost of a smirk on his lips. His blue eyes shift between her and Bucky.

“Um, you too, Captain. If that’s alright?” Y/N shifts her gaze back to Bucky. “I mean, if you aren’t busy saving the world and all.”

Chuckling, Bucky says, “There’s not a pressing need for it at the moment, I don’t think.” He pauses for just a moment. “I’d love too, Y/N. I mean, we would- yes.”

Y/N feels her heart swell, and she swears it’s because he agreed and not because of the way his eyes reflect off the sunlight. Her bites her bottom lip, attempting to keep her smile tampered down, but it beats out. She beams at him, her mouth spread so widely her cheeks ache.

“Really!?” She confirms excitedly.

Bucky nods, opening his mouth to speak, but Y/N launches herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He releases a soft grunt of air, catching her around the waist, the coffee cup falling to the ground. The all too familiar, comforting smell of leather and forest fills her nose, and Y/N realizes belatedly that she just fully crossed the line of personal space.

But then she’s thinking back to the few nights ago, when she pressed her chin to his shoulder, and when he caged her against his motorcycle at Coney Island.

Before she can get lost in the rhythm of his heartbeat against his chest, Y/N slowly pulls away. She doesn’t miss the way Bucky’s fingers linger and graze her sides though, and she needs to snap back into work mode before she can think too hard on it.

“Thank you!” She squeals, pulling out her phone again. “Seriously, you’re saving the day.”

“Glad I can help.” Bucky smiles, his cheeks looking a little darker in color. He pushes his hair behind his ear. “Is there a time you want us there?”

Y/N glances at her phone. “It’s almost nine now, so around 11? You can have coffee or breakfast. It’ll be for maybe two hours as well if that’s okay. We’re providing lunch too.”

“We’ll be there.”

“Great!” Y/N bends down to pick up the cup from the ground. “It’s six blocks from here, right on 15th and 7th.” Her phone begins to ring, and she shoots Bucky an apologetic look. “I have to run though, but I’ll see you in soon?”

“Wait.” Bucky takes a step forward to grab her hand before she can leave. “What if we get lost or something? Can I have your number just in case?”

Y/N moves her gaze briefly again. Steve Rogers just snorted behind his friend’s back, his head dropped back and staring up at the sky. His reaction makes her curiosity spark, but she ignores it in favor of smiling at Bucky.

“Yeah,” Y/N answers almost breathlessly. She mentally scolds herself; his touch and his question and his incredible cobalt eyes are affecting her. “Yeah. Here, give me your phone.”

He releases her to pull out his phone and unlocks it. Y/N takes it, her fingers grazing his as she does so. She quickly adds her number to his contacts, choosing the coffee mug emoji to put next to her name and sending a text to herself. She smirks when she hands him the phone, Bucky laughing under his breath.

“I really have to go though,” She tells him, beginning to back away. “Prepare things, and uh- I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah, Y/N.” Bucky agrees, a rather soft tone to his voice. “See you soon.”

She waves at him. Abruptly she remembers Captain Rogers there as well, aware of her surroundings more now that Bucky’s scent isn’t clouding her head. She smiles awkwardly, then heads down the street. When Y/N is about to turn the corner, she glances back, sees Steve laughing with his hand on his stomach and Bucky punching his arm.

“Holy shit, Y/N, you’re amazing.” Dave whispers excitedly at her. “We’ve never had an Avenger come in before. How did you manage that?”

Y/N makes sure the little kitchen area they have is set up correctly. As she’s handing Dave a food receipt she answers.

“Helps when you literally run into one of them.”

“Oh my god,” Lizzie giggles from the doorway, catching their attention. “That’s what you did?”

“What, what did she do?” Dave questions, looking annoyed that he’s left out of the loop.

Clearing her throat, Y/N informs him. “I may have run into him. On purpose. With my coffee.”

“You’re going to give that man an ulcer from all the stress you cause him.” He shakes his head.

“This is, what-” Lizzie starts, “the fifth time now? Did you at least get his number this time? Or a real date?”

Y/N ignores them both as her phone vibrates. She pulls it out of her pant pocket, a spark of excitement igniting in her stomach. Instead of answering, she shows them both the screen.

“Now, if you are quite finished.” Y/N rolls her eyes fondly, “I’m going to greet them, and bring them up. Everyone’s ready?”

“Yup.” Lizzie nods, a proud smile on her face. “Go get your man.”

“I’ll hide any and all coffee.” Dave pipes in.

“If we weren’t surrounded by children, I’d say something rude to the both of you.”

As Y/N steps out of the elevator onto the main lobby floor, free of her leather jacket and scarf, she spots Bucky instantly. Next to him is Steve, dressed in his Captain America uniform, or rather, an older version. She holds back her chuckle, stopping by the front desk to allow them access and give them guest passes.

“Hi again.” Y/N greets brightly, stepping directly in front of Bucky.

He isn’t wearing that navy blue vest that he usually does in battle, but he did change from his casual gray shirt from two hours ago into a dark blue button up. It makes his already enthralling eyes pop vividly against the color. He’s kept his chestnut hair out of the bun, but tucked behind his ears.

“Hi.” He chirps back, a nervous tilt to his smile.

“I just want to thank you again for agreeing to this. Honestly, this means so- oh. Hello.”

Y/N stops mid-sentence, because suddenly several other Avengers walk through the doors. She can’t help her mouth from dropping in surprise. She glances at Bucky and Steve, then back at the others. Wanda Maximoff, Clint Barton, Spider-Man in his full suit since his identity is still secret, and Sam Wilson.

“Bucky?” She questions softly, “What-“

“I called them.” He interrupts her gently. “I figured the children might enjoy the day even more than just with a couple of 100-year-old men.”

Warmth begins to seep into her veins, and Y/N knows it has nothing to do with the heaters inside the building. The cheek aching smile is back, minutely shaking her head because she can’t really handle how thoughtful Bucky was. She only asked him and Steve, a last minute thing, and here he was, calling in his friends as well. Their little moment of just staring at each other is broken when a rich dark hand nearly shoves Bucky aside.

“Sam Wilson.” Sam introduces himself, a genuine smile on his lips but a spark of mischief in his eyes. “Nice to finally put a face to the name.”

Bucky winces, then quickly turns to introduce Y/N to everyone else. She shakes their hands, greeting them all brightly, then grabs extra passes. After Y/N hands them all out, she escorts them to the elevators. Before she presses the button to call the elevator to bring them up, she turns to give them the run down.

“First,” Y/N commences, “There’s about twenty-five children today. They’re all super cute and sweet and they have no idea you all are here, so thank you again for coming. It means a lot to us. Second,”

Y/N points to Bucky. “If they ask you to show them how to take your arm off, feel free to tell them no.”

A laugh startles out of Bucky’s mouth, the rest chuckling as well. “I’m assuming that’s not the first time they’ve asked someone?”

“They ask Lizzie, and Kristen, two of our Occupational Therapists, to show them all how to do it. They always try to trade their own prosthetic’s, but as they’re each individual and uniquely fitting, you can see the problem.”

“Tell them no, got it.” Bucky agrees, still laughing.

Y/N moves on to Wanda. “If they ask you to make them float in the air, say no.” To Spider-Man she says, “same if they ask you to web them to the ceiling so they’re hanging upside down.” To Steve –“ If they want you to bounce them on your shield-“

“Say no.” Steve answers for her.

“Basically, anything you think a child wants to do that’s even remotely a bad idea or dangerous, say no.”

“So, no darts then?” Clint pipes up sarcastically.

“Unfortunately, their throwing skills aren’t up to par to the great Hawkeye, so no.”

“I like her.” He whispers to Bucky, who just elbows him in the ribs with is left arm. Clint winces then glares at him.

Y/N shoots Bucky a triumphant look. “We have some activities set up, coloring and puzzles, that sort of thing. But this is just mainly a hangout session. Most of these kids are here every day, and the therapy can get grueling on them, so we like to give them something that’s fun and makes them happy. They all love you, by the way, so I hope this will make their day.”

Finally, Y/N hits the button and the doors to the elevator ding. She allows them to board first, following after Bucky. As the doors slide shut, she subtly taps the back of his hand, his skin warm and smooth. They share a quick look, Y/N mouthing thank you once more. Bucky’s fingers graze over her knuckles briefly, before pulling back and disconnecting their contact.

Anytime, He mouths backs.

The surprise goes over much more enthusiastically than they all expected. Each kid is ecstatic, all taking turns and hugging each Avengers several times. Once the hugging and the loud chirps of names calm down, a few of the kids begin to take each different hero’s hands and tugs them to a corner or table to the center.

Bucky lingers behind Y/N. He looks a little apprehensive around the kids, as if he isn’t quite sure what to do exactly. She proves herself right when Bucky leans closer to her.

“I haven’t really done this before.” He confesses in a whisper. “What if they don’t like what they see? What if they don’t like me at all?”

“Impossible.” Y/N says way too quickly. She catches herself too late, and clears her throat, ignoring the heat in her cheeks. “They love you, Bucky, honestly. A superhero who helps save people, who helps save the world, who also shares something that is apart of them?” She glances at his bionic arm, half on display of dark blue and lines of gold with his sleeve rolled up to his elbow.

“You think so?” He asks, like he needs reassurance.

Y/N nods her head to a different part of the room. “I do, Just Bucky. See?”

His gaze follows hers. An older girl, Maliyah who is eight, is shyly waving at Bucky. She’s one of their newer kids to the center, sitting in a wheelchair as she is only just beginning to learn how to walk again with her new prosthetic right leg.

Bucky shoots Y/N an inquiry glance, and she nods encouragingly. Bucky walks over to Maliyah, meeting her half ways as she was coming over to them. She gestures to the wheels of her chair, showing him blue and gold design of the wheels, modeled exactly in the pattern as his arm.

Y/N stands there for a few minutes, watching the interactions. None of the children seem disappointed that the band didn’t show up, and she’s just glad that she was able to bring other people in to make their day. The smiles and giggles of the kids in the center reminds her of just how much she loves her job.

Unfortunately, she still has emails to answer and phone calls to make, so Y/N is in and out of her office for the next hour. Between phone calls for future events, including the upcoming holidays and fundraisers, she leans against her door frame to view the Avengers entertaining the kids.

Wanda is twirling her fingers, showing off some of her powers as she lifts crayons and markers into the air. Some of the younger children clap, and a few of the older boys stare in awe at her. One little girl is attempting to braid Wanda’s hair, and bless her soul, the Avenger sits there patiently.

Sam is making a group of older kids laugh hysterically as he retells a story of him flying through the air. Apparently, he had taken flight and some how forgot it was Fourth of July and was dodging fireworks all night. He’s animated in his storytelling, and with permission from Lizzie, picks up one of girls and zooms her around to demonstrate.

A light tinging noise pulls Y/N from looking at Sam to the other corner of the room. Captain America’s new shield is sitting on one of the coloring tables, and Steve is just allowing one of the youngest kids to tap out a beat with his prosthetic hands. Steve smiles over the boy once and a while, then he goes back to drawing pictures with the four other kids surrounding him.

Clint has found Colin, and they are sitting quietly in the corner playing with Legos. Every once and a while, Colin will take pieces from Clint’s pile and throws them a few inches, giggling every time Clint dramatically crawls over to get them. They make a game out of it, and he even surprises her when he signs to her nephew.

Spider-Man has a group of girls and boys, all asking him questions. They range from how he can stick to walls, to if he can control spiders like Ant-Man can control ants. He shows off to the kids by flipping backwards and they all clap giddly and laughing.

Y/N moves her gaze around the room until she spots Bucky. Millie has attached herself to his side, marveling over their shared left arms. Maliyah is still next to him, holding a smaller boy, Jacob, in her lap. He allows both Jacob and Millie to play with his arm, curling his fingers and tracing along the lines of gold. Maliyah, who is extremely bright for her age, seems to be asking Bucky about the scientific making part of his arm, and he seem just as intrigued to answer her the best he can.

“This is amazing.”

Dave’s voice pulls Y/N from her thoughts, ripping her eyes away from Bucky. She has no idea how long she had been staring at him for, but the look on Dave’s face says it was a while. She nods in agreements.

“Careful, Y/N.” He jokes quietly. “Your fond is showing.”

“Hush.” She hisses at him, elbowing his side. “This is strictly for the children.”

He goes to respond, when the phone rings in her office. Y/N sighs tiredly, beckoning behind her. Dave nods his head in understanding as she goes back to work.

There are times when Y/N wonders how she has so much patience when it comes to seemingly heartless people. She’s been on the phone for the past hour now with a big sponsor of Loving Arms. She listens to their rambling, her leg bouncing rapidly, her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. Her stomach is churning, and it’s beginning to make her patience ware thin.

“I just don’t understand why your company has abruptly decided to drop our Center.” Y/N repeats for the tenth time. Her voice is harder, colder at this point. “You’ve been a sponsor for us for years, and suddenly we’re too small a scale for you?”

“We’re sorry.” The man Y/N has been speaking with doesn’t sound apologetic at all. “There just isn’t enough publicity.”

“Alright, so tell me. How am I supposed to let these children and their families know that they can no longer afford therapy sessions and prosthetics because you decided to give up on them? That you dropped us because, what, we aren’t good enough? Sorry, we only care if your facility is rich because that’s the only way we’ll even remotely associate you with us. You guys are doing a stand-up job there.”

“Well, unfortunately, Ms. Y/L/N, that isn’t our problem. That’s yours and your Loving Arms-“

“I’m going to stop you right there.” Y/N snaps, a fierce protectiveness washing over her. “You do not have the right to drop us, pulling your sponsorship away, then bad mouth my Center. We care about our patients here, and we don’t heartlessly hound them for every last one of their pennies. Thank you for your business, but I think we’ll be fine without you now. Have a lovely day.”

Y/N hangs up the phone rather harshly, smacking it back down on the receiver. She leans back in her chair, dropping her head back and growling at the ceiling. A soft knock on her doorframe snaps her head forward again.

Bucky is standing there, holding a plate of food as an offering. There’s a slight look of guilt on his face as he walks in.

“Brought you some food because Dave said you’ve been cooped in here for an hour.” Bucky explains, setting the plate down on her desk. “I was wondering where you were.”

“How much did you hear?” Y/N sighs deeply.

“Enough to know that people suck?” He shrugs offering her a sympathetic grin.

She chuckles and he takes that as his cue to enter her office. He hands her the plate of food, but as his arm moves closer to her desk, she makes a point of moving her empty coffee mug to the opposite side. Bucky glares playfully at her before his mouth morphs into a smirk as he sits in the chair across from her.

“I got you everything because I didn’t know what you liked.” He explains, pointing to the array of chicken nuggets, fruit, a wrap and a sandwich.

“Thanks, Bucky.” Y/N smiles appreciatively at him, popping a grape into her mouth. “How’s it going, Mr. Popular?”

Bucky chuckles softly, and the noise makes her heart flutter a little in her chest. He pushes back his long hair with his hands, his eyes lighting as he just stares at Y/N for a few moments.

“You were right.” He answers quietly. “They seem to love me.”

“You’re an inspiration to them.” She tells him truthfully. Bucky scrunches his nose. “Do you not believe that?”

That same look appears in his eyes again, the same one that she noticed when he returned her shirt. The one he had when he invaded her personal space and caged her between his arms against his motorcycle. The one that makes her heart beat just a little bit faster.

“I do when you say it.” Bucky whispers, suddenly twisting his fingers together. “Because I think that’s what you see in me.”

Confidence seems to take over Y/N, because her response is something more of a confession. “I see a lot more in you, Bucky.”

He blinks in surprise. “Y/N-“

She doesn’t get to know what he was going to say, because the phone rings. Y/N has to tear her gaze away from Bucky, something much harder to do, and glances at the ID. She rubs at her temples with her fingertips, shooting him an apologetic look.

“I have to answer this.” She winces, already dreading talking to those sponsors yet again.

Standing, Bucky nods. “Good luck, I’ll try catching you later?” He asks, hopeful.

Y/N nods, smiling brightly at him before picking up the phone.

Needing another round of coffee after that second phone call, Y/N make her way to the kitchen. What she sees in the activity room halts her in her tracks. She hides herself half behind the wall, leaning against the frame.

Bucky is kneeling so he’s on a closer level to Colin. Her nephew is pointing at his arm as he tries to speak, but can’t form the words properly. Colin begins signing quickly in his excitement. To her amazement, Bucky smiles brightly and signs back to him. Colin makes a happy, enthusiastic sound, throwing his hands in the air.

The little boy proceeds to grab Bucky’s hand, allowing Colin to play with his arm as Bucky gently pokes at his cheek, making the boy laugh loudly. Y/N watches on fondly, that damn warm feeling coming back and spreading throughout her body. When Bucky looks up for a moment he meets her gaze, and he’s calm and bright and any reservations are long gone now.

It makes her heart flutter. She bites her lip to contain how big her smile is, and Bucky blinks, then looks away, a light tint to his cheeks. Y/N turns away, leaving them to have their cute little time together.

Y/N sighs as she gets off the phone once more, proud at herself for not yelling at the band’s manager, but also happy that she was able to put her in her place with sharp words, and that they will no longer be reaching out in the future. When Y/N leaves her office, the center is missing several super heroes, and one in particular.

“Where’d Bucky go?” She inquires aloud.

“They left remember?” Dave answers, holding a trash bag. “You were on the phone when they were saying goodbye?”

She vaguely remembers someone stopping by her office, but then leaving when she was in the middle of talking. Y/N hurriedly makes her way downstairs, hoping she can catch him. When the elevator doors slip open, Bucky is already out the door. Y/N quickens her pace, catching the door before it closes and nearly stumbles outside. Thankfully, he isn’t far at all, so she leans forward to catch his left hand.

“Bucky, wait.”

He turns, eyes wide in surprise, but a smile on his lips. Steve motions the rest of them will be waiting and continues walking. Y/N releases his hand, waving goodbye at the rest of the Avengers.

“Sorry, Y/N.” Bucky begins with a small shrug. “I was looking for you, but you were on the phone. We got called for an urgent mission.”

“Oh, I won’t keep you them.” Y/N says lightly, about to go back inside.

“No,” He shakes his head quickly, stepping closer. “I wanted to say goodbye to you.”

She ignores the anxious flutter of wings in her stomach. “I just really wanted to thank you again. For agreeing to come in the first place, and you didn’t have to call anyone else, but you did. You made them all so happy, Bucky. Thank you.”

“I was happy to do it.” Bucky tells her, “and if you ever want me- us- to come again, we would in a heartbeat.”

“I appreciate that.” She expresses honestly, smiling. “They really did love you, I hope you know that.”

“Thanks.” Bucky chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “They’re all amazing kids. Colin’s your nephew, right?”

“They really are.” She agrees wholeheartedly. “And yes, he’s the light of my life, that one. Well, I’ll let you go hero it away then. Thanks again.”

“Anytime, Y/N, really.”

She nods. “Well, you have my number now, so, y’know. Warn me when you want to meet up and spill my coffee again.”

“I promise I’ll warn you ahead of time.” He laughs. “Have a good day.”

“Have a good mission.”

They linger for just another moment, then she waves because apparently she can’t stop, and turns back to go inside. Except, the shy expression on Bucky’s face just now, and the genuine, good heartedness of the man standing before her reminds her of everything she’s been feeling lately.

It’s slow, but it’s there. It sparked on the day they met, and it’s been burning like embers. It’s growing, and as Y/N has told him before, sitting on that bench sharing a funnel cake, she’s not going to hold back. She gains confidence and spins around.

“Actually.” Y/N pipes up. Bucky turns around as well walking towards her. “That reminds me.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows in question, waiting for her to elaborate further.

“It’s been like, five times and like twenty coffees at this point, spilled in various ways and the majority of it on me.” Y/N pauses. “I think you should make it up to me.”

Bucky goes from looking slightly guilty, to bemused in two seconds. He opens his mouth to speak, but she beats him to it.

“You owe me dinner.” Y/N states lightly, but with confidence she is faking because she’s nervous as hell.

He frowns, looking like he’s trying to comprehend what she just said. It only takes a few moments for realization to dawn on his face. A slow smile stretches across his full, pink lips, crinkles appearing at the corner of his eyes.

“Come again?” He asks, but there’s mirth dancing in the water that makes up the color of his eyes.

She bites her lip briefly before letting it go. “I think you owe me dinner.”

Then, Bucky laughs, a softy breathy little noise. “I think you’re right, Y/N.” He steps closer to her. “That, I would love to do.” Suddenly, his face falls. “I can’t tonight though.”

“I know,” Y/N nods in understanding. “Avenging and stuff. I get it. No rush. Just, let me know when.”

She waves once more, and attempts to leave again, but fingers wrap around her bicep. His grip carefully pulls and spins her back around.

“7:30.”

“What?”

“Tomorrow. 7:30. Is that alright?” Bucky inquires nervously.

Y/N beams at him, her heart rate speeding up. “Yeah.”

“Good. It’s a date.” He smiles, then reluctantly let’s go of her arm. “I really should be going now.”

“Is…” Y/N starts, “is it dangerous?”

Bucky scrunches his nose. “Might be, we don’t know for sure yet.”

She frowns fleetingly, concern flooding her chest. Y/N raises her hand to touch his chest. She realizes her little move, then quickly removes her hand in favor of grabbing his left one. She squeezes his fingers, the cool, smooth vibranium reminding her that he’s more than capable of taking care of himself. It doesn’t stop her next words though.

“Be careful.” She tells him quietly. Her eyes locked on his to convey how serious she feels about it.

Bucky comes closer, lifting his right hand. His fingertips graze along her cheekbone, before tracing the length of her jaw, sending a thrill of goosebumps scattering across her skin. His gaze drops to her mouth for a second, before snapping back up.

“I will, Y/N.” He promises, offering her a private smile.

Altogether, Bucky ceases contact, dropping his hands and stepping away. He waves once, then turns and follows Steve who had been waiting for him. Y/N catches the smug, yet proud expression on the Captain’s face as he wraps his arm around Bucky’s shoulders.

A cold breeze picks up right at the moment, and Y/N ran outside without her jacket or scarf on. However, she doesn’t feel the bite of the weather, just the blooming touch of heat leftover by Bucky.

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

Previous Chapter 6

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wildefiction · 5 years

Text

Of Course...Mr. Collins

THIRTEEN

Thursday came and went with little excitement, Misha leaving you to your own devices as he was briefed on that weekend’s convention schedule. You spent the day sun-bathing, napping and texting your sister about your first day in Hawaii.

Friday morning, you woke to the incessant buzzing of your phone. Cracking one eyelid, your vision slid into focus as you noted the annoying black device vibrating towards you along the table. Groaning, you winced as the backlight blinded you. It was six in the morning.

“So much for this trip being a vacation, hah.”

The six text messages surprised you and you began to scroll through them, expecting them to all be from Misha. Only that man would wake up six hours before the convention was due to start.

To your surprise, only five of them were from your boss. The sixth, was from Norman.

“Hey [Y/F/N], how ‘bout that ride today? ; )

Your heart fluttered for a moment, chills running down your arms. Sure, he’d said he’d text you - but you hadn’t actually expected him to. Your hands shook slightly as you typed out a quick response.

“That would be awesome! Let me get back to you after I check in with Mish. Woke up to five messages from him!”

Switching back to the group of messages from Misha, you sighed in relief when you realized they weren’t urgent. There was a picture of the sunrise and the beach where he’d gone running. The third was him letting you know the cast was getting together for drinks that night, asking if you wanted to go. Then one mentioning he was on his way back to the hotel, and finally one asking if you wanted coffee or tea since he was stopping anyhow.

The last message had been sent five minutes ago. Hurrying to respond, you asked for an earl grey latte before throwing the phone down on the bed and moving to find clothes for the day.

Fifteen minutes later, a dull thudding sound coming from across the room had you pulling the door open to see Misha, two paper cups in hand and a brown bag clenched in his teeth. Laughing, you grabbed the bag from his mouth and moved back, allowing him to join you in the room.

“I grabbed some of those bantam bagels and a breakfast sandwich for you to go with your tea.” We’ve got a few hours of work ahead of us, but I figure if we get done by lunch, you can have the afternoon off. Did you want to go tonight?”

Realizing you hadn’t answered that text, you quickly agreed.

“Of course! I’m super excited to meet everyone!” Clutching the warm drink in your hand and raising it to your lips, you drank deeply of the caffeine before eyeballing the paper bag you’d set down on the table.

Misha wandered into his room to grab the laptop from his bag.

“Here [Y/F/N], I’d like you to book us tickets to San Francisco for the first week of December and make the travel arrangements. I’m due at the convention Saturday morning, so we should probably get in Friday afternoon. The convention takes care of our hotel, but you should send the co-ordinator an email if you want your own room, they usually need a bit of notice for that kind of thing.”

With a bagel stuffed in one side of your mouth, you nodded in understanding as you pulled your tablet out and began writing a list of the things you needed to do.

“When you’re finished with that, do you think you might be able to find me something to wear to the luau tomorrow night? A fun shirt or something? I’m thinking my usual just isn’t going to cut it. Pick something nice up for yourself too while you’re out.”

As you opened your mouth to protest, Misha held up a hand, effectively silencing you.

“Before you say anything, just consider it a signing bonus.” “Think you can be ready by, say, nine?”

Nodding as you scribbled the notes on your list, you moved out onto the balcony, deciding to work on booking flights in the sunshine.

“Sounds good Misha, want to meet for lunch later?”

“I’ll actually be out most of the day, if you need me feel free to send me a text.” Reaching into his back pocket, Misha pulled his wallet out before rifling through it for a moment and then selecting a card and handing it towards you. Taking it from him, you were surprised at the heaviness of it. The black and cobalt gradient running over the front wrapped around the metal rectangle. Flipping it over, the card number and identifying information were printed neatly in the bottom corner.

“Kindly send me a screenshot of the flights you find before purchasing them please.”

“How much do you want me to spend on your shirt, sir?” You were still writing notes and didn’t look up to see Misha’s body language quiet as he watched you at your task.

“Whatever you like. I’m sure you can figure out what is and isn’t appropriate.” Snapping your head up, you rose from the chair as Misha turned from the room.

“Uh, no. You just gave me a credit card and I’d have a hard time spending thirty dollars on a shirt, so, I mean, can I at least have a range?! And, I don’t even know your style, what are you looking for?”

Misha turned as your cool fingers touched his skin and he smiled at the apprehension on your face. Grabbing both of your hands in his, he looked straight at you, demanding eye contact as a smile spread on his face. You stilled as you looked back at him - damn if those eyes weren’t easy to fall into…

“I have complete faith in you [Y/F/N], pick something that you’d like, doesn’t have to be fancy. And keep it under two-hundred?” “You’ll do fine.” With a final squeeze to your hands, he turned again and disappeared back into his room, leaving you with your assignments.

Settling into the table, being warmed by the morning sun you dove into searching for flights immediately, comparing the differing airlines and seat arrangements. As simple as it seems, you enjoyed this kind of work. It kept you busy while placating the organization skills that you couldn’t function without. Within the hour you’d found suitable flights for a pretty decent price and took a screenshot to send to Misha. Your phone notification sounded almost immediately; “Well that was fast,” you mused - sliding the menu screen open.

“Busy, busy eh? How about that ride?”

At first, you were confused, thinking it was Misha that had responded so quickly. Realizing it was Norman, you cursed to yourself. You’d completely forgotten to text him back. Glancing down at the clock, you noted it was only almost eight.

“Wanna meet for lunch around eleven?”

Another text. This one from Misha.

“Try again [Y/F/N] - how can I utilize your assistance properly if you’ve put yourself in coach?” “Dates and times look good though, just update your seat and send me the confirmation.”

He’d included his email address in the message. You sighed, but made the changes he requested anyhow before clicking on the checkout button. Buzzing twice in a row, you picked up your phone and saw that Misha had received the confirmation, and Norman had responded:

“It’s a date” ; )

Crossing the flights off of your list, you moved on to making travel arrangements. Several driving companies surrounded the airport you planned to fly into and you quickly made reservations with the best reviewed. After shooting a quick email to the convention organizers requesting two hotel rooms, you closed your laptop and gathered everything before heading back into the dim, air conditioned room.

After taking a quick shower and blow drying your hair, you stepped back into your room to get dressed. Settling on a pair of cut-offs and a Zeppelin t-shirt, you pulled a pair of boots from the closet you’d finally managed to unpack now that it was halfway through the week and laced them up over your socks. While the warm weather made wearing heavy boots less comfortable, one thing you’d remembered from growing up on the back of a bike was that you had to wear good shoes. Technically, you should’ve also worn pants, but you needed to be at least a little comfortable.

As the last hour ticked by, your nerves began worrying at you, and try as you might to calm them, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t startle when a heavy knock sounded on your door. Wiping your hands against the denim covering your thighs, you rose to answer the door.

“Hey, hey sweetheart, ya ready ta go?” Norman stood before you, dark Ray-bans wrapped over his eyes; a black hat pulled down over his shaggy auburn hair.

Grinning widely you turned to grab your phone and wallet before closing the door behind you.

“So, where ya wan’na go? Throwing an arm across your shoulders, he led you down the hallway.

Walking out to the parking lot, you waited as Norman swung one of his long legs over the seat of his bike, slowly backing the machine away from it’s parking spot. Looking up at you, he smirked as he waited for you to join him. Stepping up to the edge of the curb, you straddled the now rumbling monster, balancing yourself with one hand on Norman’s shoulder before seating yourself behind him. With a twist of the throttle, the bike lurched forward, and you pressed yourself against his broad back, gripping his waist with only your thighs as he accelerated out onto the main road.

Pulling into a Hawaiian barbeque place fifteen minutes later, you steadied yourself on his shoulders as you stood up from the bike.

“Ya like bar-ba-que lady?” The deep voice reminded you of the bike you’d just stepped off of and it sent a chill through your body as the smell of smoked meat drew you to the front doors.

“Uh, does a bear shit in the woods?” Norman laughed as he held the door open to let you pass through.

Sitting down at the outdoor patio, you attacked the brisket and pulled pork you’d ordered from the run-down little establishment.

“So, where’d ya learn ta ride?” Norman sat across from you, momentarily taken aback with the obscene sounds that drifted from your body as you savored the food before you, eyes screwed shut in concentration. Opening them at the question, your face reddened as the man across from you removed his sunglasses and fixed you with his light blue eyes.

“Blue, just like Misha’s, but lighter.” You mused to yourself before answering.

“My dad. I spent a lot of time on his bike growing up. He was a Harley guy too.” Norman grunted in appreciation as he continued eating. Eyeing your t-shirt, he rose an eyebrow, “ya like Zeppelin eh?”

Grinning, you nodded enthusiastically, launching into an animated discussion of your favorite songs and how you liked a lot of classic and modern rock.

Over the next hour, you talked about everything from the weather to relationships - good and bad and your hobbies. You learned that, while they filmed in Georgia, Norman actually lived in New York and spent a lot of time sculpting and painting when he was home, which wasn’t very often.

“I always wan’na be doin’ sum’thin.” “Get kin-a res’less if I’m in one place too long, ya know?”

“Sounds like a helluvan adventure actually.”

Rising from the table, the two of you made your way back to the front of the establishment before climbing back on the bike.

“Ya can hol’ on ya know. I ain’t gonna bite cha…”

“Oh, but biting’s excellent - it’s like kissing, only… there’s a winner!” You laughed, but wrapped your arms low around his waist, sliding your hands under his vest to splay your fingers over his muscled abdomen.

“Well then, darlin’ I’ll hafta keep that in mind.”

The next several hours flew by in a blur, you and Norman spent the time driving along the coast, stopping occasionally to sit in the sand and watch the waves crash over the beach. At one point, you stopped to pluck a plumeria blossom from one of the fragrant trees that dotted the park you were walking through, carefully tucking it behind your right ear. The yellow and white flower striking against your [Y/H/C] hair.

Reaching into your back pocket, you took your phone out and flipped on the camera, taking a picture to send to your sister back home. This island was so amazing, you almost didn’t want to go back.

“Hey, Norman, can we take a picture? My sister will never believe me if I try to tell her what I’ve done with my day.”

Chuckling, he ambled over, throwing an arm around your neck and pulling you harshly against his side. Taking your phone, he held it up in the air before releasing the shutter a couple of times.

“Alrigh’, one more.” Turning the camera sideways, he squeezed you closer into his side and as you looked up into the screen, he turned and pressed his lips to your cheek right as he hit the button. Blushing to yourself, you took the phone back from him and mumbled a thank you as you busied yourself with sending her the pictures.

Upon returning to the hotel, you checked your phone again as you said goodbye to Norman, with the promise to text him later. You were surprised to see there were no messages from Misha, he must be busy you thought to yourself before heading for the outdoor shopping area.

Drifting in and out of several shops trying to decide what to pick up for Misha was pretty challenging, but you ended up settling on a blue Hawaiian print shirt that was nearly the same color as his eyes. Gods that man had beautiful eyes. You’d never seen anything like them. Perhaps you were a bit biased, but you’d always been attracted to guys with dark hair and light eyes, and that rough stubble peppered over his jaw certainly didn’t hurt.

Checking the time, you noted it was nearly seven thirty and you still had to find yourself something to wear. After trying on several things you finally asked for help from one of the sales associates in a store filled with dresses.

“Hi, I’m looking for something to wear to a beach party tomorrow night, something nice but not too formal? Your [Y/E/C] eyes searched hers and she smiled back before bustling out from behind the counter to dig through the racks.

When your phone began ringing, you quickly answered Misha’s call, holding the device up to your ear.

“Hey, [Y/F/N], you gonna be ready soon?” Pulling the phone away to glance at the time, you cursed under your breath when you noticed it was quickly approaching eight. You’d never been more happy that you had showered that morning.

“Uh, yeah, give me twenty? Oh! Wait, that stuff you wanted me to buy is for tomorrow right? Not tonight?!” He laughed through the phone and assured you that was correct.

“Come in whatever you’re wearing now, we’re just going out to a few bars after all.”

Promising to meet him at the room, you spent another ten minutes choosing between a couple of dresses the woman had suggested and paid for your purchase before flying back through the shopping center and up to your room.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

TAGS: @jamielea81 @wings-of-a-raven

#WildeFiction #Misha x Reader #Supernatural Fanfiction #SPN x RPF

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