#i am not immune to the feeling wearing a pretty dress for an Occasion gives me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

azucanela · 4 years

Note

bakugou/todoroki reacting to their s.o. who usually wears long sleeves and pants wearing a casual dress? please feel free to include anyone else! also if it's ok can you add a bit of spice or smth 👉👈

REACTING TO S/O WEARING A DRESS HEADCANNONS + SCENARIOS

[ft. bakugou katsuki, shinsou hitoshi, todoroki shoto]

SUMMARY: for the first time, the boys witness you in a dress and... it ends pretty well for you.

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

WARNINGS: make out session, kissing, insecurities, SPICE, implications

A/N: THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING THIS IT MAKES ME HAPPY TO WRITE IT <3 also this is as unholy as it gets [for now] a lil spicy hehe, just a tad

BAKUGO KATSUKI

OKAY SO

he’s taken you on dates, and normally you wear jeans and a t-shirt, and he’s fine with it, he doesn’t care, your clothes your business, you wear what you want and look good no matter what it is. sweats? hot. sweatshirt? hot.

dress? probably hot, he hasn’t seen you in one yet.

UNTIL NOWWWW

it’s getting warmer, and pants are for losers, so naturally, you wear a pretty lil sundress for your upcoming date with bakugo

he comes to get you in your dorm room, and you text him that the doors unlocked and he’s like AIGHT BET

not the type to knock before entering, but you have thankfully already been dressed and as he enters he realizes that his hypothesis was in fact correct

you are very hot in a dress

very pretty

beautiful

he’s confused though, like since when is this a thing, why are you being so casual about it? did he forget something important? when was your anniversary?

“what the hell?”

you’re like ??? because nothing has changed

so he’s like “you’re.. in a dress.”

“OH,,, haha... yeah.”

now he’s made you insecure, you suck katsuki

once he passes the confusion he is checking you out, your thighs are exposed, and so are your arms, so he’s a lil distracted and doesn’t realize he’s distressed you

when he finally comes to he goes to compliment you, “you look-”

“bad? i should change-”

“NO.” he shouts, and it is a little too quickly and aggressive, so his cheeks flush at this outburst, “you look pretty.”

then he realizes he was too nice, “idiot.

you smile at him, and move to the door, only for him to kick it closed

you’re like ???

he’s like

Katsuki tries to avoid the looks he gets from the rest of his classmates as he makes his way to Y/N’s dorm room, hands shoved into his pockets as he walks. They had a movie to get to, and Katsuki wanted to make sure they had time to get snacks before the movie started, so he intended to begin rushing her. Removing one of his hands from his pocket, he turns Y/N’s door knob, shoving the door open.

He pushes it slightly behind him, but not enough that it closes since he doesn’t intend to be here long, Katsuki looks up and turns to her, “oh hey Katsuki.”

She’s putting some things in her purse, which is on her bed, so she’s slightly bent over as she shoves some cash inside it. Meanwhile, Katsuki can’t help the astonishment that washes over his features as eyes her. “What the hell?” He can’t help but exclaim at the sight before him. This was the most skin he’d seen since... since ever.

Not that he was complaining.

Y/N’s brows furrowed at his comment, standing up and bringing her purse onto her shoulder she looked at him and tilted her head in confusion. “Excuse me?”

Katsuki opened and closed his mouth once or twice, trying to find words as he let out a noise of frustration, gesturing to her, “you’re wearing a dress!” Exasperation clear in his tone, confused as to how she hadn’t seen this as an abnormality. Had he forgotten something? An anniversary perhaps?

Y/N, on the other hand, felt her cheeks warm at this. It hadn’t really crossed her mind that she didn’t wear dresses often, much less clothing that revealed her skin, which was littered with scars from the training and all the incidents there had been in the school year thus far. She couldn’t help the thought that rushed through her minds as she responded rather lamely, “yeah. I am.”

Katuski collected himself, “well, you look-”

“Bad? I should change-” Y/N began, preparing to go to her closet to find another outfit.

Only for Katsuki to call out, “NO!” His cheeks flushing red as he realized how ridiculous his outburst must look, Katsuki looked away. “You look nice... idiot.”

Y/N beamed at him, moving towards him and the partially open door that he stood by, she grasped his hand, “let’s go then!”

As she brought her hand to the knob, she was yanked back by Katsuki, who released her hand when she was close enough pulled her to his chest, pressing his lips to hers. Y/N’s free hand came up to hold his jaw, while his hands dug into her hips as he kicked the door behind him closed before shoving Y/N onto it.

Gasping at the sudden movement, her other hand came to his hair and tugged harshly on it. In response, Katsuki released her lips and brought his mouth to her neck, one of his hands coming to the bare skin of her thigh and pulling it up to hold against himself. Pressing open mouthed kisses onto her neck, Y/N let her head fall back onto the door, giving him better access.

Exhaling deeply, Y/N spoke, “Katsuki we’re gonna be late.” As much as she wanted to disregard the movie, they’d already paid for their tickets, and she wasn’t in the mood to waste money.

In response, he bit down on her neck, causing her grip on his hair to tighten before he looked back up at her, swollen lips baring a cocky grin, “I don’t mind being late, babe.”

SHINSOU HITOSHI

he’s so cute ugh

anyways, i feel like his range in terms of style is trash bag or finest man in the room so he doesn’t care how you dress and if you switch it up on occasion

this does not make him immune to the S H O C K

anyways

you’re going out with friends, but he doesn’t know this so he comes over

you open the door for him like ? but then a light bulb goes off in your head like yes! your bf! he can help! surely!

so you let him in and now he is in shock

like wow you are always hot but WOW

dresses 4 life in shinsou’s book

AND THEN YOU TURN AROUND AND HE CAN SEE SO MUCH SKIN BECAUSE YOU NEED HELP WITH THE ZIPPER AND-

rip shinsou 2020

he’s dead

look what you did

who gonna help you with that zipper now huh

very respectful gentleman though

he looks RESPECTFULLY and TOUCHES respectfully

and he really wants to touch

“HOW CAN HE BE SO HOTTT AND RESPECTFUL” tik tok audio

helps you with your zipper tho

because he is a good boy

but you lowkey noticed his change in attitude and well...

hahaha....

Shinsou was bored, so naturally, he was going to visit his lovely girlfriend at her dorm. It was odd, not receiving the cruel glares from his fellow students for his so called ‘villainous’ quirk. Then again, his girlfriend was the most powerful student in her dorm, and the people there either already liked him, or were forced to get over themselves when the two had started dating.

Nobody wanted to face the wrath of Y/N L/N.

He made his way to your door, smiling briefly at those he passed, a small wave to one student he knew particularly well. Shinsou knocked at the door, and the sound of shuffling came from inside, before the door peeked open slightly to reveal Y/N’s head, a smile making its way onto her face as she saw Shinsou.

“Oh, Shinsou! Perfect, come in and help me.” Cute.

His brows furrowed in confusion as he looked at her, and a small laugh left him, “alright.” Y/N. was sure to hide her body behind the door as she let him in, only increasing his confusion as he entered and she closed the door behind her. “Babe, what are you doing?”

When she closed the door, he finally got a full view of her body and realized she was wearing a dress. Shinsou couldn’t help the moment of shock he had as he looked her up in down. “You look beautiful.” He commented, coughing as he averted his eyes. He was looking, respectfully until his eyes trailed a little too low and-

“Would you mind zipping me up?” Y/N asked, turning around, exposing her naked back to him, save for the clasp of her bra.

Oh god you were trying to kill him.

Inhaling sharply, he nodded, “yeah, yeah, sure.” He replied. Moving closer, he brought his hands to her hips, allowing them to linger momentarily. He tilted his head as he noticed a scar running up her back, and couldn’t help but trace it upwards. Y/N felt her cheeks warm at this action, a shiver running up her spine being all it took for Shinsou to break contact entirely, “sorry.” He mumbled, embarrassed, his hand coming to the zipper and pulling it upwards.

She simply shook her head, turning around to face him, his cheeks burning red. “It’s fine.” Y/N brought her hand under his jaw and pulled him into a kiss, her other hand going to his arm.

Shinsou hummed into the kiss, allowing his hands to trail up his back once more, he finds himself regretting that he helped her zip of the dress as he presses her closer to him.

Y/N pulls away momentarily, much to Shinsou’s dismay, before pressing another peck to his lips and shoving him backwards. The backs of his knees hitting her bed frame, causing him to fall into a seat on the bed. Shinsou raises a brow, watching her figure come between his now spread legs and tilt his head up to bring him into another kiss.

His eyes flutter close as he finds his hands gripping her thighs, pulling onto himself before the other followed, allowing Y/N to straddle him, “what’cha doing, kitten?” He mumbled against her lips. She released his lips only to bring her own to his neck, as his hands hands went under her dress and up her thighs until-

“I have to go meet my friends.” She mumbled into his neck, exhaling deeply.

Shinsou groaned in annoyance, falling backwards onto her bed, “tease.” He grumbled under his breath, looking to her as she slipped off of him and amended her appearance, he couldn’t help but smile. “Have fun.”

TODOROKI SHOUTO

SO CUTE I LOVE HIM MARRY ME

ahem anyways.

shoto always looks nice, its in his nature and how he was raised, so he could be the wearing the best fit in the room and you could be wearing sweats but he really does not care

he doesn’t really notice what you wear tbh, you’re pretty to him no matter what so

bb boy is just sitting at the bench, you two had agreed to meet up at the mall, and he intended to SPOIL you, per usual, not that you knew this

you did not approve of his spending habits

you are his spending habits

he’s on his phone, preparing to text you, and he sees a figure appear in front of him, white dress with flowers on it is all thats in his vision

he’s about to be like stranger danger what do you need until he looks up and sees

GASP its you!

and you look MIGHTY FINE

you always look mighty fine, no matter what you wear, but the fact that this was something new made it even better. shoto didn’t particularly care what you wore but WOW

he kinda just cannot speak, like his mouth gapes open, you have left him speechless, good job

he’s definitely eyeing you, and he isn’t very subtle but you look so GOOD like what the hell who allowed this

insert anime nosebleed from todoroki

you are going off on a tangent about bees or smth idk and he’s like not paying attention your words but he certainly is paying attention to how nice the upper half of your body is looking rn

iykyk

he does not understand the feeling he is having but he does understand he really really really wants to kiss you

several times

and he wants to touch

you are there like “shoto???��

and hes like yes, anything for you my sweet love, what do you need

“yes love?”

ugh shoto and petnames just

a simp

anyways you guys go to the mall and he’s holding you closer than normal, and even if todo is an oblivious bb, if he happens to come across someone look at you the way only he can look at you?

its over lol burn down the mall

what was SUPPOSED a lil intimate lunchtime behind the mall in a more empty area turns into spicy todo

Sighing as he shifted on the bench, phone in hand as he prepared to text his fashionably late girlfriend, Shoto realized someone was approaching him, a white dress spotted with pink flowers filled his vision and his brows furrowed. Shoto opened his mouth to speak to the stranger, looking up only to realize it was no stranger.

It was his fashionably late girlfriend.

Shoto couldn’t help but straighten his back at the sight of her, mouth gaping open as he eyed her appearance. This was... abnormal. He rarely took note of her outfits, however he’d never seen so much bare skin, that much he knew.

Y/N simply pressed a kiss to his cheek, as though nothing was amiss, she began to speak of the difficulty she experienced on the way to the mall. Shoto failed to pay attention though, his eyes lingering on her upper body as he nodded along in the midst of his shock.

“Anyways, would you mind if we ate first?” The breeze blew her hair slightly, and Y/N basked in the sun, “maybe we could eat outside.” She suggested.

Snapping out of his trance, Shoto nodded rapidly, “of course, love.”

Y/N beamed at him, extending a hand for him, which he accepted, pressing a kiss to it before sitting up.

This was also... abnormal. Shoto never deprived her of affection, but in public it was rare for him to kiss her and he just- Y/N tried to shake herself of these thoughts, but couldn’t help the warmth that she felt spread across her cheeks as they began to head inside the mall. When they made it to the food court Y/N selected a soba place, bringing a smile onto Shoto’s face, though when she tried to pay, Shoto had already been tipping the person at the cashier $100.

As Y/N had previously suggested, the two made their way outside, and as Shoto suggested, they found a more desolate space to enjoy their food. They had ended up behind the mall in a small, unbothered, field. He’d stopped by a store to purchase and blanket, and Y/N couldn’t help but get excited at the concept of a makeshift picnic. The pair sat down on the blanket, placing the bag of food down.

Shoto couldn’t help the smile that found its way onto his face as he looked at her, “you look beautiful.” He complimented, crossing his legs.

Y/N beamed up at him, “thank you, Shoto.” She leaned forwards, on her hands and knees as she pressed a kiss onto his lips. Shoto pulls away momentarily, only for his hands to find their way onto her face, deepening the kiss.

Pulling away, Y/N raises a brow, “you’re awfully affectionate today.” She points out, moving to sit down closer to him as she brings a hand to play with his hair.

“Well, I want to touch you.” Comes his response, and in that moment Y/N contemplates cursing Shoto out for his bluntness, though she’s distracted when one of his hands comes to her thigh, “may I?”

Oh god.

Y/N nods, enjoying this side of Shoto as he brings his other hand under her other thigh, pulling her into his lap before pressing another kiss to her lips. Shoto sighs contentedly at this, and Y/N’s hand remains in his hair, tugging gently at the bicolored locks. Meanwhile, his hands wander her body in wonder as he breaks the kiss to place his lips on her neck. Y/N can’t help but lean her neck further back.

“Happy?” She mumbled as he pressed a kiss to her collarbone.

Shoto looks up at her to respond, “very.”

A/N: this is my favorite thing it was literally so fun to write omg

7K notes · View notes

anika-ann · 4 years

Text

Cold Feet

Type: One-shot, Reader Insert Word count: 2643

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Characters: Steve Rogers, Reader

Summary: After two months of dating, you’ve come to a conclusion as exciting as well as a bit irritating: Steve Rogers is a perfect man. He simply has no flaw.

Or does he?

Warnings: all the fluff in the world, like one f-bomb and mentions of intercourse

After two months of dating, you came to a conclusion as exciting as well as a bit irritating: Steve Rogers was a perfect man. He simply had no flaw.

It was a little scary, really. Even your meeting was like something from a rom-com.

You had met him by chance when visiting your baby niece who wasn’t a baby anymore to be honest. She was five. But she would always be your baby niece, even when reaching 18, so that was irrelevant.

Your not-so-baby niece Karen had fallen off of monkey bars when playing on the playground and had broken her arm so skilfully that she needed to have surgery, hence staying in hospital for four days; there was no chance you would let her struggle through that without her favourite (read ‘only’) aunt by her side for even of those days.

And on the third day, fate pulled at some of its infamous strings.

As you hummed Karen’s momentarily favourite song under your breath, striding through the hospital halls with three different flavours (or rather colours) of Jell-O, wondering how else you could cheer your pouty cute niece, you rounded the corner.

Walking straight into the most perfect man of all men – as if ‘perfect’ wasn’t already a superlative.

“Whoa!”

The collision was hard, but the landing soft. Crushing into the wall of muscle would have sent you falling on your butt, but a swift hand secured you as it appeared under your shoulder blade, keeping you upright. Two plastic cups slipped from your fingers, landing in his palm covered in fingerless leather glove.

Your eyes snapped up to the face of a man with incredible fast reflexes and your heart jumped to your throat.

Holy shit he’s pretty.

“Sorry. Got it. You alright?”

I just fell in love with a voice. God, his eyes are blue— no, not pure cerulean blue, but holy mother of God, I’m drowning-

“Madam?”

Worry had his brows furrowing and you quickly jumped from his warm grip, gulping. He let you go, those goddamn eyes watching your every move as if he expected you to trip over your own feet, which was a valid concern, actually.

“Sir,” you blurted out in response instinctively at such addressing, your brain finally catching up with your mouth. You scanned him head to toe, realization slapping you in your face. Oh. OH. “Sir. Cap-captain. S-sir.”

You had crushed into Captain freaking America; he even had his shield on his back. You were so going to be deported. Oh boy, you hadn’t even apologized yet.

What the hell was he doing in child’s ward anyway? In a plain boring hospital?

You were proven wrong on your earlier evaluation when the corners of his lips rose, spreading his lips in a brilliant shy smile; he wasn’t pretty. He was prettier.

He wiggled the cups in his hand, holding them out for you. You took them wordlessly, too stunned and embarrassed to talk.

“And just for who these are?” he asked sweetly, genuine curiosity lacing his voice. “Daughter? Son?”

“Karen! I mean— my niece! They are for my niece. Whose name is Karen. I said that already,” you babbled, closing your eyes simultaneously with your mouth.

God, somebody shoot me. Or throw your shield at me, whatever.

Status: still hadn’t apologized to him.

Heavy footsteps had you opening your eyes, only to find the blonde Adonis in uniform still smiling at you, a sparkle in his eyes.

“Cap, you’re supposed to be cheering up kids, not the ladies, no matter how pretty they are,” a man – an Ironman, the Ironman, to be precise, Tony freaking Stark – grunted from behind the soldier, casting a smirk your way.

Now seriously, somebody shoot me, please.

You eyed the Captain, resisting the urge to bite your lip; thank heavens you weren’t the blushing type otherwise you’d be red everywhere. He only looked a bit annoyed with his colleague, his gaze fixed on you. The smile never left his face.

“Why not both?”

And that was it. That was how your life turned upside down, starting with shy smiles, lingering gazes, heart-warming date nights, hesitant hand-holding, tender kisses growing into daring making-out sessions. Comforting hugs, days dedicated to worrying over him coming from god-knew-where in one piece, few nights spent in the medical ward sitting by his bedside, sleep escaping you. Brain mostly on vacation, heart behind the steering wheel.

You were in love. You were so much in love with the amazing man that words didn’t seem like enough to express it. You spent the most amazing two months with him, having nothing – or nearly nothing – to complain about; because even after the rare sleepless night by his bedside, he would wrap you in affection and made you feel like everything was more than okay.

In every conclusion possible, Steve Rogers was perfect. Maybe way too perfect.

And it wasn’t that you felt like less – he showed his adoration for you so clearly you couldn’t but feel special despite being plain ol’ you, because he was perfect like that.

The first time you two made love – there was no calling it differently, because it had nothing to do with fucking and calling it sex might have been anatomically accurate but desperately lacking the sentiment – he nearly worshipped you. You enjoyed it immensely, returning the favour. It was a very long night and perhaps… few times the tender passion did blur the lines and shifted towards the f-word in the best possible way.

It was no wonder that when you woke up on your own after that first night together, checking the time and finding it was only seven a.m. on a Saturday morning, you scooted closer to feel Steve’s sleeping form. Head nestled on his chest (an absent grumble vibrating his ribcage at your disturbance of his dreams), arm sneaking over his waist (causing his own to pull you closer), feet tangling-

You yelped, jerking away from his body so fast you nearly tipped over the edge of your bed. Steve shot up into sitting position, instantly on alert, sharp gaze wiped away of sleepiness in a second, scanning the room for threats.

He clearly found none, settling his confused eyes on you, his shoulders relaxing.

“Whatzit?” he mumbled, narrowing his eyes as if examining you would tell him.

You stared right back at him, unable to form words.

Until you could.

“Your feet are freezing!” you accused him, horrified.

What the hell?! Steve was a walking space-heater. He always enveloped you in his arms when your teeth were clattering, because you wore a dress for a romantic walk through the frozen Central Park in attempt to please his sight. Sure, now his feet slipped from under the covers, sticking out of bed really, because he was freaking tall, but… what the hell?!

He blinked in confusion before an adorable blush coloured his cheeks, already red and creased from the pillow.

“Sorry for that.”

“Sorry for-“ you parroted, dumbstruck, your sleepy brain processing the sensory input of his toes fucking freezing against your feet very slowly. “Is that normal? Are you sick? Aren’t you- aren’t you supposed to be immune to all diseases?”

Steve was literally radiating embarrassment at that point, his fingers working on scrunching the sheets, his eyes glued them as if nothing else on this world mattered.

“I am immune. It’s just… I always had it like that.”

“But your hands are always so warm!” you protested. That usually was the combo, right? People had cold hands and feet, circulation shit – not that Steve had any problem with circulation last night--ugh.

Cold hands usually came together in a package deal with cold feet, period – hell, you knew it yourself on occasion. But Steve…?

Steve grimaced.

“I used you have them cold too,” he admitted, oblivious to the amazement that started to replace your surprise. Oh god. Oh boy. A miracle had happened! Steve Rogers actually had a- “The serum fixed it, but not… uh, not my feet. Usually it’s not an issue, when I’m on the move it’s fine, exercising and-“

He trailed off as if not knowing what else to say to his defence (as if he needed any). Teeth worrying over his lower lip, he glanced up at your face. A smile was spreading on your face and he possibly took it wrong way, because he groaned, falling flat on his back to the cushions and stole your pillow – only to hide his face in it and try to smother himself.

You giggled into your palm, delighted, and got up, your bare feet tapping with each step as you made your way to your cabinet. The choking noise coming from the bed at your action sounded suspiciously like Steve screaming into the pillow.

You contained more laughter, hesitating before making the final decision.

Screw it. You manipulated the item you had come for from the very back of your drawer, closing it gently and went to sit at the end of the bed by Steve’s feet which magically disappeared back under the covers. You reached for the hem of the blanket, but stopped, thinking twice.

“Do not kick me,” you warned him, sneaking your hand into the warmth and lifting the blanket, revealing the source of discussion. Steve honest to god whined – in embarrassment, you assumed – when you touched his left ankle.

You carefully lifted it and rolled one sock on. The soft sensation seemed to give Steve a pause and he peeked at you, rolling the pillow just enough to free his surprised eyes. He didn’t protest though, watching you as you put on the other sock as well with a compassionate smile. He hesitantly lost the pillow completely when you scooted over to sit at his waist.

He wiggled his toes in the fluffy colourful socks to examine them. He was adorable, more so wearing them.

“Thank- thank you,” he whispered, still slightly embarrassed, but not saying a word of complaint. “How are these my size?”

You cleared your throat, for the millionth time since you met him grateful you weren’t the blushing type.

"Because they were for you," you admitted sheepishly, earning a raised eyebrow as he once more looked over the striped red-white sock with a plush reindeer on outer side of his ankles. "As a cute and silly Christmas gift until... uhm, until I figured out the perfect one."

“Oh,” he let out intelligently, causing you to leave your nervousness behind. “Thanks.”

You giggled. “You’re welcome, Steve. They look great on you.”

Adorable. And what more, proving the incredible fact that you had been wrong about him. About him being absolutely perfect.

He pouted then, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “You’re enjoying this too much. Why?”

Of course he would notice. You shrugged and stopped fighting the grin attacking your lips, not feeling like denying it.

"You... you actually have a fault," you announced cheerily, which took him aback greatly.

"I have plenty of those," he said matter-of-factly, propping himself on his elbow to be closer to you. You only shrugged again.

"Possible.” Not quite. “But this... this is just a reminder of you being only human."

Steve tilted his head then, curious about your train of thought. It only proved your previous theory that wasn’t quite right now, not without that one exception; he was curious about you, always listening to what you had to say, patient listener even when you simply rambled.

"You've seen me hurt. That’s pretty human."

You scoffed, chasing the image of him, unconscious, cut, bloody and attached to a heart monitor, away from your mind momentarily.

"Oh, I did. I do not enjoy that despite seeing the wound literally closing in front on my eyes. You're not invincible, apparently,” you noted dryly, causing that little wrinkle to create on his forehead as the guilt for making your worry displayed. You bit your cheek before trying to explain how you felt about this ridiculous discovery about him. “But, you know... that's something... serum-related, Captain America related.”

Judging by the expression on his face, he was still not getting it. You sighed and pointed at the reindeers.

“This? This is personal... intimate somehow? Something I get to know, because I know you, I get to see the tiny flaw-“ you stopped in midsentence, realizing you were babbling more than usual and more importantly, wondering just how uncomfortable this had to make him.“Is it weird? Am I-- I'm being weird, aren't I? Shit. Sorry."

Steve’s nose crinkled at the bad word you used, but he let it pass without comment in favour of a more pressing matter. His face was kind as he opposed you swiftly.

"No! No, it's... I think I understand,” he assured you, something unfamiliar twinkling in his eyes. He smiled then, a soft curve of his lips. “And thank you. It works wonders. It’s… much better."

You only flashed him a brief smile, lowering your gaze. You took a deep breath, only partly comforted by his words. Steve would always let things slide easily, even when you crossed a line you shouldn’t have crossed, said or done something that wasn’t quite appropriate; when you were being your weird self.

It was your turn to fumble with the blanket, self-depreciated, wavering to make one more confession, admitting to your fear, once more oversharing.

"Okay. I’m glad. Uhm… I-- I wouldn't want you to get cold feet," you mumbled, not quite sure if you wanted him to read between the lines and consider cold feet more than bodily reaction to low temperature.

Silence fell on your bedroom, stretching for long enough to wreck your nerves. You clenched your jaw, forcing your fingers to stop moving, which only resulted in you gripping the sheets instead.

Looking down, you only caught a glimpse of Steve straightening, seating himself on his heels. The fingers of his right hand gently threaded into your locks, slipping to cup your cheek, forcing you to lift your chin and meet his gaze.

Steve always seemed too kind to you, appreciating you, cherishing you even, in ways you couldn’t quite comprehend; meeting his eyes now, you saw nothing but pure adoration and a hint of vulnerability, gratitude at your willingness to admit some of your fears.

He had caught the double meaning of your words, there was no doubting that. Seeing none of your timidity resolving, an amused spark twinkled in his eye. He patted his ankle pointedly with his free hand.

"Well, with warm socks like these...” he hummed, his face inching closer to yours as he held his gaze locked with yours. His thumb tenderly caressed your cheek, his lips finally close enough to brush yours for a passing second. Your eyes fluttered shut, revelling at the sensation. God, you were so, so lucky to have this man… “And with such beautiful and caring woman like yourself... how could I?"

You barely had time to sigh in relief when his mouth caught yours in another kiss, this time a proper one, morning breath be damned. His hand on you angled your jaw to deepen the kiss, the other sneaking around your waist and lower to urge you to sit on his lap. You weren’t hesitant to obey, rewarded by a content rumble deep in his chest and a tease of tongue.

Needless to say, the socks came off soon enough. After all, morning exercise would keep you both warm enough. Especially when performed in the bed sheets.

Later and later on, you would find a lot more flaws of Steve’s – involving unbearable stubbornness and recklessness, traits which you sometimes wanted to punch him for –, but this very first you had discovered would always feel special.

Steve never got cold feet ever again. On your wedding day, you were grateful for it more than ever.

#marvel #captain america #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #fluff #christmas fluff #close enough anyway #cute and cozy #one shot #fanfiction #anika ann

573 notes · View notes

flutteringphalanges · 4 years

Photo

Summary: “Am I in Hell?” Agatha’s voice was hoarse, a hint of fear in her tone. “That depends on your definition,” Dracula answered. “Perhaps.” His fingers felt cool against her burning skin, the fever raging through her body. “If you’re going to kill me, then do it,” she mumbled. The count chuckled, gazing into her eyes. “On the contrary,” he smirked. “I’m going to save you.”

((In which Dracula cares for a gravely ill Agatha))

Characters: Agatha Van Helsing/Dracula

Rating: M

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: Thank you all so much for your support! It means the world! Quick shout out to @rheabalaur! She is incredibly knowledgeable about the history of Dracula and Vlad Tepes and though I ended up not exploring human!Drac in this chapter, I wanted to thank her! She’s got some neat posts on the history and I learned a lot! Anywho, feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! Here is the next chapter!

Chapter Ten (Part Two)

Psychosomatic heart palpitations. The only diagnoses one can give to someone whose heart has stopped so long ago. Settled deep behind his rib cage, Count Dracula could almost swear he felt the dead organ pound against his ancient bones. Its rapid beating battering against his ear drums. Agatha Van Helsing was gone. Vanished without a trace except for a final message scribbled hastily on a scrap of paper. And it was all his fault.

"Fuck, Agatha!" He cursed, feeling the draft from the air outside. She'd neglected to close the doors properly, though that was beside the point. The cold temperature didn't bother him. No, he was immune. But she wasn't. "Dammit!"

Transformation. On foot. But there was the issue of his missing boots. The vampire's mind reeled a million miles a second. Usually he was so good thinking on his feet. Decisions coming easily to his mind. Yet there he was, standing hopelessly like a fool, trying to devise a plan. A way to find her. Agatha. His Agatha. In all of his centuries of life, never had he made such a fatal mistake.

He stared down at the corpse of the young man whose lifeless brown eyes gazed back at him. His skin was so pale, almost lily white after being completely drained of blood. Dracula let out a grunt, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Sloppy. Careless. His new existence as a vampire had yet to come easy to him. Despite being a learned man, he was well on his way of opening Pandora's box if he wasn't careful.

"Oh don't look so stoic." The vampire exhaled, glancing up to the dark sky. "You were far from valuable to begin with. Now what to do with you…"

Thunder rumbled overhead and small raindrops began to fall from above. Dracula frowned and glanced towards the direction of his castle. Experimentation. Understanding what he was didn't just fall on his shoulders. No. There was something interesting he witnessed with each new kill. From cradle to grave and from grave to coffin. Dying from one life into the next. A small smirk crossed his features as lightning crackled from above.

"Perhaps you will prove more use to me after all." He stated, lifting the body with ease. "So we shall see…"

By some stroke of sheer luck, Dracula managed to come across a pair of old boots tucked away in an old closet. Dusty, they gave off an unpleasant smell that even he found rather foul. But his own comfort was far from his concern. Slipping them forcefully on, he hurried out through the front doors and into the winter elements. Going bravely forth into the bitter snowstorm that had begun to stir from its sleep again.

His pace was brisk, each long stride with purpose as he walked away from the castle. Much to his misfortune, the fresh snow had completely covered the ground, burying with it any sign of Agatha's tracks. Not even transforming into a wolf would help at this stage. No. He couldn't sense her and that alone terrified him. If she was...no, no he couldn't think like that. So he pressed on, faster now.

Lovech Province, Bulgaria. At least, that's what he had learned from her blood. A pretty little thing, traveling alone to meet relatives in a nearby village. She'd been an easy target and quite an interesting one at that. Someone he had deemed worthy enough to keep.

"Please!" Dracula heard her wail from her box. "Please let me go! I'm so thirsty!"

"No." The vampire replied simply, so casually as if he was merely telling her the time of day. "No, I think it's best you stay put for now. Don't worry, I'll take good care of you. I always do with my brides."

Brides. He scoffed at his own term. It had been something he had come up with after holding captive several of his victims. Dracula needed to, after all, have some sort of name for them. In a sense, it seemed fitting. They were his after all. Property. Like cattle. Valuable, unusual stock that any bidder would desire and yet not know the horrors they were getting into.

"Let me go!" The woman pleaded. "Please, I promise I won't tell anyone! Just free me!"

"I shall return later." Dracula sighed as he ignored her screams of protest. "Perhaps with something to eat if I feel willing." He paused before looking over his shoulder. "And do try to keep the wailing to a minimum. I hate how it echoes throughout the halls."

Brides. Cattle. He grinned to himself as he exited the cellar. Disposable indeed.

"Agatha!"

He mentally cursed the howling wind that drowned out his voice each time he called out for her. Of all the times for her to disappear, of course it had to be in the middle of a blizzard. On many occasions she had threatened to leave, but the vampire had never thought she'd go through with it. If he had, if he had half the mind to, maybe he could've prevented this. All of this. If he had just been honest. Maybe she'd still be safe. Warm. Tucked away with him in the castle. But she wasn't and he was to blame.

"AGATHA!"

He hadn't quite expected his time with Jonathan Harker to turn the way that it had. It wasn't often that Dracula was left to deal with a slip up-if one would even call it that-but he found himself in a quite peculiar situation. An instance that led him to the steps of St. Mary's Convent in Budapest, Hungary. To her.

Agatha Van Helsing was a creature he'd never seen before. Such wit. Such spirit. She did not fear him like the others. She tested him like a fishman precariously dangling bait off the side of a boat where a shark was spotted. And that very moment when those few drops of her blood met his tongue it was a euphoria he couldn't explain. Seeing glimpses of her past. Of her history. Of who she was and of him. Of the infamous Abraham Van Helsing who had proven for a while to be a thorn in his side. Her grandfather. The product of a vampire slayer. And Dracula wanted...no, needed more.

The next course of action ended grizzly, not that he was quite surprised. But it wasn't until he came upon Agatha and that innocent, weakling Mina that his desire for the nun became curious. In any given dangerous situation, one must choose fight or flight. To defend yourself against your enemy and possibly die, or to out run them in the hopes of living. Agatha did neither. Instead, she offered herself in place of Mina. Seemingly cared nothing for her own life but only that of the woman's.

And so against what he thought at the time was his better judgement, he freed them both. Unknowing that soon enough fate would have them meet again under even stranger circumstances. How delectable and useful just a small amount of blood could be.

He couldn't smell her. No matter how far he walked, he still had yet to pick up any of her scent. That gave him some hope that maybe she hadn't injured herself. That perhaps she had found someone by some chance who had given her a ride somewhere. Unlikely as it was, it gave him a false sense of peace.

But due to the hindrance of his tracking abilities, a part of the Count began to wonder if Agatha's former Convent's beloved God was punishing him. That perhaps his version of Hell was not having her. Losing her. And who was he to deny that truth? Hell had frozen over and with it the former nun's mysterious disappearance. Dammit, Agatha, where could she have gone?

Dracula found himself staring at her for hours when he had first brought her to his castle. Watched as her chest rose and fell with each unstable breath. How her creamy skin was blotched by the red of the fever. At any point he could've killed her. Any second. With how ill she was, she wouldn't even see it coming. But she didn't. Instead, he observed. Quiet as his unaware guest rested.

When she did wake, truly became aware of her surroundings, it was a fond memory. How furious she was. How spiteful. After everything he'd done, Agatha showed no sign of gratitude and quite frankly, the vampire took no offense to that. She was merely an experiment after all. Someone he desired to learn more about. Except, he never expected it to go as far as it did.

"Fuck!"

Dracula's arms shielded him out of pure reflex as a tree fell just a yard away, spraying him with the wet snow that had clung to its branches. He wiped the substance away, his skin cool enough that it didn't immediately melt on impact. The way it clung to his clothes like some form of unwanted camouflage. For the first time in a long, long while, he was starting to despise the stuff.

"Agatha!" He tried again, this time louder. "Agatha, answer me! Where are you?!"

But only the storm returned his calling.

Emotions. Perhaps that's why he found it confusing at first. These feelings that no cold blooded person should experience. But the first real flicker struck him the moment he saw her wearing the dress he'd gotten her to replace that dreadful habit of hers.

Dracula thought of them. The hundreds-thousands of women he'd seen throughout his lifetime. Many whose beauty was beyond compare. But Agatha was different. Something about her, the way she stood there before him. There was so much he wanted to say. And at the same time, he wasn't sure what.

"Well," she said testily. "If it looks bad on me, you might as well-"

"No," he interjected. "No. You look...lovely."

Lovely. Out of everything he could've said, those were the words to spill past his lips. She blushed, but it wasn't the same color as her fever. No, this was different. So it truly began. The start of something he had very much yet to comprehend.

It was growing darker outside and Dracula knew it wasn't just because of the storm. He began to pick up his pace, fear beginning to rise even further than before. How long had he been asleep? A few hours at most? Could she really have gotten this far?

That's when he smelled it. The very faint, but familiar scent of blood. An aroma he was so familiar with that his stomach dropped at the realization. Agatha. It was Agatha. And the sweetness he associated with it only made him want to gag. His worries had been confirmed. Something had happened to his nun.

Maybe it was when they lost control over dinner and ended up having sex so rough, the aftermath of their heated lovemaking shouted to the heavens the next day. Or when she got so furious with him once, she broke her hand against his face. But perhaps the moment it really dawned on him that his feelings for Agatha Van Helsing were far from just a whim of passion was that night he truly tasted her.

The way she trembled against his touch. How he had to hold her as he ran his tongue across the inner thigh and to her very center. Sweet, like her blood, and he savored her like a fine wine. It hadn't been rough. Fueled by aggression. No, the way she melted into him was something far different. And when he was finally inside of her, that same sense of euphoria that he'd experienced those several, several months ago struck him. And he lost it. Completely gave way and pierced his teeth into Agatha's sensitive flesh. Blessed with her indulgence once more. That was his first mistake.

The smell of fresh blood was stronger now and Dracula followed it like a bloodhound. Though he knew he had to be drawing closer, how potent it was becoming only left his stomach twisting into knots. This wasn't a mere scratch. Not with how intense the smell was. There was a significant amount and the vampire dreaded what that could mean. What the outcome he was about to face was. How he wished Agatha had just gone ahead and staked him.

Cruel. That was the proper description for his next actions. Never mind triggering Agatha with old memories of Abraham-a man he knew well enough while, not evil, lacked any sort of endearment towards his granddaughter. He only furthered his stupidity when he abandoned her afterwards, leaving what should've been a good moment with a negative, abrupt ending.

In an almost sadistic, poetic way, the stake to his heart had been the final straw that broke the camel's back. The moment where Agatha's walls completely crumbled to the ground. Where she had, in her actions, admitted her true feelings when he had not. Metaphorically piercing her own heart when she should've done his. And he smiled. Grinned and waved away her affections. If only he realized the cost. The consequences. Those few words scrawled upon a strip of parchment.

Something caused him to stop in his tracks. Not the giant branch that blocked his path, but the feeling that there was something else. And so he hesitantly gazed over the edge, over a set of ragged rocks that dropped down several yards to the bottom. That's when he saw her. A figure lying motionless below wet by something other than snow. Dark. Even from where he stood, his excellent vision could make it out. Blood. Agatha.

"Agatha!"

Dracula leaped with such grace it made the long drop seem like a mere step. He hurried over to her side. Blood. There was so much blood. It stained the rock around her, caked locks of her hair together. And for a brief moment, for a fraction of a second, the vampire thought he was too late. It was only when he heard her pulse, the weak thrumming of her heart, that he knew she was alive. Barely. But still with him. As he exhaled in relief, her eyes opened.

Quickly he knelt beside her, the smell of her blood burning his nostrils. Thirst. Hunger. But he fought it. Battle the feral urge to feast within him. Dracula's hands were warm, sticky and red as he cradled her head ever so gently. She stared back at him unfocused.

The Count wanted to berate her. Scream at her for being so boneheaded. But not because he was furious with her. No, she had terrified him. So many questions. So much to say. Yet he couldn't. There wasn't any time to do so. He was losing her. Right there in his arms, the only person he'd truly ever cared about was withering away. He couldn't let that happen.

"You're dying." And the words held far more emotion than he'd ever had anticipated. "Agatha..."

"I know," she croaked.

The way she said it. Her tone. She wasn't afraid. Far worse. It was as if she was more than willing to accept this horrid fate. This end where one no longer exists. And he had planted the seed that made her okay with that.

"I can save you." There was a tremor in his voice. "This doesn't have to be the end. Let me..." He swallowed, damn how he hated to sound vulnerable. "Let me..."

There was a moment of pause as Agatha struggled to catch a breath. It ached deep within him to hear the pain as she did so. She was so strong. Even in death, she fought with bravery. What a soldier she would've made. What a companion in his human lifetime she would've been.

"Tell me..." Blood bubbled up in the corner of her mouth as she struggled to remain conscious. "Tell me..."

"Agatha!" He spoke to her loudly, trying desperately to keep her awake. "Tell you what?" But the Count already knew what she meant. "Tell you what?!"

"Just..." She was fading now. Fading so fast. "Tell me..."

Tell her. He looked deep within her blue eyes as the light began to fade in them. Tried to hold her stare so she knew he really meant it. Weeks. Months. It was so long overdue and this was far from how he wanted to ever admit it. Open up to her like she had him. But now he needed to. So he swallowed, swallowed so thick as if his very life was caught in his throat.

"I love you." A statement so foreign, and yet, felt so right. Something wet brushed against his cheek. A tear. Was he crying? "I love you, Agatha Van Helsing."

A weight lifted off his shoulders. The entire universe relieving him of the pressure he'd felt for so long. He gazed down at her so longingly it was as if everything had stopped around them. Waited for her final words. Praying she'd give into his demands.

Agatha smiled weakly and closed her eyes at his confession. "Okay," his lover murmured. "Okay…"

And Dracula's fangs plunged into her throat.

#Dracula #Dracula 2020 #Dragatha #Agatha Van Helsing #Dracula x Agatha #Bad Moon Rising

36 notes · View notes

thiswasinevitableid · 4 years

Note

I have a suggestion for the Meet Ugly Prompts! Can you do 36, Sternclay, NSFW? Thanks so much! :)

Here you go!

36. it’s mid-apocalypse and you break into my secret shelter and I swear I’ll kill you if you don’t give me three damn good reasons why I shouldn’t

Barclay is running out of daylight. It was worth it, he found two flocks of survivors, waited with them until Ned was able to get the car down and pick them up (the Lincoln is remarkably immune to hoards of undead/possessed humans). They’d told him there was another group further East, that they’d passed them the evening before and tried to link up for greater safety. So Barclay took his chances, just like everyone does these days, and gone to find them.

He’s found them; eight people, all prone on the ground, all with white ooze seeping from their mouths and the wounds on their bodies. Too late. He’s almost immune to being too late. Almost.

It’s not worth trying to dispatch all of them, he’ll lose what time he has left to find shelter if he does. He turns into the woods, trying to remember if he can make it to the cave up the rock-face or if he’ll be spending the night on the move.

His Sylph sense of smells picks up something human and he pauses, tilts his head and listens for footsteps. What he gets is the crunch of leaf litter behind him, from the clearing where he found the newly minted undead.

Maybe the person nearby has shelter. Maybe they’re vulnerable and need help.

Cautiously, he takes off his bracelet, and the scent becomes much stronger. He follows it, finds its source at a log. Kneeling down, he feels along the ground and finds metal beneath a full foot of dirt and leaves.

The sun goes down, and he shoves the log, sliding the hidden door open enough to drop down into the darkness and slide the door shut over him. A human couldn't manage the weight, but a Bigfoot certainly can.

Once in the holding room, he keeps the bracelet off long enough to spot a door to his right. He turns human, considers his options, and then politely knocks on the solid metal. No answer, but not moaning voices either.

He could probably manage the night in this holding area. But just to be safe…

He pulls out one of the last things they got from Heathcliffe prior to blowing the gate closed (for now. He hopes) to at least foil part of Reconciliation’s plan. A universal lock pick. Holding it against the metal, gears whir and tumblers fall until the door swings open. He steps through into a well lit bunker and is immediately greeted by the barrel of a handgun.

“Shut the door.”

Barclay shuts the door, keeps his hands up in surrender.

“Give me three good reasons why I shouldn’t shoot you.” The man, tall and lean and clearly comfortable with the weapon in his hand stares him down with steel in his blue eyes.

“I, uh, I’m on a rescue team, see?” He indicates the torn red patch on his jacket, the one volunteer rescuers got when this all went down.

“How do I know you didn’t steal that from someone who was?”

“Why the fuck would I do that?”

“I’ve run across no fewer than three groups of people claiming to be ‘helpers’ or to offer shelter who then, on all three occasions, tried to kill and eat me.”

“What the fuck, there’s still plenty of food places?”

A huff, “you seem genuinely indignant, so fine; one reason. You need two more.”

“I, I honestly didn’t know if anyone was down here, I just came down because it got dark. There was a party I, uh,” he swallows, ashamed, “I didn’t get to in time. They’re infected now and I didn’t want to get bit.”

“Shit, they’re close and you opened the main door?”

“And closed it!” Barclay says hurriedly, “but if they or anything else does get in, I swear I’ll help you. And I’m damn good in a fight.”

“One reason left.”

“I, I, uh, I’m a good cook?”

“How does that help us in this situation?”

“You still gotta eat, right?”

His walky talky crackles with Mama’s voice, “Barclay, you somewhere safe? Over.”

He doesn’t move.

“Bud, if you’re in trouble gimme your best guess at coordinates and I’ll come. Over.”

“Reason number four: if you kill me, you’ll be dealing with her, and I cannot stress how terrifying she is when someone she loves is hurt.”

The man hesitates, then lowers the gun, nodding. Barclay picks up the walky-talky.

“Found a bunker, staying the night, over and out.”

“Come on, then.” The man waves for Barclay to follow him into the main room, “but if you try anything, know I’m not a man of empty threats.”

“Clearly.” Barclay mutters, taking in the bunker; it’s well supplied, like a miniature house, and if one did not know what was going on outside, it would seem cozy. No longer with terror tunnel vision, he gets a better look at his reluctant host. Short, black hair that’s been combed back, sharp cheekbones and a clean-shaven, handsome face. He’s almost Barclay’s height, which is novel.

“So, uh, how’d you get such a sweet hiding spot?”

“I am, or was, an FBI agent. I knew where many of the apocalypse fallout shelters were, and was lucky enough to be near one when this all started. I was en route to a town called Kepler.”

“No shit.” Barclay sits down at the tiny kitchen table, “that’s where I’m from. Where we’ve been running the rescue missions out of.”

“I’ll admit I’m not up on how things are going outside. I lost contact with my superiors three days into the epidemic. They were my last tie to what was happening. As I said, the last times I went out to search for others, to try and help if I could, other people posed an issue.” He sighs, sits down across from Barclay, “I guess it’s nice knowing I rid the coming world of three groups of people who would eat others for fun.”

The implications of that statement take a moment to sink in and Barclay is torn between feeling sorry for how frightened the man must have been and understanding just how close he was to dying a few minutes ago.

“I’m sorry you’ve had such shit luck. Maybe the nice digs balance it out?”

A polite laugh, “they do. I was worried at first about getting lonely, but that’s not all that different from how my work life used to be. Most people don’t want to pal around with a man in black on a mission.”

“That does explain the suit.” Barclay points to the slacks and dress shirt the man is wearing and the jacket hung over a nearby chair.

The man blushes, “I, uh, I’ve only had my work clothes, most of which were suits. Plus, they make me feel a bit more like...well, like myself I guess. That’s always been my fear of apocalyptic scenarios; that’d I’d stop being me and become some faceless creature bent on survival.”

Barclay shudders, “yeah, I get that.”

A hand extends, blue eyes taking on a bit of warmth, “I’m Joseph. Joseph Stern.”

“Barclay.” Barclay shakes his hand, noting the way Joseph inhales sharply at the touch.

“Are you hungry? The food in here is about what you’d expect, but it’s still food.”

“Here, lemme see what I can do.”

Joseph shows him the shelves of canned food, instant ramen, and MREs, and Barclay sets to work in the weird little kitchen. The bunker must have a generator running of some non-electrical source of power, because he’s able to get a hotplate working. Cooking soothes him, a familiar rhythm in an alien space. Joseph sits nearby, sometimes talking with him and sometimes inventorying his supplies. It’s been awhile since he spoke this easily with someone; he loves his friends, but they can talk over him very easily.

When he presents the two bowls, Joseph’s face lights up.

“This, this looks amazing! How did you do this from all that? Wait, is that Spam?”

“Yep.” Barclay twirls some ramen on his fork, “adds a hell of a lot of salt and it’s actually pretty nice deep fried.”

Joseph takes a bite and moans, “lord, I’ve missed food. Er” he clears his throat, “that came out wrong.”

“Bit of a foodie are we?” Barclay teases, bumping Joseph’s shin with his toe.

“Yes, actually. I traveled a lot for work, and food is a great way to get to know a place. Plus, people always talk easier in restaurants, so it’s an excellent way to do recon.”

“What’s your favorite thing you’ve ever eaten?”

“Hmmmmmm. Is it tacky to say foie gras fries I had once?”

“No and holy shit that sounds good.”

“Oh, it was. I do love a good fried rice though; like, the kind you get from some hole in the wall place that just sells every kind of Asian cuisine mushed together.”

“Mmm, I haven’t made fried rice in awhile. Maybe I should do that when I get back.”

“Oh, right. How far is-”

The walky talky squeaks and Barclay grabs it in a flash.

“Mama, that you? Over.”

“Yep, it’s me. Indrid got a word to Aubrey through the ol’ third eye and says to stay indoors all through tomorrow and into the next day. Gonna rain buckets, make the roads rough for anyone who’s human but not that dangerous for an oozer. You feel me? Over.”

“Copy that. I’ll stay put here. Over.”

“We’ll let you know when it’s clear. Over and out.”

“Looks like I’m staying here a little longer.”

“That’s absolutely fine. Did she say third eye?”

“Uh, hey, you wanna grab dessert? I saw some Twinkies on those shelves and haven’t had them in ages.”

Joseph raises his eyebrow in a way that indicates he knows exactly what Barclay is doing, but follows him all the same. They spend the evening eating baked goods of dubious quality and talking on the couch. At some point Barclay adjusts, bumping against Joseph, but rather than pull away the agent just lays his legs across his lap. When the time comes to sleep, Joseph shows him to a bedroom behind yet another heavily fortified door.

“This is kinda…”

‘Grim? I agree.” They stand between the two small beds in the grey room, the lamp buzzing above them. Joseph’s is on the right, somehow more tidily made than the one that hasn’t been touched.

“We could, um, push them together. If that’s something you’re comfortable with. Might feel less like a prison and be warmer too.”

“Works for me.” Barclay pushes his bed away from the wall. Were it safe to do so, he’d show off, by lifting it over his head. He bets Joseph would like that.

Barclay waits until Joseph is changing into pajamas to strip down to his boxers and slide under the covers, not wanting to presume his comfort with Barclay’s mostly naked body. Judging by the appreciative look he gets when Joseph lifts the covers and stares, he didn’t need to be so concerned.

“Y’know, you can just ask for a hug.” He chuckles when he notices Joseph hesitantly inching closer.

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortableAH.” He laughs as Barclay pulls him into a hug, smoothing his hands along his soft pajamas.

“Ohhhh” the sigh is soft, chaste, but still dripping with want, “this feels nice.” His fingers trail up and down Barclay’s chest.

“Mmm, but we both gotta rest up. Been a long day. Get some sleep, agent.”

Ever since the Reconciliation-generated illness broke the perimeter, the other Lodge residents have had trouble sleeping. Barclay’s gotten into the habit of kissing their foreheads; for his kind on Sylvain, it was always a gesture of protection. So when he kisses the top of Joseph’s head, it’s purely out of habit.

Joseph just sighs again and murmurs, “goodnight, Barclay.”

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

He wakes up before Joseph, gives him a much more deliberate kiss on the cheek and heads out into the main bunker. Makes coffee and a simple breakfast, revels in the delight on Joseph’s face when he walks out and sees the meal waiting for him.

They play cards after breakfast, Joseph better at BlackJack and Barclay better at poker. Try their hands at a chess match, though Barclay is rusty (but more than happy to let a handsome guy show off for him). Joseph digs out what books are available, so they can read now and then. But mostly, they just talk. Joseph talks about his work, about his interest in the paranormal. Barclay talks about the Lodge, his friends, offers a carefully edited series of stories from his traveling days.

They’re laid out on the couch, Barclay functionally spooning the smaller man as they read. He doesn’t notice he’s running his hand up and down his side until Joseph moans.

“Will, um, will you keep doing that? I, it’s been awhile since I’ve been touched like that. But, um, more to the point, I like it when you touch me. So, please?”

“Course.” Barclay grins, sets his book down so he can loop his other arm under Joseph’s head. He slows his strokes, takes time to savor the muscle he feels under the dress shirt. Even in his human form, he can smell that the agent is aroused. Then again, the fact he’s twitching his hips is kind of a give away.

Barclay rumbles out a laugh, leans forward and nuzzles the back of his neck, kissing it when Joseph gasps.

“Barclay, will you--that is, I want, unnnnfhcuck” He moans when Barclay gently nips the base of his neck, trailing little lovebites all over his throat.

“What is it babe? What do you want?” Barclay bites his ear just as he’s trying to answer, causing another whimper in place of a reply.

“Oh fuck you.” Joseph snickers, turning his head to kiss him, the awkward angle doing nothing to dampen the hunger in it.

“Can if you want to.”

“Good lord yes” Both Joseph’s hands find his arm, clinging to him as he wiggles his ass backwards to grind against him. Barclay’s cock eagerly responds, and Joseph groans, excited, “oh yes I like that very much.”

“Not sure you’re ready for that yet, babe. Much as I like the idea of cumming in you until you’re fucking dripping, rather be on the safe side and use a condom the first time I fuck you into the ground.”

“Figures that’s one of the things I haven’t found in this place.” Joseph grumbles as Barclay unbuttons his slacks.

“Think I got something you’ll like just as well.”

“Okay, oh, ohOkay.” Joseph tips inelegantly backwards as Barclay yanks off his pants and underwear. Barclay growls, hooks his legs over his shoulders and dives forward.

“FUCK” Joseph grips his head, pulling him closer as he laps at him, “ohlord, oh thank you, fuck.”

Barclay growls, does it again when the noise makes the agent tense and moan. Chuckles with each new sound of pleasure, drinking them in as he relishes Joseph filling his senses.

“Fuck, shit, Barclay you’re going positively wild and I love itGAHhhnnnyes.” Slick coats Barclay’s bear as he drags his face up so he can suck Joseph’s dick. God almighty does he want to be inside him, want to make him scream as he fucks him open in both forms, want to watch his body bounce and strain to take his Sylph form while those blue eyes go teary with pleasure.

He cups Joseph’s ass with both hands, pressing him as hard against him as he can manage, his focus stripped down to doing whatever it takes to make him cum.

“Fuck, fuck, Barclay, ohlordohfuckme, like that, please just like that.” His ass tenses under his hands and Barclay flicks his tongue out one last time as he cums, panting and still pleading for more.

Taking care not to actually hurt him, Barclay hauls Joseph so he’s laying on the couch before pouncing on him, kissing him until he’s gasping, growling and rumbling praise as Joseph manages to get his jeans open.

“That’s it babe, jack me off, lemme cum all over you, oh fucking-A that’s good.”

Joseph moans a little at the compliment, then smirks, “you have a thing for marking me, big guy?”

“Fuck yeah I do.” Barclay sinks his teeth into his shoulder, nearly howls when that makes Joseph speed up.

The agent swiftly undoes the buttons on his dress shirt, running his hands across his chest as he grins teasingly up at Barclay, “you want to cum on this, want me to let you make a mess of me?”

“Uhhuh, fuck, Joseph, you’re all mine babe, all mine.” He drops down to kiss him, pumping his hips so his cock fuck’s Joseph’s fist over and over again. He’s growling uncontrollably, kisses turning messy feral as he licks and nips at the human’s lips and neck.

When he cums he buries the sound against Joseph’s throat, praying he can’t notice how non-human it is. Glancing down gives him a perfect look at the last of his cum dripping onto the agent’s stomach, and he whines, low and animal, with affectionate want.

“That, that was, ha” Joseph kisses his cheek, “good lord I can’t remember the last time a hook up felt that good.”

“Glad you liked it.” Barclay smiles at him, kisses his nose.

“I did. I like you too, Barclay. So much.”

The come down on the couch together, cuddled up and trading innocent kisses between whispers of affection.

As they’re cleaning up, Barclay picks up the walky-talky, intending to call Mama for an update, “y’know, I meant to ask last night; what were you going to Kepler for?”

“My work with the UP. I was investigating a string of disappearances tied to Bigfoot.”

Barclay drops the device.

“I know, it sounds silly in the face of what happened next.”

“Uh huh, right, I mean, it’s good to have a goal-”

“Barclay, this is Mama, we got the all clear to pick you up. Over.”

Joseph looks at the radio, visibly sad but clearly resolve to the fact Barclay will leave him.

He could do just that. Leave him here to keep fending for himself. Pretend this never happened. Pretend he doesn’t matter.

Keeping an eye on Joseph, he gives Mama the nearest spot on the road to pick him up.

“And, uh, Mama? Tell Ned he’ll be picking up two people. I found someone I can’t bear to leave behind. Over.” He holds out his hand. Joseph looks at it, then around the room, then at his face.

Then he smiles, and takes his hand.

Barclay knows they’ll be explaining to do down the road. Bu right now, that doesn’t scare him. Right now, Joseph’s hand is in his, and that’s all that matters.

#meet ugly #Sternclay #agent stern/barclay #prompt fills

28 notes · View notes

rollingaroundin-bread · 4 years

Photo

Are y’all ever just reading a fanfiction and then you want to draw something from said fanfiction but then the characters are aged up in the fanfic so you have to design their age ups?? Yeah me too.

Okay okay okay but I have explanations for like 90% of my choices but I didn't want to take up any more space on your dash so those are under the cut if your interested!! :D

By the way it took me an entire day and then some to make these, can you believe that?

I don’t know why I’m asking it’s true

Onto the actual thing!!!!

Right off the bat they ALL have friendship bracelets because they're all friends!!

Those who weren't at the sleepover got their’s at some point

idk it’s important to me that they're all friends :(

Also fun fact I totally unintentionally drew almost all of these to scale

And by that I mean when I hold them up to one another, the people I think of as shorter are actually shorter!! It’s very interesting

Well at least to me

I think there’s a better word than scale but I can’t think of one so therefore I'm just going to keep using it!

More on that in the individual ones

Huey

Look I’m soft for the idea of Huey in a sweater vest

Also he stole this look directly from Webby

Except for the skirt

Because “Skirts are for special occasions” -Huey Duck, at some point

Am I implying that Huey would wear a skirt?

Yes. Yes I am.

I hope y’all read that in Phineas’s voice

Speaking of Phineas, what if I do another crossover thing??

Okay that’s off topic I’ll move on

Older Sibling Culture is being shorter than your younger siblings (I would know)

So naturally Huey’s the shortest of the Duck triplets haha

Dewey

Also known as Dewey “My hair poof technically makes me taller than you” Duck

But on his own he’s the tallest Duck triplet if I’m following my scale

Which I am!!

I don’t have much to say here I like the idea that he has the jacket tied around his waist

Plus it has ✨Pockets✨

What’s in there?? It’s a ~mystery~

Nah it’s just a granola bar

Oh yeah and I wasn’t feeling the vibrant blue that's on his shirt for his younger self

So I made his jacket a more navy blue instead

I meant to give him like converse or something too but then I forgot-

Louie

I found this outfit on an outfit meme!!

I thought it was cool and had no ideas for Louie so he got this one

Louie needs an interphase of business casual before y’all give him a suit jacket as an adult, this is my compromise!!

Also I see y’all with giving older Louie Scrooge’s check tufts

I’m not immune to propaganda, so he gets a little fluff there for now!!

hahaha propaganda I know I could word that better but it’s funny

Also before you ask I don’t know what his pose is either

I don't choose the pose they just come out that way

Webby

Not gonna lie shes kinda wearing my dream outfit

I don’t know what to tell y’all suspenders and skirts are my favorite things on the planet

Not that I have any suspenders (sigh)

Also I like the idea of long hair Webby!!

I’ll draw her and Violet with their hair down eventually :P

Oh yeah she’s a little off scale

By that I mean 13 year old Webby is a little too short

Sigh, what can you do?

She’s also taller than Huey by the way hehe

But she’s shorter than Louie so she’s still short

Lena

My goal was plain and simple: Make Lena look like a Giant Lesbian

I hope I succeeded!!

I don’t know how much more Lesbian I can go since I already have a hawaiian style shirt, cuffed jeans, and stompy boots

Also she gets one more hair wave to show that Time Has Passed

I have said this before but there no WAY Lena doesn’t draw and paint and stuff I get way too many vibes

So she gets a paint splatter thing on her jeans :)

I was just going to keep the pink hair originally but then I realized I didn’t have enough of that nice turquoise

So I put it in her hair

You can still see a little bit of pink though!!

Therefore her hair makes up half of a trans flag

Do what you will with that

She’s the second tallest but that’s only because she’s older

It’s Dewey’s personal goal to grow taller than her as fast as humanly (duckly??) possible

Yeah she’s actually pretty short by standard though

Speaking of age,

I KNOW the rest jump up in age by three (3) years

But writing that Lena would technically be 18 was cursed so we’re going to pretend the birthdays work out so she’s still 17

Can I check if the birthdays actually work out? Of course. Am I going to? No I’m busy drawing and making terrible jokes.

Boyd

Wait a second

We’ve established that Huey is coming for Webby’s style

Now Boyd has an oversized sweater over a dress shirt.......

Boyd is coming for Lena’s style :0

Oh and he kinda looks like Blathers too

I guess you could say he’s hitting two birds with one stone :DD

(Please laugh I tried so hard with that joke)

Another dream outfit tbh

Listen I just want to look like a giant nerd

That’s off topic again

Boyd is the actual shortest of the group!!

But not by a lot

Huey says Boyd doesn't count because he’s younger

Speaking of age (part 2)

Technically speaking Boyd isn’t 14 years old

What I really mean by that is that he appears to be 14 years old

I don't know, robot logic

Violet

I had no plans so I just went for Librarian vibes

I know that the way Violet’s outfit in the show is presented so that the colors match up with the colors on a Violet Sabrewing hummingbird

But I really didn’t want to make her skirt black so heck that

She’s also officially the tallest of the group!!

Dewey also wants to overtake her in height (but he won't hehe)

I just get tall vibes from her I don't know what to tell y'all

Gosalyn

This is my second time ever drawing Gosalyn and my first time on paper

So that’s fun

Anyways, gave our girl the bisexual haircut

And I didn’t give Lena any flannel so we carried that over to Gosalyn

Also converse just cause

She’s in-between Louie and Dewey for height by the way!

As for the regular outfit

On the poster I can't really see how the neckline works for her jacket so I just make it look like a letterman jacket

I thought about making it a hoodie but I already gave her older self a hoodie so I didn’t :P

Ugh what a terrible note to leave this on but I don't have anything else for her

That’s it!! Hope some of you found it interesting or something!!

27 notes · View notes

rainythefox · 4 years

Text

Nightfall (CH.12)

Synopsis: Pre-Resident Evil 1, slight-AU/Canon Divergence. Claire Redfield comes home to visit her brother Chris for the holidays but gets caught up in a dangerous game of cat and mouse with Albert Wesker, the Captain of STARS, after stumbling upon dark secrets. She can’t call the law; Wesker is the law, and she can’t tell Chris. She is trapped…Claire/Wesker & Slight Chris/Jill. Rated M for eventual smut, language, violence, adult content.

AO3 Link

Chapter 12: Complicit

Claire couldn’t believe this was happening. After two days of “late night babysitting” preparing for this…mission, she was about to actually undergo it. She was kinda freaking out deep down, but her Redfield nerve and composure never broke a sweat on the outside.

She lingered, eyes firmly set on the double glass doors and the welcoming signs, faint traces of snow dancing around her. Would she be able to do this?

“Losing your nerve already? Pity. Thought you redheads had more spunk than this...”

Wesker’s velvety voice crept through the tiny headphone hidden in her right ear. It wasn’t the only thing he attached to her. There was a video camera, the smallest and most advanced she had ever seen, and some kind of tracker, like he needed another way to keep her under his thumb. All to “help” her during this important task at hand that he so generously gave to her. And by generously, there were implications if she didn’t go through with this, that Chris would have a bad “accident”.

“The only nerve I’m about to lose is my last one with you,” she muttered, careful to not talk too loud as a few people slipped by her to enter the building, eager to get out of the dark evening's cold. “I’m ready when you are.”

Wesker’s low laugh through the earpiece made her shiver more than the icy wind blowing the snowflakes around. “I’m always ready, Claire. You should know that by now.”

“Whatever.” Ignoring the dark implications behind his words.

“I have the utmost faith in you, my dear. Do not disappoint me. You know the consequences.”

The younger Redfield took a deep breath. This was it. She would do this…she had to, for Chris.

She headed up the concrete steps and entered Raccoon University, bypassing the positive and welcoming signs advertising “Exclusive Open House for Umbrella’s Future Leaders!”

Claire immediately took notice of all the college students her age and even some older people here. The large, fancy lobby was decorated up for the occasion. There were balloons, finger foods and drinks, more signs and several tables for information on Umbrella programs, internships, scholarships, and grants. Distracted by all the dress up and people, Claire paused to get her bearings, only for someone to bump into her.

“Oh…sorry,” a girl around her age mumbled, wearing a green jacket and looking of Japanese descent. She smiled apologetically and readjusted her backpack strap. Claire noticed right away she seemed a little spacey, but didn’t think much on it.

“All good,” she replied and allowed the girl to pass. Claire watched her walk over to the corner by some of the many leather lounge chairs and tables, sitting with a girl in a yellow hoodie with a long braid and glasses.

“Hello everyone, and welcome to Umbrella’s Open House!” The voice immediately drew Claire’s attention and she turned towards the front desk of the lobby, where three men stood in suits. She immediately recognized them from the research and planning she had gone through for the past two days in order to do this assignment. The man speaking was Greg Mueller, a professor here at the university that also worked for Umbrella. On his right stood another professor and Umbrella researcher, Simon Lowery. The man on the left was well-known Umbrella researcher and medical doctor, Nathanial Bard.

“We hope you are enjoying the delicious food and beverages catered to us by our local favorite restaurant, Grill 13,” Mueller continued. “And of course, staying warm from good ‘ol RC snow. Now, before we begin with tonight’s exciting tour of our historical university, introductions are in order! I’m Dr. Greg Mueller, head of the Research and Lab department of the University and I teach several courses. With me is my colleague and good friend, Dr. Simon Lowery. He’s essential to my team here and makes sure that everything runs smoothly and you have him to thank for some amazing programs to help you on your journey to a brighter future here. Last, but certainly not least, our special guest tonight is the revered Dr. Nathanial Bard of Spencer Memorial Hospital, whose achievements are nothing short of ground-breaking, and he will help you get started on which of Umbrella’s programs will serve you best. I’m going to hand the mic to Simon now.”

Lowery looked to be the younger of the three and wasn’t shy when he took the mic from his colleague. “Thanks Greg. Hello everyone! You know, this is the third year Greg and I have helmed this open house in search of bright pupils with a future at Umbrella Corporation. We have fun every year, and it’s always great meeting every single one of you. Now take your time, visit, mingle, get to know each other, make yourself at home and help yourselves to all this delicious food - I personally recommend the smoked sausages, they’re my favorite! - and please check out each booth we have set up for more information on what programs Umbrella has to offer for you, and we will go into depth later on after the tour. Dr. Bard, would you like to say anything?”

“Of course,” he said and snatched the mic with a wide, fake grin. “There’s something for everyone here. You absolutely will not leave empty handed. Umbrella cares about each and every one of your futures, and we are here to help. It’s my personal mission to make sure every individual will get the help and information they need to ensure a prosperous future. You have my word! Welcome to Umbrella’s open house!”

The three men put up the microphone and split up to join the chatting groups of visitors. Claire kept her cool, getting herself a cup of spiced cider and checking out the information booths just like everyone else.

She could certainly understand why Wesker was using her in this infiltration. There was no doubt she blended right in with the crowd of college ready young adults. She could tell by overhearing bits of conversations that many were already students here at the university while others were newcomers.

The hardest part was waiting. She couldn't get to the next step of the plan if they didn’t go on the tour around the university. So the younger Redfield put on a charming smile and worked the crowd, pretending to be one of them, fishing for information as she waited.

"Such a charmer you are, dear heart. But be careful of whom you charm. Some snakes are immune to the flute."

"Like you?" Claire whispered.

"I'm impervious to the charms of nearly everyone. Most people are just so predictable and boring. Thankfully, you are not ‘most people’...”

Is he really flirting with me over the radio or am I just hearing things? Claire sighed. As if she didn’t have enough on her plate at the moment!

“Oh! Tell her to sneak some shrimp into Nate’s food. I wanna see the dickhole swell up like a balloon and choke.”

She stood corrected, instantly, after William talked smack on the other side. But his big mouth didn’t get to say anything else before a loud yelp rang her eardrum and all became quiet again.

Claire shook her head, but soon a tall figure slipped around from behind her and greeted her with a smile that was more lecherous than cordial.

“Good evening! Dr. Nathanial Bard, how are you, Miss?”

He extended his hand. Claire panicked for a moment because she never came up with a fake identity even after Wesker’s insistence upon it. He had said the chances of her being approached were slim, but not impossible.

“Do not give him your real name. You’ll want to drop conversation with him as quickly and as inconspicuously as possible.”

As Bard frowned, the name finally hit her and Claire eased a fake smile that looked natural. “Elza. Elza Walker. Nice to meet you, Dr. Bard.” She took his hand and shook it, internally gagging.

His eyebrows rose high. “That is such a pretty and unique name. You from Raccoon City?”

“No, sir. In town visiting family. I was thinking about transferring to Raccoon University and a friend told me about the open house. Figured I’d give it a try and see.”

She could feel his eyes skim over her, not near as clandestine as Wesker was, and, dare she admit, not near as tantalizing as him either. Claire squeezed the cup of hot spiced cider in her hand, restraining herself from splashing it in his face.

Bard’s smile widened. “Well, I think you’re in luck, my dear!”

The younger Redfield didn’t realize how much she secretly liked Wesker’s pet names for her until it came from someone else’s tongue. She internally shook her head. Now was not the time to start having the warm fuzzies for that asshole. Claire could hardly believe she was even thinking in this direction. Had to be the stress of going undercover while quite literally having Wesker breathe down her neck...yes, that was it. It had to be.

Get it together!

“There’s a program for everyone! Umbrella Corporation wants you to succeed! Grants, scholarships! Umbrella will even pay for everything for you to transfer. There is no shortage of bursaries here. What kind of field are you looking to get into?”

Bard leaned in closer, suave and friendly. It would’ve fooled anyone else, but not Claire. This man was digging for something. She could only hope that he was being a lecher and wasn’t seeing through to her true motives.

“You’re stalling. Get out of there.”

Wesker sounded annoyed, but she couldn’t determine why. It wasn’t as though she had messed up the mission...yet.

“You know, I’m still on the fence,” Claire made up, slowly backing away.

Bard chuckled. “One of those, huh? No worries. When I was your age, I didn’t have a clue either. But do not fret, Miss Walker, my colleagues and I are here to help. There’s no need to decide right now. After the tour, we can sit down and talk it over. We can still find something right for you even if you haven’t decided on a major.”

“Oh, the tour...right,” Claire faked ditzyness. “I better go to the little girl’s room before it starts!”

She beelined for the restrooms just to the side of the information center in the lobby, even as the doctor told her directions. She sat her cup down on a table as she passed by, glancing over her shoulder. She spotted Dr. Bard motioning her way to the younger Dr. Lowery, the two men speaking quietly.

There were a few other girls in the restroom. One student flushed a toilet and came out, washing her hands and leaving quietly. A couple fixed their makeup while gossiping. Since Claire didn’t need to go, and wasn’t about to while Wesker was able to see everything, she pretended to check her face over too. She fluffed her hair, left down in long waves for the occasion.

“Worried about looking good enough for me, Claire? Don’t be. You still have work to do, and it doesn’t matter to me what your hair looks like while doing it. Just do it.” Wesker mocked. The biting humor in his admonishment was hard to miss.

“Geez, you really need to be nicer if you want to get laid, buddy!” William muttered in the distance. “OW! Fuck…”

Despite the wheeze of pain and cursing, distant chuckling sieved through the earbud. But Claire ignored it, instead nearly bristling and turned on the tap to wash her hands as the girls left back out to the lobby.

“I am doing it, asshole. Even with lecherous old men hitting on me, which wasn’t a part of the plan, by the way! No need to be so pushy. If you want me to go under cover here and make it believable, then let me handle it. It’ll get done, stop riding my ass!”

There was a moment of silence before William snorted loudly in the back, laughing. “That’s what she said!” He cackled loudly in amusement. “Man, I like her more and more every day...the girl has balls.”

Wesker's laughter was quieter, colder. “If you insist, dear heart. I’m just offering my humble assistance to make things go over smoothly. Just get the job done and we’re fine.”

Humble, my ass! Claire thought sourly.

The Redfield sister heard them announcing the tour. She quickly dried her hands and exited the restroom, melding herself into the back of the group. This would be the slowest process, she knew, but kept her wits about her even as she only half-listened to the doctors as they rattled off trivia and history over the university.

They took the upper floors first, pointing out classrooms that covered the liberal arts and the professors who taught them. Dr. Mueller told them the history of the iconic bell tower.

“Jesus, Greg, you’re putting me to sleep over here, put some life into it!” William huffed. “You seriously make me want to shoot myself.”

At least Lowery had a bit more spunk and spirit as he raved about the college’s sports teams, particularly the football team, the Raccoon Sharks. Which Claire never understood why they chose “sharks” and not, well, “raccoons” for obvious reasons. But hey, at least the sharks were colored up like raccoons.

They returned to the first floor and continued the tour. There was the fancy cafeteria, the huge library, and more classrooms. The doctors talked about more of the programs and classes, semester activities, and the following herd asked questions in return.

They left the main establishment to take a walkway to a neighboring building. It was still lightly snowing, but the walkway was covered. It was also illuminated by soft, yellow lights. Claire could hear the Circular River rushing nearby, as the institution was built along its path.

This was the building she had been waiting on. It was essentially its own facility, running classrooms, laboratories, and other departments, doubling as a school and a research center for Umbrella.

Claire used to not think anything of it, even admired how much Umbrella helped out the city between their programs at the university and hospitals, as well as their charities and large scale employment. Now, the deeper she went down this rabbit hole being dragged by Wesker’s leash, she started to wonder what was really going on.

Men like Albert Wesker, William Birkin, and Sergei Vladimir were not the type to work for “good guys”. Even the three doctors Mueller, Lowery, and Bard were all hiding something, that much was certainly clear.

So, what was Umbrella hiding? What were they hiding that required the Captain of the elite S.T.A.R.S. force and the Police Chief to control the city? That required them to murder people once they knew too much? And what about that top-secret underground Umbrella facility that William reigned over?

Claire had a flashback of Wesker pulling the trigger on Finley’s head, the blood spraying across fresh snow; how his fate was completely covered up with no one to question or oppose it. She recalled watching the news just the other day reporting on how his body was discovered and ruled a suicide in his car.

What happened to Mr. Finley back there will never be brought to light. He died in a car crash, you see. Committed suicide, or simply disappeared. His fate is whatever I decide to make it. You and your brother are no different, same with all the others who thought they could expose me. Wesker’s voice echoed in the back of her head from that fateful day.

Maybe Umbrella were still the good guys. Maybe Wesker, Irons, William, and Sergei were the infestation of corruption, growing and taking control, like weeds strangling a fruit tree from its roots. Yeah, surely that was it.

But deep down, she didn’t believe herself.

Once they were inside Dr. Mueller’s state-of-the-art laboratory that connected to a classroom laboratory through two automatic sliding doors, the professor slash researcher began boasting with a lot more pride and spirit than his lecture on the university’s trivia earlier. He showed off some equipment in his place between Lowery and Bard.

Again, Claire only half-listened, her eyes scanning the area for her objective.

“In short, there is no other research department like this in the country. My laboratory is vital to Umbrella’s key studies on disease prevention and cures.”

“C’mon Greg, you’re a glorified babysitter with a sandbox! Mine’s way better!” William hollered, sounding like his mouth was full. Coffee break between two sessions of unethical lab work, she supposed. Just another day at the office, between blackmailing and killing people. Nothing to write home about.

Wesker sighed. “If you wish to do a dick measuring contest with someone, at least choose some actual competition.”

“My dick’s bigger than all three of theirs. I got pics to prove it. Don’t ask. I have my sources. Courtesy from their parties with the senator. I will nail those dick pics to their corpses when we’re done with them too.”

And yet I wondered how these two are best friends…silly me.

“Claire, as soon as they leave the laboratory, the power failure will engage. Be ready. The laboratory’s backup power will switch on, but the security systems will remain down.”

“Got it.”

Still, William’s words hung her up. There was nothing stated in all the planning that anyone would be killed...but what if she was setting it up for these three men to die? No, she specifically remembered Wesker wanting to gain control over them. They were useless to him dead. But that didn’t mean their value to him didn’t have an expiration date…

Claire shook out the thoughts and trailed after the rest of the group once more. The double doors to the neighboring classroom laboratory slid open and the mass of people passed through, the doctors taking turns to address their followers. Some of the crowd whispered amongst themselves, but they were mostly quiet.

As the last few went through the doorway, Claire purposely slowed herself down to where the door slid shut inches from her. The power instantly went out. Total darkness and stillness swallowed her for only a moment before the laboratory’s backup power switched on. But just as planned, the double doors were locked, glowing red above.

She barely heard the mumblings of surprise on the other side before turning and speeding towards the main computer in the back, located near a single locked electronic door with a sign that stated, “Authorized personnel only!”

Claire reached inside her parka pocket and pulled out the computer disk. The same, unmarked one she got the other day when Wesker was using her to fetch from his informants. She pushed it into the drive, fingers itching to get this over with.

“You have just under four minutes, Miss Redfield. Don’t drop the ball now.”

She ignored him and typed away, putting in the passwords and entries she had memorized from the planning process of this infiltration.

The spyware program uploaded onto the mainframe in a timely fashion. What took a bit longer was it copying information back onto the disk, whatever that was. While it processed, the younger Redfield moved to a nearby set of drawers.

“You sure it’s the bottom one?”

“That is what my source informed me.”

“They better be right.”

Claire retrieved her lockpick from her pants pocket, the one gifted to her from Jill, the same one she used to break into Wesker’s house. She carefully worked the lock, listening, feeling, remaining focused. It finally gave and she pulled the drawer open. Inside was what she was looking for.

"Looks like the "master of unlocking" taught you well. Shocker. Guess you stumbling into my affairs paid off in the end, in more than one way... "

The sealed yellow envelope inside looked harmless enough. But the label printed on it in red ink chilled her to the bone. Requested research for THANATOS PROJECT.

The name sounded ominous to her, and she couldn’t help the shiver running down her spine. She had a bad feeling about this.

Claire retrieved it from the drawer, looking it over. It was heavy, full of papers and what felt like maybe a USB drive. There was a white sticker in the bottom right hand corner that read, “Paid in full. - AR.”

Those initials had to be Aaron Roth. If only Wesker wasn’t spying on her and she had the time...she would’ve ripped into the envelope to see what they were all hiding.

She slid the drawer shut and returned to the computer. The disk was ready to be removed. She took it back and returned it to her pocket. Taking a step back, she looked it over once more. Everything was in place and didn’t look disturbed.

“Finished in a timely fashion. I’m impressed. You’re certainly talented in more ways than one. I’m almost tempted to hire you again, dear heart. I’m sure I could find some use for you...”

“You didn’t hire me, asshole, you blackmailed me.”

“Semantics. What matters is a satisfying outcome...wouldn’t you agree?” Wesker purred in her ear.

Oh God. Was it just her or was there a double entendre somewhere in there? Sweat broke out on Claire’s forehead even though she had managed to keep her cool until now, but Wesker making ambiguous remarks was getting to her. Nervously (and not just a little bit annoyed with herself), she discreetly wiped her sweaty bangs from her forehead.

Let’s get this over with, she admonished herself. The sooner her dealings with the corrupt STARS Captain were over, the better.

The college student stuffed the envelope inside her jacket and under her arm since it was too big to put in a pocket. She hurried over to the double doors, knowing time was almost up. If it all went according to plan, the doctors and their party would still be in the dark locked in the next room. The backup power in this area would be cut off and the doors would open just long enough to allow her back with the others before all power returned.

When the lights went out, Claire barely heard the doors skim apart, courtesy of whoever was controlling the university’s power system. She stepped over the threshold into the classroom, moving further in, careful not to run into anything. This particular laboratory for regular classes had large windows on the opposite side, but it was so dark outside, it barely helped light anything.

But soon it didn’t matter. The power returned in an instant, back to normal, as though it had never been touched. Claire wasn’t far from the group and quietly joined them as everyone got their bearings, blinking to adjust to the sudden bright lights. Startled voices talked over each other.

“Everyone, everyone, settle down. Everything is fine!” Mueller announced. “Just a small power failure. Let’s return to the lobby and I will have someone look into it!”

Relieved, Claire followed along as Mueller and Bard escorted everyone out of the classroom while Lowery remained behind by the door checking on the visitors. That was normal and understandable enough until his brown eyes pierced her. Watchful. Suspicious. She kept her composure, offering him an innocent smile as she slipped by him and out the door. He didn’t say anything, but Claire felt his eyes on her back until she caught up with the others, heart slightly racing.

Surely, he wasn’t onto her. There could be no way.

"Think he's onto me," Claire whispered as voices boomed through the massive hallways, the herd migrating back to the lobby.

"Irrelevant," Wesker answered. "As soon as you return to the lobby, make your leave. Without notice, preferably."

"Don't worry, Claire. Lowery's a nerdy bag of stress and paranoia. Nothing to fear there," William added.

"Like you?" Wesker mocked.

"You know, I’m half-tempted to empty one of my petri dishes into your coffee next time you’re not looking. Don’t push your luck, jerk. Annette always says you wouldn’t like me angry. And you know how Anne’s always right. Even she says so!"

Amused chuckling was all he got as a reply from Wesker.

Claire rolled her eyes at their continuous banter. God, she swore these two were like old marrieds.

Once they all filed into the lobby, most visitors either took a seat or went and got more food. She soon noticed a couple heading for the front doors, sliding on their coats, and took advantage, inconspicuously joining them.

"Hold on, please, you three," Bard hollered, making the trio pause and look. "Before you leave, let us make sure everyone is accounted for from the power outage. A small safety regulation we must abide by."

Claire inwardly groaned and moved away from the doors with the others. Bard and Mueller finished speaking together in a hushed huddle and went opposite ways.

"What are you doing?" Wesker asked.

"You said to leave without being noticed. Did you not hear him?"

"Then find another way out. Do it quickly."

Claire ground her jaw but didn't answer. She looked around, thinking of a way she could escape. More university workers were showing up now from other hallways, probably disturbed by the power failure. Lowery had yet to return.

She watched Dr. Bard set a plate of food down on an empty table and left it to go introduce himself to another pretty face, using the same charm he had used on her.

Apparently, the prick was only interested in helping students he found attractive. The girl obviously looked uncomfortable but smiled to be nice, and that didn't sit well with her one bit.

But since kicking him where it counted would cause a scene, the younger Redfield soon found herself scheming up something better.

Casually, she went over to the buffet of refreshments, picking up a plate and grabbing a few random foods. She sat down at a table close to Bard's plate, eyes scanning. People were talking or reading while they ate. She de-shelled one cold shrimp and broke it up into chunks.

She had only a tiny window of opportunity here, and it all determined on the selections of food on his plate. Pulse racing but outwardly composed, she discreetly took a stroll over to his plate. From afar she analyzed what was on it, and what would best conceal her ticket to freedom.

“HOLY SHIT, SHE’S GONNA DO IT! I LOVE THIS GIRL!” William squealed in delight.

She winced, retracting the urge to rub her eardrum. Her deft hands quickly stuffed the pieces of shrimp into a club sandwich triangle. It was pressed back into place with the toothpick and then she was off, glancing around to make sure she hadn’t been caught. Everything went on as normal. Claire got some more spiced cider and returned to her seat to wait.

“Don’t tell Anne, but If I wasn’t already married...” William softly laughed in her ear. She could tell he was trying to whisper, but the eccentric, mad scientist didn’t realize he was louder than he thought. “She’s a keeper, Al. Don’t screw this up!”

Screw what up? Keep me...for what exactly? Stop giving him any ideas, William! God, this is really getting out of hand...

Claire facepalmed as she started to feel hot under her collar and blamed the thrill of committing a heist under everybody’s noses for it.

The Redfield sister didn’t have much time to dwell on it before she spotted Dr. Lowery emerging into the lobby. She instinctively made herself smaller as he marched across the room, going straight to Dr. Mueller.

He pulled the older man aside, whispering urgently. Claire started sweating in serious now. Especially when their eyes scanned the full lobby until Lowery pointed her out.

“Shit,” she hissed under her breath. She pretended not to notice them, her nerves beginning to rattle a little. She reluctantly called for help. “Wesker…”

“What is it?” Claire wasn’t sure if it was just her hearing things, but he actually sounded a little concerned.

And then she was saved. Not by the bell but by commotion. People shouted and pointed, some moving in closer to watch or help as an individual choked. Dr. Bard was turning red, red like the shellfish he had just unknowingly consumed. Mueller raced across the lobby for him, Lowery right behind him after giving her one glance.

Claire took her chance. She sprinted for the doors and was out, taking the concrete steps two at a time and bolting across the front courtyard through the snow flurries with only the college ground lights to guide her.

When she made it through the opened gates and took a sharp turn on the sidewalk, she collided straight into another person and nearly lost her footing. She dropped the enveloped stashed inside her coat.

“Sorry, Miss. I should’ve been watching where I was going,” the young man said with a charming smile, stooping to pick up the envelope for her.

He slightly flinched when he picked it up and noticed the label, as though he recognized it. But it was gone in an instant and he presented it to her with a warm smile and twinkling green eyes.

“What the hell is he doing there?!” William demanded.

Wesker ignored him and promptly spoke to Claire. “Take it and leave, do not engage in conversation with him, Claire. That is an order.”

“Leave?! This may be our only opportunity to kill the bastard!”

“Are you okay, Miss? Do you need help?” the man asked.

She silently obeyed Wesker, snatching the yellow envelope back and hurrying past him. The redhead didn’t look over her shoulder, but she could feel the man watching her until she turned down the next block.

Panting, the icy wind cutting her throat, she finally slowed to a walk, heading for her next destination. Traffic rolled by her, beams of headlights stretching down the streets and making the falling snowflakes sparkle. There weren’t many other pedestrians out walking the streets, but she did spot many inside buildings shopping or having a coffee.

“Who was that?” she asked.

“Aaron Roth,” Wesker answered nonchalantly. “He’s not someone you should involve yourself with.”

“Oh, but I should involve myself with you?”

Wesker chuckled mockingly. “Wishful thinking, Claire? I’m flattered. Then again, I’ve been known to have that effect on redheads...must be genetic.”

Claire bit her tongue. She pulled her parka hood over her head, bundling up from the cold. After passing by the empty elementary school, she cut across the parking lot to the bus barn next door.

Her ride would arrive here to pick her up. Unfortunately, Claire wouldn’t be going home just yet. She had to meet Wesker in person first. She just hoped that Chris wasn’t getting worried...or worse, suspicious.

The bus barn was a large depot and mechanic shop for all the schools’ buses. Rows and rows of parked long, yellow buses slept quietly. It was dreary and quiet, with snow falling lightly all around. A person could easily get spooked by themselves here, as though they were trapped amongst sleeping giants.

“There’s been a change in plans,” Wesker announced. “My main liaison will not be picking you up. Instead the collaborator that worked the power outages at the university will. He should be there shortly.”

“Okay,” Claire mumbled through chattering teeth.

“I’m going to sign off for now, dear heart. Well done. See you soon.”

She was relieved for the silence. Claire waited with her hands in her pockets, back against a cold bus, shivering, watching the snowflakes swirl around. The lights of Raccoon City at night were beautiful to look at, some of the skyscrapers in the distance were lit up in Christmas colors. The younger Redfield was so lost in observing the serene scenery around her that she did not hear the pair of feet that had slowly walked closer to her.

"Found you!"

The voice startled her and she pushed away from the bus, whirling to confront them. Shocked, she didn't say anything as Lowery cautiously approached, encased in shadow from a looming bus nearby, and sounding a little out of breath.

"The hell?" Claire hissed. "What do you want?" She reached for her knife in her pocket.

As Lowery stepped into the light, speckles of snow in his brown hair, she noticed the gun pointed at her chest.

“Lucky shot!” Chris whined.

Jill laughed, moving around the pool table to take her next move. “Suck it up, buttercup! You’re about to lose to a girl!”

“It’s these beers. They threw me off my groove.”

Jack’s Bar was crowded tonight. The bar was full and so were most of the tables. Music played on the radio, but it could barely be heard from all the talking and laughter bouncing around. The bar-and-grill was decorated up with Christmas decor and lights, looking quite festive and bright.

His partner made the winning shot that cost him this game of pool. She won the last time they were here too.

“Whoo!” Jill exclaimed, arms shooting in the air and grinning at him. “You know what that means, partner!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Chris grumbled, fishing for his wallet. He looked around him and then spotted the familiar face he was seeking. “Hey, Cindy! C’mere!”

The favorite waitress of J’s came over, an empty tray under her arm. The young, pretty blonde smiled and giggled. “Let me guess, lose again, Chris?”

“Hey, I’ve won before, okay?!”

“A Mai Tai then?”

“Yeah,” Chris answered, giving her a $10 bill. “Here’s for another plus tip...because I know Miss Sharpshooter here’s gonna want seconds.”

“Why wouldn’t I when your pouty ass is buying?” Jill snickered.

They made faces at each other, and then Chris spotted the rest of their party arriving. “Oh, bring the drinks to our usual table, the guys are finally here.”

Cindy nodded. “Will do. You want your usual?”

“Yeah, add it to my tab.”

Chris and Jill joined the others at their usual table. The STARS teams came here often to wind down and have fun, different mixes of teammates each time from differing schedules. Hell, even the Captains came once in a while.

Wesker was a pro at pool, too. And Jill had been on his team a few times. She said he taught her tricks...something about math and trajectory or some shit. Who does that? Didn’t people just point and shoot at the balls with their cue sticks?

The gang tonight consisted of Chris, Jill, Barry, Joseph, Forest, and Richard. Tagging along with Barry was Robert Kendo, which wasn’t uncommon. They ordered their food and drinks, a perfect view of the hockey game playing on the hanging box TV. While waiting, the group of friends and colleagues joked and small-talked.

“So, Kendo, how’s that new assault shotgun model coming along?” Richard asked.

Kendo cracked a grin as he took a swig of beer. “You ask me that every damn time you see me, Rich. Look, I’ll personally call ya when I make a breakthrough, alright?”

“You better! I’m excited!”

“Coulda fooled me!”

Cindy and her friend and co-worker soon brought their food and drinks. Chris could never remember the young lad’s name...Bill? No...Will. It made him think of William Birkin again...the mysterious man that Claire was babysitting for. The past couple of nights she had stayed out late babysitting, and it seemed as though tonight would be the same. He just hoped that’s what she was really doing…

“Cindy, babe, could you please turn the station? I cannot stand these damn Christmas tunes anymore!” Forest complained.

“Aw, c’mon, Forest. Get into the holiday spirit!” Cindy exclaimed. “Don’t be a grinch!”

“Don’t insult the Grinch like that,” Joseph joked.

Cindy gave him a look. “Don’t be a meanie, Joe.”

“Eh, he’s just jealous of my hair, Cin. That’s why he fucking hides his under that stupid bandana all the time.”

“You wish.”

Cindy casually shook her head, used to their antics, and left them to their meals. The gang discussed their plans for the upcoming holiday, after work of course. Most of the STARS team had family here to celebrate with. If Chris remembered correctly, only he (other than Claire), Jill, and Captain Wesker didn’t have any family.

Soon, they got on the topic of gifts.

“I finally found Claire’s Christmas gift. She’s gonna love it. I picked it up the other day. She’ll never find it!”

Jill laughed beside him. “That’s because it’s at my house!”

“Your house is the safest place! She’s a sneaky little brat and will find it!”

“Speaking of which,” Barry interrupted, dipping a couple fries into his ketchup. “I figured you wouldn’t be coming tonight because Claire’s in town. She make you come out?”

“Probably,” Richard snorted. “I’d need a break from him too.”

“Nah, she’s been babysitting for someone. Last few days she’s had to babysit well into the night.”

Joseph snickered. “That’s what I’d say too if I was messing around with a guy I didn’t want my big brother to know about.”

Chris shot his colleague a glare that almost dropped him dead. Joseph stuffed his mouth with a big bite of hamburger.

Kendo cleared his throat, pushing his empty beer bottle up to the middle of the table. "Oh! That reminds me, Chris. Did Claire get into trouble?”

“Huh? No, why?”

“I was on the other side of town yesterday evening picking up Emma’s medicine and I saw her with the Captain. He opened his car door for her and she got in.”

“Which Captain? Enrico? Or Wesker?” Richard asked curiously.

“Yeah, cuz that determines how much trouble she must’ve been in,” Forest teased.

Kendo half-rolled his eyes, sighing. “THE Captain, ya idiots. Wesker. I saw her with Wesker. She got into his car and they drove off.”

“See? I told you there was a guy she didn’t want you to know about!” Joseph laughed. “They must’ve hit it off after she went down to the station to give him a piece of her mind. Bet now she’s giving him a piece of something better!” Barry slugged him hard in the arm. “Ow!”

This was new information to Chris. He sat there, dumbfounded, at a loss for words as his mind processed exactly what Robert had said. “She didn’t get in trouble...that I know of. Wesker would’ve called me, for sure.”

Barry frowned. “For sure…But then why else would Claire be with him?”

“Chris, buddy, I love you, but let’s be honest here, they’re probably doing the nasty.”

“Jesus, Forest,” Jill growled, facepalming. “Don’t be starting those kinds of rumors.”

“Where there’s smoke, there’s fire, s’all I’m sayin’.”

Chris glared at Forest. “Between you and Joseph, I’m gonna shove those beer bottles so far up your backdoor you two won’t be walking straight. Ever. Again.”

“Sorry,” Kendo interrupted. “I didn’t mean to get everyone so riled up. I was just curious. Looked harmless to me.”

“Dumb and Dumber here like to start shit,” Barry explained, glaring at Joseph and Forest. “I’m sure it was harmless. It is Wesker, after all. Maybe she just needed a ride.”

“Or maybe he offered her one,” Jill added. “He’s quite the gentleman.”

“Gentleman?!” Forest scoffed. “The guy’s a hard ass and a dick to us most of the time!”

“I mean, yeah, he kinda has to be. He’s our boss. But really, he isn’t that bad to most of us. You two just get on his nerves all the time,” Richard admitted.

“Hey, who’s side are you on, Aiken?”

“I’m j-just s-stating the facts!”

“Alright, alright, knock it off, all of you,” Jill ordered in her “mom voice”.

“It’s all harmless joking,” Joseph defended. “And Chris knows it, right bud? I mean, how often do I joke what if Wesker is actually a sociopathic supervillain on a quest for power? Of course he isn’t...but I sometimes wonder!”

Chris shook his head. Joseph and Forest were frustrating at times with their nonstop jokes, but he knew it was never mean-spirited. They all ribbed each other all the time; it was their clique’s twisted way of showing they cared about each other.

“You and your weird conspiracies, Joe...But really, let’s just drop the subject, okay? I don’t care why Claire was with Wesker,” he lied. “Because I know it doesn’t mean anything. Got it?”

“Got it,” they all agreed.

“Good. Now can we all please get along, drink some beer, and talk about something pleasant? Like the weather or something?”

They all looked to the front of the bar, where the windows were. Snow fell just outside, looking to have picked up since they arrived at the bar.

“Oh yeah, pleasant RC snow...love it,” Jill quipped dryly.

Chris scowled, rubbing the back of his neck. He had even more worries on his mind now, thanks to their earlier discussion. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t push them away.

His overreacting, protective brotherly instincts had continued to gnaw at him, making him wonder about the integrity of this “babysitting job”. Claire had never given him a reason to doubt her, but still he worried.

There was something going on with Claire. She was definitely hiding something, and his innate detective instincts kept putting together the clues, all starting over a week ago. Some kind of worry or panic she hid from that jog on the mountain hiking trails, her quiet, wandering thoughts, some questionable explanations, the injuries she hid on her hand and ankle...and then this Wiliam Birkin came out of nowhere with a babysitting job for her. “A friend of a friend.”

And now she was with Wesker on the other side of town when she was supposed to be babysitting? That set off a whole wave of bad thoughts and red flags in his mind.

No, he told himself firmly. It’s Wesker. There has to be a logical explanation! I bet it’s all harmless and I’m worried for nothing.

Captain Wesker may have been a hard ass at times, and he and Chris bumped heads occasionally, but they respected each other and got along great most of the time. He was one of the best men he knew. A damn good leader and boss, too. After his big screw up in the Air Force, not many were willing to give Chris a chance, and Wesker did.

There was absolutely no reason to worry about Claire being with him. If anything, it should have relieved him...knowing his little sister was in good hands. Wesker would take care of her.

But deep down inside, something small, some miniscule but insistent doubt ate at him. A growing part of him was questioning whether everything was as innocent as it seemed...

#resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil fanfic #Albert Wesker #Claire Redfield #William Birkin #clairexwesker #claire x wesker #fanfiction #fanfic #Chris Redfield #Jill Valentine #chris x jill #ChrisxJill

14 notes · View notes

gh0stwrit3r · 4 years

Text

At every occasion, I'll be ready for the funeral {Isla - Self Para, ft Alistair}

Isla, the self pronounced functioning alcoholic, immune to hangovers. Had woken up with a fucking hangover. How the hell had that happened? Isla blamed Luca. No, she blamed herself. Her insomnia had flared up tremendously when Luca disappeared on her but more so now that he was gone. She was plagued by nightmares of his death, of memories with him. And she sometimes had dreams of a future she could never have with him. All of which resulted in her waking in a fit of tears. She couldn’t get a wink of sleep without alcohol in her system, she couldn’t cope without it. Despite this.. All Isla wanted was more alcohol. More alcohol to forget the thoughts that plagued her of her dead ex-boyfriend. More alcohol to make her forget about Scarlet’s lost humanity. More alcohol to put her in a world much better than the one she is in now.

Isla groaned as rolled over on her bed, in nothing but Luca’s varsity sweatshirt and a pair of panties, inwardly cursing the sunlight which was splitting through her long windows with something of a vengeance this morning. How had things gotten to that point? The reasoning part of her brain seemed to be humming in worry, but she shut it off, determinedly. So what? It was probably for the better. Besides, it’s not like anyone would have to chastise her about it. The closest ones would not be there this time. Luca was gone, dead and no longer in her life, Scarlet had lost all her humanity and was on a killing frenzy. And her father had his own baggage to deal with right now. Not to mention he was trying to track down his fiances movements and help her return to her former self. And the last conversation she intended to have with Asher would be about her coping mechanisms. No way... Despite his best efforts to blow up her phone and reach out to her, she had turned her phone off and turned her back on the world.

Besides, if alcohol helped muddy the thoughts in her mind just enough to make them all bearable, perhaps that was a good thing. Something to be grateful for. Better than dealing with them, anyway. She was in mourning and she couldn’t cope. Isla raised the glass of water in a mocking toast to herself before draining it quickly.

Isla sat up on the bed, pulling Luca’s sweatshirt up to her nose and inhaling his scent. It was his personal scent mix with his cologne, still there but fading just like Luca himself. He’d worn it one last time before he passed away and she was grateful that she had some part of him to keep close. It was all she had left of him, as all the rest of his belongings were still at his parents home. Isla could feel tears starting to build in the corners of her eyes and she gazed up at the ceiling, willing them to go away. Her icy blue eyes were already puffy and swollen, rimmed with tears. Today was the funeral and she had to keep it together, for Luca’s sake. She wasn’t sure if Scarlet or her father would be there. So someone needed to be. Someone needed to see Luca off, remind him that he was loved and wouldn’t quickly be forgotten.

Isla had places to go today and the world would not wait on a hangover. Isla forced herself to take a quick shower and slipped on a little black dress and finished her morning routine, applying her lipstick just so. At least she’d be presenting an impeccable front for the world to see - after all, appearances were all that mattered sometimes. No one bothered to look beyond that.

Slipping on her black high heels, Isla grabbed her purse before walking out the door. She’d take the long route today. Through the forest. Maybe the hangover would recede by the time she got to the funeral. It was unseasonably cold, and spitting lightly as though the skies themselves were crying at the loss of Luca. Isla walked through the clearing and made a beeline for the small family owned coffee stand in front of the chapel and ordered a large latte.

It felt bittersweet to have his funeral at the place where he’d died. But Hollowbrook was a small town and the only other chapel was on the other side of town. It would be much too far of a trek and he deserved his final resting place to be alongside his parents. With the other Deluax’s. Where his loved ones could visit him, leave flowers at his gravestone and mourn him. Isla had promised herself that she would bring flowers to his gravestone as often as she possibly could, to keep his memory alive.

Isla received her coffee and sat down on a bench, she pulled a flask of whiskey out of her purse and poured a couple of shots worth into her latte. One of the churchgoers fixed her with a judgemental glance, and approached her. “The only alcohol that should be consumed in this chapel is the communal wine! You should be ashamed!” the unnamed women yelled, garnering some attention from passerbys as they too stepped into the chapel.

“If you don’t shut your mouth... The next thing to come out of it is your teeth..” Isla spat in a low voice, as she stood up and slung her bag over her shoulder. She already had a throbbing headache as it was, without this women yelling at her. “It’s an Irish coffee for fuck sakes!” Isla mumbled under her breath as she quickly downed her latte and threw away the disposable cup before stepping into the chapel.

Luca’s casket was at the front of the chapel, she’d opted for an open casket so his loved ones could lay eyes on him one last time. He was donning a black suit and tie, with a crisp white undershirt. She’d never seen him in a suit before the wedding. It was so unlike his usual style, Luca would hate it. If he had it his way he’d be wearing a simple gamer tee and a pair of sweatpants. His hair was perfectly arranged and brushed to one side, framing his face gently. He was still paler than usual, but they’d clearly added some make-up to hide his bruising and decomposition, giving his face a natural amount of rosiness. He looked peaceful, laying in the casket with his hands resting naturally at his sides. Isla approached the casket and gasped, cupping a hand over her mouth to hold back a broken sob. He looked handsome, he always was. Isla’s breath hitched in her throat, and her icy blue eyes softened as they rested on Luca’s body. Isla had promised herself that she wouldn’t cry, that she’d keep her composure and she’s always been able to do just that. But today.. Today it was just too much to handle. She could feel the tears already building up in the corners of her eyes, brimming them and causing her vision to blur.

“Hello, my love..” Isla started, cautiously removing her hand from her mouth hoping no oncoming sobs would escape her mouth. “How the hell.. could you do this to me? How the hell do you expect me to survive without you? Who even am I without you? You can’t be gone.. What the fuck am I supposed to do now? Why? Why did you have to go? Why did you have to leave me?” Isla demanded, the tears flowing freely now, she knew her voice was raising in decibels rapidly but she didn’t care. “Why Why Why?” Isla sobbed, as she looked down at her lover, her best friend, her everything. A feeling of rage swelled up inside her, for being robbed of him. “I love you Luca... So goddamn much. You were my soul mate. If humans could imprint.. I’m pretty damn sure I did.. on you.” Isla giggled though it was congested by her tears, coming out more as a sound akin to a broken sob. “I hope you’re at peace now..” Isla rested a hand delicately on his, it was pale and stone cold. So goddamn unlike Luca. “Goodbye..” Isla whispered, lowering her head and closing her eyes with tear stained cheeks.

Isla felt a hand on her shoulder and recoiled, it was the pastor informing her that the ceremony was about to begin. Isla took a seat at the front pew, beside her was her father. But Scarlet was nowhere to be seen. She’d suspected this might be the case as Scarlet had taken off shortly after the wedding, overwhelmed with grief of her brothers dead. He was the last remaining family member she had and she was unable to cope with the loss. Her last ounce of humanity had been shed and she had gone on a killing frenzy. It had been all over the news and it was how Alistair tried to track her down. She’d rocked the small town of Hollowbrook, it was everywhere in the newspapers and on the television. Werewolves attacks, vampire attacks, all coldblooded, all carried out by Scarlet. Not that the media knew that part. But it had garnered so much media attention that more hunters had gathered to Hollowbrook looking to stop her path of destruction. Werewolves and vampires feared the folklores of the hybrid with the insatiable thirst for death. They were very careful to remain together in packs, especially during the full moon. Alistair was working on seeking her out and trying to bring her humanity back before someone killed her. But he himself was mourning also, he’d forged a special sort of friendship with Luca before he’d passed away. And he felt as though he lost something akin to a son. Though Alistair could never confess that as he didn’t feel it was his place to take away from anyone elses grief. Especially Islas or Scarlets.

Alistair slung an arm around Isla’s shoulder and she leaned into it gratefully, resting her head on her fathers shoulder. She was thankful to have him at her side today. It would’ve been too hard to attend this funeral on her own and she hadn’t been in contact with Asher since the wedding. The church service started as the pastor began his eulogy.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, baby girl... I’m here. Whatever you need.” Alistair whispered to his daughter, trying not to interrupt the beautiful eulogy the pastor was giving.

“We are here today to show our love and support for Luca’s very precious family. Not only have we sensed our own personal feelings of loss over young Luca’s passing, but our hearts have been drawn toward them, and will continue to be with them.” the pastor started, gazing out solemnly over the small group gathered in the pews. The funeral hadn’t garnered many people to come together but most of his loved ones were present and mourning.

“I need Luca.. That’s all I ever needed.. a-a-and now he’s gone.” Isla responded without missing a beat, her eyes not leaving the pastor at all. She licked her lips and noticed that her father had dropped his head at her comment. “S-Sorry, dad.. I know you’re hurting too, you guys were close..” Isla added, and it wasn’t a question, it was a statement. Luca had told her before he passed away how indebted he was to Alistair for believing in him and helping him get on the right track. He’d singlehandedly helped Luca kick his addiction with his support. “He told me. You believed in him when no one else did.. And was so goddamn grateful. You gave him a second chance and he thought of you as a father...” Isla added, as she placed a hand on top of her fathers and watched him cup his free hand over his eyes and try to hide his tears. Isla silently handed him a tissue, and he wiped at his tears vigorously, trying to quell them. She’d never seen her father cry before today, but she wasn’t judging him.

“I miss him so goddamn much.. He was a good kid and he shouldn’t have gone out like this.. He deserved so much better.” Alistair sobbed, knowing it ate him up inside not knowing how he’d met such a fate. His death had been so sudden, it felt like Alistair was talking to him one moment and suddenly he was gone. He’d left such a hole in all of their lives and they were all reeling.

“Finally, we are here today to seek and to receive comfort. We would be less than honest if we said that our hearts have not ached over this situation. We are not too proud to acknowledge that we have come here today trusting that God would minister to our hearts, and give us strength as we continue in our walk with Him. It is our human nature to want to understand everything now, but TRUST requires that we lean and rely heavily on God even when things seem unclear.” He finished his eulogy and his eyes fell on Isla, seated in the front row. “Luca’s sister Scarlet couldn’t be here today.. So Isla will say a few words.”

Isla could feel all eyes fall on her as she stepped up to the podium, overlooking all the pews. “I remember the first time I met Luca.. He was so kind and sweet.. I was infatuated -- how could I not be?” Isla was silent for a moment, thoughtful, as her lips spread into a bittersweet smile. From the moment she’d laid eyes on that boy, she’d been in love with him. Her heart knew it and it just took the rest of her body some time to catch up. She’d been so innately protective of him beyond what you would even be for a friend. “He was always so raw, rough and unbridled.. Luca had this intensity about him.. Like nothing I’ve ever seen before or since him.. And he was too good for this world, and because of that the world eventually crushed him.. I truly believe that. Maybe that’s why he left us... to join the other angels..” Isla swallowed, struggling to further words out now. She forced herself to continue. She knew it seemed far-fetched but he was truly her angel. “And I never thought.. that I would be talking at his funeral.. I’ve talked at far too many of these..” Isla sobbed, falling apart now in front of the crowd that had garnered for his funeral. She tried to regain her resolve and finish her speech, but she was struggling. “We all love you.. so much Luca... And you’ll be sorely missed..”

Alistair listened to Isla’s eulogy and could feel another onslaught of tears flowing down his cheeks. He rested a hand down on the empty pew beside him and felt a twinge in his heart. He wished Scarlet was here, she should be here. She should be sending her little brother, Luca off to the afterlife with them. While everything Isla had said was beautiful and heartfelt, it should’ve been Scarlet up there speaking about her brother. No one had known him better than she had. She had raised the boy and made him into the man he was. Yes, he’d known a lot of pain his life and he’d gone off the rails a bit. But he’d more than redeemed himself. After he completed rehabilitation Alistair had such high hopes for the boy who looked to be getting his life back on track. He was going to move out, find his own place and get a job. He was going to finally live by his own terms. Alistair wished he could’ve said goodbye, told him that he was loved or at the very least he wished he’d hugged the boy. He’d been so focused on his own big day, on getting married, that his last minutes with Luca had been so fleeting. He’d tied his tie for him and sent him on his way. Maybe if he’d just spoken to him for a bit longer he wouldn’t have met the cruel fate he did. He would still be with them, alive and well. And his wife-to-be wouldn’t have lost her last ounce of humanity. All the possibilities and factors to Luca’s death kept Alistair up at night. He knew that what had happened wasn’t Luca’s fault as the police had assumed. It had been ruled an accidental death, that he’d tripped and lost his footing. That he’d broken his neck during the fall and died. Nothing about that sounded right to Alistair. And while Scarlet had accepted it, he would not. Once he got Scarlet back, he’d vowed to himself that they make the culprit pay. He would not get away with what he’d done to Luca.

2 notes · View notes